The Night is Passing

by Cynewulf

First published 3rd of April, 2013

Celestia disappears, Equestria falls apart, and Twilight goes West to recover her lost teacher.

When Celestia went on sabbatical into the west, she promised Twilight it would be only a couple of months. A year and a half later, the sun resists control, the country is in ruins, and her teacher is lost in the wilds. Twilight has become the apostate, her faith in her teacher and her teachings waning. In the wake of tragedy, her resentment blossoms into fury and she vows that something must be done. Shadows gather around Canterlot, and old things that should not have been awakened are on the move. The Student goes west, her hope restored by friendship and righteous fury.

The night, at long last, is passing.

Act 1: Some God Will Give Us an End to This

Act I

Some God Will Give Us an End to This

or

Arms and the Mare I Sing

Arms, and the man I sing, who, forced by Fate,
And haughty Juno's unrelenting hate,
Expell'd and exil'd, left the Trojan shore.
Long labours both by sea and land he bore,
And in the doubtful war, before he won
The Latian realm, and built the destin'd town;
His banish'd gods restor'd to rites divine,
And settled sure succession in his line,

“...An hour will come, with pleasure to relate
Your sorrows past, as benefits of Fate.”

...These words he spoke, but spoke not from his heart;
His outward smiles conceal'd his inward smart…

~Aeneid By Virgil, translated by John Dryden, Book I

I. The Apostate

I. The Apostate

On the ridge overlooking Ponyville, Twilight thought about Celestia.

She sat with binoculars held to her eyes with magic, scanning the streets for signs of life. There were none; only the lost, castaway things that the evacuation had left behind. Overturned carts had not moved, and their cargo remained unclaimed. A door hung loosely on its hinges, and she swore she could hear it squeaking in the distance. The library still stood, at least. She stared down at it, lost in thought.

Her thoughts drifted back to the day that Celestia had left. Celestia had come through Ponyville before her two month sabbatical began.That month or two had stretched into a year and a half, and now Twilight was left aching. It had been too long since she’d heard that voice.

Twilight scanned the path that the Princess had walked when they had last seen each other. She remembered her walking up the main street, heading towards the library.

“We gonna go down there or not, Twi?” Applejack asked from beside her.

She jerked back, eyes darting over to her friend. “Yes. Yes, of course.” She looked up, shielding her eyes. “Gosh, is it noon already?”

Applejack shrugged, the shadow from her wide-brimmed hat hiding her face. “Days ain’t gettin’ longer, that’s for darn sure,” she doffed the hat and wiped her sweaty brow. “I’d love to get movin’, if that’s all fine with ya.”

“I suppose,” Twilight said, biting on her lip.

The binoculars still hung in midair, kept there by a steadying spell until she removed it. She put them carefully into her saddlebag, then slid down the dusty ridge onto the path below. Now that she wasn’t lost in thought, Twilight could feel the sun beating down on her and the sweat gathering on her coat.

On the road below the ridge, Rarity and Rainbow Dash waited. Rarity looked up, mildly surprised by the noise, but then returned her eyes to the ground. Rainbow’s ears perked up from where she lay in the grass; Twilight knew that if she stalled much longer, the restless pegasus might decide to rush in alone just to relieve her own boredom. Twilight offered a weak smile in response to Dash’s impatience.

“Well girls, we might as well,” she said.

Rainbow jumped up into a hover, grinning. “Finally! Action! That’s what we need around here.”

Rarity rolled her eyes. “Honestly, Rainbow, weren’t you the one who thought this was a trap?”

“Well, duh, of course I did,” she admitted, mockingly returning Rarity’s gesture. She rubbed her hooves together, and smirked. “Doesn’t mean I don’t wanna get some now that we’re here!”

Twilight looked to Applejack, who was still on the ridge. The farmer smirked at her, then looked to Rainbow.

“You're a darn fool, Rainbow. Now you know I love ya like a sister, but consarnit nopony with their head straight walks into an ambush with a grin.”

“Whatever! Like I can’t take whatever anything in there can dish out!”

Twilight gestured to her two friends on the road, and they followed her back up the ridge and over. She signalled for Rainbow to land. The pegasus huffed at her, but she complied, touching down. Twilight felt a little gust of wind on her mane and coat as Rainbow flapped her wings once for good measure and then tucked them against her body. Dash’s mouth was a thin line as she came alongside Twilight. Her steps were like little drumbeats of annoyance.

“You don’t have the guard here for support. You know why you shouldn’t be flying, Dash, ” Twilight said, keeping her eyes on Ponyville. As they approached, Rarity and Applejack fanned out behind Rainbow and Twilight, keeping a liberal amount of space between them. The Long Night’s aftermath had taught them to be cautious.

“I know, I know. Draws attention, I’ll get shot, whatever.” Dash sighed. “Not like you have to stop using magic,” she added softly.

Twilight chose to let it go. It was understandable, really. Rainbow was used to being a scout, being able to fall back on guards with repeaters and good aim if she ran into trouble. The evacuation of Ponyville and its environs had given her some hoofs-on experience.

Though the streets ahead were empty, Twilight wished for tree cover. Once, she’d enjoyed the open vistas around Ponyville, but at the moment they were far too exposed for her liking. The idea of danger in the daytime had once been preposterous, but so had anarchy, and that hadn’t stopped it from tearing apart the countryside.

Behind her, Rarity coughed before speaking. “Rainbow, you don’t know for certain that it’s a trap. There could very well be somepony hiding in there, hoping to avoid any trouble.”

“Eh, I guess. I mean, it’s always possible that the refugees bothered to come this far, but why would they? Nopony has heard from Dodge Junction in like four or five months, right? And with how pissed off everypony was at the Princess, why not head for Las Pegasus?”

“The walls of Canterlot might be a comforting thought after being in danger on the plains,” Rarity argued.

Rainbow shrugged.

Twilight was inclined to agree with Dash, but said nothing. She doubted the refugee band from Dodge Junction was here, but at the same time there was always the possibility that Rarity was right. Scouts had seen ponies moving into the valley in a large herd, but then they had vanished. Twilight had almost forgotten it when an offhoof report from a wanderer had tipped them off to the presence of somepony in town. The vagrant had figured it was a missing party from Dodge Junction. Rainbow thought it was raiders.

We won’t know until we see for ourselves, Twilight thought.

With this—among other things—in mind, Twilight set hoof in Ponyville for the first time in over a year.

She paused on the first street she came to. While Rarity and Dash continued ahead, Applejack came alongside her, and together they stared down the forlorn street. While she stood silent, Applejack pulled off her her hat and whistled, listening to the sound carry through the empty air, then sighed and frowned.

Briefly, Twilight imagined she could see where the Princess had walked before the Long Night. Closing her eyes, she saw Celestia nodding, accepting the greeting of a passing pony. The Princess smiled, her benevolent gesture like the light of the beautiful sun itself—

“Twilight? Twilight, dear, are you listening?”

No, she hadn’t been. “Sorry, what?” She blinked and refocused on Rarity’s frowning visage.

“I was just asking if I might pay the boutique a quick visit—catch up with the old place, you know? It’s been awhile. It's also a rather large, inviting place. I'm sure any newly homeless wanderers would find it a splendid hideout.”

“Oh. Yeah, yeah sure,” Twilight said softly, her eyes wandering back towards her own abandoned home. She shook her head, trying to return to the street in the present. “Hey, Rarity!”

“Yes?” She turned and raised an eyebrow.

“Don’t go alone.” Twilight looked over at Rainbow. “Can you go with her?”

“Yeah, sure,” Rainbow said as she unfurled her wings to stretch them. “As long as you’re quick.”

"I'll try. I shan't be long, darling!" Rarity trotted off toward the square, pegasus escort in tow, and Twilight heard a conversation strike up between them. Rather than strain to eavesdrop, however, she looked over to Applejack.

Applejack’s head was tilted, an eyebrow raised. “You all right, Sugarcube? You seem a little off your game today.”

Twilight narrowed her eyes, confused. “What are you talking about?”

“Yer just a bit... slow. Kinna starin’ off into space.”

“Oh. I was just planning,” she said, quickly looking away. “You know. All sorts of plans about what to do in case of attack, and stuff. Or how we’ll sweep the town efficiently. You know me. Efficiency.”

“Right. Gotcha.” Applejack adjusted her hat. “So, where exactly would you like to start? What’s your plan?”

Twilight continued avoiding her eyes, and gazed down the lane. Her old library stood at the end of the road, the hollowed tree’s green canopy drawing her eyes. She swallowed. “Actually... I was wondering if you might start over here. I need to check something out.”

“And you’re sure? I could come with ya, Twi. You know we shouldn’t be wanderin’ off alone. Ice Storm’s told us that before, if you’ll recall.”

Twilight bristled, remembering the flight from Ponyville; the white pegasus Captain's grim tirade on battle doctrine echoing in her mind. "Of course I remember, but look, they do that all the time, but it's not like we're in the guard. We don't have to parrot their methods all the time. It's a good thing to know, but we can take care of ourselves, especially here of all places. And besides, it'll only be for a minute."

Applejack made a face, then shrugged. “If ya say so. Fine.”

Twilight trotted off at a brisk pace down the street, leaving her friend behind.

The books, the royal guard, now Applejack--everyone always talked about staying together, but it wasn't as if she couldn't take some initiative. Celestia had always stressed the importance of initiative. At the thought of the princess, Twilight's irritation began to fade.

Celestia had come to town a year and a half ago, paying Ponyville an unexpected visit. Twilight had picked up hints of Celestia’s sabbatical through her correspondence with the Princess, but the date had always been vague.

She followed hot on Celestia’s heels as the Princess strode through town. Celestia was calm, graceful, everything Twilight had always admired. Her steps were measured and sure, her head held high. Her mane billowed in the light breeze, a radiant field of color. It was mesmerizing. It took her sight captive and held it until the princess would speak again.

Celestia smiled down at her. “It’s only for a while, Twilight. I think perhaps two months.”

“Will I be able to write?” Twilight looked up at her hopefully. When Celestia shook her head, Twilight’s ears drooped.

But her teacher chuckled. “Sadly no, you won’t. But I promise to have much to write you about when I return. In my absence, you could always write my sister. The two of you have become such good friends, and—don’t tell her I said so—I think it would do her good to have a penpal.”

Twilight perked up at this. Talking to Luna about astronomy the last time she had visited Celestia had been rather enjoyable. “I think I’d like that. But, aren’t you going with a guard? And where are you heading? I know you don’t want to tell the court... I mean, I guess you just want some privacy, but—”

“But surely I would tell you, my faithful student?” Celestia chortled. “I would, if I knew exactly where I was going. But to a great extent, I think I shall be wandering. Perhaps I’ll even see an old friend of mine in the West. She governs a city there called Jannah.”

Twilight tasted the name, rolling it over in her mind. Jannah... it sounded familiar, but she couldn’t place it. She made a mental note to look it up when she had the time.“But by yourself?” Twilight asked. “Won’t you be lonely? Isn’t it wild out there?”

“Oh, Twilight. I shall be quite safe. I’ll be back before you know it.”

Twilight came to a stop at her old doorstep. The familiar signage was gone, smashed to splinters in an old confrontation; the door’s paint was faded and chipped by stray storms out of the Everfree. She brought up a hoof to open it, but hesitated. There was no reason behind it, nothing holding her back. She simply didn’t want to look. And yet.

Just a peek. Just one little peek.

Twilight lightly pushed the door, cringing at the squealing hinges, and her mouth fell open as she took in the carnage before her. Books littered the floor in careless patterns—nothing more than a haphazard collection of broken spines and shredded pages. A crippled bookshelf lay face-down on the center table. A heavy weight built in Twilight’s gut as she stared at the burn marks and old bullet holes along the surface of the shelf—like a pockmarked face, former beauty stolen away. How much of this had been her own doing?

Taking a deep breath, Twilight plunged into the library. It was like visiting the scene of a murder. The damage the marauders left in her library was everywhere, and broken glass was scattered all over the floor. As she gingerly stepped about, she found a book that looked more or less intact and scooped it up with her magic.

“Supernaturals,” she mumbled to herself. Looking back, she carefully brushed a few of the glass shards away with magic and sat down. The book floated before her eyes: on a whim, she flipped through the pages to the entry on poison joke. She stared at it, and a smile found its way to her lips. Somewhere in her memory, a tiny Applejack fumed.

Applejack. I should probably head back.

Twilight placed the book in her saddlebags. Turning to leave, her eyes fell on the overturned center table, and she quietly lamented what used to be her library. It seemed so long ago.

The marauding bands had come in the wake of the Long Night. Ponyville had only been given up when constant raids had made living there impossible.

In the wake of her sister’s disappearance, Princess Luna had been unable to hold Equestria together through the panic that had ensued. With every mile of Equestria that fell to anarchy, marauders gained strength, and grew bolder. Malcontents preyed on the smaller towns throughout the countryside. They painted themselves, spiked their manes, and came in swinging and shooting. At first, they had justified it with hunger, but soon offerings of food no longer placated them. Meeting their basic needs became only a pretext for lashing out; the excuse they whispered quietly to themselves as they embraced the violence, once it took the thrill of hunting down their fellow ponies to feel safe and alive.

Twilight thought they were mad. Most of them probably were. The one that had stumbled into the library before Ponyville was left abandoned had been foaming at the mouth, snarling at her before she blew him out the door with a strong push from her magic. The marauders had lacked a plan. They just spread through town, burning, killing, and stealing as they willed. Their aim had been poor, and they lacked organization. As soon as the guard had shown up, the assault had stopped.

But it didn’t end. In the year that had followed her teacher’s disappearance, the marauder bands had grown more and more daring and competent with each passing month.

She told herself once that it was a testament to the essential character of Equestrians how awful they’d been at it. She’d said it wryly, but at the same time it had been comforting to think that the Guard would always be there and be better. If nothing else, there had always been more of them. Where had all those ponies come from?

She left her library behind.

Twilight headed towards Sugarcube Corner. Her mouth turned down into a frown with her mind in free fall. The packed dirt beneath her hooves offered little in the way of answers, but they did offer up a spot of dried blood. She swerved around it, trying to get her thoughts off it. Instead, she thought of how far Equestria had fallen in her mentor’s absence.

A month had stretched into two, and they’d still gotten no word. Two months stretched into three, and ponies began to notice that days were a little shorter. Four months in, the days had gotten so short that ponies whispered of Nightmare Moon.

Twilight shook her head. I can’t dwell on it. She’s not coming back. If her teacher was going to come back to Equestria, she would have done it months ago. A year, even. Twilight had to stay in the present.

I should try and find Applejack... She bit her lip, looking around for any sign of her friend. The town was silent, as though hushed in desperate prayer; all around her were empty streets, empty buildings, utter lifelessness, all except the enduring verdant canopy of her library. Twilight shivered and continued on, picking up speed as she went. She needed to find Applejack. I’m an idiot. Why didn’t I want her with me? Have a perfectly dependable pony right there and... Stupid, Twilight, stupid! If it is a trap...

If it was a trap, it was going to be sprung. She was far too alone, and far too exposed. Visiting her home had not been worth it.

She came out of the long alleyways into the open main square, headed for Town Hall. It rose before her, battered but still standing, with holes in the walls and graffiti covering nearly every inch. The town was still deathly silent. Twilight’s hair stood on end, her eyes darting side to side, every hoofstep sounding like a thunderclap to her ears.

Her hurried pace slowed to an awkward crawl. Which way had Applejack gone? How long had she lingered in the library? I thought I’d only be a minute! I should’ve paid attention. I should’ve known better by now!

"Applejack?" she called, her voice reverberating off the neglected storefronts and empty homes surrounding her, returning to her ears to leave only a shiver down her spine. “Applejack, where are you?”

Twilight listened, straining to hear any kind of response. For a moment, she thought she heard an answer, but it was faint. “Probably looking through a house,” she muttered to herself, eyes scanning the scarred storefronts.

She turned towards the boutique. Of course! I’ll go find Rarity and Dash, and we can go look for Applejack together. It’s obvious no one is here. The town had nothing to offer them but old memories. No one would stay in a place as dead as this.

She trotted towards the boutique, feeling better already as she passed by Town Hall. Soon she wouldn’t be alone. With her friends by her side, she would be safe again. The thought of Rainbow swooping down to pick off anyone who tried to ambush her was suddenly very comforting.

Her daydreams of Rainbow’s martial prowess were abruptly ended by a hoof to the face.

She went sprawling. Her head hit the ground, turning the world into a fragmented jumble of light. Something turned her roughly on to her back, and she faced the bright sky. Before she could move, the sun was blocked out by a tattooed, scarred pony roaring in her face, spraying spittle over her face. She screamed as the pony reared up over her, preparing to beat her into the ground.

Twilight panicked; she summoned magic, raw and shapeless, and discharged simple arcane power. It washed over her and threw her attacker back, shrouding her in a purple shell, and she gasped and shook violently as the primal energy danced over her like lightning.

As it subsided, she tried to raise herself up on weak legs, calling out, “Rainbow! Rarity!”

Twilight heard somepony screaming, and then off in the distance she saw Rarity running out of the boutique, only to trip and go sprawling herself. Twilight tried to run for her, summoning more magic, but her body felt numb and her legs betrayed her, dropping her roughly to the ground.

She heard hoofsteps, and whirled her head around to meet them. A unicorn in tattered leather barding grinned at her as she emerged from Town Hall. The raider’s teeth had been filed into sharp points, and she flashed them at Twilight in malicious glee.

The unicorn pulled a crude spear from the hole in the nearby wall, and the weapon hovered above her head in a green aura.

“Hey, catch!”

The unicorn let the spear fly; for Twilight, it was in slow motion. She reached for it with her magic, but she was still reeling from her wild discharge of energy. All she could manage was to narrowly turn it aside, whistling past her ear.

The unicorn marauder groaned like a disappointed foal. Behind her, two more raiders emerged from their hiding spot. Twilight glanced back towards the boutique, but she had no time to search for her friends. This is all my fault, she thought, turning back to face her assailants.

She grit her teeth and pulled magic from her body once more, feeling the tingling along her spine. It gathered on the tip of her horn, and Twilight cast it out into a wide, flat plane in front of her. The air shimmered and crackled with energy.

The spearmare was talking, but Twilight couldn’t hear her through the light shield. She took quick stock of the other two raiders: one had only hoofblades, small serrated weapons tied to the hoof; the other clung to an old shootstick, a long wooden pole supporting a miniature iron cannon which flared out at the end.

The gunner took aim, and she knew her shield might not be able to withstand both his assault and the unicorn’s. The spear thrower summoned her own magic, and Twilight acted. She pushed her light shield forward like a ram. The unicorn, distracted while charging her power, had no time to react. While the other two jumped out of the way, she was blasted back, legs flailing like a foal trying to fly for the first time.

Twilight seized her chance as they regrouped, and made a mad dash for the boutique. She ran low to the ground, her ears tucked in, doing everything she could think of to make herself a smaller target. She raced for a cobblestone bridge over the stream ahead and took heart at the sight—perhaps she could funnel her pursuers into a bottleneck as she crossed.

There was a loud boom, and Twilight knew instantly that it was the shootstick’s report. It hit somewhere on the bridge, and as her hooves touched grass again she felt tiny shards of torn-up rock pelt her flank.

Twilight whirled, summoning her magic. She focused them into a tight, hard point, and cast an arcane bolt back across the water. It hit the gunner dead on, and he fell with magic arcing over his twitching body.

She looked away from her first target, now fallen, only to find the other raider now right before her.

Without time for useful magic, Twilight dropped low to the ground. The raider sailed over her and went sprawling with a thud. Twilight drew her magic up to power, and subdued the pony with a debilitating blast.

She took a moment to breathe, looking around for Rarity—she found her dancing back from another raider pony, the attacker's hoofblades glinting in the midday sun.

She took a sharp breath, and cast a simple dome-shaped light shield over Rarity, who then stopped short as her attacker’s weapons rebounded off the purple light. He fell back, Twilight let the shield drop. Rarity recovered swiftly, and unleashed a wide ray of magical energy. The pony on the ground groaned and shook violently, and Twilight knew he was out of the fight.

Rarity was at her side before Twilight could say a word.

“Where’s Rainbow?”

Rarity pointed, her eyes wide and her chest heaving. Twilight looked and saw that Rainbow was locked in combat with a green pegasus. They rolled in midair, hooves flying, punching, kicking. The raider tried to dig his hoofblades into her side, but Rainbow was too fast for him, batting his forelegs away. At last, she broke free, throwing the defeated raider down onto the boutique’s ceiling. He hit with a thud and rolled off of it. Twilight and Rarity winced.

“Thank you, Twilight. I’m glad you came along when you did! Now... wait. Where’s Applejack? Oh, please don’t tell me...”

Twilight shook her head furiously. “No, no she’s fine. Well, I think she’s fine! We got separated.” Rarity gaped at her. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to!”

“Twilight, you can’t... Nevermind. It’s a moot point. Rainbow!”

Shooting between the buildings with practiced ease, Rainbow landed gracefully a few steps away. She grinned triumphantly until she noticed that they were one pony short. Her cocky grin faltered.

“Hey, Twi, where’s AJ?”

Twilight groaned. “I don’t have time to explain. Can you two just help me find her?”

Rainbow’s wings flared out as she nodded. Rarity huffed, but had no objections. The three of them turned back towards the rest of town. Already, Twilight could hear the sound of conflict in the distance. She gestured back towards the center of town, and Rarity and Rainbow followed.

They passed Town Hall, and Twilight scanned the storefronts for shooters but found nothing. A pegasus rose up from one of the alleyways, and before Twilight could say anything, Rainbow was barreling towards the foe. The green raider fled, with Rainbow giving chase.

“Rainbow! Don’t chase her too far!” Twilight managed through gasps for air.

Rainbow spun around, hovering as the raider escaped.

“What the hay, Twilight? Why not?”

She wanted to scream, “Why? Besides the fact that she’s running?” The books all say... to stay together. She held her tongue. Yes, they all said to stay together and not go off alone. Like she had done.

Two raiders stormed out of a shop, and Twilight stopped short, readying her magic. Another joined them, an earth pony stallion with a shootstick. He leveled it, grinning like a madpony as both Twilight and Rarity brought up their shields. Twilight braced herself, preparing for the impact of the missile against her shield.

She needn’t have. As the gunner took aim, Twilight saw Applejack running up the alley towards them. One of the ponies looked back, but before he could alert his comrades, Applejack had turned and bucked them with all of her considerable force. They went airborne with a sickening crunch, ragdolling over the square. As Applejack passed, they stumbled to their hooves. Twilight kept her magic ready to cast an arcane bolt at any of them if they hesitated.

None of them did. In the blink of an eye, the element bearers were left on their own.

Twilight breathed a sigh of relief, watching the slowest one as he retreated. She allowed herself a thin smile, shifting her gaze back to Applejack. “Hey, looks like—”

Applejack was in her face, seething. Twilight backed away, her ears flattening against her head and her mouth hanging open. Applejack wouldn’t let her escape. She advanced, every step forward matching Twilight’s steps backward.

“What were ya thinkin’?! Were ya even thinkin’? Twi, I thought you were only gonna be a minute, and now... Celestia, lookit this! You coulda died! Just wanderin’ into ambushes an’ not carin’! You should know better. Celestia knows you’ve seen it done, and ya know how this works by now! I was sick with worry, thought some fool monster had found ya an’... an’...” Tears of what Twilight could only assume was anger gathered gathered in the corners of Applejack’s eyes.

Twilight noticed at last that there was a nasty cut under Applejack’s eye. No longer able to bear her accusing gaze, she stared down at her hooves, ears drooping. “Ah, Twi... look, hon, I’m sorry. But ya scared me right awful, ya hear? I just... I don’t wanna lose ya.”

“I know,” she said, studying the dirt.

Applejack sighed and sat heavily. “I reckon we’re in the clear, girls. Chased ‘em all off proper.”

Rarity came alongside Twilight, and hummed in affirmation. Twilight sighed and looked up at last. Applejack was still staring at her. Rainbow landed to stand beside her and look at Twilight.

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled. “I just wanted to be alone for a little while. See the library.”

“Sugarcube, I know ya didn’t mean it. I’m just... be careful, alright? Please? We’re here for ya.”

She nodded slowly.

“I’m not sure anypony we want to see is here, you guys,” Rainbow said, kicking the ground.

“Agreed.” Rarity grimaced at the storefronts. She put a foreleg over Twilight’s shoulders and hugged her close. “We’re all safe now, though. I’m sure Twilight will be more cautious in the future. Right, ‘fearless leader?’”

“Yeah,” Twilight muttered.

“Of course, darling. Now, I doubt anypony is here, but why don’t we make sure? I’d hate to see some trapped pony be retaken by these ruffians. Why don’t you take Twilight with you, Applejack?”

Twilight and Applejack trotted side by side through the streets they once called home.

They were both quiet for a long time. The only sounds were the wind and the quiet echo of their hooves. The long-shattered windows held now only dirty, jagged shards, taunting mouths making mockery of what had been. An orphaned door lay in the road, and Twilight peered down as she stepped over it. It was pink, or had been once. She sighed, seeing the legacy of raids here as well. When Luna had finally managed to lift the sun into the sky, they’d thought that things were looking up. They’d all believed it.

Then the raiders had come.

“Different. It’s all really different, Twi.”

Twilight glanced over at Applejack, and the look on her friend’s face knocked her out of her melancholic reverie entirely. Applejack took in every broken window and article of daily life left behind by panicking ponies. Twilight could tell what was coming. “Applejack?” Applejack simply shook her head. She squeezed her eyes shut, and sped up, leaving Twilight a few paces behind.

“Hey! Wait up!”

But she would not. Twilight stumbled after her, trying to keep up as they left town behind entirely. She didn’t try to call her back again. Applejack was running like the wind now, and for a brief, irrational heartbeat, Twilight feared Applejack meant to leave her behind for good.

Then, in a flash, Twilight realized where she was headed, and her heart sank.

Home.

Twilight was sprinting now, but still her friend widened the gap between them.

The sun was setting, and Twilight knew time would be short for them. Luna and the court mages could only keep the sun up for so long.

Applejack didn’t seem to care. She ran on, now well ahead of Twilight. With every bend in the long dirt road out of Ponyville, Twilight feared that she would lose sight of Applejack for good. It was was a silly thought, but it ate at her. As if letting Applejack out of her sight was just an invitation for raiders to snipe at her from the trees, or for her to sprout wings and fly off.

Time lost definition; all that mattered was the beat of her hooves against the dust. Sweat ran down her forehead and drenched her mane, matting it to her face. She shook the offending strands away, frown growing all the while. She was no runner.

It occurred to Twilight at last to teleport. She stopped dead in her tracks and made the jump, her magic tunneling through the cold space between heres and theres, carrying her to pop back into being before Applejack.

Her sudden appearance was ignored. Applejack's attention was elsewhere, her eyes locked on something behind Twilight—something that was making her shiver, something that had made her lose her footing into a fall, by the dust and dirt covering the one side of her. Something so terrible that AJ's beloved Stetson lay ignored in the dirt next to her, and there was so much wrong about that.

Twilight turned, bracing herself, but it wasn’t enough. The main farmhouse was ruined, discolored by accumulated filth. The windows were boarded up. The door which had been barred hung open. Through the open door she could see the beginning of some obscenity painted in green. Something had torn a hole in the roof, exposing half of the second floor to the sky. The barn beyond was flattened. Trees were uprooted left and right, and the ground was torn. In the dried mud, Twilight noted the heavy imprints of Manticore paws and her jaw hung open. Manticores hadn’t dared leave the bounds of the Everfree in a long time. World’s moved on.

“It’s all gone,” Applejack said behind her, and Twilight faced her friend. “All gone. ‘S all gone. Just look at it!”

“Applejack...” Twilight took a shaky step towards her. Applejack shook like a leaf in a bitter wind, her eyes darting from left to right, as if trying to find some evidence that it was all an illusion.

“No! It’s all gone! It’s all gone, Twi! Might as well’ve never been a Apple family livin’ in... in S-Sweet Apple... aw, Celestia. Aw, no.” Applejack turned and Twilight knew she was hiding her face.

“Applejack?”

“Gimme a m-minute, wouldja? Just... just a minute.”

Twilight sighed. It felt like the bottom of her stomach had just given out. Carefully, gingerly, she picked up the discarded Stetson from the dust with her magic, and brought it over to herself. She beat the dirt off of it with as much care as she could manage, and then sent it back to its proper place. She softly placed it on Applejack’s head, and Applejack automatically moved a hoof up to straighten it.

Twilight sat beside her and said nothing. The only sounds were Applejack’s sniffles and the quiet rustling of the soft breeze.

Finally,Twilight ventured to speak. She cleared her throat, and began. “Applejack, it’s going to b—”

“No! Don’t you dare tell me it’s gonna be all right, Twi! Don’t you dare! It ain’t alright! Ain’t never gonna be. It’s wrong! The world shouldn’t be this way! It wasn't meant to be this way.” Her drawl warped the words, mangling them into something akin to sobbing.

Twilight said nothing.

Tears sprang up in the corners of Applejack’s eyes and rolled down her cheeks. Twilight could see her red eyes now, puffed up and awful. Twilight moved closer to her, and Applejack buried her face in the crook of Twilight’s neck.

“I just wanna go home, Twi. It’s all I want.”

And still, Twilight had nothing to say. What could she say? The empty space where her words should be was like an almost tangible ache in the air. Twilight felt like her lungs were on fire, begging her to fill it with something, anything. Just so it wouldn’t linger on and on.

After a while, she spoke. “I’m sorry I left you all alone, Applejack.”

Applejack shook her head, her face still buried in Twilight’s neck. “Nah, it’s alright. Ya didn’t know.”

“No... I just... I wanted to see the library again. I shouldn’t have left you alone, you were right. We’ve been living in this world long enough to know that sort of thing. I was stupid. I was so worried that I’d gotten you killed.”

“Twi, it’s fine. Ya had to go home.” Applejack pulled out of her forelegs, and gestured wildly at her own former home. “I had to go home. We all need ta do it! Home... it’s home. And this don’t feel like it any more, and I don’t know what that means.”

Twilight sighed again. Her ears folded against her head, which she lowered as she inched forward to speak. “Applejack, I know you don’t want to hear it, but home isn’t just here. It doesn’t have to be here.”

Applejack sputtered, and shrugged, unwilling to speak.

Twilight turned them both back towards the house. Applejack resisted weakly, but soon gave in.

Twilight took a deep breath and stared at the house. The words came together in her head as she chewed her lip. “Applejack, your family’s back in Canterlot. They aren’t here. Isn’t that enough for ‘home’?”

“Dammit,Twi,” Applejack swore, pushing her hat down over her eyes. “It ain’t just about where you are, I know that. But Sweet Apple Acres was ours—it was part of us and they... just look what they done! You oughta know. Don't tell me you felt nothin' when you saw your library.” Her voice broke, and she coughed as her constricted throat finally refused to speak another word. Twilight held a leg open to her, and she returned to its comfort.

It was time to head back.

Twilight noticed the cellar door from far off. It hung open, revealing little but shaded blackness, inviting her in like a predator’s maw. However, she filed it away for later. First, she and Applejack needed to catch up with their friends.

Rainbow was easy to find. She flew over the streets, looking down and calling for them. As soon as she saw Twilight waving at her, she landed and started talking quickly. “Where have you two been? We looked all over!”

Twilight put up a hoof, gesturing for her to be calm. “It’s alright. Applejack and I thought it might be a good idea to check outside of town, see if any refugees had held up in her farmhouse.”

Applejack didn’t look at her, but Twilight heard her shuffle her hooves. A white lie, but she thought Applejack would appreciate it all the same.

“I’m guessing you guys didn’t find anything.”

“Good guess. Yeah... unfortunately, I fear I was right all along. The refugees from Dodge Junction never made it here. The raiders were probably hoping to snare someone a bit less prepared than us, though.” She gave Rainbow a smile. making her puff her chest out, placing a hoof over it. She flared her wings out.

“You know it! Nothin’ gets past me. I’d never leave you guys hanging. Anyway. Rarity asked me to go look for you two. We haven’t found them anywhere.”

Twilight thought about the cellar. “Did you check under the houses?”

“What?” Rainbow cocked her head to one side.

Twilight rolled her eyes and waved her hoof in a circle, as if to hurry Rainbow’s thinking along. “Cellars, you know.” Rainbow still looked lost, and Twilight sighed. She stopped waving her hoof and thrust it towards the ground. “Underneath.”

Rainbow’s eyes lit up. “Oh. I guess? I don’t know. I didn’t, really.”

“I didn’t either. Honestly, I was more waitin’ for ya ‘fore I started headin’ down into things.”

So probably not, Twilight thought. Right. I’ll just have a look at that cellar then.

Rainbow led them to the boutique, where Rarity sat pawing at something blue and silky, her back facing the doors. Is that... a dress? Part of it? Oh, Rarity. She wanted to leave her friend to mourn in peace, but she wouldn’t make the same mistake twice.

When Twilight coughed, Rarity jumped. She awkwardly wheeled herself around. “Oh! Sorry. Twilight, yes, hello. I was just... distracted. I’m glad Rainbow found you. Where were you?”

Twilight shrugged, seeing her friend hide the torn scraps. She avoided looking at them. “Sweet Apple Acres. We were looking for ponies. Sorry we forgot to tell you.”

“It’s fine, it’s fine. Of course. You were with Applejack; I knew the two of you together would be just fine.” She smiled as wide as she could, and pushed the rags out of sight behind her.

Twilight looked around, noting the dismal interior. These walls were stained just as Applejack’s had been, and the once lovely wallpaper was torn and shredded. The dress racks were bent and deformed, and to Twilight’s dismay, the raiders had covered the walls in their amateur attempts at hoof-drawn pornography.

Now that she was looking for them, she could see shredded fabric bits everywhere. Somepony had taken to destroying for fun the painstaking works Rarity had been forced to abandon.

The former fashionista, by this point, had recovered most of her poise. She sniffed. “Yes, solid thinking there, Twilight. It wouldn’t do to forget the outlying areas. I believe we’ve looked the town twice over by now, and there’s nothing but a few signs of somepony being here weeks ago. If there were refugees here, they’re long gone.”

“I doubt it was them. Probably raider bands or just drifters, stopping in an abandoned house for the night. I guess we can stay here for now, seeing as how the sun’ll be down before we can reach the river,” Twilight offered.

“I would quite prefer to sleep on a proper bed...” Rarity looked around, and Twilight just barely caught the grimace she gave.

“We can sleep at Sugarcube or the Inn,” Twilight said before Rarity could formulate the rest of her sentence. Twilight smiled softly, but said nothing as Rarity gave her a thankful look.

“Actually, Rarity, I wanted to check on something quickly.”

Rarity blinked. “Oh. Oh, of course. What, if I might ask?”

“Just a door. A cellar door, back when Applejack and I were walking back. I want to see. I mean, there won’t be anything in there, I know that. But... Curiosity. Just making sure.”

“Curiosity is alright, I suppose. Take Applejack with you?”

“Sure.”

Twilight nodded, but her mind had left the boutique altogether. She was thinking about the door.

As Applejack fell in step beside her, Twilight looked up, noting the setting sun. The days were far too short. Princess Luna did what she could, she knew that, but it simply was too much to expect a full day of sunlight in these times.

The cellar door bothered her. It tickled her mind, like how Spike had tickled her ears with one of Rainbow’s molted feathers years ago. She scrunched up her nose. She was sure it was nothing, but it had seemed so... odd.

It was a short walk, only a minute before she turned the corner and saw it. Wind blew, and the door creaked. The noise was harsh, abrasive. She winced.

Cautiously, very cautiously, she approached the door and looked around it. Standing before the drop into shadow, she waited for somepony to call up to her. Nothing came out from the hole, and she set her shoulders. It was just a cellar.

“I just want to take a peek,” Twilight explained. “Watch my back?”

“Sure.”

Twilight summoned her magic once more, closing her eyes as the warm, lively feeling coursed up her spine and gathered at the tip of her horn. She shaped it into a harmless ball of light, taking a deep breath. She always enjoyed making light; it was relaxing. Nothing dangerous or harmful about it, only a simple weaving and tying off. It reminded her of being a filly, and how her mother first taught her to create light to help push the shadows in her room back.

She let her little light go, and under her command it drifted down the wooden stairs, into the cellar below. She squinted into the abyss. For a moment, what lay beneath was unclear, but then she recognized it.. or rather, them.

Twilight froze, her levitated ball of light dropping down, bouncing along the bodies until it came to rest against the cheek of a pale, lifeless mare. The light caught on her glassy eyes, staring out at Twilight in their dead emptiness, almost reaching out toward her.

Twilight screamed. She scrambled back toward the steps in a frenzied escape only for her legs to collapse beneath her, slamming her chin down onto the cold stone, her vision blurring...and then, somehow, she was outside again, eyes wide and breaths short.

“Twilight!”

She couldn’t bear to look back. Instead, she looked up into the sky, but it was too disorienting, too much, and she could feel bile rising up in her throat. She turned her head and threw up violently.

“Twilight, what is it? Twilight!”

Applejack was at her side, pulling her away, trying to speak to her. Twilight ignored her, even as Applejack hoisted Twilight onto her back. Somewhere, the farmer was calling for their friends, trying to ask Twilight what it was she had seen. But she couldn’t say. She simply didn’t know how to say it in a way that would do it justice.

There had been so many.

Author's Notes:

It begins. The sunbutt teacher fled across the worlds and the Student spellslinger followed.

Thankya big big to sai RazedRainbow, who I thank for saying the right things to make this story happen. Read Not all Who Wander, y'all. You are the better craftsman and one of my best friends.
Thankya to sai q97randomguy, writer of Paradise Sundered and new into the fold of authordom, for his invaluable aid to me not only in this fic but many others, as a pre-reader and as a friend. Sharing references is super fun.
Thankya to Mixolydian Grey, for bein' best shy Skype contact and prereading
Thankya to AkibaWhite, who tore this thing to shreds and prompted me to decide to rewrite this chapter. It's a lot better now. Read Lost Legacies, y'all.
Thankya to wackedoutpet for helpin' a bit here an' there, editin' and reading.
Thankya to sai Admiral Hoofsome for bein' neat an' stuff. Some nice comments here and in chapter 2.
Finally, say thankya most kindly to sai Sunchaser, writer of the Lavender Letter, for his invaluable assistance, for making me think a lot, frustrating all my aims, and being a huge help. You're a pretty cool guy, Sunchaser.

Also, thanks Bronius and Nothing is Constant for reading just as readers. A lot of the time, ya just need to know it's worth and don't suck, ya know?

II. To Tell the Truth, to Tell it All

II. To Tell the Truth, to Tell it All

Applejack hated the sound of the ancient, iron-bound gate slamming shut. It was all the harsh, grating of metal on stone, but more than that, it was cold, final—it was dead. Her ears turned downwards and she closed her eyes, grimacing as the gates of Canterlot shut away the outside world for the evening.

The small crowd that gathered to greet them at the gate quickly flocked to Rainbow and Twilight, barraging them with questions of the outer world. A few tried speaking to Rarity, but she was never approached quite as immediately. Thankfully, Applejack had long ago learned that none of the crowd seemed incredibly interested in her. She was fine with that. Hay, I’m glad they aren’t all crowdin’ me. I like bein’ able to hear myself think.

Rainbow Dash reveled in it, coming alive in the attention, puffing out her chest and giving the crowd her award-winning smile. Ponies bombarded her with questions and requests for the whole story, but she parried their larger queries with the more exciting pieces of the tale. Applejack tried to catch her eye, but Rainbow wouldn’t look at her for more than a second. She couldn’t tell if it was simple distraction or something else. Rainbow hadn’t wanted to talk much on the way home.

The ponies that hounded Twilight were far more disappointed. The former protege of the princess simply marched forward, one hoof after the other, down the wide main boulevard of Canterlot. She looked lost in her own thoughts, a scowl on her face and her eyes staring down at the stones she trod upon.

Applejack adjusted her hat, thinking about the tingling sensation of Twilight’s magic depositing it there. Trippin’ and forgettin’ it like a fool...

Twilight continued on, staring down, until a tall gray stallion with black mane and tail blocked her brooding advance. He narrowed his eyes as he spoke, like somepony who had caught a foal breaking curfew. Applejack disliked him on sight. The way he looked at Twilight just made Applejack feel sordid. Twilight looked up at the interloper, and Applejack wished she could see Twilight’s face as he spoke.

“Twilight Sparkle. My name is Trotsany, of House—”

“Sorry,” Twilight said softly, “I need to go. I’m sure that the Princess is probably better suited for your request.”

Twilight tried to move around him, but he planted a gray hoof on her chest. She looked up into the face of the noble pony and he quickly went pale, his hoof falling away from her weakly. He sputtered at attempting some sort of reply, but Twilight simply continued on, the crowd surrounding her retreating into quiet whispers.

A part of Applejack would've paid a lot of bits to have seen Twilight's expression, but most of her just silently watched her go and shivered in the cold night air

I guess it was too much to ask for, her feelin’ better by morning. ‘Course, I ain’t sure I’d be feelin’ much better if I’d seen ‘em.

Applejack hadn’t looked; out of respect, of course, not fear or anything. She tried not to think about it too hard.

They had burnt the whole house. Applejack refused to touch the bodies, and Rarity hadn’t been able to get very close knowing what was underneath. Even Dash had been somber as Twilight set the house ablaze, and they had all watched as the darkened Ponyville evening was lit with the towering flames of a funeral pyre.

The crowd was dispersing, and Rainbow was beginning to make her own way up to the High City. Applejack came up beside her.

“How you holdin’ up, sugarcube?”

“Hm?” Rainbow blinked. “Eh, fine, I guess. I mean, we’re all okay, aren’t we?”

Applejack let the callousness pass. Rainbow had been almost as troubled as Twilight as they sat around the fire the night before. “‘Course we’re all okay. You headin’ straight up to the Princess, or are you makin’ some stops?”

Rainbow shrugged, unfurling her wings and flapping them once. “Don’t exactly have anywhere to go in Canterlot but there.”

Applejack sighed. “Y’know yer always welcome with us, Rainbow. An’ I’m sure Fluttershy would love some company. The ‘mostly permanent’ kind. It’s a big house she’s got for just one lil’ pony.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Let me guess, you’re gonna go home first?”

“Rightcha are there, sugarcube.” She gave Rainbow a smile. “Tell Twi an’ them for me, wouldja?”

Rainbow nodded, and Applejack stepped back to make room as she flared her wings out. With a push, she lifted off into the air. “See you in a bit, AJ!”

And then she was gone. Applejack’s eyes lingered on Rainbow’s swiftly retreating form, and she sighed. Sometimes I envy ya, Rainbow. Flyin’ off wherever you wanna go...

But then something caught her eyes. Something blue and moving fast, flying as fast as Rainbow was. Something coming right towards her. She grinned and her heart leapt in her chest as she waited for him.

It didn’t take long. Soarin’ was one of the fastest pegasi alive.

He landed right in front of her, stirring up a tiny cloud of dust. She suppressed a chuckle as he landed and then stumbled.

“Heya. Don’t hurt yerself there!”

Her favorite pegasus recovered with a goofy smile on his face and trotted over to her.

“Hey. Scout fliers said that you four were coming back emptyhoofed, and I was wondering how you were holding... up. Applejack?” He finally noticed the ugly gash that ran below her right eye. She realized where he was staring, and tugged her hat down. Her cheeks burned.

“Ain’t nothin’. I’m fine, ya hear? ‘Sides, ain’t you supposed to be on duty, Soarin’?”

Soarin’ chuckled, pushing the hat back up playfully with a wing. He kissed her on the unscarred cheek. “Hey, now, you know me. Whenever I can, I’m bailing.” Applejack glared at him. She had half a mind to say something about that before he shook his head. “Nah, Spits just told me that I’ve been on rotation too long. She gave me the week off to do my own thing. Well, our own thing.”

Applejack rolled her eyes. “Right. You gonna walk me home, ya big fool?”

“If’n yer willin’,” he replied, mimicking her accent. It was a terrible impression, and she punched him for it.

“Can it, pretty boy,” she said, grinning. “‘Sides, I think yer gonna wanna hear what all went down in Ponyville.”

He shook out and settled his wings, and together they set off towards the middle city. “Anything to stave off the boredom of traipsing around in the mud, my lovely apple pie.”

“I hate you sometimes.”

“Oh, I know.”

The avenue from Old Canterlot up to the greater Celestial Tier was adorned by a series of arches with pennants flying on them. They caught Applejack’s attention and held it.

As best she could, she relayed to him the events in Ponyville. He listened, the humor draining from his face as she continued. When they came to the marble archways, she briefly paused her tale. Soarin’ was about to speak, but her eyes caught his, and he held his peace.

They walked through the arches in companionable silence. While she didn’t enjoy Canterlot life, there were parts of the city she truly loved. The gateways between the lower and middle tiers were some of those places. The tightly-packed, bustling traffic gave way to open gardens, where stone pathways led through fresh-trimmed grass and bursts of floral color. A few ancient oak trees provided shade along the way from the sun. Already noon too, Applejack noted.

She knew that Princess Luna was trying, but the days were still short. Things were going to fall apart without longer days to grow and work in. But walking along the paths she loved, some of her good spirits returned. “...I guess that’s all t’ tell, really. I wanna hear ‘bout the guard though. And your pegasi. What’ve you been doin’?”

Soarin’ shrugged, focusing on her while her gaze wandered over the marble arches. “Not much. Kind of the same old thing: a bunch of wide-eyed newbies and a handful of grumbling old officers. I got a new kid in my wing yesterday, though. Prism Rays, good kid. A bit... er, boy crazy? Wide-eyed, average flyer. Not exactly what I’d have picked out, but he’ll do. They kind of all have to do.”

“You’ll have them ready, Soarin’. I know ya will. Wonderbolt, remember?”

He nodded. “Yeah. Wonderbolt.” He looked away.

They passed ponies going the opposite way on business. The middle tier was quieter, away from the hubbub of the grand gate and it’s street vendors. The streets were still lined with tall buildings, but there was more green life. Just the way Applejack liked it.

They took a right, headed towards her Canterlot home. “Y’know, I wonder if Rainbow knows yet.”

He chuckled and shook his head. “I doubt it. Spits only figured it out because I wasn’t coming back to the barracks some nights. Her and Rainbow... they’re pretty similar. It’d take something pretty drastic to make her realize she likes somepony, let alone somepony else liking a certain apple-y applehat.”

She resisted the urge to punch him, and instead awarded him with a chuckle—if only for variety. He beamed.

“Ain’t like we’ve been tryin’ that hard. I mean, it’s still secret an’ all... but Rares knows for sure. Twilight ain’t noticed nothin’ about nopony in a long while, and I know Flutters knows. Celestia alone knows the workin’s of Pinkie’s mind.”

Soarin’ raised his eyebrows. A young couple passed, sharing some private joke. Applejack watched them, sighing. Soarin’ looked down, and then spoke in a lowered voice.

“Applejack... do you think she’s coming back? Celestia, I mean.”

Applejack didn’t hesitate. She shot him a questioning look. “Of course I do. She’s Celestia. Ya think she’d off an’ abandon us? She’s loved an’ cared fer Equestria so long that it would be impossible to think ‘bout it at all without her.”

Soarin’s wings fidgeted. “Yeah, yeah, I know. I’m not giving up, AJ. I don’t like the kinds of talk I hear sometimes about the Princesses, and I don’t hold with those who talk it. I’m just... What if she just got tired? Not hated us, or didn’t love us or any of that stuff. But she just didn’t want to do it anymore? Or what if... what if she’s dead?”

Applejack growled. “Soarin’, don’t be a fool. It ain’t becomin’ of ya.”

He shot her a tired smile. “It’s what I do best! I know, I know. I’m just thinking. Twilight and Luna knew her best, Applejack, and they’re... like, I don’t know. Depressed? Not exactly hopeful. The way you all talk,Twilight is nothing like how she used to be. She’s withdrawn, sad, listless. The Princess...” He looked around, and Applejack did too. There were far too many ponies for this conversation out here.

Luckily, they were almost to Applejack’s home. They took another turn, and in moments they were inside Applejack’s townhouse. Applejack closed the door behind them, and the two stood in her living room.

“Applebloom’s still at school. Macintosh... ain’t got no idea. But we should be fine talkin’ in my bedroom. I’d rather the cousins not hear—”

“I’d rather not hear too, if you don’t mind.” A rumbly, bassy voice filled the room. Applejack flinched. Soarin’s eyes grew to the size of dinner plates. Big Macintosh stood stock-still in the hallway, eyebrow raised. Applejack shook herself, putting a hoof on her chest. When she caught her brother directing his attention at Soarin’, she rolled her eyes.

“Stop bein’ mean to him.”

“I ain’t.”

“‘Course ya ain’t. C’mon, Soarin’, let’s go. Macintosh, you play nice.”

“Eeyup.”

She knew that the big red stallion held no real animosity. He was simply a quiet sort. But it was hard for others to read him like she could.

They bypassed her brother and headed up to her room. She closed the door behind them and then promptly collapsed on her soft bed. Applejack felt it move beneath her, and knew Soarin’ had sat at the edge.

“I swear I never meant to make a bad impression on your brother,” he began, and she pictured him with his wild mane thrown back, his green eyes regarding her. She stretched.

“Nah, he ain’t got anythin’ ‘gainst ya. Just bein’ a big fool, that’s all.”

He continued. “Is this how your room looked back on the farm? I’d just met you then, so I never got a chance to see—”

“Gettin’ distracted, hon.”

He sighed, and she turned to watch him scratch his mane with a hoof. He wore a puzzled look on his face. “Sorry, yeah, I know. It’s just... I’m not exactly thrilled to be talking about it. But Princess Luna is stalling out. And... ah, yeah.” He grinned at the confused look Applejack gave him. “Right, sorry. Stalling out is when you fly straight up until all your speed bleeds off, and gravity catches up to you, and you start to fall. Kinda. It’s not important. That’s what she’s doing, though.”

“She won’t do anythin’?”

“Nothing,” he said, and flopped down beside her. “Princess Luna won’t communicate with the senior officers and all she does is sign things. A lot like how you talk about Twilight, actually. I talked to Page Turner while you were gone, remember him?” She shook her head, and he continued. “He’s one of Luna’s aides, guy who brings her paperwork, reports on stuff, helps her out. He says she’s depressed, that she doesn’t go anywhere that’s not strictly necessary.”

Applejack scooted closer to him. She hadn’t realized how sore her hooves were until now. Smiling, she lay one on Soarin’s chest and pulled him into a kiss.

“It’ll pass, hon. The Princesses won’t abandon us. Luna is a good pony, an’ so’s Twi. It’s just... like a storm, or a long cold night, that’s all. It’ll pass; they always do.”

He grunted and moved to face her. She smiled, and teased that goofy grin out of him. She loved that smile, how he flashed those teeth so freely, like smiling was as natural and needful as air. She loved that silly mane of his that would never be still and lie low. His eyes reminded her of the leaves in her beloved orchards, hiding the apples that were the foundation of her family’s life.

He kissed her on the nose, and she giggled despite herself.

“If you say so,” he said softly.

Rarity walked the palace halls, her lips pressed tightly closed while her eyes kept alert, scanning her surroundings. She watched every passing servant and every bored guard. In short, she looked for signs of the abnormal.

It was an unfortunate duty, but one she did not bear alone. It was true that Rarity was no Fluttershy, but she was decidedly detail-oriented and she caught things that Applejack, Pinkie or even Twilight might have missed.

Things like the sidelong glances barely visible in periphery as she walked by; the subtle narrowing of a particular noble's eyes as they passed in the hall.

It was not news to any of the Element Bearers that something was cancerous in the halls of high Canterlot. While the noble House of Belle had long been disenfranchised—a little under seven hundred years—they still kept their horns held high and their ears to the ground, catching the hushed whispers.. Her father had wanted to get away from it completely, be a simple country pony with simple country joys. He had gone out of his way to cast off the legend of the name of Belle, but Rarity had held fast to it. As a Lady should.

She passed two Solar Guards, both of them white pegasi. The tiny insignia on their gold-painted barding identified them as levies from House Rowan-Oak, who had ever been thorns in the sides of anyone who would rule over them. They were against Luna.

They eyed her subtly. Most wouldn’t have caught it, but Rarity had learned to bask in attention and noticed when ponies watched her. She resisted the urge to put a dash of sway into her step as she left them behind, just to fluster them. Charity won, and she continued normally.

Beyond just some mildly impudent looks from guards, she was more troubled by the strange air in the palace. When her friendship with Twilight was young, and the princesses ruled together, the serving ponies had smiled and sung as they went about their duties; she had felt at ease, safe here, surrounded by such light. But now the halls were silent, the castle staff wore stoic grimaces, and the Solar and Lunar guardsponies hurried past each other, trading nothing save suspicious eyes.

She was so caught up in her reverie that she almost missed Fluttershy standing quietly outside the doors to Luna’s apartments. In fact, she would have, if Fluttershy hadn’t spoken softly.

“Um... Rarity?”

Rarity jerked, and searched until she found that familiar pink mane.

“Ah, Fluttershy! I’m dreadfully sorry. I was quite lost in thought. Were you waiting?”

“Only for a little while. It’s alright. I don’t mind, you know. There’s a lot to think about.”

Rarity tutted, gesturing grandly. “Now, now, Fluttershy, we mustn’t be too modest. You are quite deserving of attention! Shall we go in already?”

Fluttershy shifted her weight, flapping her wings once. “I suppose.”

Rarity took the door handles in her magic and pushed. The room beyond was ornate, in its own stark way. It was a brutal sort of beauty, Rarity had always thought, and befitting a ruler who prized the night time. Fluttershy and Rarity walked into the antechamber.

It was a massive starfield, painted intricately by a team of royal artisans to be both accurate and majestic. Soft, cloud-like nebulae drifted across the walls while above, tiny lines of silver and gold drew together patterns of constellations; the stars that comprised them shone even brighter. Rarity was still impressed: pure, Canterlotian Diamond was expensive and rare. It was also dangerous, in the possession of a spellcaster with the will to use it. A single diamond would not only amplify and channel a user’s magic perfectly, but it would also add in its own bizarre touch of wild magic. Makes the impossible possible, they say.

“Is Luna here yet?” she asked Fluttershy, as they fully entered the chamber. Rarity gestured to a ebony couch, carved up in slender tail-like spikes at the ends, and they sat.

“No,” Fluttershy answered. She sighed. “I saw you watching the guards.”

“Yes... it’s rather hard to miss, dear.”

“Not if you’re Twilight. Or Dash, too, I guess.”

“It doesn’t seem any worse though, Fluttershy. There’s no need to be down in the dumps,” she said, trying her best to offer a comforting smile. Oh yes there is, Rarity. Oh yes, there is. But we shan’t give it all away. Twilight shan’t either, if I can have a word with her! Not in detail, at least.

“Oh, don’t worry, I’m fine.” Her wings fidgeted, and her ears lay flat against her skull.

“If you're sure, Fluttershy," Rarity said, as the shy mare retreated behind her flowing mane. Well, that's that then, she thought, taking a deep breath. "Twilight came by, didn't she?"”

Fluttershy nodded eagerly. “Yes, she did! Oh, but she came storming by me and she was so very upset! I tried to talk to her, honest, but she just didn’t want to, and...”

Rarity raised a hoof to shush her. “There, there, it’s quite alright. I can imagine.”

Fluttershy looked back down at the exquisitely tiled floors. “I’m sorry.”

“No need to be, darling. Did she say anything about what happened down in the valley?”

Fluttershy shook her head, her long mane still hiding her face from view. “Oh, no, I did try to ask but she wouldn’t say. She just told me that it wasn’t time yet.”

“‘Wasn’t time yet.’ Wonderful,” Rarity groused, jumping up. While Fluttershy looked on, she began to pace before the great doors.

"Fluttershy, I must admit, I am somewhat worried. Twilight... we found something in Ponyville. Something terrible. I'm rather concerned that Twilight may do something rash. She's refused to speak with anyone since—she summarily rebuffed even myself!" Rarity huffed, turning to Fluttershy. "Can you imagine it? Twilight, our Twilight, fixing moi with such a look that I was left quite distaught!" Shivering a little in the coolness of the chamber, Rarity resumed her pacing. "I suppose, in hindsight, it may have been just a bit...uncivil of me to expect her to sim—”

“She’s angry at the Princess.”

Rarity stopped hoof extended in a sweeping gesture, her mouth open in midsentence. She stared at Fluttershy, blinking. The pegasus seemed to shrink. Coughing, Rarity put her hoof back down.

“I... come again?”

Fluttershy murmured incoherently. Rarity’s ears flicked forward, and she squinted. “Come again? I’m sorry dear, but honestly, you must speak up!”

“I think Twilight is angry at—”

The antechamber doors slamed open and Rainbow Dash entered, smiling grimly. The sudden noise made both of them jump. Fluttershy squeaked in alarm, and Rarity glowered at Rainbow. Rainbow, for her part, flattened out her grin and met Rarity’s eyes.

“She’s on her way. Applejack just got here.”

Rarity sighed. “You’re a ruffian at heart, Rainbow. The nerve! Your entrance was deplorable. Now, kindly, where is Pinkie Pie?”

“Oh, I’m here!”

Through the still open doors, the pink pony bounced in, smiling. Rarity could summon up no words of discouragement for her behavior. Pinkie was Pinkie; it was the only constant.

“Splendid. It’s wonderful to see you again, Pinkie—”

“And you too! I haven’t seen Twilight yet, but I saw Applejack and Dashie and Flutters and now I’m seeing you! I heard Twilight is kind of sad, but I’m sure—”

“—but I’m sure we can catch up later. You say Twilight’s on her way here?”

Pinkie took a deep breath then nodded. Rainbow landed beside her and as Pinkie began another long string of comments, she unceremoniously stuffed a hoof in her mouth. Pinkie continued, unperturbed.

“Sorry, yeah, she is.”

Rarity was torn between a chuckle and a sigh. “Yes, well before she gets here, Fluttershy...” she looked back and found her still hiding behind her mane on the couch. “Fluttershy thinks that Twilight has some manner of contention with our princess, and I think she might just be right. We should be prepared.”

Pinkie finally wiggled out of Rainbow’s reach and began again. “Yeah, but I was gonna say—”

Rainbow groaned. “Pinkie, can you be still and can it for just a sec?”

Pinkie wilted, frowning. “I was just gonna say that Twilight’s gonna give the Princess one of those things.”

Rarity cocked her head to one side, coming closer to the pair. “Those things? Whatever do you mean, darling?”

“An ulty-mate ‘em. You know. Like demands and stuff.”

Rarity raised both eyebrows. “Ah! An ultimatum, Pinkie. Does your Pinkie Sense tell you this, or...?”

But Pinkie shook her head. Her smile returned. “No, no. I just know. I pay attention.” She looked past Rarity to Fluttershy. “Just like Flutters! I may not be quite as good at watching, but I know my friends. Twilight thinks too much.”

Rainbow rolled her eyes. “She’s an egghead, Pinks. It’s what they do. That’s not special.”

She took to hovering again, and Rarity watched her, distracted. Bored already, Rainbow? My, but I wish I could fly.

“No, Dashie! I know Twilight thinks a lot, but this is different! She’s just... thinking. Like, thinking about thinking. Oh, I mean...” She looked down at her hooves as if trying to choose between them.

“She’s thinking without doing, perhaps?” Rarity offered, confused.

Pinkie brightened. “Yes! She just sits and does nothing allllll the time. It’s boo-ooring! And she frowns like this.” She imitated Twilight rather well, Rarity thought, sitting slouched over with a pained expression. “And just cooks like a baked bad. She just gets worse and worse.”

“And you think she’s going to be... er, ready?”

“Yup!” Pinkie said, cheerfully, as if this wasn’t dire news at all. Rarity blinked, and once again decided that the confusion Pinkie caused in her was the only constant.

But she couldn’t really argue. As Pinkie happily bounced off to greet Fluttershy, Rarity considered that perhaps it was for the best. Twilight needed to stop bottling things up. She too had noticed it, though perhaps she would never have put it quite as Pinkie had. But it had been so easy to excuse away. Twilight was having a bad day. Twilight was busy. Twilight was reading reports and paperwork.

Oh, but I’ve neglected you, Twilight. She sighed and followed Pinkie. All they could do was wait.

Fluttershy didn’t talk much.

It wasn't so easy for her to speak up like others did—she could only be so brave most of the time, and so she chose her few words as carefully as she could. When she did speak, she tried to make sure it was important.

Between those important times, she sat quietly and watched. So often, in fact, that she'd become very, very good at watching.

So much so that she noticed things. Things like, for instance, that despite her bouncing and smiling, Pinkie kept glancing at the door. Rainbow was staring at the stars, but she wasn’t moving her gaze from constellation to constellation; her head didn’t move at all. So she wasn’t actually looking at them, Fluttershy decided. Rarity had returned to her pacing. Pinkie was humming to herself after an unsuccessful attempt at trying to goad Rainbow into talking to her.

Fluttershy also listened. It was something else she was very good at, and so when Applejack spoke in the hall outside, it was Fluttershy who heard her first.

Her ears flicked forward, and she half rose from the soft couch. “They’re here,” she said quietly. Everypony in the room turned to face her, and she shrunk back again. It was enough to cease Pinkie’s humming.

Seconds later, the doors did indeed open to admit Twilight and Applejack. Twilight’s eyes flitted between the four ponies in the room, never settling on any of them for long. She didn’t smile, and she didn’t say hello. Twilight didn’t do that a lot these days, Fluttershy noticed. Applejack smiled as she entered, and tipped her hat to Rarity, who was nearest.

“Sorry I was late, girls. Went by home to see the family, y’know,” Applejack said, her smile lingering. Not even Twilight’s moody stomping towards the couch on the far corner could dampen that smile. It was infectious, and Fluttershy felt one creep over her face.

“It’s quite alright, Applejack. I must confess that I did the same, myself. I dallied long enough to see Sweetie and then came straight here. I hope you were able to see Apple Bloom. How is your brother?”

Applejack smiled at her. “Aw, Apple Bloom’s doin’ fine. Thankya for askin’. And Mac is just alright.”

“You should’ve passed along my regards, Applejack!” Rarity said, leaning in with a smile on her face. “And my, I simply must ask about your... techniques. Or what you’ve been doing with yourself, you know. You’re simply glowing.”

She was. Fluttershy understood what Rarity meant.

Applejack's face burned a sudden crimson. "Ugh, I swear, Rares. Shove off," she hissed, lowering her eyes. "Indecent," she muttered.

“Oh, but where’s your sense of fun?” Rarity giggled. “I’m sorry, Applejack, I thought you might laugh. I suppose that was a bit mean of me. Forgive me?”

“Yeah, fine. O’ course.”

“Excellent.” She lowered her voice, leaning in even farther. As she spoke, Applejack’s eyes wandered over to Twilight and stayed there. Fluttershy looked at Twilight as well. She didn’t move, staring at the stars, her expression still dour.

Fluttershy strained to hear the whispered conversation. The words flew quickly between Rarity and Applejack, as Applejack’s hat came down like a bridge between the two.

“Has she said anything, Applejack?”

“Nah. Nothin’. Ain’t heard a peep outta her. She was just amblin’ ‘round when I got here. Waitin’ fer me, I guess?”

“Possible. I’m worried she’s planning something rash.”

Rarity looked over at Twilight, pawing at the floor with a hoof.

“Ain’t nothin’ we can do ‘bout it, I suppose,” Applejack whispered when she turned back.

Rainbow hovered over them, and both ponies looked up sharply at her. The pegasus looked down questioningly, and Fluttershy watched Rarity and Applejack break away from one another, coughing. Rarity gestured towards the center of the room, and Applejack walked forward, removing her hat.

With no more conversation to tune in on, Fluttershy set her attention back to observing.

Outside, there was a flurry of movement. She heard a deep, masculine voice call out a greeting, and then the shuffling of arms. Princess Luna appeared in the doorway.

It was widely enough known that Luna was tired, but seeing her now... The princess had pronounced bags beneath her eyes, so much so that it seemed her head was drooping under their weight. Her mystical mane, flowing and dotted with stars, hung limp and frazzled, a dull and flat blue. Her shoulders slumped, and her normally graceful hoofsteps dragged across the carpet.

She attempted a smile as she entered, casting her graceful presence through the room, but it didn't hold. Fluttershy could plainly see how it faltered, and when it came at last to Twilight, it fell and died. Luna's attention rested on the unicorn, as if she could already plainly see the future there.

Greetings, our little ponies," she spoke, her crisp alto voice fracturing as it strained to fill the room. "We sincerely apologize for our rather dilatory behaviour of late. Shall we proceed?"

Without a word, the six friends followed her through a second set of doors into the inner chambers of Luna’s apartments. They passed through a long hallway of black inlaid with gold, and took a right into a simpler room. This was Luna’s study, constructed from ancient cut stone and furnished with classical styles. It was served by simple candles, which lit at a glimmer of the Princess’ horn. The bookshelves lining the walls were of mahogany, and the small desk and long table were of blocky, sturdy design. For a royal study, it was comparatively modest.

Sighing, Luna took her place at the desk. The others sat in chairs around the long table, Twilight at the end most opposite of Luna. Fluttershy chose last, and she sat beside Twilight.

Luna opened up their council. “We would hear from the four of you that ranged afield, but We would like to start with an account of what happened in your absence. House Blueblood has banished the Lunar Guard from the proceedings in the Assembly of Houses Major.”

The news was met with silence. Such a thing was unprecedented, some could argue near treasonous, but only Rarity and Twilight truly understood that immediately. Fluttershy pieced together what such things really meant by her observation of them, and saw how their eyes went wide.

Rarity dared speak up first. “That’s... that’s rather grave, Your Highness. Are they perhaps trying to hide something?”

Luna snorted derisively, dismissing the idea with a wave of her hoof. "Hardly something so cunning. Insofar as it's anything, they're just making perfectly clear what they think of Our ruling authority. Self-entitled foalishness. We shall simply wait it out."

“I hear that a lot these days.”

Time ground to a halt, and Fluttershy’s heart hammered in her chest as she slowly turned towards Twilight.

Twilight sat, her hooves idly crossed on the table, staring down the length with the same stone-faced expression she’d worn since her return.

“Twilight Sparkle. We are... not entirely sure We heard thee correctly. Wouldst thou please repeat thyself?”

“Certainly. I said ‘I hear that a lot these days’.”

Luna rose from her seat, standing on all four legs, raising her head high as she stared back at Twilight. A hint of irritation was plainly visible in her narrowed eyes.

The tension between them pressed down on the room, and Fluttershy could hardly bear it. She bowed her head beneath it, her mane falling over her face, hiding one of her eyes while she shut both of them tight.

But she could still hear. “I would like to make my full report, Princess.”

There was a moment of silence—of hesitation—before she heard Luna reply. “Proceed,” the princess said, delicately.

“Ponyville was a death trap. Exactly like Captain Ice’s expedition to Mareford three weeks ago. We were ambushed; not only that, but they were better prepared, and more heavily armed than I’ve ever seen them. They’re getting stronger. If there had been any more of them, the town could have been a fortress.”

It was quiet for a moment, and Fluttershy dared to peek, catching the Princess blinking a few times as she took the words in. “That is a grave piece of news, Twilight Sparkle. We sense that you have more than just this to say, however. We would hear your thoughts.”

Twilight barked a harsh laugh, all the more mocking as it bounced through the room off the bare wood and stone. "Oh, I have plenty to say, alright. The sun doesn't shine but six hours a day at best, and yet the guard sits idle inside Canterlot instead of going out and protecting towns and ponies. And that's just the top of the list of things going wrong, which is getting a whole lot longer than the list going right."

The growing tension filling the room snapped, and a chill fell in place as everyone stared at Twilight.

Almost everyone. Fluttershy shivered and shied away, hiding as much as she could behind her rosy mane. Twilight might question sometimes, but this... this isn’t like her at all!

“You can hardly fault Us for the sun," Luna began slowly, cautiously. There was patience in her voice—no, lenience. "We have done what best we can. It is entirely different from Our moon, Twilight. You know this better than most, from your own research into potential unicorn assistance."

Twilight paused, seeming to relent, if only a little. "Yes. I know you can't help the sun not behaving. But the Royal Guard still sits and does nothing! We've nearly lost Equestria, Luna! The whole country—all of it. Nopony is safe on the roads, towns are open to attack, left defenseless—abandoned. I worry that sometime soon, when we leave these walls all we're going to find out there are the dead and those that made them. We aren't doing anything. Marauders roam the land unchecked. They have shootsticks and rough blades now, Luna. How long until they get their hooves on something better? How long until they find real weapons, like repeaters and spellblades?

“We would think those hard to come by,” the Princess said. Her brow furrowed. “Furthermore—”

"And what if they aren't?" Twilight spoke quickly now, the weight of her fears pushing the words out. "Rioting in Stalliongrad just last week left over a hundred ponies dead. Everyday, average ponies—civilians—running around with weapons in the streets—”

"We know what you would say. We could not send soldiers in number to bring order Stalliongrad for fear of causing an incident with the Griffons of the north, as you well understand." Luna sighed; the confrontation was wearing on her patience. "We ensured that aid was sent—"

“It wasn’t enough,” Twilight spat icily, her glare still matching the eyes of the princess. “You sent a token force of guards north to escort half the supplies they asked for. It was Fillydelphia all over again; they still haven’t recovered from the Market Fire. And that reminds me, Princess. Those repeaters and spellblades being hard to come by? Just how long has it been Bell Armory was under proper guard? Has anypony even bothered checking it in—”

“ENOUGH!”

Twilight fell silent, her jaw clenched, eyes lingering on the cracks in the rosewood around the princess’ descended hoof.

Luna paused a moment, drawing a deep breath, pushing aside her risen temper. "Twilight Sparkle, thou wilt cease thy condemnations presently," she eventually said, her voice straining beyond an angry hiss. "We understand thou art hounded with guilt and frustrations, for We are as well. But such is not just cause to stand before Us and cast such indictments." The princess breathed a rattling sigh, seating herself again and raising a hoof to gently massage her temple. "We would think thee friend to Us," she said quietly, "and so are easily inclined to clemency, but do not test us, Twilight Sparkle. We do not have the patience we once did."

She's fallen into full formal Old Equestrian now. Fluttershy squeezed her eyes shut and hid her face away, her breathing and heart quickened. Please be over now. Oh, please, be over.

"'Twas no mere trap or ambush that prompted thee to such words as these, Twilight Sparkle," she heard Princess Luna say, her voice strained, tone laden with exhaustion. "Pray, tell: what is it that drove thee to this end?"

“What drove me to this, Princess? Do you want to see? Would you like me to show you?”

Fluttershy heard the soft chimes of magic, and was seized by a shiver as a deep coldness fell on the room. An itching, static charge raced over her coat as the spell built, until eventually she could bear no more—

Suddenly it was gone. Hesitantly, Fluttershy opened her eyes, but the fleeting moment of calm was crushed by mortal terror.

Twilight had brought out the dead of Ponyville, and Dodge Junction's last citizens stared their empty, lifeless eyes out at them all.

Fluttershy beheld the faces of the lost, hanging deathly still in the air, captured in a single moment forever. They stared down at her from some awful abyss, their eyes open wide. Their coats were graying, falling apart, just beginning to show signs of rotting. Her eyes were held by a single face, one she almost felt like she recognized, but couldn’t place. It was a stallion with short hair. His mouth hung open, perhaps in a scream, or perhaps just caught in mid-sentence, as some monster indifferently ended his life.

Tears washed down her face like a flood. Time swept past her unnoticed, words spoken around her unheard. The faces took up her whole attention.

It was too much.

“For the love of Celestia, no more!” Fluttershy cried, her voice risen to a wailing scream.

The images were gone in an instant. Fluttershy hyperventilated, staring ahead, her eyes darting from place to place. They slid over Applejack, who sat gaping, and settled on Twilight, who looked at her with unguarded shock.

Fluttershy felt like she was going to be sick. She was suddenly faint, and her tears burned against the cold, trembling skin of her cheeks. She needed to get out, away from here, anywhere but where those faces, those eyes could see her. It wasn't real! It was just an illusion! her mind protested, unheard.

She clumsily pushed herself from the table and stumbled from her chair, legs threatening to collapse beneath her. Adrenaline drove her to the door, shaking hooves fumbling to open it until a maroon aura enveloped the handle and it swung wide, spilling her out into the hallway.

Fluttershy tried her hardest not to be sick. It would be so much trouble for the serving ponies to have to clean up after her. Just... just be still, and don't think. Don't think and it goes away. Twilight just showed... a picture. That's all. It wasn't real. She sank down onto the hallway floor, struggling through deep, even breaths. But, oh, Celestia. Twilight wouldn't lie. Oh no, this can't be, it just can't be real!

A little calmer now, she tentatively opened her ears to the room she'd just fled—but from within, she heard nothing. At least, nothing loud enough to pierce her own frantic, heavy breathing. There was a creaking of wood, then the echo of hoofsteps, and then a shadow was cast beside her as somepony came from the room and laid a gentle hoof on her shoulder. Fluttershy dared peek upward, and her eyes found Rarity and a sympathetic smile. She laid her head down again, still shivering slightly, and closed her eyes, leaning into her friend's comforting warmth. Rarity sighed, running gentle, soothing hooves through her tousled mane.

“That’s what I found, Princess. T-that’s what I f-found in Ponyville. Because you won’t act! Because no one will act!” Twilight had recovered—well, recovered enough, because even from outside the room Fluttershy could hear the tears in her voice.

“We... Twilight Sparkle, we do not under—”

“We sit up here and do nothing! We lost contact with Manehattan months ago! They flat out refused to even speak to royal messengers! Vanhoover is dark. Las Pegasus is dark. Fillydelphia was set on fire, and now won’t answer us either. Do you know what happened to the ponies of Dodge Junction? They’re ashes! I had to burn their bodies in Ponyville! And that was the best we could do!”

Fluttershy heard Twilight pound the table with her hoof, and flinched. The faces of the dead were back, clouding her mind’s eye. No, no, no! She opened her eyes and stared down at the floor.

“Twi—”

"I'm not done, AJ. Luna, if we sit here in Canterlot and do nothing and ponies die because of it, what does that mean? What does it mean, Princess?" Twilight wasn't yelling anymore; her words were hard as iron. Her voice needed no raising now.

“We have done what We could!” the princess contested, but Fluttershy could hear how her voice shook.

She'd never expected something like this. Not ever, not anything like this at all. Please, no more. Please be over. Please be friends again.

“Princess, can you really say that? Can any of us say that? Raiders roam the valley freely, arguably control it. The roads aren’t safe. The railroad was cut. Griffon bands have been spotted on both coasts, kingless and lost, harassing and waylaying townsponies for food or worse. It’s been a year and a half, and we’ve done little but sit here, waiting. Just waiting, to... to starve, or be murdered in our bed by House Rowan-Oak!”

"Twilight Sparkle, We beseech thee," Luna pleaded. "By virtue of our crown–nay, by our friendship, please, cease thine assault. We have done n–"

"Nothing! And that's exactly the problem! We haven't restored the sun, we haven't secured the country, and it's clear Celestia isn't coming back any time soon. Ponies are dying out there while we just sit here and talk about it. Something... something has to change, Luna," Twilight implored, her voice breaking as her iron-clad indictments began to weigh heavy. "Luna... please, we can't just stay here like this. I saw them—I saw them all, dead in that cellar, and I just... what if it happens again? What if next time it's Hollow Shades, or Appleloosa, or—"

“Don’t say another word,” Applejack growled. “Just don’t you dare, Twilight Sparkle.”

“I’m sorry, I just—”

“Yer just done, and that’s the end of it.”

Fluttershy heard the rustling of heavy cloth, and a quiet but sharp knock as what had to have been Applejack's trusty hat was thrown down on the table. Her lungs and throat still burned a little, dried coarse by her earlier panicked gasping, and when she rubbed at her eyes her hooves came away wet. But with Rarity's soothing embrace, which the pegasus was very glad for, she was able to cautiously peek her head back into the room, flinching only a little when she saw Applejack glaring at Twilight with eyes that could melt steel.

"Consarnit Twilight, it ain't right to go around using the dead to make an argument like that. Just calling them up like that at all... ain't natural, but we can talk 'bout that later. Ya gone done something darn well and wrong, girl, just to say your piece. Near about scared Fluttershy into an early grave, darn near scared me half to death..." She sighed, shaking her head, turning her eyes to Luna. "Princess, if'n you don't mind?"

“Of... of course. That is—if thou art done, Twilight Sparkle?” Luna said, back in her chair. It was so timid that Fluttershy struggled to hear it over her own breaths.

“Something has to change. That’s all I have to say,” Twilight said wearily. Her surprise attack was completed, the battlefield quieted. Now it just remained to pick up what pieces remained.

“Thankya. Look, I’m sorry Twi. An’ I’m sorry, Princess, but Twi is right.”

They all stared at her, all but one. Applejack took a deep breath.

"Twi's right," she repeated, more resolved this time. "Though she said it in a way I don't rightly agree with. But Princess, it's the cold truth of it. Food's startin' to run low—dangerous low, like. Nopony's brought in much harvest in a while. Haulin' food in is a chore on mountain roads to start with, but darn near impossible with ‘em so dangerous. Nopony’s willin' to do it. Winter's comin', an' I don't rightly know how well we're gonna hold out. Now don't take me wrong, Canterlot ain't gonna starve, but some of us... might not make it." She swallowed, shaking her head again. "No sense splittin' hairs. Some of us won't make it."

Fluttershy lay still against the wall, listening, still feeling shaky. Applejack was right, and she knew it. She closed her eyes, and prayed that no more tears would come. There’s nothing I can do about it, either. I’ve seen it too, Applejack.

“We had... been...” Luna could summon no real answer.

Applejack continued, her voice firm, but not unkind. “I know. There’s been a lot to think ‘bout. But the truth of the matter, if you’ll pardon me, is that if we don’t somethin’ quick, ponies in Canterlot are gonna starve. An’ I don’t even know ‘bout the rest of Equestria. I remember hearing that riotin’ ponies in Las Pegasus broke into the food supply and the buildings caught fire.”

Rainbow interrupted. “And they could have done that in other places too, or stolen food for themselves! Those raiders kind of only ran because of who we were. I mean, c’mon, me? Applejack, best apple bucker in Equestria? The frickin’ Princess’ protege? Not everypony’s got that to fight these guys... er, and Rares, I guess.”

Pinkie swallowed and tapped the table with a hoof. Her voice didn’t bounce, but it wasn’t broken. As she spoke, Rarity smoothed Fluttershy’s hair, fussing over her.

“I think Twilight is right too. After all, look at how grumpy all these ponies are. Sometimes a little change’ll go a long way. I mean, maybe it’s time to think outside the chimney!” She gave a little grin, extending a hoof. No one laughed, but Fluttershy appreciated her for trying.

“Everypony is sad,” Pinkie said, and as she spoke her usual boundless cheer seemed to fade. “Everypony looks down when they walk. Even if they get enough food to live, they won’t know how to! Nopony laughs, or smiles, or sings anymore! And that’s not fun at all. They’re forgetting.”

“Pinkie...” Twilight began, but Pinkie wasn’t done.

“I’m serious, you guys. I know I joke a lot, and maybe I’m... me! But, it’s really bad when ponies are sad like this. I try and try, but I can’t do it all by myself. You can’t throw a party for a whole city with just one pony! It’s about... oh, what word is it?”

“Uh... morale?” Twilight offered. Pinkie turned and pointed at her with a smile.

“Yeah! Yeah, that one! Morale is important and stuff.”

Fluttershy rose. She still felt ill at ease, but she also wanted to be with her friends. I can’t hide forever... I mean, I probably could, but...

She stepped back inside. Nopony acknowledged her at first, focused on the matter at hoof.

Luna whined, and Fluttershy was shocked to see just how run down she really looked as the princess laid her head on the table between her forelegs. Was she... Has she even been hiding how tired she really is?

"What wouldst thou demand of Us, Twilight Sparkle? Thou hast laid Us low, torn away Our illusory successes, but in turn have yet to offer solutions. We have indeed been wanting in Our rule, but not for lack of attempt. We did send royal scouts and missives to Manehattan, and Vanhoover. The former were turned away; the latter lay in distant fields, feed for blossoms after so long as has been." Luna shuddered, her breath catching, but she held her poise. "We trust thee unfailingly, for thou art Our noble sister's chosen aspirant... and, We would pray still, Our friend." The princess lifted her head, and matched her eyes to her challenger. "And so I ask you, Twilight. Will you not help me?"

Twilight stared back at her, her eyes wide. Her mouth opened and worked, but no sound issued forth. Fluttershy watched, fascinated. She didn’t think it would really work, did she? As Twilight stalled, Fluttershy’s mind raced. She wants to go after Princess Celestia, but she can’t help with everything. She inched a bit further into the doorway, ears flat. I can’t just run away. I have to be here. I have to help. It’s what a friend does. Oh... oh, dear. Her heart hammered in her chest, but she had to do it. She took a deep breath.

“E-excuse me, Princess, but I think I have an idea.”

Every eye on the room turned to her. Fluttershy’s breath caught in her throat. She stared back at them, her eyes darting from face to face. “I-I well, I mean, if you don’t mind, I—”

“Sweetest Fluttershy,” Luna said, gently interrupting her sputtering. “Do not be afraid. Please, speak your mind.”

How best to respond? If it was being faced with everything that held Twilight's tongue, kept her hesitant... I can help. It’s the least I can do, Twilight.

“I hear things,” Fluttershy began, staring down at the table. She traced the lines in the wood with her eyes as she continued. “About the Crystal Empire. And food. A lot of ponies think that the Empire is doing well. Some of the refugees say that they’re sure of it. We should see for ourselves.”

“And borrow some?” Twilight interjected, the gears behind those eyes beginning to turn.

“Oh, um, yes, if they don’t mind. And maybe some soldiers so we can make the roads safe and talk to the rest of Equestria again. So... some of us, at least, should go north.”

Everypony stared at her, and Fluttershy once again tried to become invisible.

“The rest can go west. That’s... that could work, ” Twilight said softly. “Yes, I hadn’t thought about the Empire, but I’m sure Cadence and Shining would help. All we need was a hoof up, and then we could win back some of the towns, and from there...”

Luna cleared her throat. All eyes were on her. She had straightened up, and some of the old strength was back in her. Fluttershy was grateful.

“We begin to see. Three shall go one way, and three the other: one direction leading to hope for the present, the other opening doors to the future." Luna paused, glancing at the ponies arrayed around the table. "Fluttershy, We—I. I would ask you to go north." The quiet mare timidly nodded, and the princess turned her eyes to the end of the table. "And Twilight... I would ask you to forge your way west, and find my sister."

“Of course,” Twilight blurted out. She flushed, but continued. “I’ll go, and if she’s out there, I’ll find her. I’ll bring my teacher back.”

“An’ I’ll go with ya,” Applejack said, taking her back from the table and placing it firmly on her head. “Somepony’s gotta keep an’ eye on ya.”

“Ooh! I wanna go, I wanna go! I’ve never been there before!” Pinkie cried out, waving her hoof about like an excited schoolfilly. Applejack managed a chuckle. The three ponies who had volunteered exchanged smiles, and Fluttershy could feel some of the tension pass.

Rarity cleared her throat. “And that leaves Rainbow and I to accompany Fluttershy north, then.”

Luna spread her hooves out, as if to concede. “So it does. Will you take up these quests? Will you bear our hopes, Fluttershy? And will you seek out my sister, Twilight Sparkle? Find her, and bring her home?"

Fluttershy mustered her strongest smile. "I'll do my very best. I promise."

Twilight took a moment, though, before raising her eyes and nodding. "If she's out there, I'll bring her back. Or die trying."

Fluttershy’s ears flicked as she blinked in confusion. If?

"I would prefer it not come to that, Twilight," Luna said, a smile tugging at her words. "Let it be done, then. All of you have my blessing on these quests. My hopes, and those off Equestria, go with you."

Author's Notes:

Thank you hugely to Sunchaser who made this not suck.

Thanks also to AntiquatedAnomaly, who joined my ship of awesome peeps! Er Wolfpack. Thing.

Yay!

Hope y'all enjoy it!

III.The Night Has Stories Also

III. The Night Has Stories Also

In the core of the cold night, Twilight walked the streets of the Celestial Tier alone.

Her hoofsteps reverberated from the old stone walls around her, bouncing back against her ears like the memories of the day bombarding her mind. She saw herself marching the long way down the main boulevard of Canterlot, eyes unwavering in their vigil, the palace her only goal..

Now, with everything said, Twilight was adrift.

Words echoed in her thoughts, bobbing around like bits of driftwood from some mighty ship in the sea of her mind.

“Sorry I was late, girls. Went by home to see the family, y’know,” Applejack said.

Applejack’s reliable rustic twang rung through her memory as Twilight stared down at her lonely path in the inconstant lamplight. She could almost see it. Applejack, hanging her hat on the rack, being greeted by her brother and cousins. The room was full of smiles, happy chatter. Applejack reconnecting, coming back from the mouth of hell to a warm bed and some light conversation that had nothing to do with funeral pyres or conspiracies.

When was the last time Twilight had seen or talked to them, for that matter? Days? It had to be at least two weeks since their last true conversation. Her mother had been concerned about Twilight overworking herself. Her father had given her a warm, comforting hug, and then...Twilight forgot the rest.

She hadn’t seen Spike at all. Of course not; she'd 'been too busy', now hadn't she? So very focused on meandering around the castle foyer, rehearsing her carefully chosen weapons of mass condemnation, only for it all to dribble worthlessly out of her ears as soon as she'd walked into Luna's study. An hour she could’ve spent with Spike. Saying hello. Asking him how he was. Hugging him, and feeling that familiar, scaly embrace. Hearing him speak and being perfectly alright and perfectly alive.

Twilight paused in an intersection, and looked around as though she were a mare in a foreign land. She knew these streets intimately, yes, but in the dark they seemed like another place. A more dangerous place, yes, but one she could be in awe of quite easily. She had forgotten the whimsically cast streetlamps, and how from a rise, the city below looked like an armada of fireflies. She had forgotten. No, no that wasn’t quite accurate. “Forgotten” wasn’t the right term; she’d simply stopped seeing such things altogether.

She sighed and took a left, heading for one of the parks. It was a beautiful night tonight, for all the troubles of the daytime. Hadn’t she watched the stars, once upon a time?

Her eyes wandered over the old doors and quaint shop windows. They brought a smile to her face, a slow one, carefully smuggled through enemy lines. She painted over it all with her mind’s eye, imagining the streets full of life. Ponies crowding and thronging about, smiles on their faces, most chattering in groups, a few loud with laughter. Here, at the mouth of an alley, gathered around an empty barrel, old timers humming over dominoes. A truant foal peeled through the streets with a devilish grin. On a whim, she made it a wandering Scootaloo.

Of course, not all who wandered were lost. Twilight knew exactly where she was.

While some shops were closed, others were open. They cast friendly candlelight into the streets, their windows full of life. As she passed, she looked in and saw ponies in a small tavern drinking. She heard the questing, wavering notes of a song from inside, played on lyrestrings.

Twilight shied away from the lights on either side, sticking to a tiny, shadowy strand in the middle. No offering of alcohol or song tonight. She had to think, and besides, it was too crowded. Too many ponies.

Eventually, she emerged from the winding streets into a wide-open park. It was old, untouched land from the days before the city had risen out of the ashes of Discord’s reign, and while not the most impressive of expanses, the common had some charm in the day-time. Trees shaded the tiny, meandering stone walkways as they wove through the grass like patchwork hemlines.

Twilight took the second path on the right, humming to herself. The sound was welcome, breaking up the stillness of the night for a moment, like the sudden touch of a friend.

She missed the music that would sometimes linger among the trees here. The first time Twilight had brought Spike here, there had been a young mare her age practicing with a lyre.

There was a wooden bench along the way, and she took a seat.. Sighing, she cast her sight up and took in the stars.

Twilight had no idea how long she sat there, legs tucked in beneath her, mind drifting, biting chill of the night growing less and less noticeable...

And so she almost missed his approach. Almost. She peeked one eye open and smiled as she called out to him.

“Spike.”

His footsteps stopped somewhere behind her, and she heard him let out a huff of what she assumed was disappointment. “Uh, Twilight, it isn’t fun if you catch me, you know.”

“Oh, but it’s fun for me, Spike!” she said with a little laugh. “Come and sit with me.”

She realized that it was perhaps not a very wise suggestion as he came to stand before her. He had grown over the years. He was a teenage dragon now, as she was fond of telling him and as he was fond of claiming. He was almost two meters now, his cute pudgy baby fat now given to a chest like carved granite chest and scaled arms passable for banded iron. His bright, curious eyes were now sparkling with perceptive intelligence, set above pronounced cheek bones that lent him an austere visage. When he didn't have his old toothy grin, anyway.

He laughed, and the sound was deep. Twilight imagined she almost could feel it in her chest. “I’m not sure I can.”

She waved a hoof at him. “Doesn’t matter. I’m glad to see you. Sit.”

He did, crossing his legs. “I looked all over for you,” he began, and her cheer evaporated like water in the desert. Her ears drooped. It was like her stomach had become an icy pit.

“I’m sorry, Spike. There’s no excuse that’s good enough. I was... I was...” She didn’t want to use the word that came to mind.

“Busy?”

She groaned. “No. Yes. Not busy in that I had things to do, just preoccupied. Ponyville... No,” she shook herself and hesitantly met his eyes. They shone the moon’s light back at her. “I won’t use that as an excuse. I’m just stupid, Spike.”

“I doubt that,” he said softly. “You know, you can just say ‘sorry’ like most ponies, Twilight.” He smiled at her, and she felt the ice in her stomach melt a little.

“I’m sorry.”

“‘S all I needed. I heard about Ponyville. It was bad.” It wasn’t a question.

She bit her lip, then sighed. “Yes, it was. I’m sorry, Spike, I should’ve been the one to tell you.”

Spike shook his head. “No, it’s fine. It’s fine, for real. I’m more interested in how you’re doing anyhow. I’m sad about Ponyville, but... how are you holding up?”

She choked out a laugh, and it sounded crazed even in her own ears. “Me? How am I holding up? Oh, Spike, where do I begin?”

“The beginning?”

She laughed again, but it was more genuine. She smiled at him. “Ha! Like that’ll happen. We’d be here all night. I’m just... I don’t know. Afraid? Angry? Sad? I don’t know what I’m feeling, Spike. I miss Celestia. I miss writing her letters. I miss being able to look at the stars with Luna and not have to call her princess. I don’t anymore, not usually. We’re not exactly on good terms. I miss going to cider tastings. I miss watching Rainbow in the air pulling of fancy, dangerous tricks and ending up face first in a tree because she’s crazy!”

She realized she was waving her forelegs in the air and felt stupid. She set them back down again.

“What can I do?” Spike asked quietly.

“You’re here, aren’t you? I’m not sure, Spike, but I’m glad you found me,” she responded, smiling at him. She wanted to step down and lie beside him in the grass, stroke his scales and soothe both of them. Or maybe... just me.

But she couldn’t. If she did... she wasn’t sure. She just felt like she would lose heart. She would think about leaving him here, because she knew she had to. There was something for him to do. Something she couldn’t do, but that he could.

“You raised me, silly, of course I came. Well, more or less raised me.”

Her smile shrunk, and she looked away from him. “I did, didn’t I? Sort of. I wonder about that sometimes, worry if I did a good job.” The end rushed out, before she could think about it.

“You know you did.” It was a little harsh, a little insistent. Twilight winced at it.

She shrugged, biting her lip. Twilight watched him, and then her eyes wandered away towards the grass shrouded in darkness.

“I do have something to tell you though, besides that.”

“I gathered that by how you avoided coming home to the tower.”

“You know me well.” Twilight sat up on her haunches. “Spike... I’m going to have to go away. For a while.”

Spike started, his mouth hanging open. He stared at her.

She spoke quickly. “Spike, it has to happen. The refugees... and the food supply... hay, the politics. I have to go west. I have to find the Princess. I mean, without her, we’re dead. The sun still only shines for six hours a day if Luna can keep it up. It’s taking a lot out of her, and the nobles are starting to turn on her and each other, and the city is just... and—”

“Twilight.”

“—and what if it spreads? What if the raiders keep attacking villages, and killing ponies, and how long can Canterlot even hold together on its own anyway and—”

“Twilight!”

She shut her mouth, and discovered that her hooves were shaking. She looked down at them.

“Twilight, it’s alright. Calm down, okay?”

She nodded. “I’m sorry.” Twilight took a deep breath. “Applejack, Pinkie, and I are going west to look for Celestia. I’m not sure how long it’ll take or how far we’ll go. I don’t know where she is. Luna told us she had a way of finding her, but...”

Spike was stone still. “But you aren’t sure about it. No guarantees.”

“No guarantees. Rarity is taking the rest north. Spike, walk with me?” She jumped down from the bench and stretched her legs. “I just... want to be on the move.”

He nodded his assent and followed her.

“Things are going to move quickly now, and I’m not sure what’s going to happen. Without us to keep her steady, Luna will be all alone.” She tried to catch his eyes, but couldn’t. “Spike, the nobles are getting restless. I thought perhaps they would make the right choice, but they haven’t.”

Spike’s claws clattered against the rock. There was a sudden breeze, and Twilight shivered. Spike looked down at her.

“Cold?”

“I’m all right. But Spike, I’m worried about Luna. Rarity and Rainbow can take care of themselves and Fluttershy. I’ll be fine. But Luna? Spike, she’s all alone. Stars, I was so harsh with her, but I had to be! You understand, don’t you?”

“Harsh? Twilight, what did you do?”

She groaned softly. “I had to be harsh with her. She was paralyzed, not willing to act. But I’m the only one she could talk to, and now I fear all on her own she’ll just go back to where she was: lost. Maybe... maybe I shouldn't have yelled.”

“What are you gonna do?” Spike asked her, his voice soft.

“Not what I’m going to do,” Twilight answered, stopping. Spike turned back, his head cocked to one side. Her thoughts were racing. “No, what you’re going to do. Spike, I have favors to ask of you. It’s a rotten time for that, isn’t it?”

“Gosh, Twilight, what do you mean? I mean, am I coming too?” His voice cracked a bit, and she smiled. It was just another reminder of how old he was. It scared her to think of him here alone, but it also... He’s not grown up and gone yet. Not everything has moved on.

“No. I wish you could, Spike, but three is enough. Any more than that and keeping in food and water will be too much out there on the road. Three is easier to hide than three and a dragon.”

He grimaced, and scratched his head. “Ouch.”

“Sorry, Spike. You know I don’t mean anything by it. But there’s also the matter of Luna.”

They came, at last, to the end of the trail. Twilight found herself turning towards the palace and sighed. Perhaps it was time to go home, after all. They walked towards the Silver Gate at the foot of High Canterlot in silence at first. Twilight formulated what she wanted to say, weighed how best to say it. Spike’s lanky, adolescent body betrayed his impatience with its jumpy steps. Or is that him slowing down for me? His stride is so long now.

“Luna needs a friend. One who hasn’t shamed her in front of ponies she likes—that means I’m out for sure—and who isn’t going away for a long time. Someone she can see as a partner, whom she has no political ties to. I think the best dragon for the job is you.”

“Partner? To do what? I mean, yeah, I can still send messages, but that’s it. It’s not like I can do magic and stuff.” He looked down and flashed her a toothy grin that would’ve worried her coming from anyone or anything else. His teeth were sharp now, and myriad. “If I could do magic, I’d have the best beard ever, you know.”

Twilight rolled her eyes. “Probably. But Luna is surrounded here, Spike. The pony in the street isn’t sure about her. Half of the nobles blame her for... well, everything, and a lot of those who are still loyal and true are afraid to show that. You remember House Rose.”

Spike let out a breath, shuddering. In the light from the lamps, Twilight could see him curl up a lip to reveal his growing canines. “Yeah, I remember. Saffron Rose gives a nice speech to the assembly of Houses Major in support of the crown, and the next morning her entire house was found dead. Long knives in the night? Nothing like it in the past millennium? Yeah, I definitely remember."

“They’re scared. Everypony is, a little. But I think with us gone, they’ll think Luna is vulnerable and somepony will do something stupid. Maybe Cold Blood. Maybe he’ll get House Rowan-Oak to do his dirty work, who knows? Something is going to happen.”

“And you think I can help?” he asked. Twilight heard fear, but there was also that little sliver of eager pride she needed. She appealed to it with a grin as they took another turn.

“Yes. Without us, Luna’s position will be weakened. But with you at her side, somepony—ha, some dragon, more like!—to confide in? Then at least she won’t be alone. The Princess can fight back. You can be there, letting her know someone cares.”

“Don’t you? You say that like I’ll be the only one.”

Twilight shifted a bit, looking back to the streets before her. “You’re not,” she said, but it was soft. “I’m just... bad at it.”

“Aw, c’mon Twi, that’s not true,” Spike began, but she cut him off. Ahead, the beautiful silver gates were shining in the torch light. They were tall, ancient, carved by magic older than Equestria, brought over from the old lands of Unicornia. The walls to either side were white, though the scattered torches on the ramparts cast them in yellow. The swirling silver reflecting the fire was almost hypnotic.

“It is, though, Spike. You know what they call me in the halls of the Houses Major?”

“Twi, didn’t you just finish saying—”

“They call me the Apostate. Do you know what that means? Someone who has renounced former loyalties.”

Spike stopped. Twilight trotted a few more steps before noticing that Spike wasn’t following her, and she turned to him. He was rooted to the spot, staring at her with his mouth open.

“What... Twilight? Do you not... I don’t understand.”

She sighed, and returned to him. “Spike... I haven’t exactly been a good friend. Celestia taught me how to be a good mare, and I just... I’m not blind. I know I’ve been an awful friend. You know the last time I had a real, meaningful conversation with Applejack? With Rarity? With you, even, before right now?” Spike shook his head slowly, and she continued. “A long time. I don’t even know how long. I’ve forgotten. And you know what Spike? I don’t think Celestia is coming back. I don’t even think she cares anymore.”

“But she loves you!” He fired back, his eyes bulging.

“Then why did she ab—” Twilight looked away, clenching her jaw. “Never mind. Just... I’m sorry. Maybe you’re right. I don’t know. The point is, Spike, that I’m not the friend Luna really, really needs, and I’m so sorry. Maybe it’s better that I’m going.”

She sighed, and turned back to the gate. Spike hesitated, and she almost expected him to speak. But he said nothing. After a few seconds, she heard his claws clacking against the cobblestone, and he was once more beside her.

With a sigh, Applejack hung her hat on the rack and looked about the living room. Big Macintosh hovered over Apple Bloom’s shoulder at the table as she scrawled something on a page, a pencil in her mouth. Homework, Applejack guessed. One of their cousins, Fiddlesticks, napped on the couch.

Macintosh looked up at her, one eyebrow raised. She mouthed, ‘We’ll talk later,’ at him before Apple Bloom could look, and he nodded.

Her little sister glanced up and dropped the pencil on the table with a grin. “Applejack!” The filly jumped down from her chair and ran into her sister’s waiting forelegs. Chuckling, Applejack swung her around in a playful arc.

“Aw, I ain’t been gone that long!”

“Yeah, but I only saw you a little ‘fore ya left! An’ you stayed out for so loooong!” Apple Bloom whined.

“Yeah, well, business, young ‘un. You get your homework done?”

“Almost! Big Mac was helpin’ me with math!”

She looked over Apple Bloom’s bowed head to share a smile with her brother. “An’ you’re doin’ good ‘n all, I hope.”

“Mhm. Miss Star told me I was top of the class yesterday while you were gone.”

Applejack ruffled her mane. “Good. An’ woodshop?” Her eyes instinctively wandered to the filly’s flank and the hammer and paintbrush cutie mark there. That had been a surprise, though not a bad one. She was proud.

“It’s great! I love it a lot. I’m makin’ a birdhouse!”

“Really now? Tell me ‘bout it,” she said, and as Apple Bloom began to eagerly explain, they walked into the kitchen. Applejack heard Fiddlesticks snort, waking up, and rolled her eyes.

Dinner was prepared quickly. Family was recalled from the upstairs rooms and gathered into the crampedll space. It was a chaotic affair, organizing and feeding two dozen ponies, but she loved it. The noise, the hubbub, the happy mess of it all. Sweet Apple Acres, with the hole in the roof and the beaten down door, seemed an eternity ago. This was home.

As ponies began to drift out, Applejack realized that it was time.

It was Apple Bloom she was worried about the most. As the happy filly cleaned the dishes while humming a little song, Applejack lingered by the table.

This place was home now, she decided. In its own way, it felt like home, Apple Bloom doing her chores and her brother off... doing whatever it was he did. She suspected he read, but who knew with him?

Which made it worse. Apple Bloom was going to turn around, and then she would have to say it. It would be real, then. Gods, I can’t do it. She’s gonna—

“Hey, Applejack.”

Aw hell. I ain’t ready. “Yeah, Bloom? Whatcha need?”

“Jus’ wonderin’, that’s all. ‘Bout how Ponyville was. Didn’t get a chance to ask earlier.”

Applejack stared at her. She had never considered having to answer this question from Apple Bloom. Big Mac knew, as did her cousins, but Bloom? What would she say? What could she say?

“Ah... Well, it was deserted, y’know? A bit beat up. Broken windows, you know.”

“That’s real descriptive,” Apple Bloom replied, looking over her shoulder.

Gettin’ sassy with age, ain’tcha? I was too, ‘round then. Applejack’s eyes wandered. Her thoughts raced ahead of her, and she could grasp at nothing. So she went with what she had. “Yeah, I guess it ain’t. Didn’t really find anythin’.”

Applejack was a terrible liar. She knew it, and Apple Bloom knew it. Her little sister had grown to notice it on the spot, like she might a stalk sticking out from a field above all the others.

Apple Bloom’s head rose, and she stopped washing dishes.

Panicking, Applejack began to speak before her little sister could tease out the lie. There was no way she was telling Bloom about burning bodies in Ponyville. Or even think about it, gods no.

“Bloom, we need to talk. Somethin’s... somethin’s come up.”

Her sister turned towards her fully, brow furrowed. Aw, darn it, that was the worst combination of phrases I coulda used.

“Apple Bloom... I’m...”

“You’re gonna leave, ain’t ya?”

Applejack had nothing to say.

Her sister sighed and looked down at the kitchen tiles. “Yeah. I... thought ya might. I mean, it was just a feelin’, y’know? When ya didn’t come home for a long time, I figured maybe it was important. An’ if it’s important...”

“C’mere, hon.” Applejack offered her foreleg, and her sister came to her. Applejack wrapped her up in a hug and sighed. Her legs felt like lead. It had been a long day, and it would be a little longer yet.

Sleep eluded Rarity utterly. She had tried to capture it and hold it close, and it had simply slipped from her grasp as water might.

She walked the walls of High Canterlot under the silent moon. The occasional lonely sentinel nodded at her as she passed, and she returned the gesture with a polite smile. But mostly she walked in silence, her gaze wandering from the ramparts to the Old City below.

A breeze found her and she shivered, tucking the jacket she wore tightly to her.

Rarity often had trouble sleeping in the wake of the Long Night. She blamed many things; the change in the light bothered her circadian rhythms, she was busy... more recently, because she’d seen things.

Over and over, she could see Fluttershy staring up at the horrible images, tears rolling down her cheeks. She saw those faces. Every time she shut her eyes, Rarity saw them.

So she had left her warm bed behind, crept softly past her sister’s room, and into the night. The intention had never been to be out for long. Just a brisk walk about the neighborhood, maybe sit by the fountain nearby, clear her head. Instead, she had walked more than half the length of the Solar Districts wall.

The night really is beautiful. It was odd, that it should be. Just as it had been odd on the way back from Ponyville that the sun had shone brightly and the day been as pleasant as could be. If she were energetic enough to be dramatic, Rarity would have said it felt wrong. It was like a note out of context with the rest of its chord.

As it was, her hooves felt like they were bound in chains with lead weights. Her eyes wanted badly to close, but she would not allow them to. Her ears drooped whenever she was away from prying eyes.

It was foolishness, and she knew that. They headed out tomorrow, and here she was, pacing around in the dead of night. Well, no, not pacing exactly, as it implies I’m going back and forth... oh, bother. It’s too late to think. And yet she continued to do so.

The sound of her own hooves against the stone was all that kept her awake; not even the cold could do it anymore. But you simply can’t rest, can you, Rarity? You simply must dramatically walk the ramparts like some paperback heroine. She chuckled.

A sound caught her ears, and she looked back towards the palace in interest. It sounded familiar. Soft. Like...

“Wrong way, Rares.”

Feathers. She turned back towards the lowest tier to find Rainbow hovering. She felt no shock. It was far too late for shock.

“Could you not sleep either?” Rarity asked, blinking her eyes blearily.

"Sorta,” Rainbow allowed, setting down before the unicorn. “Something like that. What are you doing? You look like you’re about to fall over.”

“I don’t want to sleep,” she began, sitting down heavily. “If I sleep, I’ll see them. See them, just... looking at me.”

“You keep walking, and you’ll see them anyway. Except when you wake up, you’ll be laying in a pool of your own drool on the ground and you’ll look stupid,” Rainbow said. Rarity wished that her face was more visible, but the torches were too far away.

Rarity scowled. “What a lovely picture you paint. You’re right, of course. But...” She looked along the wall. “Walk with me, would you?”

Rainbow shrugged, and fell in step beside her. Rarity felt more alert with the company, if only a little. Perhaps it was for the better that Rainbow had come. She wanted to talk to somepony. Anypony.

“Twilight is out here somewhere.”

“How do you know? Run into her?”

Rarity nodded absently. “Yes, though she probably didn’t see me. I had just left my house when I saw her. She looked... preoccupied, so I didn’t say anything. Just watched her pass, and then went my own way. I hope we don’t cross paths again.” Rainbow didn’t comment on this, and Rarity continued. “What were you doing, anyhow? Trying to sneak up on me like that? That was a bit childish, with the hour and all considered. I could have fallen right off the wall.”

Rainbow chuckled. To Rarity it seemed a bit nervous.

“Yeah, sorry. I guess that was kind of stupid. I just saw you wandering from my cloud, and I thought you might want some company. I didn’t want to bug you. I guess I just... thought it might cheer you up? I don’t know why.”

“Your cloud...? Oh. Rainbow, you know we’d love to have you stay with us. Any of us. You have to stop this.”

Rainbow huffed. “I like my cloud.”

“Of course you do.” Rarity rolled her eyes. “Rainbow, it simply will not do. I must insist that you come stay at my residence. If you won’t take a bed, at least the couch is inside where it’s warm. What if you catch... cold, or something?”

“Pegasus,” Dash replied flatly. “Cold doesn’t bother us all that much.”

“Ah,” she answered, at a loss. It was far too late for thinking.

They continued in silence for a few more minutes. Rarity was sure that Rainbow would leave her, but she never did. As her steps began to wobble, Rainbow steadied her.

“Hey, you all right?”

“I am weary, but elsewise quite all right,” She managed to get in before she gave a long yawn. “Excuse me, oh... May I sit? Just a moment?”

“You’ll fall asleep.”

“I shall simply have to take that risk, I fear,” she responded, and sat. Her eyes closed almost immediately. “Oh, but I have been so foolish. I should’ve just stayed home and slept. I should’ve known I would avoid it if given half the chance. I always do.”

Rainbow sat beside her, and cast a hesitant wing over her. Coughing, she scooted closer. “Yeah, kinda dumb. You should head home.”

“I should...” Slowly, Rarity gave Rainbow a sidelong glance. “In fact, you should walk me home. If nothing else, we could both use company.”

Rainbow nodded, and helped Rarity rise. They continued until they came to a stairwell down to the street, where a guardspony saluted crisply, Rainbow returning it by habit. Rarity gave him a weary smile.

“Goodnight, my good sir,” she offered, and in passing caught a hint of his grin. She allowed herself to feel a hint of pride. A lady, she reasoned, could coax a response out of anything. Equestrian Guards, rocks, bandits; she would leave nothing unmoved.

Her steps in the paved lanes of High Canterlot were uneven. She sighed. “Will you tell anyone? Promise me you won’t, Rainbow.”

“Tell them what?”

“That I am this silly. Childish. I’m out here afraid of nightmares! Oh, Rainbow, how do you do it? Stay brave? Be, oh, I don’t know... daring. All of this seems not to have changed you at all.”

Rainbow hummed, and Rarity assumed she was thinking. A few houses passed and a few more minutes died.

“...I dunno. I guess I just do stuff. I keep moving? Not sure how to put it to you, really. Maybe it’s just a pegasus thing. Fluttershy is doing alright, all things considered, you know? Well, mostly.”

In the silence that followed, Rarity considered this. Activity. Blind action? How much of that is just running away? She shook her head, sneaking a guilty glance at the pegasus beside her who walked on oblivious. We are feeling uncharitable tonight, aren’t we, Rarity? Goodness.

Before she could formulate a proper response to this, Rainbow spoke again. “Turn this way, right?” Rarity nodded, and followed her. “Right, thought so. Actually, now that I think about it, Fluttershy is... maybe not the best example. Have I ever told you about us in flight school?”

“No, not really.” She wished she was more awake to hear it. She tried to remember what Cloudsdale looked like, with its wispy platforms and pillars of cloud. Closing her eyes for a brief moment, she could see Rainbow flying.

“Well, Fluttershy and I did things different. I know, what a shock! She would meet a challenger and just cower. No resistance! She just did nothing, or she kinda just slinked off. I would have some colt in my face and I yelled back! Yeah, I was a pretty cool filly, y’know? Got into a lot of fights, even made some friends doing it. Cloudsdale is a great place, but sometimes it can be rough. Fluttershy got into a lot less trouble than I did, but she was always unhappy, Rares, and when I saw that... I think running away is bad. Yeah, maybe you go longer without gettin’ beat up, but it’s so sad.”

“It explains our dear Fluttershy’s...” She yawned loudly. “Ah, sorry. Our dear Fluttershy’s attachment to the ground, yes.”

They walked down the long boulevard, and Rarity saw home up ahead. Somepony had left the light on, and she felt shame bubble up in her. But before she could dwell on it, Rainbow was speaking again, her voice soft. Rarity strained to focus..

“Yeah. Rares, you don’t have to fight to not run, you know? I mean, I do, and I’m awesome at it! But I think maybe there are a lot of ways. Fluttershy found hers. I mean, it’s not for me, but still, the ways she helps ponies isn’t running.”

“Perhaps,” Rarity allowed.

They came to her doorstep, and Rarity opened the door carefully, mindful of her sleeping sister.

Her Majesty Princess Luna, Celestial Diarch, Dea Nocturnis, Coda of the Songborne, watched Twilight Sparkle as she returned to the palace grounds. Her former familiar spoke quietly to her, and while Luna’s sensitive hearing could make out the sounds, she could not fashion them into meaning.

From her perch on the balcony, she watched them stroll through the hedges. They seemed in no hurry. In particular, she kept her eyes fixed on Twilight, gauging her mood.

Luna unfolded her wings. She paused, and cast her face in a guarded expression, hoping it would be convincing.

To go, or not to go? It could mean a lot of things. Primarily, it could mean having to watch a second dear friend wander west. It also meant making a choice between silence and speculation... and Luna wasn’t sure she wanted to reveal her private fears quite yet. Her hooves felt heavy, and the stone beneath them seemed safe. Solid. What will you do, Luna, when she brushes you aside? Condemns you again? Crawl? Slink away into some hole to lick your wounds once more? Oh, but we should learn, shouldn’t we!

And yet... she flapped her great wings once and lifted off. Luna soared through the cold night air, more leaping than truly flying, with her great wings and innate magic slowing her descent, setting her gently down as though cradled by the skies themselves.

Twilight came immediately to a cold stop. Icy shards of fear chipped at Luna's resolve, and for a moment she hesitated, her heart strained with the weight of doubt. But still she drew a breath, striding calmly forward, feigning a confidence that they both knew she hadn't possessed for a long time now.

Between the hedges, before a small fountain, they met.

“Twilight Sparkle.”

The once faithful student regarded her silently, but Luna stood her ground. Was this not what had been asked of her? She did not let her stoic expression falter. If this was some kind of test, she would pass it.

“Hello, Luna.”

No honorific. Either promising, or damning. Twilight, she knew, had left her study undecided on that. Oh, dearest Twilight, come back to us as a friend.

“I... I wished to inquire as to whether or not your walk was pleasant,” she began, still watching for any signs of what Twilight was thinking.

Twilight Sparkle didn’t smile, but neither did she sneer. That was good. “It wasn’t so bad. It’s a beautiful night.”

Something melted inside Luna, and she smiled. “Thank you, Twilight. That means much to me.”

Spike looked from mare to mare, his brow furrowed. Luna caught the movement out of the corner of her eye but gave it little attention. Spike was important, yes, but Twilight was here and talking. This was what she’d been waiting for.

“Luna... I wanted to speak to you, actually.”

“I wished to see you as well, Twilight.”

“How do I begin?” Twilight chuckled, with what Luna guessed was nervous energy. “I’m not saying I was wrong Luna, but I was hard with you.”

The Princess looked down at her hooves. In the night, with nopony to watch, she had left her hoofboots and ceremonial chest plate behind.

“We—I perhaps deserved that, Twilight. You were right. I have been deep in contemplation since you left my study.”

“What did you uncover?”

Luna smiled, and it was bitter. “We are not that strength which guided Equestria for all these ages, Twilight. Recent times have proven that We are, indeed, the lesser light, for all that we—I, cry your pardon, for all that I tried to deny it long ago, plunging an innocent nation into undeserved war."

“Luna—”

“Pray, let me finish. You were—you are right about me, Twilight. I cannot even manage to speak properly in this day and age, can I? Oh, but We try, but We vacillate. You see?” She groaned. “I am glad that the Lunar Guard is not here to hear us speak.”

“As am I. There’s something that needs to be said. Luna, will you hear me?”

The princess nodded.

“Luna... we used to be such friends. We stargazed together, at least before I became an awful pony and stopped caring. I know how lonely you are. I miss her too.” Luna lowered her eyes, her ears drooping, and Twilight rushed on. “Your isolation is something I’ve contributed to. I’d have to be blind not to see that, and maybe I was, a little. Yes, you were wrong, and you made mistakes, but everypony makes mistakes, and it wasn’t just your fault.”

“Ah, but I am different. We great and noble alicorns, born of the Song that wove the world from dream to being through word and melody. One would think such beings would know better." Luna chuckled darkly, and turned to look at the fountain.

But should she really? That was the question. The secret, intimate fears she kept close to her heart beat at her chest. They wanted to be free, to find hearts and minds to burrow in and make new homes. They wanted to brood.

Which was fine, if she was right. If Luna was right, then doubt and fear were perfectly acceptable reactions. They were healthy, even, if she was right.

But I have never wished to be more wrong. And what good would it do you, Twilight, to know what it is I fear? If I am right, there is nothing to be done. But... don't you have a right to know, if I'm sending you into harm's way? Moreover, if anypony was know know how best to face such a thing, would it not be you?

"But even alicorns are still ponies. You are still a pony. I mean, aren't you? You get to be sad, and mess up sometimes, we all do. Everypony falls down sometimes, without exception. You and I both just made mistakes."

Luna turned back. She looked to Twilight carefully, traced the line of that hopeful smile with her eyes, saw how Twilight’s own caught the light of her moon. She decided.

"Twilight, I shall entrust an artifact into your keeping come the morn, before you depart. It is an amulet of sorts, a charm that might illuminate the golden steps upon the path my sister walked. I have done this before, but the ponies guided by it were... slain, on the roads near into Valon."

“Valon?”

"Yes. In the west... I knew it all so well, once. Its great verdant plains, and such rich sprawling forests!" Luna was taken with a broad smile, her eyes sparkling with memory, her words spoken in the voice of a carefree age. But only for a moment, before she shook her head, and came back to herself. "Our—ahem. My sister and I must have walked the width and breadth of the countryside three or four times over through our years in search. Valon is the gateway to the wildlands, Twilight Sparkle. The Ruby of the Shore, shining scarlet aside the emerald seas... In essence, Twilight, all told they did not make it that far."

Twilight grumbled. “Well that’s encouraging.”

Luna shook her head, smiling, and spoke firmly. "Nay, Twilight Sparkle. Remember yourself; you who years ago tamed an Ursa Minor and subdued him to sleep, who defeated the trials and malice of black-crowned Sombra single-hoofed! You shall be weighed, Twilight, but I expect you will be found far from wanting. Far indeed." She paused. "However, I did want to tell you that when you walk this path, you shall be making your way to my homeland."

“Your... I’m sorry, what?”

“Did you think my sister and I were born out of a rock? Oh, Twilight! No, we were born out of the Song itself, on the Plateau of Jannah.”

The name seemed to register. Twilight’s eyes widened, and her ears folded back.

“Wh-what did you just say?”

Luna tilted her head. “We thought you might not be familiar with the story of the forming of the world, Twilight, but you seem rather overly surprised.”

“Princess Celestia mentioned that name once before,” Twilight said, shaking her head. Her eyes avoided Luna’s gaze, casting about as if for some better answer.

"Jannah; it is a city, a grand expanse of of history." Luna too looked away for a moment, as though seeing the city anew, overlaid atop the spires of Canterlot. "Sprawling out for miles through the ages, it is a place with a pedigree that near rivals my own. At its core there lay a raised plateau, and atop that one finds the Well."

“I mean, I’ve read about the Song, but no one ever explains it. The only books old enough to mention it act like it’s common knowledge, and it isn’t, not anymore.” She sighed. “Princess Celestia mentioned seeing an old friend in Jannah.”

Luna stared at her in shock. “Why have you never spoken of this before?”

“I...” Twilight looked away, pawing at the ground. “I didn’t understand the significance? She didn’t say any more than that, and I didn’t think it was important. I never found any references to any of it.”

“Of course you didn’t. Oh, but I begin to see now,” Luna replied, and groaned. She closed her eyes, and put a hoof to her temple as if in deep and decisive thought. “Twilight, we have things to discuss, and little time in which to discuss them. Can you delay your slumber for an hour? I would advise you of the lore I fear you may need to know before you arrive in the west.”

Twilight, her ears perking up at this, nodded. Luna turned and led her towards the palace with its libraries and ancient halls. Spike fell in step beside the young mare, and though to Luna he seemed uneasy, still he managed to get a laugh out of the former librarian; something about ‘old times.’

The night’s princess put it out of her mind. There were things to talk about, in the night. Stories to tell, before Twilight would sleep.

Author's Notes:

Sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry Ahhh

Yay the dumb passes

I'm sorry I took so long, y'all. Forgive me, I pray?

IV. Let Us Go Singing, and the Road Will Be Less Tedious

IV. Let Us Go Singing, and The Road Will Be Less Tedious

Applejack shifted her weight from one hoof to the other, ready to be off.

It wasn’t that she was eager, exactly. Eager wasn’t the word for it. She wasn’t happy to be away from her family at all. Simply looking in Apple Bloom’s eyes was difficult, seeing her trying to be a big pony and not cry. It made her want to turn around and tell Twilight that she quit. That she couldn’t do it and they would simply have to find some other pony willing to walk to world’s end and back, because she wasn’t going.

She took a deep breath and gave her little sister the best smile she could muster.

Big Mac stood with Apple Bloom. He put a foreleg around his younger sister and regarded Applejack with an unhappy look.

Princess Luna was speaking to the crowd that had assembled at the gate to see them off. Her magically amplified voice echoed out over the upturned faces, seeming to fill the empty space. Applejack didn’t pretend to know much about such things, but it seemed like an alright bit of speechmaking to her. She knew that it comforted her, and she wasn’t even the audience.

But suddenly, the princess was done. She turned to the bearers of the Elements and smiled thinly. Worried, yes, but genuine. Applejack wondered briefly if she had gotten the chance to talk with Twilight before all of this. Luna’s eyes flicked over to the midnight blue unicorn who stood off to the side. “Page Turner?”

Page Turner? I guess that’s the stallion Soarin’ was talkin’ about.

The Princess’s aide nodded, and his horn glowed. Applejack saw now that he had a small box in his keeping, which he delivered to his monarch before shuffling back to his place. Princess Luna set the box on the ground and looked up.

She cleared her throat, and Applejack noticed that the enchantment that empowered her voice was gone. In its place, her normal, soft tones had returned. She looked each of the Elements in the eyes as if trying to see inside. It made Applejack a little nervous, to be honest, but when it was her turn, she stood up straight and met the inquisitive gaze.

Ain’t got nothin’ to hide, she thought and smiled. The Princess raised both eyebrows, but her smile didn't falter. If anything, it grew. Princess Luna passed on.

When she’d done the same for all of them, she spoke.

“We are sorry to see you go, necessary or not. You have all been a boon to us in these trying times, and We thank you. Are you ready to depart?”

Pinkie responded first. Her voice was bright, energetic. It was almost like old times in that way, Applejack reflected, like this was at the start of one of their old adventures.

“Alllll ready!” She cried, and Applejack glanced over in time to see her grin. Before she could wander how genuine it was, Twilight had answered.

“I’m as ready as I’ll ever be, Princess. I think we all are.” She looked quickly from side to side. “Right, girls?”

Applejack joined the subdued chorus of affirmations. The Princess accepted them all with a nod and opened up the box with a hoof. From it, she lifted the Elements themselves. Applejack saw her own, and the familiarity of it made her smile despite herself.

The Princess of the night turned to address the crowd once more. “The Element bearers have once again given me their assent! As they go in hopes of aiding us all, let us send with them a blessing.”

She spun around and presented each other bearers with their Elements in turn.

“Dearest Fluttershy, We present you with your Element, in hopes that you might show kindness to our little ponies. Pinkamena, to you We present the Element of Laughter, that you might stir the spark of harmony in the hearts of Eqeustria’s embattled ponies with laughter.”

As each Element was clasped onto its owner’s neck, the crystal on it glowed brightly. Applejack was reminded of earlier days, and she could almost feel a tingle of anticipation as her body recalled the sensation of the Elements in use.

“To you, Rarity, I return the Element of Generosity.” Luna paused before continuing in a voice not amplified as she tied the necklace about Rarity’s neck. “It is strange. I am reminded of other Belles, in the past. The lost house... Once before, I decorated a fine young stallion with treasure. The House of Belle laid me low at the Battle of Unnumbered Tears, Rarity. I am glad that you honor their memory well.”

Rarity looked down. “Thank you, your Highness. You do me more honor than I am worth.”

The princess shook her head but moved on. “Twilight Sparkle, We ask that you continue to bear the Element of Magic in service to both your comrades and to your nation. Celestia—” she paused briefly, as if considering. “—was right to choose you as her apprentice. Your country has faith in you.” Princess Luna lost the amplification quickly. She spoke very quietly, and Applejack only barely heard her add, “As do I, Twilight Sparkle.”

“I know,” Twilight answered, her face stoic.

Luna moved on, finally reaching Applejack. “To you, most dependable Applejack, we give the Element of Honesty. May you never shirk from being a light for our ponies to see the truth, and may you remind your companions of the same.”

“I’ll try,” she replied firmly.

“We would expect nothing less,” the princess replied in a normal voice and then continued on to the last pony in line.

“Rainbow Dash, to you at last we give one of our dearest possessions: Loyalty.” Her voice was amplified, and Applejack swallowed. The air was thick with some sort of tension she couldn’t begin to grasp, but she could see a strange light in those eyes as Luna continued. “Loyalty! It is important, and in these harrowing days it is a light in the starless dark. Will you continue to be true to your friends, Rainbow?”

“Uh...” Rainbow began to speak, only to stop. Her words carried, amplified. Applejack’s eyes darted from the princess and Dash. “Yeah. Of course!” Rainbow finished, managing a rather pathetic imitation of her characteristic daredevil grin.

Princess Luna nodded. It would have to do, apparently, for she came back to Twilight.

She removed the enchantment. “Twilight, We have some things to give you, if you will take them.”

“I assume it’s what we talked about last night?”

The princess nodded. “Of course, as well as something extra. First—” she looked down and with her magic acquired a small amulet. “—the tracker that I spoke to you about. It will show you the way, always pointing into the West. May it be a guide for you.”

“I’m sure it will be, Princess. Thank you,” Twilight said, smiling. She donned the amulet.

“And lastly, this.” She brought a small globe of what appeared to be solid gold and floated it before Twilight’s face. Twilight caught it in her own magic and examined it.

“It’s a scrying globe,” Luna said, almost shyly. “Old magic, from when We were younger. We recalled it after you left m—Us last night. It can call back to our own in Canterlot, and that way We can keep track of you.”

Twilight stared into the ball, her mouth open slightly as she turned it over and over in midair.

“I’m honored... this is really ancient magic, like something I would see in a display case in the Starswirl the Bearded wing. It’s wonderful. Thank you so much!” she said, looking up and offering her a wide grin in return.

The princess smiled and looked away.

Applejack’s eyes wandered over the crowd as the princess began to make her final address. She met a few eyes and tried to smile as best she could. Be brave. It seemed appropriate. It wasn’t a lie, for she was itching to be off. Her hooves wanted the open road.

Movement to her left drew her sight. There, the Wonderbolts stood as an honor guard for the princess. All but one of them looked straight ahead with a neutral expression.

The one dissenter’s head was turned only slightly, but it was enough. His eyes were covered by his goggles. Everything but his mouth and wild mane were covered in barding and flightsuit, but she knew that smile anywhere.

She smiled back at Soarin’, and on a whim, she mouthed a quick, “I love you.”

He paused, and Applejack stifled a chuckle. Fool probably tried to wink at me like he always does. Forgot I couldn’t see, she thought as the stallion opted for a big grin and a message of his own. “Come back.”

Applejack sighed. I’ll try.

It was a beautiful day. Twilight wasn’t sure how fitting it was that it be so, but she certainly didn’t mind. The sun’s punishing heat was countered by a gentle breeze which caught her mane. Errant strands blocked her view of the rising Unicorn Range, and she brushed them aside with a hoof.

Rarity trotted alongside her on the road that led into the far-off forest. Twilight kept her eyes on the verdance, tracing in her mind the forest road that wrapped around the mountain roots. She could almost hear Luna’s soft voice and see that dark blue hoof, illuminated by the candlelight, showing the way her party would take.

“Twilight?”

She blinked, brought out of the memory roughly. She turned her head towards Rarity.

“Sorry, I was thinking. What?”

Rarity gave a small smile. “You seemed rather focused, dear. I must admit, I am curious. I’m sure it was not our mutual pink friend’s earlier antics.”

“Was Pinkie up to something?” Twilight asked, frowning. She had missed it. At least... I mean, I’ll have tons of time to laugh with Pinkie on the road. If she’ll want to. Which of course she will, she’s Pinkie, right?

Rarity chuckled. “That she was. We had a good laugh earlier, and I noticed you were silent. I let Fluttershy go ahead and fly while I dropped back.”

“Oh... I”m sorry. How long have you been there?”

“Only a minute or so. Not long.”

Twilight sighed.

It was the last time she would see three of these ponies in... who knew how long? She certainly had no idea. They would be doing their work, and she her own. North and west. How long was it until the crossroads? How much time had she wasted daydreaming? She wanted to groan in frustration, but Rarity would prod, and Twilight would look a fool, so she did nothing but continue on.

Twilight found she had nothing to say. She wanted to speak. Her voice sounded rusty in her own ears.

And here I am, being silent. Twilight bit her lip. But what could she say? What did one talk about with somepony who was about to go away? Just... small talk? She had not the mind for it. It just didn’t make sense. She could talk about going away, perhaps, and splitting up. How she would feel. Ask how Rarity felt about it. It’s not like there are books on this kind of thing.

Had she always been like this? Twilight didn’t think so. This is why she sent me to Ponyville, I guess. She was worried because I was like this, Twilight thought. And, now that I’m back here, I can see it to. Useless.

“It’s a shame, really,” Rarity said, breaking into Twilight’s thoughts again.

“Hm?”

“This. Well, not this exactly. At the moment, the walk is wonderful, and it is beyond simply refreshing to see Pinkie and Rainbow Dash playing tricks on each other. Or talking with Fluttershy without a shadow over everything. It’s a shame we’ve only gotten out from under it here, when we are set to part.”

Twilight sighed. “Yes, it is. I am sorry, if it helps. For all of the being… unfriendly? I’m not sure how to say it, really. Which is strange for me, as you can imagine.”

“We cannot all do all things,” Rarity said, and Twilight caught her lips curling up in the beginnings of a smile. “Even the paragon of knowledge herself trips up on words eventually, it seems.”

“Something like that.” Rainbow laughed loudly, and it drew her eyes. “Rarity, I’m curious. What was all that, about the House of Belle? I’ve heard that name, but…”

“It’s nothing,” Rarity replied quickly. She looked away, her elegant mane becoming a veil between them.

This, of course, earned her a sidelong glance. Twilight had caught the scent of new knowledge, and it was desperate for her attentive scholar’s pursuit. She dug a little deeper.

“Lu—Princess Luna, I mean—seemed to think it was quite important.”

Rarity pouted. “Honestly, Twilight, you should know that a lady has her secrets. The things she would rather not drag out into the light.” She paused, smiling. “Perhaps better than anypony, you’d know that, my dear.” Rarity drew closer, so that they were almost touching. Her voice lowered.

“Come again?” Twilight asked, finding her own voice softer.

“Since when do you call our most regal princess by her first name, devoid of title?”

“Since a while ago,” Twilight said quickly, drawing away. We’re penpals. Friends. It’s not that hard to believe that I forget she’s a princess sometimes. Or something, she thought. “It’s not a big deal. I just slipped up.”

“Isn’t it?” She was grinning now, triumphant like the huntress posing with her prey. “And, darling, I’ll be frank. That wasn’t the first time I’ve heard you say ‘Luna’ plain and simple, not even an honorific to cover it’s forwardness.”

“You haven’t answered my question,” Twilight said.

“True. Perhaps some reciprocity will grease the gears of conversation, hm? The machinery of our camaraderie. To answer your question...” she took a deep breath. Her smile withered slowly. The glee drained away. “My family was once great, Twilight. There have been many Belles, many generous unicorns. Is it arrogant to say such things of myself, that I am generous? It is as much my temperament and ancestry as anything else.”

Twilight shook her head. “I don’t think it’s arrogant. The description seems pretty accurate!”

Rarity’s lips tugged up briefly. “You are kind, dear. Yes, but we always were such. We gave freely. Money, friendship, even strength of hoof. It was Luna who unmade us. A Belle was the Imperial Marshal at that last battle, and under his command were his three sons. They all died, and the only male heir was a child. We lingered, but… we never recovered. Eventually, bankrupt, my great-grandfather’s great-grandfather was forced to sell our title back to the crown in Liquidation. Celestia was very kind to us. We received more for our holdings near Ponville then we deserved.”

“I always wondered how a unicorn with your mannerisms and interests ended up in a little farming town. I would’ve thought you were a Canterlot-born pony if you hadn’t said differently.” Twilight chuckled. “Remember how we met? You heard I was from Canterlot, and you were pretty pumped about it.”

Rarity’s eyes were back on her, and she joined Twilight in laughter. “Yes, I was a bit overdramatic in my joy, wasn’t I? You must think me silly.”

“Not at all! Well, okay, maybe a little. But you were trying to help me. I’m a little sorry I wasn’t more open with all of you, when I first came to Ponyville.”

“Ah, but all’s well and all that,” she replied, shaking her head. “To finish my explanation, Twilight, Luna has been consulting me on the Houses Major and how they’ve changed since she left. Your Rarity has been watching and studying like any Lady of yore.”

Applejack, in front of them, called. ”Twi, Rarity! Y’all comin’? You’re fallin’ behind.”

They were, she realized. She had lost track, absorbed in conversation. “Sorry! Coming!” She looked at Rarity and gestured with her head. They picked up the pace.

“Luna never told me that.” Twilight caught her own mistake and winced. It’s not weird.

“I wondered if you knew. You hadn’t asked me about it, and I found that rather curious. I beg your pardon! You seem bothered.”

Twilight grunted noncommittally. The two unicorns had caught up with the rest of the party. Pinkie was bouncing along the road, singing a song. Twilight caught scraps of it through her distraction—something about roads going on and on, something strange about it—but kept her eyes a moment longer on Rarity.

Rarity sighed. “You do, I promise you. I am sorry. I believe that she wished not to burden you with the unnecessary. Or perhaps she didn’t wish you to know how much she still had to learn.”

“Maybe. It’s not a big deal.”

“Of course.”

Applejack came alongside them, trotting at Twilight’s side. “How y’all doin’?”

Twilight shrugged best she could midstride, and Rarity answered. “Very well, thank you for asking. It’s a beautiful day.”

“Eeyup. Wish I could enjoy it more, y’know? Just me an’ some shady orchard lane. Good to be with y’all, though.” She coughed. “Think Pinkie’s about to burst.”

Twilight smiled in agreement. Pinkie was still singing, though not bouncing anymore. Pinkie led the way, with Fluttershy listening behind her. Rainbow meandered in the air above the party. Twilight guessed she was bored. Going too slow for the Dash, as always, she thought. Oh, that’s unfair. If I had wings, I’d probably be ready to go, same as she is.

Pinkie stopped, whirling about in the middle of the road. A huge grin covered her face, her eyes alight.

“I did it!”

The rest of the party—except for Rainbow, who had to circle back—stopped short and stared at her. Her grinning continued, undaunted, and finally Twilight simply had to ask. “What did you do, exactly?”

“I remembered the song!”

“Oh,” Twilight said lamely. Well, that made sense. “Um... yes, what song? I’m sorry. I’m lost. I didn’t know you were trying to remember one.”

“Well of course not, silly!” Pinkie replied. “It’s not like I toldja I was! I just was. I kept thinking about it and thinking about it, and I couldn’t remember, so I sang a bunch of other songs first, and they weren’t it but they were kinda close, and—”

“Pinkie, darling—”

“—and then I kind of remembered Granny Pie singing that one, but I couldn’t remember how it started which I needed too! Because if I know the beginning I can remember it all, because I always remember the words eventually, and—”

Applejack cut through the dense chattering with a firm voice. “Pinkie!” Pinkie blinked and looked at her, confused. Applejack chuckled and gave her a smile. “Now, why don’tcha let us hear it?”

Pinkie took a deep breath and began to sing. Twilight was startled into a bemused smile. It was not the kind of thing she expected.

Roads go ever ever on,

Over rock and under tree,

By caves where never sun has shone,
By streams that never find the sea;

Over snow by winter sown,

And through the merry flowers of June,

Over grass and over stone,

And under mountains in the moon.

Roads go ever ever on

Under cloud and under star,

Yet hooves that wandering have gone

Turn at last to home afar.

Eyes that fire and sword have seen

And horror in the halls of stone

Look at last on meadows green
And trees and hills they long have known.

Pinkie finished, and let the final note die slowly. They were silent. Twilight was shocked. She had never expected that kind of song from Pinkie. The party pony, for her part, was quite oblivious to their collective incredulity. She simply trotted over to sit before Twilight.

“Yup! That’s it. My Granny taught me that when I was just little filly Pinkie! She taught me lots of songs. Old earth pony songs!”

“Gosh...” Applejack doffed her hat with a slow-growing smile. “Well I’ll be. That tune... sounds familiar. Never heard them words put to it, ‘fore, though.”

Pinkie turned to her quickly, her curly mane bouncing. “Mhm! She told me it’s really, really old! And we used to hum it and sing it with different words back home on the farm.”

Applejack’s eyes may have been looking at Pinkie, but Twilight thought she was seeing something else entirely. The hat rested in Applejack’s hoof, pressed against her chest. A breeze tugged on her hair and Applejack’s long ponytail swung like a pendulum by her hooves.

“Makes me wish I could still do my pickin’. Had my guitar, y’know?”

“You play guitar, Applejack?” Twilight asked, surprised. She could see her friend now, sitting beneath the shade of an apple tree. “I never knew.”

“Ya wouldn’t have,” Applejack said heavily. “Nah, gave it up when I was filly. Well, not gave it up, exactly. I liked it an’ awful lot. It was pa’s.” She paused, turning her eyes on Twilight. “I couldn’t take it with me to Manehattan when I left, y’know? Right before I got my cutie mark.”

Twilight had never thought about it. She had just... never asked. I wonder what else I don’t know. What else I just never asked about.

Applejack continued. “After I got home, just never picked it up. I had gotten out of the habit. Wasn’t that good, I hadn’t been playin’ that long. Kinda hard playin’, for an earth pony, but ya can.” She sniffed, pantomiming as she spoke. “Ya... ya kinda tune it different, so you can slide your hoof up and make chords.”

She let her hooves fall and sat back. Before she could look away or dwell on it, Pinkie spoke again, hooves waving.

“If I taught you the words, you could totally sing with me because you know it, and maybe we could find a guitar in Vanhoover, and we could, like, be a folk group with a silly name and unite all the ponies with our awesome group vocals while on the run from the law!”

Applejack was startled into a laugh. “What in tarnation?”

“It would be awesome!” Pinkie insisted, her eyes alight.

They all laughed while Pinkie continued on about fake beards and crazy guitarponies. On a whim, she grabbed Applejack’s hat despite the farmer’s protestations and began to act out her fantastic idea, singing nonsense lyrics in a low, gravelly voice.

“Hey! Give that back!”

“I-I-I am a maaaare—”

“I think we all know that, darling,” Rarity interrupted, trying to hold back her laughter and mostly failing. Applejack chased Pinkie, her voice somewhere between a laugh and a growl.

“—of constant sorr-rroooowww—”

“Pinkie, consarnit, I need that! Don’tcha muss it up, or—”

Rainbow hovered over the chase. “Pinks! Hey, Pinks, lemme see it!”

Pinkie, grinning like a loon, tossed Applejack’s prized Stetson up to her like a frisby. Rainbow nabbed it out of midair as Applejack reached for it in vain. It was a bad move: Applejack overbalanced and fell. She couldn’t help it; she finally laid on the ground laughing.

“Jus’ gimme the hat back, Dash,” she managed, holding both hooves up.

The Stetson, safe and sound, descended down onto her outstretched hooves. Applejack, rolling her eyes but still smiling, sat back up and donned it again. She dusted herself off. “I’ll sing with ya just fine, Pinkie, but let’s see if next time ya can get your own hat, ya ken?”

Twilight didn’t want that moment to end. It had to, eventually, but not yet. As Rarity commented wryly, Twilight hoped it dragged on. She didn’t want to leave this behind. She wanted it to go on forever.

It just snuck up on her.

One moment, her friends were in high spirits. She was transported back in time to another summer day, stepping off the boat to visit the Zebrahara in the name of the Princesses. The smell of adventure in the air, the warmth of the sun on her back, the company of her dearest friends.

They were out in the open, the trees on either side cut back from the road. Of course, the fork in the road was visible from far-off, but Twilight had let it pass out of mind. She had been absorbed in Pinkie’s nonsensical singing and chatter. Applejack had been coaxed into singing a bit with Pinkie, and she had listened. Rarity’s gossipping had importuned upon her attentions. All in all, she had let the coming split fade from memory.

And here it was, sneaking up on her. The six of them stood at the crossroads around the sign in the intersection of roads.

None of them said a word. Six pairs of eyes just stared up at the signs declaring that Stalliongrad was along this road, and the way to Vanhoover was along that one. Once again, Twilight found herself going over the calculations—how long it would take to get to the crossing, how long the walk through the gap to the other side of the Unicorn Range would take. How long Rarity and the others would be walking until they made it to her brother.

Twilight didn’t want to break the silence. She didn’t want to be the one who spoke and set them both on separate paths. But, she thought, biting her bottom lip, if it’s not me then it’ll be Rarity. I’m supposed to be in charge here. It should be me. It’s what Celestia would want. Well, Luna would want. Who knew what Celestia wanted.

“Well... I guess this is it.” She blinked. Wow. Wow, that was lame. I guess this is it? C’mon Twilight, you can do better than this. Twilight coughed, and began again. “I...”

Nothing came out.

Her heart beat madly in her chest. She needed to stay something. Anything. It was like sinking in quicksand, and three of her best friends in the world were about to be gone, and she couldn’t manage to say anything.

“It’s not really goodbye,” Pinkie said suddenly.

Luna bless you, Pinkie. “No, it’s not. You’re right. We’ll be back here again,” Twilight said, managing a shaky smile. “We’re the Elements of Harmony; we’ve done stuff like this before. Saving the world, you know?”

“Quite right,” Rarity said quietly, her eyes still fixated on the sign. “Just ta-ta for now. Like...”

“Going out for a walk or somethin’,” Applejack finished when she didn’t. “Just like a long, long walk.”

Twilight looked away from the milepost to the faces of her friends. Rainbow, who scowled. Fluttershy, pawing at the dust with a hoof and looking down. She met Twilight’s eyes for a moment. Rarity, whose face was stoic. She missed them already.

“Dangerous business, I guess,” Applejack continued. “Steppin’ out your front door onto the road. I sure will miss y’all.”

Rainbow’s wings fluttered on her back, and her jaw clenched. She sighed and looked at Pinkie, who stood beside her.

“Pinks, you’re gonna be safe, right? Gonna come back in one piece with all of your legs without me there to keep ‘em off you?”

“Of course I am, silly Dashie!”

Rainbow looked to Applejack. “And you’re gonna take care of the egghead, right? Without me there to help?”

Applejack chuckled despite herself. “Sure, why not? Like her enough.”

It was Twilight’s turn. “And you’re not gonna get busy reading and fall into a hole or something, right? You promise? ‘Cause I’m not gonna be there to fish you out.”

Twilight laughed. “I’ll try my best, Rainbow.”

With that, the pegasus’s wings flared out, and she rose into a hover. Her furrowed brow was replaced by a smile, and Twilight didn’t know how real it was. But it seemed real.

“Then let’s go. Why not? Can’t just sit around here forever! We’ve got stuff to do, places to be! Plans and stuff. I’ve got some awesome flying to do, and you have... I don’t know, cool egghead and apple stuff?” She shrugged as best she could in midair. “Anyway, we’ll just be worse off if we stand here. So here, let me say it, and then let’s do what we do best.” Rainbow took a deep breath and then burst into a quick stream of speech. “I-love-you-guys-and-I’ll-miss-you. And stuff. Jeez.”

Before Twilight could say anything, Pinkie was on the move, jumping up on the low-hovering Rainbow Dash and ringing her arms around the pegasus’s neck. Rainbow cried out, hooves flailing, trying to right herself.

“Ah! Gettof!”

“Don’t get hit by arrows or crash or go too fast and break the sound barrier and melt or get lost or starve or get your wings swapped with Rarity’s horn—”

“Pinkie,” Rainbow yelled, trying to push her off, “I’m gonna crash! Let go! I love you too!”

Twilight hid her chuckling behind a hoof. Rainbow, overbalanced, found herself head down, hindlegs straight up, and her wings couldn’t handle the bizarre position. She fell into Pinkie and they ended up in a pile.

Pinkie was unfazed. “Pinkie promise. You have to!”

Rainbow growled, but it dissolved into laughter. “Fine, fine. I Pinkie-Promise.” Pinkie glared at her, and she rolled her eyes. “Cross my heart and hope to fly, stick a cupcake in my eye,” she deadpanned.

Pinkie made an indescribably happy sound, hugged Rainbow, and then was gone. She made the rounds, doing much the same to them all. The icy pit in Twilight’s stomach was gone, washed away. She felt warm, happy. Perhaps it wasn’t so bad. Just a long trip, after all. Like going on a research trip and coming home after a month or two.

Pinkie hugged her tightly, and Twilight hugged back, a bit bewildered. “Pinkie, you’re going with me. You do know that, right?”

“Of course, silly! But I have to hug all of you!”

“I... Sure? Sure, I guess,” Twilight replied, deciding once more that Pinkie was impossible to understand.

Pinkie squeezed her harder, and suddenly she was whispering fiercely in Twilight’s ear. “Are you sure? They’re gonna be all right, right?”

Twilight didn’t let her surprise show on her face as she answered. “I think so. Don’t you? Rainbow’s got them.”

And then Pinkie had bounced off to Applejack, who was also bewildered. Twilight blinked, surprised. She shook her head and turned to say her own goodbyes.

After a few sniffly goodbyes, they parted ways, and Twilight felt that she was parted into thirds. One part went north, one part went west ahead of them, and one stayed with her. As they left the other three behind, Twilight felt the heavy scrying globe jostle around in her saddle bags and thought about home and Luna and all of her friends sitting in the drawing rooms together, in another time.

Author's Notes:

hey look it's a stuff

Yes, Pinkie quoted from Tolkien.
Yes, Pinkie sang the song from O Brother, Where Art Thou?
Yes, Pinks is a neat.

V. Had Mares Not Been Fated to be Blind

V. Had Not Mares Been Fated to be Blind

Rarity

Rarity was fascinated.

Rainbow hadn’t left the sky since they parted ways with Twilight’s party. She flew in lazy circles, hovering above them. She didn’t say much, but Rarity sensed she was bored. Or perhaps moody? Oh, who knows with Rainbow. That mare barely acts rationally as it is. Honestly.

But she was fascinated. She loved flying. Love to watch it happen, loved to think and dream about it, loved to read about it, everything. When they had visited Cloudsdale to cheer on Rainbow, Rarity had been imagining her friend flying. Her heart had leapt in her chest at a chance to witness the best in the world fly.

That ended well, she thought sourly. But still, it had been delightful for a time. To be up in the air, amongst the clouds, seeing what lay beyond! The open sky!

So she watched Rainbow’s lazy hovering. Her eyes followed the slow loops Dash wrote in the sky in her boredom. She thought about Rainbow taking off, her toned, powerful legs tensing as she broke free of the surly bonds of earth. It was as good a diversion as any, she supposed. Surly bonds... I must have stolen that. Oh bother.

Fluttershy had stayed grounded by her side, walking along the road with her. She’d been delightful company, to be sure, if perhaps a bit taciturn at times. But that was to be expected: the poor dear was no conversationalist. Oh, but I will have to simply teach them to hold decent, long conversations. Especially Rainbow. Rarity supposed she would have a long time in which to work her arts. Where to begin? She supposed that flying might be a good ingress point. As a angle of attack, it did present some problems. Mainly, Rarity herself couldn’t fly, though she had read quite a bit about the subject. Fiction, of course, but...

She stopped thinking about Rainbow when movement caught her eyes. She glanced over at Fluttershy.

Fluttershy, too, watched Rainbow’s winged meanderings. Her mouth twitched, and her ears lay flat. Curious, Rarity thought.

“A bit for your thoughts, Fluttershy,” Rarity said, and Fluttershy jumped.

“Oh! Oh dear, I’m sorry! I was just... distracted.”

“Oh? Oh, I understand,” Rarity said, smiling like a wolf. A bit of teasing never hurt. “I suppose Rainbow is a rather lovely mare...”

“Oh, not... not like that!” Fluttershy cried, a bit too loudly. Rainbow pulled out of a dive and hovered in the road before them, one eyebrow raised.

“Hm?” she hummed in question.

“N-nothing,” Fluttershy insisted, flushed. She had stopped in her tracks.

Rainbow shrugged and returned to her restless flying. Fluttershy, face still crimson, caught up with Rarity who waited for her. “No, not like that,” she repeated. “I... I mean, I’m not... you know...”

Rarity sighed, but she still smiled. “Maybe I’m wrong about teasing.” At Fluttershy’s confusion, she continued on quickly. “It’s nothing. Now, I know you don’t... oh, how would Applejack put it? ‘Your barn door doesn’t swing that way?’ That’s the kind of rusticism she would use. I was simply jesting.”

“Oh. Oh, okay.” Fluttershy replied softly. “I can see that. Sorry.”

Rarity walked closer to her and nudged her. “Come now, Fluttershy, darling. What is on your mind, if it’s not our mutual friend’s rather fine le—ahem, yes. Your thoughts?”

“Oh, well... I was just thinking...”

“Yes, yes I’d gathered that much.”

“I mean... about flying.”

Rarity smiled. A subject she could talk about! “Ah. What about flying? Rainbow’s flying? It’s quite impressive, if I do say so myself. Well, at the moment she’s more hovering while she waits for us, but earlier—”

“No,” Fluttershy cut in. “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to cut you off like that. It’s not how she flies. I was just thinking about flying. Like, me flying.”

“Oh.” Rarity blinked. “Well, go on then, dear. What’s keeping you? You seem, oh what’s the word? Anxious? No, that’s not it...”

“You wouldn’t mind?”

“Of course not,” Rarity said with an easy smile. “Go on. You must be bored to tears here on the ground.”

Fluttershy shook her head, extending her wings. “No, it’s not that. It’s just... I don’t fly as much as I used to. I never flew as much as Rainbow, but...”

“But you’re a pegasus, and pegasi fly.” Fluttershy nodded, so she continued. “Now! Off with you. Go on! I’ll watch.”

Timidly, Fluttershy nodded, and then she was off into the sky. Rainbow Dash saw her and grinned wide. Rarity watched the two of them fly ahead of her. She smiled and remembered having wings of her own.

Rainbow Dash

Rainbow felt like a coiled spring, a snake in the grass waiting for something tall and stupid to wander by so she could release. Flying had helped, but still she felt the urge to be going, to keep flying straight and not stop. How far had they gone since the crossroads? Ten miles? Five? She had no idea, no way of knowing. Stewing in her own impatience, Rainbow hadn’t given the mile markers a second glance.

She groaned. She just wanted to be there already. Or at least be farther along than... however far along this was. As the sun sank at last below the horizon, she waited for the inevitable complaints.

She had landed only twice since the parting. Her wings ached. Her hooves felt odd, like they lacked something substantial. She felt exhausted.

Rainbow doubled back to land. She didn’t want to, of course, but there was no way she could keep this up. For now, she’d condescend to some ground-pounding. Just for a moment.

As she touched down, Rainbow folded her wings. Rarity and Fluttershy, who had landed earlier, were a few steps back, and she waited for them.

“Rainbow, Fluttershy and I were talking earlier, and perhaps it is time to stop. For the night, that is.”

Rainbow had known it was coming, and still, she gritted her teeth. “We really should try to make as much progress as we can,” she said slowly.

“Yes,” Rarity rejoined, her words measured. “I do understand that, Rainbow Dash. It is, of course, vital to make as much progress right out of the starting gate as possible, as it were. However, we lose daylight quickly. The world has moved on past the days when we could walk more than six hours with light.”

“Eh.” She let out a breath and tried looking anywhere but at Rarity but failed. The unicorn’s face was cast in shadow by her hair, and Rainbow could see only one azure eye in the dying light. “But we haven’t gone that far. We should make as good time as we can, light or no light. Can’t you just like light things up? Like with your magic?”

“Well, yes, but... Honestly, Rainbow. Night is falling.”

“So?” Dash challenged, bristling. “It’s not nighttime yet. We still have some daylight.”

“Is it worth the danger of being in the open and not being able to see?”

“And what,” Rainbow shouted, stomping a hoof, “are you afraid of? What the hell could possibly be out here?” Her wings unfurled and flared out of their own accord. The coiled snake leapt out into the light. “If Twilight were here, she would understand.”

Rarity drew back, and looked down for a second. Rainbow’s chest heaved in the silence.

. “Twilight isn’t here,” she said, and her voice was resolute. “The world is a dangerous place, Rainbow, and you’re just going to have to accept that everyone can’t... keep up with you.”

“Well, it isn’t my fault that you’re too cautious!”

Rarity met her gaze, and it was like a bucket of ice water to the face. “No, Rainbow, you’re right. It’s not your fault that I’m looking out for Fluttershy and am knowledgeable of my own limitations, as well as the relative safety of the area. It is however, your fault that you can’t control yourself and your own emotions.”

And... there I go. Damn. Rainbow sighed, watching how Fluttershy hid behind her own long mane. “Look, I’m sorry. I’m just... antsy, I guess.” The words hurt, but she needed to say them. “Can we just go a little farther? Please?”

Rarity cleared her throat. “Nothing to forgive. It has already passed out of my mind. How much longer, Rainbow? I understand your impatience. I want to be of use as well, but we must be reasonable. Cautious.”

Rainbow folded her wings and fidgeted. “Ugh. I don’t know. I’m not good with time and stuff. Just... a little longer. I don’t wanna stop.”

“I know you don’t, but I am not sure how much farther I can go, and Fluttershy will not be able to walk in the dark.” Behind her Fluttershy nodded, not meeting Rainbow’s eyes. A flash of irritation flashed across her mind, but she beat it down. It was true: Fluttershy was not a huge fan of the dark. Rainbow knew that. She simply hadn’t thought about it. Or how long Rarity had been on her hooves.

“Fine, I guess,” she said lamely, feeling uncomfortable. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s quite all right,” Rarity said, but there was something in how she speared Rainbow with her gaze that made Dash’s insides squirm. She wasn’t looking forward to making camp at all.

Fluttershy

Fluttershy was excellent at two things: being quiet, and listening. They went hoof in hoof, really. It reminded her of that snake that ate its own tail, the strange design she had seen one of the refugees from the North wearing on a necklace.

She lay quietly beside the fire, wrapped up in her blankets. The flames popped and crackled, and had it not been for the scene she could tell was being set, it would comfort her to hear it. The night air was cold. The cold sank into her hindlegs, far from the fire’s comfort, and she tried to warm them. Even through the warm blankets, a bit of the dark got through.

It almost distracted her from her companions. Almost.

Rainbow stared into the fire from her sleeping bag. She scowled. Fluttershy watched how the light played over her face, casting this part in shadow and then that part as it danced. It was strange, she noted, how Rainbow’s namesake mane looked with so little illumination. The fire brought out the yellow and orange, and it all seemed lighter where the fire could reach.

Rarity was staring at Rainbow, her expression blank. Aside from her right ear, which twitched, Rarity was as still as a stone. Fluttershy marked it, considering.

They, of course, probably thought she was asleep. Neither of them glanced at her, and with how still she was, it was to be expected that she fade from their immediate concerns. Fluttershy didn’t mind. Sometimes, like now, it was useful to vanish into the shadows for a little while to let others talk.

She hadn’t meant there to be any sort of confrontation when she’d told Rarity she thought they should make camp for the night. Fluttershy had assumed that Rarity’s smooth and careful reasoning would win her impetuous friend over. In hindsight, her hope had perhaps been a bit unfounded.

She didn’t sigh, though she would have liked to. I just want them to be all right, she thought. I shouldn’t have said anything at all.

She hadn’t seen Rarity’s face, when Dash had finally capitulated, but the look in Rainbow’s eyes had spoken volumes. She was waiting for a storm.

Rarity cleared her throat, and Fluttershy wilted, glad that the fire was between them and her. Rarity spoke softly. “Dash?”

Rainbow’s jaw clenched, and she looked over at Rarity.

The unicorn continued. “Rainbow, I don’t like to bring up past grievances, but I am concerned.”

Rainbow snorted.

“I am. I am your friend, and you know that. I’m worried that you’re going to bottle up whatever it is that’s wrong, and it’s going to end poorly.”

Rainbow’s ears drooped. “Look, I’m fine, okay? Just... impatient.”

“I know you probably don’t want to discuss it, Rainbow—”

“I don’t,” Rainbow cut in.

“—but I think that we should. We can’t afford to be angry at each other. It is a luxury none of us can indulge in.”

Rainbow groaned quietly. “Look, I’m sorry. I was just really tired, and that made me pissed off, and I didn’t mean it. Okay? I’m just antsy. You know, wanna get as far as we can. I didn’t mean to yell. Can we drop it now?”

“For the moment. Though what I’ve told you is still accurate. If you would like to move on, I would like your help for a moment with something,” Rarity offered, her voice a little softer.

Rainbow shrugged, and wiggled out of her sleeping back. She wandered over to Rarity. Fluttershy, on the other side of the fire, let go of a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding.

“What is it?” Rainbow whispered.

“Just a map, dear. I made sure to study it on the way here.” Fluttershy saw Rainbow’s eyebrows rise. Rarity smiled. “Yes, you’d be surprised, dear. Unfortunately, I am a bit shaky on where exactly along this road we are. You see, I didn’t notice...”

They continued. Fluttershy closed her eyes and smiled. Perhaps now I can sleep.

In the background, Rarity’s gentle voice contrasted with the rough edges of Rainbow’s. They traded places, going back and forth, almost rhythmically. She tried to listen, but the words slipped away from her. It was hard to follow without the map in front of her own eyes. Something about the road. Stalliongrad was farther than Rainbow would like. Rarity was more worried about food. It went on and on.

Rarity yawned and offered to set the first watch. Rainbow waved her off with a hoof, shaking her head. “I’ve got it, Rares,” she said. “Go on and sleep. I’ll wake you up soon for your shift. Fluttershy’ll take the last one.”

“Are you sure? I could take the first watch.”

“Nah, go sleep. I’ve got it. You seem sleepy. If it helps, think of it as me making up for earlier. Or something.”

Rarity nodded wearily and smiled. “Thank you, Dash. That’s kind. Good night.”

With that, she settled down, and Rainbow took the first watch, her gaze sweeping out over the quiet treeline beside the road. Fluttershy watched her as long as she could bear to stay awake and then succumbed to weighty sleep. Her eyes closed on Rainbow staring into the dark.

Rainbow Dash

Rainbow Dash saw them first.

While she was no Twilight, and Rarity would no doubt not expect such from her, Dash could think quickly. She could assess a situation better than sometimes her friends believed she could. This situation, in particular, was not hard to see play out. It could only go one way. Okay, two ways, but she doubted one of them would happen.

The stallion on the side of the road waving at her just sat there, waving. He was either the stupidest civilian ever, or he was a bad sort of pony who wanted her to think he was the stupidest civilian ever. Either way, she didn’t like it at all. It was exactly what they didn’t need right now.

She glanced back at her companions. The path twisted ahead of them, and so she had some time before they came around the bend and saw the trap. It was a trap, she was sure of it.

Couldn’t have designed it any better, either. Damn.

Fluttershy would want to help. Rarity would do the generous thing, and back her up. I, of course, am not going to let them be stupid without a fight.

But it wouldn’t work. Maybe a long time ago, she would have stopped. Maybe, in another world, she wouldn’t have thought it was a trap, but there was no way it could be anything else. Not this far out, not in the middle of nowhere.

She had a few minutes to figure out what to do. Four, maybe, if Rarity didn’t notice something was wrong or Fluttershy decided to stretch her wings.

Rainbow would have to run damage control. She could handle it, it was kind of like working weather in the old days, keeping storms reined in. But there was no pretending it wasn’t going to be both futile and frustrating.

She swooped down and landed, making a choice.

Rainbow landed in front of Rarity, who stopped up short in surprise. Dust rose from the worn road through the hills, and Rarity breathed it in. Rainbow made a noise of impatience as the unicorn coughed, waving it away.

“Honestly, Rainbow! Can you not learn a bit of decency?” she managed, a hoof over her mouth. “You simply must learn to be more considerate o—”

“Something’s up the road, Rarity.”

Rarity’s words died. She tensed, and her look was sharp. Rainbow almost smiled—it was an encouraging look. She was glad that at least sometimes Rarity could manage some steel in her spine. But it didn’t change the fact that all of her caution was about to go down the tubes. Rainbow sighed.

“He’s waving. Looks like a civilian.”

Rarity was quiet.

Rainbow continued. “Think there might be somepony in the trees, but it’s hard to see. It’s around the bend, where the road goes downhill.”

Rarity put a hoof to her forehead and massaged around the base of her horn. Rainbow grimaced, and waited for the inevitable to happen. She could play the whole conversation out herself. It was awful, but she had no faith in either of them to make the smart decision.

And yes, normally, she would love to help. Be a hero. But she wasn’t a hero. She was just Rainbow Dash, and Rainbow Dash knew a trap when she saw one, and stepping into it was stupid.

“Rainbow?”

“What?” she answered a bit too gruffly, wings folding against her side.

“You think it’s a trap.”

It wasn’t a question. Rainbow wasn’t sure what it was, honestly. It was almost an accusation. The sound of it angered her. It was like a fly she couldn’t swat away, lingering and bothering her. It was there every time she tried to hurry her companions up. Here it was again.

So she seethed. “No, Rarity. I don’t think it’s a trap at all. I know it’s a trap. It’s so obvious. So, so, so obvious. Can’t you see it?”

“Well, no, not yet. If you’ll just calm down—“ Rarity began, raising a hoof to calm the pegasus.

But Rainbow’s wings flared out as she continued. “You know what I mean. Look, Rarity, we can’t stop. We can talk to him, but we can’t let him bog us down. We have to get going. Hell, Rares, we can’t afford to get caught in a trap.”

Rarity huffed. Both of them glanced back at Fluttershy, who sat quietly behind Rarity a few feet away. Her eyes bored holes in them, or so it felt to Rainbow, who quickly looked back and lowered her voice.

“Look, can’t you just trust me?”

“Rainbow,” Rarity hissed, also quieter. She bit her lip, thinking. “Rainbow, you have shown yourself to be far, far too concerned with simply blazing a path ahead regardless of your companions and common sense. Do you know what this looks like? It looks like impatience, and frankly, I will not stand for it.”

Rainbow groaned. “Rares, c’mon.”

“No. No, that is quite enough Rainbow. We are going to offer them help. The very least we can do is not assume that they are anything more than simple stranded ponies. Celestia knows there are plenty of those.”

Rainbow huffed. She thought about pointing out that Rarity hadn’t been made a leader of any sort officially, but thought better of it. Nothing would be settled. Rarity would whine and in the end it would be two against one. Like always.

“If Twilight was here—“

“She is not. And Twilight has been different as of late. It’s over, Rainbow Dash.”

So Rainbow fell silent, fuming. Fluttershy approached slowly, her eyes flashing between them. Those eyes settled on Rainbow, and Dash turned away. She didn’t want to meet that gaze. It would ask far too much and there would be no answering. Instead, she focused on what this meant.

They came around the bend, and into the line of sight of the “stranded pony” that Rarity was so concerned about. He was tall, and had probably been muscular and fit, once. As they came closer, Rainbow studied him. She tensed, noting his worn appearance, his dirty coat, his scars. Some of them looked old, but some looked newer. These bothered her. She imagined that perhaps some of them looked like they had been made by bladed weapons, but of course, she had no idea.

Rarity was composing herself before they even got close, and it made Rainbow feel hot and twitchy. Furious. She wanted to fly, just throw herself into the sky in frustration. Better yet, she wanted to push a certain prissy unicorn out of the way, tell that raggedy stallion to get the hell out of dodge, and save a life or two. But of course, she wouldn’t. Rarity was going to be generous.

Can’t even be cautious. It’s a bad day when Rainbow Dash is the cautious smart one! Dammit.

Rarity called out a greeting to the pony that Rainbow wasn’t even listening to as she stared him down. He caught her gaze and flinched.

“No fear! Why, we mean you absolutely no harm, my friend,” Rarity was saying beside her, and bumped into Dash.

“R-right,” the stallion said, trotting forward. They met, he standing a few feet away. Rainbow snorted, not buying his skittishness for a moment. His body said he wanted to flee, but his eyes were not looking for exits. They were studying. Sizing up.

This guy is bad news, she thought, and resisted the urge to cut this off. It would just give him an opening if she distracted Rarity.

“W-who are you?” the stallion asked, his voice rough.

“I am Rarity, good gentlecolt. These are my friends, Rainbow Dash and Fluttershy. Say hello, girls.”

Rainbow Dash did not say hello.

“Right. Well,” Rarity continued. “As I was saying—we mean you no harm. If you’ll tell us where you are headed and who you are, let us examine your wounds, I’m sure we could help you before we head out on our way. For a few moments. Are you lost?”

He blinked, as if suddenly confused. Noticed me noticing him, Rainbow thought sharply.

“Oh, yes. I got all turned around…”

Fluttershy spoke. Rainbow turned, surprised, and saw Rarity doing the same.

“Oh, you poor dear… you can tell your family to come out now!”

The stallion sputtered, and now some of that flightiness reached his eyes. He stepped back, mouth falling open as if about to explain, but nothing came out. Seeming to think better of it, the stallion simply turned back towards the trees that he had come from and waved.

A thin unicorn mare with dirty hair and wide eyes shuffled out of the brush with a foal in tow. Rainbow suppressed a groan with great difficulty. Of course he would plan that far ahead!

She looked at over at Fluttershy, pausing in her vigil for a moment. Damn, she’s gotten scary good at that whole… seeing ponies thing. Wish we’d had her back in Ponyville.

Rainbow quickly turned her attention back to the new interlopers. The mare’s eyes darted from the stallion—her husband, Rainbow assumed—to Rainbow herself, then to Rarity, and then to Fluttershy, then back. Those eyes were trying to say something to her husband, Dash thought, but she was clueless as to what it was. She had no context, no frame of reference. This was the tail end of some conversation that eluded her and she felt an itch in her hooves. She needed information, needed intel.

“Alright, spill the story,” she blurted, ignoring the harsh glare Rarity shot her.

“Of course,” murmured the stallion, turning towards her. His eyes were still wide, caught in that moment of fight or flight. It set her one edge, made her want to jump away or pounce on him. She shivered. “My wife and I took our son with us, heading for Canterlot after a raiding band of griffons destroyed our village.”

“Which?” Rainbow asked, voice flat.

“Tussock,” he answered smoothly, cocking his head as if puzzled. Yet it did not reach his eyes. They remained wide and alert as ever. It was unnatural, she thought, and didn’t understand why it would seem so.

“Never heard of it.”

“Rainbow,” Rarity cut in, voice like ice. “Leave the poor dear alone. He has obviously been through quite the ordeal. Your caution is admirable, but you need to learn restraint.”

“Rarity, I’m just asking some obvious questions.”

“Rainbow…” Fluttershy cut in softly.

For her part, Dash growled and her wings flared out. “Look, fine. You wanna die out here? Twilight would ask these questions. Twilight would find out.” She stomped her hoof down with each word. “Twilight would ask! Twilight would—“

“Twilight is not here.” The words were iron whips that beat against Rainbow’s back and her hoof paused in midair. She gaped as Rarity continued. “Furthermore, Twilight is not exactly the best example of leadership right now, if you’ll consider her record as of late.”

Rainbow looked over at the new comers, who huddled together. The wife pulled at her husband, and all three stared at Rainbow. The stallion’s strange wide-eyed panic was mirrored in his companions.

Her blood boiled and her heart hammered in her throat. Part of her wanted to stop and take this elsewhere. Part of Rainbow wanted to let it drop and pick the thread of the argument up later. But the greater part of her seethed and roiled and rebelled.

“Don’t you dare talk about her behind her back, bitch!” Rainbow bellowed, advancing. “Don’t you even dare! If you’re not gonna listen to me, that’s fine. You never do! But there is no way in hell you’re going to talk about my friend right in front of me.”

“She’s my friend too, Rainbow!” Rarity stood her ground. “I meant no offense, and my words were too harsh. Can we put this aside, please?”

“Then listen!”

“I have listened and I do not agree! Not everything in this awful, awful world is trying to kill you, Rainbow.”

“You’re wrong!”

Fluttershy was saying something, but Rainbow Dash flat out ignored it. Whatever her shy friend was saying, it could wait. Rarity was going to get all three of them killed because she wouldn’t trust Rainbow, and Dash was not going to let that go. She wasn’t going to back down from it.

“Look at him!” she pointed with a hoof.

Both ponies turned their gazes away from each other and towards the refugees. The foal was cowering behind his mother, who had separated from her husband. She looked ready to bolt.

The husband stared at Rarity with his wide-eyed stare.

“Look, please,” Rainbow begged, her voice cracking. “Just look, think for a second. I know you’re trying to help and be generous and do the right thing… I get that, Rarity, I get it, just listen to me for a second. Please! That’s all I’m asking.”

Rarity sighed and returned her attention to Rainbow. “Rainbow, I’m sorry I spoke harshly. I just cannot see how these poor refugees can be of any meaningful threat to us.”

It was a blur that overtook Rarity, movement beyond the ken of Rainbow’s eyes. Rarity tried to scream, and Rainbow thought she tried to reach out a hoof, but it was no use. She went down, and as Rainbow lunged, Rarity and her assailant rolled on the ground. Fluttershy was right behind her, Rainbow could hear her high-pitched voice as it mixed with that of the refugee mother and her sobbing foal and Rarity’s cries for help. The stallion straddled Rarity, foaming at the mouth, eyes wide with rage. He reared up, and Rainbow hit him in the side with her head and shoulder, bellowing as the momentum sent them both to the ground.

She pushed away, her backhooves using the stallion’s side as a springboard. She felt them connect and inflict pain as she achieved separation and tried to stand. He was on her, mouth foaming even still, eyes black as midnight and wide. She screamed and and tried to kick him away, but he opened his mouth and she swore that something changed, that somehow he was changing right in front of her eyes. Her legs were pinned between his, but she kicked and flailed and one broke free. He stumbled, roaring like thunder in her ear, and Rainbow hit him with all of her strength.

The monstrous refugee reeled, whining in an unholy fashion. Black liquid seeped from his mouth, splattering on the dirt road and boiling away before her eyes. Rainbow Dash wanted to vomit. She wanted to flee.

Rarity’s purple aura appeared around the Stallion’s head as Rainbow retreated before him. He let out a horrible, furious cry—but it was cut short; Rarity made sure of it as she slammed his head straight into the ground with blinding speed. Dash heard the snap of sinew and bone and then she did throw up, as his body flailed and began to dissolve into thick, black ooze. The mare and her son fled, screaming mindlessly back into the forest as Fluttershy pulled Rainbow away and tried to calm her.

As she was dragged back, and as Fluttershy tended to her, Rainbow stared at Rarity. The unicorn looked down at the half-dissolved monstrosity, her face unreadable. Her legs shook, and her horn glowed with arcane power. Her eyes caught Rainbow’s, and Dash was silent.

If Twilight had been there, it wouldn’t have happened.

Author's Notes:

The title is from Virgil.

VI. These Arts Are Perilous

VI. These Arts Are Perilous

Luna

Luna was silent as she surveyed her sleeping city of Canterlot. As the daylight had left, the subdued business of the city had wound down like an old toy. Her eyes traced the streets that were at once foreign and familiar. How they had changed in her absence! Yet, some things had not. The High City was the same. She supposed it would never change. The Argent and Golden Gates in the interior of the city stood as they had since before she and her sister had ruled from Everfree.

The lower city hadn’t been walled in yet, she thought to herself. It was creating itself, back then. Sprouting up like a nascent forest.

It was not really the city that was on her mind. Her thoughts wandered, flitting from subject to subject: Twilight. House Rowan-Oak. Her sister.

“Um... Princess?”

Her guest. “Yes, Spike?” she replied, eyes not leaving the city below.

“I’m sorry... you sent me a runner? I mean, I didn’t wanna rush you. If you’re doing something, I guess I can just wait.”

Luna sighed. “No, We have ignored you long enough. We apologize.” She turned and walked back into her reception room. Spike leaned against the far wall, and as he saw her he stood smartly. She nodded at him. “We are glad you waited, Spike. ‘Twas good of you.”

“It’s what I’m here for, Princess,” he replied. He eased off of the wall and stood before her in the center of the spacious chamber. She regarded him.

Spike had grown up, she reflected. Perhaps not all the way, but he was making it there. He was taller than a pony, perhaps as tall as two stacked. She would have to measure to be absolutely sure. The spikes on his back and head had grown immensely. His green eyes seemed somehow more fully draconic.

“Indeed. Twilight was perhaps right when she recommended that We take you into my confidence, Spike. You have matured.”

He smiled. “Something like that, Your Highness.”

And still he did not ask, though she could see his tail twitching behind him. Luna smiled. No, not quite there, but he was learning. Patience is a virtue, young Spike. You begin to see. But he would have to wait a little longer even so.

“We are a bit puzzled what to do with you. Officially, if you understand.”

“I hadn’t thought ‘bout it.”

“We could arrange for you to take command of some auxiliaries currently under Captain Broad Hoof. Or perhaps Iron Shod? Do you have a preference?" She tilted her head and offered him a smile.

Spike seemed taken aback. His mouth fell open. “Uh... I mean, I’m not sure I would know what to do, Your Highness.”

“Which is why, for now, We have decided against it. It is simply too much to ask of you at this time. Though... ‘twould be nice to...” Luna paused and shook her head. “Excuse us, our thoughts stray. May We have anything brought up for you?”

Spike shook his head. “No thank you, Your Highness.”

“As you wish. If you will take no refreshment, it would seem our business is at hoof.”

He stiffened, and his wandering tail stilled. “Y-Yes?” he asked.

“Do you like walks?”

He simply blinked rapidly at her. Luna resisted a sudden urge to chuckle, and felt the pressure in her chest diminish a bit. Yes, she was glad Twilight had spoken to her about her familiar..

Spike finally managed to answer. “I... yeah? Sorry, yes. Yes I do, your Highness.”

“Excellent. Then We shall simply let the guards outside from our friends House Rowan-Oak go home, shan’t we?”

Spike paused, his face screwing up in sudden recognition. Good. He begins to learn. Luna walked by him, her eyes catching his. She gestured towards the door. Observe, she thought.

“Guards?”

The door opened, and two armored stallions rushed in. Luna noted the rather conspicuous four-pointed star insignia that adorned their barding. She reined in her distaste and kept her features neutral and composed.

She wondered briefly if Spike noticed, but then dismissed that line of thought. She couldn’t keep second-guessing what he did or didn’t see. She would simply have to begin teaching him to see. Assume that he didn’t. She would need his eyes.

And his claws.

“Guards,” she spoke, looking both of them in the eyes, one after the other, “we will be taking our leisure in the gardens. I trust that you will maintain your posts?”

It wasn’t strictly necessary to say this of course. Perhaps it was even a bit spiteful of her. Regardless, they answered in unison. “Yes, your Highness!”

“Excellent. Spike? Come,” she strode past the guards. Spike walked beside her, and she wished she could see his face. Those reptilian features were not so hard to read, not for one such as she. Luna had known many dragons.

They left the Rowan-Oak guards behind, and in the hall two batponies stood at attention. She smiled at them warmly, and gestured to Spike.

“Harcourt, Rolan! This is Spike, newly sworn into my service. Spike, these are two of the Nightshade Guard.”

Spike bowed awkwardly. Luna chuckled, delighted that he should try. The two Nightshades accepted it with their patented stoic grace, mouths in firm, expressionless lines as they bowed in return. Dark eyes, gray coats, black manes; they could have been carved from the very stone below them all in the mountain, Luna thought for not the first time. And were they not like stone, hard and unyielding?

She turned, and Spike trotted to her side. The Nightshades followed and she turned her attention to the guards in the hall. It was perhaps a futile endeavour, as the assignments shifted, but it filled the time to count their sources. Most were regular rank-and-file Royal Guard, drawn from levies and volunteers. Unassociated with any house, they answered to the Princesses primarily. The Houses Major could exert little direct influence upon them through legislation or order. In theory, a bastion of support and power. In practice, at least now that the world had moved on, they were wild cards. Divided into two halves, one for day and one for night, for each sister. A whole half of them were bereft of a proper master. They were a sock with no foot. A sheath without a sword. She felt for them; she understood it well. It also made Luna nervous.

“Do you know much about the Eastern Batponies, Spike? And our Nightshades?”

“No, your Highness. Almost nothing,” he replied. His voice echoed lightly in the hall. It sounded so adolescent in her ears, and she frowned.

There were a few House Guards, provided by ancient obligation to the monarch of Equestria by the disparate Houses Major. These were the ones she felt sure of. House Rowan-Oak: in the camp of the conspirators, but perhaps not all the way in. House Trotsany: leaning towards loyalty. Ah, House Epona, from the west: loyal, solidly so.

“Oh, good! We do love telling stories, Spike. Would you believe it, that We once were considered a patron of the arts? It is true, We quite enjoyed the company of artists and writers. Storytellers, all of them, full of such stories. Yes..." Luna trailed off, large eyes lost in fond memories for a moment before she snapped back to the present. Her smile was brittle when she spoke again, but it warmed as she continued, "But we were talking about my Nightshades."'

Luna marked the faces of the House Guards. She remembered this one... this one... the two from Trotsany were new. She added them to her growing list. It was slow going, but she thought perhaps worth it to know who might stab her in the back.

She shook her head. Have I become such a low thing that I would think in this vein?

Yet she did. She needed to. “You see, Spike,” she said, keeping her voice light, “there are batponies in the west, where Twilight is headed. We daresay she will encounter them in their homelands. When We traveled with our sister in the days of our youth, we made many friends in among them. In our ascendency, they asked that they might be our right hoof.”

Luna smiled, remembering strange, flat roofs on a lonely plain, the smell of spices she couldn’t name, and the sound of strange music. It seemed far too long ago.

“Huh. So they aren’t native to Equestria?”

She tsked. “Ah, but they are now, Spike. It has been a long time, ‘twixt then and now. We daresay they are just as native as you.” Luna thought about this, and then chuckled. “Perhaps more so. Dragons came late into this corner of creation, Spike.”

Luna took a right, and led her newest charge down a stairwell into the Great Hall.

She did not expect him to ask questions, and gave him a sidelong glance and a raised eyebrow when he did. She could not say it was disappointing.

“Do you know a lot about dragons, then, Princess?”

“We do indeed, Spike. We would gladly tell you more, if you would hear it.”

“I would,” he replied. She could almost hear his smile. Finally, a pony who will listen to my stories. Twilight picked you well.

Twilight. What could Twilight be doing, right this moment? Luna saw Twilight on the road in her mind’s eye. Pausing, perhaps, to check the map, Twilight would be shielding her eyes against the bright sun. She would be grimacing, her brow furrowed. Dedicated. Focused.

Luna was glad for her ability to daydream and navigate simultaneously. She had brought Spike at last to the great doors that led out to the gardens. She smiled and stopped at the top of them, surveying the forest of torches below. A few small figures moved below. Our guards.

Loyal, perhaps. She would not judge them without seeing them. Regardless, Luna wished for privacy.

“Nightshades, would you kindly clear the way? We wish not to be disturbed by well-intentioned soldiery.”

There was a rustling as leathery wings unfurled. The laconic stallions took to the air and split up. Luna wandered down towards the meandering walkways, whistling an ancient tune. The night was, of course, wonderful. She had brought forth her splendid argent moon with care, greeting it with a weary smile. After the burden of the day, the gentle light of the moon and the familiarity of the nocturnal air was comforting. How did Celestia bear it? Did she struggle at first, too? For a few years? I never asked her, when I had the opportunity.

“Princess?”

She continued on, listening to the strains of her own song and the clack of Spike’s adolescent claws on the little paved paths. How she had enjoyed resuming her walks at dusk with her sister, before Celestia’s sabbatical. “Yes, Spike?”

“I’m... I’m kinda confused. I mean, I thought you’d have something for me to do. Or something.”

“And what makes you think that I don’t?”

She could almost hear Spike’s mouth opening in surprise, and she smiled thinly. By now, she was sure her Nightshades had done their appointed tasks. Luna was impatient to begin, but even she had learned caution.

The Princess summoned her magic and the air shimmered.

“Spike, what have I done just now? Do you know?”

“I... why aren’t you...?”

“We are in private, are we not? I can drop the mask here,” Luna said, and stopped. She whirled on Spike, who stepped back. His strange draconic pupils were slits in the moonlight, and she could read the surprise in them. “Answer me, Spike. Come.”

“You cast a sound barrier,” he answered at last, setting his face into a stoic mask.

Contemplation? Trying for a brave face? Perhaps I forgot more of dragons in my long exile than I thought, Luna considered.

“Good. Yes, and now we are alone in a very true sense.” Luna sat, and tilted her head. “I wish I had time to gain a rapport with you in a better environment. As you can imagine, I am rather hard pressed.”

“I can imagine. It kinda sucks around here.”

Luna was shocked into laughter by his sudden lapse into vulgarity. The corners of his mouth lifted back to reveal glimmering teeth in the torchlight—discomfort! I remember that for sure, say true—and Luna held a hoof up to her mouth. She shook with quiet mirth. “Oh, forgive me. Yes, you’re quite right, Spike. It does indeed ‘suck’ these days.”

Spike smiled, reassured. “But it’s getting better, right? I mean, Twilight and them are all out there doing stuff.”

“Perhaps, Spike. Perhaps! I daresay that our Twilight will do her best. But we shall not be idle!” She looked away for a moment, her eyes catching movement of shadows out on the other paths. My Nightshades, waiting, I suppose.

“No,” she continued, turning back towards the watchful young drake. “No, if you are willing, we shall be quite occupied in a rather dangerous employment.”

“Dangerous?” Spike smirked, and Luna wondered how sincere it was.

“Of course. The world has moved along since the days when you were a child, Spike. Danger is everywhere underhoof! But I have certain things in mind. Dragons were never creatures of stealth, in the old days. I wonder if that holds true.”

“Uh... I mean,” Spike scratched his head with a single claw. “I guess I can keep a secret, if that’s what you mean.”

“No, though I do not doubt your fidelity! But the time is not quite right for outright action. The time is fragile. I am not exactly beloved, Spike

He grimaced. “Don’t say that, your Highness. The ponies like you.”

Luna sighed. “Perhaps. Would you like to continue walking?”

Spike shrugged and nodded.

The continued along the paved way, and Luna remembered walking these paths with Celestia, not long after her return. She recalled that first moonrise, when she had taken up her old burden once more. It had been a moment of sweetness, and she had felt right. Celestia had smiled with such warmth, and thanked her as she let the stars shine brilliantly in the dark. For her night.

Luna wondered what Celestia was doing. She looked to her right to find Spike there.

“I should apologize to you, Spike,” she said softly.

He looked over at her, cocking his head to the side. “What for?”

“I have done you wrong. Namely, I have called you a ‘familiar’ without knowledge of how language has changed while I slumbered in the dark.” Luna’s ears drooped. “In my time, you must understand, it was a rather common term. It was no insult. It was simply fact. My aide has informed me that it has some... ‘baggage’ associated with it, I think he said.”

Spike shrugged. “It’s no big deal. Honestly, I didn’t even know.”

“Be that as it may, I am sorry for it. You must be very close with Twilight.” She faltered, losing her train of thought. What had she wanted to talk about? It hadn’t been Twilight.

But Spike smiled. “Definitely. They found my egg without a mother, y’know? I mean, they didn’t know what happened to my mom. Twilight wasn’t supposed to be able to hatch me, that was the whole test. It was to see how she would try, how she would handle failure. But she did. I got to have a chance to grow up in Ponyville and be happy because of her.”

“Has she always been as she is now? So driven? She is like... a stone. At the top of the hill it will never move, but get it going, and...” she trailed off, her eyes wandering among the stars. “I don’t know how to describe Twilight Sparkle.”

“Kind of. Her whole world was books and stuff when I was really young. Princess Celestia raised me until Twilight moved into the Palace. But we were like... I guess like siblings? I mean, she has a brother, but he went off to guard training. When Shining left, Twilight had me, and I was her assistant. Her number one assistant.” He sighed. “That was a long time ago.”

They passed a statue of three ponies raising a flag with a star. Luna stopped and held out a foreleg to stop Spike. Then, she gestured to the marble scene, flanked by magic-lit torches, and began to speak.

“Did you know there was an Equestria before my sister and I came out of the west? There was, and it was a hardscrabble little kingdom. But they were proud, and they were brave. You know the story of Founding, I assume.”

“Well, yeah, I mean it’s just Hearth’s Warming, right?”

“Yes, more or less. It is not precisely the tale that is told every year, but it is close enough that you will understand.” Luna began to smile, and it was a small and soft sort of expression. As she told her story, her voice changed. She knew it did, and she knew that as she weaved the tiniest of threads of magic in the air that Spike would begin to see what she had once seen.

Luna knew that before him the statue seemed almost to evaporate and be replaced, not violently but surely, like a mirage in the desert. He would see the rough beginnings of Canterlot, then little more than a castle with a few hovels surrounding it. Rock hewn from the living mountain Canter—shaped by magic and quarried by Earth ponies—formed into sturdy towers that sported the ancient banner of Equestria. Luna knew he would see it as it had been, before Discord. When first her sister and she had wandered into the east, into the little land between the Twinned Oceans, they had stayed the night in the court of Queen Amethyst.

Luna began to tell Spike about how they had left and gone north, wandering without aim and with few cares. She told him about the oracle they had been given there, though she did not tell him where or by whom it was given, and how they returned years later to find Discord on the throne of the little kingdom who had befriended them.

“Do you know why this statue is important to me, Spike? Because it reminds me,” she said, and the smile that had lingered now blossomed in full. “The oracle given to us was also given to the ponies of Equestria, and though they spent years waiting for our advent, they never lost hope. So it was, Spike, that when we came into the plain below the mountain Canter that they saw our coming and foals came out to greet us, their mothers behind them, tears in their eyes. They were ready. We were so happy, in that moment, almost as if victory was not still months off. We were so very, very happy.”

Spike was quiet. Luna looked down at him, tearing her eyes away from the past. She wondered what was happening in that foreign, scaly mind of his.

At last, when he said nothing, she continued. “The statue reminds me that life moves on, Spike. The village was named Vale, and when finally our long battle with Discord was done, we returned to find it changed. Not many had died—and we thanked the Song for that—but they were scarred. They did not blame us, Spike, but I never forgot how the world moves on.”

“That’s sad,” he murmured at last.

“Yes,” she agreed, turning away. “But would you like to know the rest?”

“I’m not sure I do,” Spike said. Luna wondered if he was watching the statue still, or if his eyes were following her.

She stalled on the path, her eyes scanning the night. “On the fiftieth anniversary of Discord’s final defeat and deposement, Celestia and I returned to Vale, and the place of our first arrival in the kingdom. It had grown since then, and would you like to know what the character of the place was?”

She glanced over her shoulder. Spike was looking at the statue.

“Sure.”

“They were happy, Spike. The foals were grandparents, and they still came out to meet us. The ones that inspired that statue, who made that flag? I embraced them, and remembered their names. They were content. They had lived life to the lees despite the haunted eyes I had seen, and the world had moved even farther along.”

Luna was glad when Spike spoke directly. “So, things get better?”

“Perhaps. They certainly can, my friend. Even I know that the Night passes.” Luna sighed. “Come, I think we will go a little further into the gardens.”

And so they did.

Fable Rowan-Oak

Fable Rowan-Oak, heir of House Rowan-Oak and so-called Sword Prince of Canterlot, was unfathomably bored.

The halls were boring. The books were boring. The guards were... well, more boring than usual. They were more or less always boring, he had found, with their stoic gazes and refusal to play his games. Everything that Fable could find was utterly boring. He was quite tired of it.

He lay sprawled out on the opulent couch, dragging his hoof across the soft carpet. His gaze wandered over the walls of books, completely unfocused.

Groaning, he rolled over quickly. “Paradise, you have to let me do something.”

“You know that my orders are rather specific, young Master. They are also strict.”

“They’re also stupid.” He sat up, scowling. “Honestly, I’m eighteen years old. I’m grown, aren’t I? One would think that I would at least be able to leave the house.”

Fable leaned towards the door where his bodyguard stood, glaring over the lip of the couch.

“I can make no comment on that,” Paradise responded, one of his strange, tufted batpony ears flicking.

“I know when you’re laughing at me, Paradise. I won’t have it.”

“I am not laughing, young master.”

Fable growled. “Look... Oh nevermind. You’re an unsufferable sort, you know that?”

“Yes.”

“What exactly did my mother tell you? What was the actual wording of your order?”

The batpony coughed and deadpanned as if by by rote, “Fable is not allowed anywhere near Saddle Street.”

Fable sighed and rolled off the couch. He dusted himself off and straightened the barding. Taking a moment to glance down at the tree emblem on his chest, he considered his options. The night was boring—it was absolutely criminal, really, that in times like these that the night should be boring. High Canterlot was about as entertaining as a mausoleum. His mother had finally caught wise to his carousing. Unfortunate, too. I had only begun to taste of the seedier side of my dear Canterlot. It’s not like I wore the emblem of our house, slumming it. No harm in a few drinks and some mares in a tavern. Just a few games of cards, it’s all I wanted.

Annoyed, he wandered the large library. With an idle bit of magic, he turned an antique globe. The strange continents turned before his eyes, but he didn’t care to examine them. The thing about maps, he had decided so long ago, was that they were rather uninteresting unless they were of something you needed. Sure, his little brother loved them and could tell you all sorts of geographical... things, and he supposed those were useful, but the only kind of map Fable needed was the one he kept in his head, the one that told him where the bars were and where the best shows in town could be found.

The library of house Rowan-Oak was extensive. Books, from ceiling to floor, with a few ladders to reach volumes on the very top shelves. It was two stories, with a small balcony above the door with more shelves and a few nice couches. It was also home to several suits of ornate barding made for Tarrow Rowan during the Dragon Wars and capable of withstanding dragon fire in small dosages.His father had loved entertaining ponies on business there, to show off his family’s twinned nature.

Fable wandered over towards the large window that looked down at the gardens. There was a guard patrolling the small walls of the estate, and his young sister chatting with one of her little friends beside the fountain in the torchlight.

There were two strains of his illustrious family, and it was for a reason that sometimes they wore black and white instead of the green and gold. House Rowan, a unicorn family, had married into House Oak and brought with them a love of lore and power. The Oaks had brought to the table an iron spine and martial prowess. It had been an excellent match.

He was thinking about those suits of armor when something occurred to him. He stood up straight, tearing his eyes away from the fountain and the hedges.

Fable blinked, looking back towards the door. He couldn’t see it, of course, for the forest of full shelves between him and it, but it was the thought that counted. He grinned and navigated back through them, the pieces coming together at last.

Paradise was waiting for him. The batpony in foreign silk, his one good eye watching his master, was still. He made no movements, nor gave any outward sign, and yet Fable felt like he was waiting for something.

“Bondspony.”

“Yes, my young master?” He stiffened, coming to attention, and for a brief second Fable was amazed that he could stand even more stiffly than he had been. Paradise was full of surprises.

“Saddle Street is forbidden me by the Lady of my House, is this correct?”

“You say true.”

If anything, Fable’s grin widened. “Say, perhaps—and this is just hypothetical—I were to simply... give Saddle Street a rather wide berth. Would it not be technically alright for me to go out? All the way down to the lowest level of the city?”

“Yes.”

“Ha!” Fable crowed, turning in a little manic circle of glee. “Excellent! Let’s be off, Paradise! There are plenty of good dives off the best and well-trod path. Adventure!”

The bat pony sighed and his ears flicked. The young Rowan-Oak glanced over his shoulder, halting mid-dance, but could only see the eye hidden by an eyepatch. Fable turned back, sensing that he had missed something.

“It took you far too long, young master.”

He huffed. “In my defense, Para, my mother was far less specific with me.”

“Details. Details are important, young master. If you are going to be leading your House’s ponies-at-arms, you must learn to pay attention.”

Fable scowled. “I suppose.”

“But yes, if you must go I will accompany you,” the bondspony said gruffly, and pushed the door behind him open.

And like magic, the young Rowan-Oak’s good cheer returned. The smile that had faltered on his face once again blossomed. “Perfect! You really have to learn to have fun, Para! Off we go.” With a quick trot out of the library, Fable left his boredom behind. The batpony sighed and followed him out.

Spike

Spike wasn’t sure what he felt.

On one hand, Luna had treated him like an equal, or at least someone who could be an equal with time and he appreciated it. He felt like perhaps she understood what he was feeling, now that Twilight was gone. On the other, his skin was crawling. Well, it would be, if he had softer mammalian skin. Which he didn’t. Ponies didn’t realize how much idioms like that didn’t work for him, and it was sometimes a bit frustrating. Oh well.

It wasn’t the night. He had nightvision that was almost preternatural and so the night didn’t bother him in the slightest. It wasn’t the cold, for even the breeze that whistled through the hedges was countered by the dragonfire that burned in his belly. It wasn’t Luna, because even when her voice seemed grave he still felt that sense of conspiratorial inclusion. That the secrets were his secrets. It was not Luna that bothered him.

If he had to put a claw on it, it was what Luna talked about. The implications of it, and what he saw in his mind’s eye.

“And all of this... wheeling and dealing, it’s just... continuing?” he asked, scowling. “There’s nothing you can do?”

“I didn’t say it quite that way, Spike. I have not been able to do anything as of yet.”

“Twilight didn’t tell me as much as I thought she had, about the Houses,” Spike said aloud, and wondered why. He supposed she had been trying to shield him from it. It annoyed him. He understood, but...

“Do not think harshly of her,” Luna cut in. They paused before another statue, and Spike looked around and realized that he had never been here before.

Where are we? Center of the maze? We’ve been walking a while.

Luna continued. “It is a tangled web that the ponies of High Canterot have woven. I do not blame her for keeping some of it from you. To be honest, Twilight herself floundered like a foal learning to swim. She was trained in scholarship, not in politics. The sea of noble opinion has not been such since I was much, much younger.”

The little box clearing they found themselves in was small for a full-sized alicorn and a teenage dragon, but it was enough. Spike felt rather large, more so than usual, and it occured to him in this place how small ponies really were. A swish of his tail, and the hedge came down. How fragile the ponies were, the creatures that had seemed so large when he was a child. How fragile the things they made!

“What are you going to do?” he asked.

Luna regarded him. Their eyes met, and Spike felt the urge to look down. He ignored it, feeling like this was important, that he should look her in the eyes and listen.

“I am not entirely sure. There are several courses of action. Most of them involve you.”

“So it’s me that’ll be doing the... um, doing,” he said lamely, feeling like an idiot. Eloquent. Real silver tongue there, Spike.

Luna chuckled and graced him with a smile. “Yes. We will iron the details out in the coming days, but I would have you as my knight. As my scalpel, my blade. My flame to put to their designs and make of them kindling.”

Spike groaned. “And how exactly am I going to do that?”

And Luna’s smile became something else. Something that finally did make Spike feel a little cold.

“However you can.”

Author's Notes:

Thankya Junebud, thankya RazedRainbow.

VII. Between the Motion and the Act

VII. Between the Motion and the Act

APPLEJACK

Twilight was being far too cautious, and, frankly, Applejack was sick of it.

They had to make a decision about the village before them soon, and Twilight refused to choose. Their intrepid leader—Applejack winced at her choice of words—wouldn’t commit.

She watched the unicorn lean against the tree, biting her lip, looking for all the world like a filly afraid to own up to her mother. She would stare out from the treeline for long minutes, then turn back and think, and then return to staring, over and over in an endless cycle, and Applejack saw no end in sight.

The journey since the crossroads had been smooth, as much as such things could be in a world like the one they lived in now. They stayed off the roads, and Applejack’s woodcraft kept them pointed in more or less the right direction. Nights had been uneventful, blessedly. Things had gone better than she’d feared when she left her home behind.

And yet Twilight never relaxed. She rarely spoke unless she had to and kept her face towards the West. Applejack loved Twilight, and she loved Pinkie, but if the former didn’t start talking, the rambling of the latter was going to drive her mad.

“Twi.”

“What?” her friend hissed, not looking at her. She was staring at the huddled wooden buildings.

“Are you gonna move, or you just gonna sit here?”

That drew Twilight’s baleful eyes. “What’s that supposed to mean? I’m just being cautious.”

“Cautious is figurin’ out how to do stuff and bein’ safe. Being smart. This ain’t smart, Twi. Honestly, it’s kinda dumb.”

Twilight scowled. “What do you expect me to do, exactly? We can’t know for sure who is in there. You’re the one who wanted to check it out. I wanted to just ignore them.”

“True, I did. However, if you’ll recall, I also pointed out that it was gettin’ dark. Which is steadily happenin’, I might add. Would you rather them at our backs?” she asked, adjusting her hat as she half-rose from the tree.

Twilight looked away. Behind them, Pinkie sat in surprising quiet, waiting. Celestia only knows what’s goin’ on in that one’s head. She might help me out, here.

Before she could ask Pinkie for her opinion, Twilight started up again. “We can’t know for sure. Have you seen any ponies wandering around in there? Because I haven’t, Applejack, and I’m not sure what that means.”

“It could mean that it’s gettin’ late, and ponies these days don’t much like what happens when it’s dark,” Applejack said, setting her jaw.

Twilight, for her part, leaned in. “Or it could mean it’s another ambush. You want Ponyville to happen again?”

“No, you know I don’t. Don’t you talk about Ponyville, Twi.” Applejack glanced away briefly, scrutinizing the little village once more. It seemed harmless. Ponyville had seemed empty, of course, but not every village in the world was going to be a trap. It couldn’t be that way. It just wasn’t how the world worked, and she was certain of that.

So when she spoke again, Applejack’s voice was firm. “Twilight, I’ma tell you what I think. I think you learned a hard lesson, and now you’re jumpin’ at shadows. You did good to not go waltzin’ in there, but you’ve been sittin’ here so lo—”

“I’m bored.”

Applejack’s mouth hung open. Twilight blinked at her, and Applejack blinked back.

“Could you maybe… uh, elaborate, Pinkie?” Applejack said, still looking at Twilight.

“I’m bored.”

Simple. Clear. Blunt. If it wasn’t so completely out of place, the laconic nature of Pinkie’s interruption would have been something she approved of, but as things were, she had no real response.

“We’re arguing, the village up ahead we’re about to walk into might be full of crazy ponies who want to kill us, and you are bored,” Twilight deadpanned.

“Absolutely.”

Twilight facehoofed. “I have literally no words, Pinkie. None.”

“Well I do. Pinkie, ya can’t just—”

Pinkie rose, and her face lit up with a smile. Standing, Applejack was set to explain how Pinkie was going to be seen and why this was bad, when Pinkie gently pushed her aside. Anger rose up in her; she felt it hot in her face. But she didn’t make a noise, as it would give them away. Pinkie smiled at her, and she stopped. It was a strange sort of smile.

“You got somethin’ on your mind,” Applejack said quietly. It wasn’t a question.

“Twilight,” Pinkie said, her tone cheerful. “I was just sorta wondering how sure you are that they didn’t see you. Like, on the road and stuff.”

“I’m… mostly sure. I mean, Applejack, did you see anypony?”

“Nope,” Applejack replied, her eyes locked with Pinkie’s. “There were some, then. That’s what you’re tryin’ to say.” Another statement. Pinkie nodded.

“Mhm!”

And off she went, prancing into the open while her friends were frozen in place. It only lasted a second, but to Applejack, it seemed to stretch on forever, Pinkie floating along happily into the dim clearing.

“Pinkie! Aw hell, get back here!” she whispered, swiping with a hoof. But it was far too late. Pinkie was beyond her reach and out in the open. She’d forced their hoof, and Applejack knew it. She didn’t waste another breath trying to call the bouncing pony back. It wasn’t worth it.

Instead, she followed. Twilight was saying something behind her, but she was focused. Despite what she’d said to Twilight, she was nervous about what was in the houses up ahead.

“Pinkie, you say they saw us?”

“Oh, silly, Twilight is awful at sneaking! Well, I mean, not always. There was this one time when we went to Canterlot and—”

“Lands alive, Pinkie, can you gimme a straight answer for once?” Applejack groaned.

“Oh. Yes! There was a pony on the road an hour ago. I thought you saw her and just didn’t want to say anything until you and Twilight—”

“I’m right here,” Twilight whispered fiercely from behind her. Applejack’s ear flicked towards the noise for a moment, but she couldn’t spare Twilight a look. She was busy scanning the houses.

But nothing moved. True, they’d picked a terrible time for this, but it wasn’t exactly how she’d wanted it to go down regardless. She grimaced and lowered her head instinctively. Pinkie had better be right about this. Darn fool.

It may not have taken that long to leave their cover and venture out, but it felt like a lifetime and a half to Applejack. She was silent, just as Twilight was silent now, and she watched. It was easy to see the glint of an old shootstick from the boarded windows. She found herself imagining how one might be poked through where two boards left a portion of window glass exposed. A pony could easily see through such a gap. In fact, a pony could easily fit the muzzle of a firearm against such a gap, and it would be almost impossible to tell. It was dark, so Applejack couldn’t tell if the glass was truly…

As Pinkie crossed the invisible boundary that separated road from town, Applejack held her breath. The opportune moment had come. Any raider worth their salt would seize the chance to murder them all here, in one fell swoop. Following Pinkie was suicide. Absolute suicide! It was inescapable. Yet she had followed dutifully, trusting.

Pinkie trotted into the village, farther and farther, while her companions held back. Applejack couldn’t help but think of home. It wasn’t Ponyville, of course. It was too small. The rustic architecture and decor of Central Equestria was replaced with wood cabins. There was little in the way of damage here. Small cast iron lanterns hung from the doors—boarded up, for the most part—and signs testified to the owners of the homesteads. It made her heart ache to read the signs and look at the little lamps. They were beautiful, in a homely way. She could imagine them lit before dusk. This was a good place, she thought to herself.

They came to the village square. It, too, was abandoned. Applejack took stock of her surroundings and looked for useful cover. A well, surrounded in stone and covered with a wooden roof sat in the middle, and around it the worn grass gave way to dust. A cart sat, lonely, without cargo or owner. A few barrels rolled out and emptied in front of what had once been a small tavern or inn. There simply wasn’t much here.

She wondered if that was it, then. Simply nothing to steal here, not enough to destroy. Perhaps the raiders and the griffons would leave such a place in peace and let it remember the ponies who’d lived there without interference.

Her melancholy was broken when Pinkie sat down abruptly beside the well and began to call out loudly. “Hello? Hellloooo, anypony up? We’re here now!”

“Pinkie, the hay?” Applejack said. She tensed. You didn’t just start calling out. Not in a ghost town.

Twilight waved at the loudmouth furiously, and Applejack began to advance on Pinkie. The call still continued. “Come on out! We aren’t going to hurt you. I promise. I’m Pinkie Pie, and I’d never hurt anypony who wasn’t bad, I swear. If you’ll—”

Applejack was beside her, shaking her. Twilight called up her magic, and Applejack felt the arcane heat on her back. It raised goosebumps on Applejack’s skin with its proximity. “Pinkie, you gotta hush now, you hear? Stop it, please!”

“AJ, silly! I’m just asking them to come on out.” Pinkie was smiling, and it drove Applejack mad.

“Look, hon, I know you mean well, but we gotta focus. There’s no telling how many there are or if they’re friendly or not, and—”

“Applejack.”

Twilight’s voice was calm. So calm that it brought her up short, and she let Pinkie go completely before turning around.

A young mare stood in the entrance to the tavern Applejack had thought abandoned. She bore no aged firearm, nor did she snarl any challenge. She wore no barding, only a tattered shawl to keep the cold at bay. If anything, she cowered. Magic will do that to a pony, Applejack thought sourly. It’s fear in a little hoofull, ain’t it? But she said nothing, for Twilight’s magic beside her was a hoofull of terror on her side of things, shining its dangerous purplish light.

“Well?” the mare asked, and Applejack saw how worn she seemed in the waning light.

“Pardon?” Applejack shot back.

“Well then? I’m waiting. Either do what ye came for or explain yourselves,” the stranger repeated. She grimaced, as if hungry and waiting to go back and sleep. The word that crept into Applejack’s mind was miserable.

“We aren’t here to hurt you,” Twilight cut in. “We simply want a place to stay the night,” she explained, “if that’s possible. If it isn’t, we’ll be on our way.” She paused, and the mare said nothing. “We know you saw us on the road.”

The mare blinked and stepped back before rebuilding the miserable mask. “Don’t matter a thing to me, that it don’t. Furthermore, say it, you’re lyin’. Course ye are. Now be plain about where yer from, an’ be quick if it please you. Or if it don’t,” she added glumly.

“Canterlot,” Twilight said. Magic still burned bright on the tip of her horn like a nocked arrow ready to fire. “We’re simply passing through on our way to… Stalliongrad. We had to take a detour.”

Applejack glanced over. Twilight’s voice bothered her. Strain painted every word, as if there were a boulder tied to Twilight, and she was struggling to pull it. It was weakness. Only a sliver of it, of course, a tiny crack in an otherwise indomitable wall. A single spell overcharged in paranoia. It was hard to think of it as weakness as she blinked at the harsh light of magical energy boiling over along the length of that swirled horn, but Applejack knew it was.

In the corner of her eye, Applejack caught Pinkie inching closer and closer to Twilight, whispering in her ear when they were shoulder to shoulder.

In the meantime, Applejack kept the mare talking. “What is this place? Why don’t we get some introductions?”

“I dunna need to know names.”

“Well, sugarcube, where I come from, it’s polite to say a ‘how do you do’ before you get to scarin’ ponies. Why don’t the rest of your friends come on out. We can say hello, that sorta thing.”

They were still, but even so, they circled. The mare stayed at her post before the tavern, and her eyes—her rose eyes, which Applejack found herself staring into—were hard and unwavering. It was the stare of somepony who has been on the walls too long or has been in the queue for food rations hours over time. It occurred to Applejack that she was in a killzone. She felt other such eyes on her, but could not see their masters. A dozen, perhaps, starving and resentful and ready.

“How ‘bout nay, and ya not move an inch.”

Applejack grit her teeth. “Fair enough. Then what do you want from us?”

Something changed. The miserable mare seemed to puff up, come alive.

“Why don’t ya get? Or better yet, we could always—” She stopped and grimaced. “Oi, can you two stop that whisperin’? I dunna like it.” When they didn’t stop, the sentinel mare gritted her teeth. “Do you ken? Heads up.”

“Makin’ you nervous?” Applejack asked, her voice a little lower. In the otherwise silent air, the words carried.

The mare shifted her weight.

Twilight looked up from her conference with Pinkie, her shoulders set. Applejack eyed the glow of her arcane energy and shivered. No idea what she’s up to.

And then there was a flash. The barrel closest to the sentinel exploded in purple light that stabbed at Applejack’s eyes and stole her vision. She winced and threw a hoof over her face, missing the immediate aftermath.

There was shouting. She knew that for certain. Dammit! Dammit, Twilight, you did that on purpose! Showin’ off like a fool

She struggled, blinking to restore her vision. When the world came back, the lone mare had been joined by other ponies, all as ragged as she was. They rubbed their eyes, all staring down at the barrel Twilight had turned into a blinding torch.

Twilight spoke then, as they stared down at the transfigured object. “I thought you might want one. You look cold, and it’s going to get pretty chilly tonight.”

Applejack gaped at the blanket Twilight had conjured, and the sentinel’s shoulders slumped in what Applejack knew must be relief.

PINKIE

There were a dozen of them in all. All of them looked tired and hungry. Pinkie found it to be both curiously similar and foreign.

Pinkie knew hunger. The rock farming of her childhood—harvesting the vital minerals needed to keep the engines of industry running and the magic of mages progressing—was hard work. A single fire ruby could keep the family afloat for months, but they were rare. The crystals that they grew were more reliable, but required grueling, backbreaking work and obsessive attention to keep the rock “eggs” growing the magically charged geodes in the sun long enough. Keeping them turned just right. Keeping them dry.

So tired and hungry ponies were nothing new to Pinkimena Dianne Pie. If anything, it was like her family in hard times. But when times were tough and the pickings were slim, her father had always born the hardship with steel in his spine and a little fire in his heart. Maybe not with a smile, but he did what he could.

These ponies, however, were beyond hope. They stared at the walls, lay down to sleep early out of boredom and a lingering sadness. The few foals that hid with the group inside of town hall were the only ones willing to move about more than a few steps. As far as Pinkie could tell, their arrival in this village was the first time some of these ponies had bothered being excited about anything in months.

Twilight and the Mayor were talking. He was an old stallion, or at least he looked it. By his own claim, he was no more than sixty, but his coat was dull and his poor body was worn by age. Or so it appeared. Twilight had not asked about his cataracts or the obvious signs of past hoofrot in one who claimed to be just reaching into true old age, and neither did her companions. They simply listened while Twilight got a better picture of things.

“And you haven’t heard from anypony outside since? Six months is a long time for no travellers,” Twilight said.

He shook his head. “No ponies,” he repeated.

Applejack stirred and spoke. “Kinda specific there. You mean somethin’ else been by?”

The Mayor’s eyes may have been whited over, but his ears seemed sharp enough. They turned towards Applejack, and he spoke quickly. “Ayup. Griffons, hear it. Yon Griffons from the whole mess o’ Manehattan if you hear it.”

Pinkie and her friends did hear it. Twilight looked away, and Pinkie hesitated.

It was Applejack who spoke for them. Pinkie figured she’d had enough loafing against the wall. “Alright, lemme get this straight. Griffons this far south of the beachhead, right? How often? How many? They messin’ with ponies?”

Twilight grimaced. “Applejack, I hope you aren’t—”

“Let ‘im talk, Twi,” Applejack said quickly.

The Mayor shrugged. “Thou know what we know if’n you hear me. So the Griffons roam. We don’t look out the windows to be avoidin’ ‘em. Shut our eyes and breath the air slow an’ they move on.”

They talked strangely, Pinkie thought for perhaps the fifth time since they’d been invited in. Ponies all over talked differently; she knew that. The ones around her mama and papa’s farm talked one way, and the ponies in Ponyville talked another sort of way, and even farther south from her old farm…

Pinkie’s mind wandered aimlessly. Or at least, that’s how Twilight would describe it. In reality, Pinkie found herself making connections. She wasn’t like Fluttershy, who watched so intently. She wasn’t one for details, seeing the web or the pattern. Fluttershy’s whole crazy sand space witch thing, as she mentally referred to it. No, Pinkie was the kind of pony who paid attention to ponies and what they wanted. And, of course, who paid attention to aerodynamics. Because building things was an important skill. Building things that flew? Even more important.

Applejack was talking when Pinkie’s attention rolled back around to the conversation.

“So, from what you’re tellin’ me, I’ma guess it’s about… twenty, at most. Fifteen? What do you think, Twi?”

“Not enough data,” Twilight said, frowning.

“Yeah,” Applejack finished, a bit lamely. “So there’s that. They ain’t bothered you none, at least.” The Mayor shrugged. Applejack turned back to Twilight, and seemed to consider saying something.

Pinkie wasn’t sure, and had no time to figure it out before one of the foals ran to them, tripping.“Comin’!” she said. “I saw ‘em, I did!”

“Aye, so ya did.” The mayor looked to the three ponies from Canterlot. “I’d suggest you be hidin’, however fancy your magic is or strong yon legs be, young Apple.”

Applejack blinked. “You know my kin?”

He rolled his eyes. “Who don’t? Now, be quiet, all.”

The ponies who had lounged on the porch and around in the main hall were now moved to action. They abandoned the outside and slammed the door shut, moved into the back rooms with wide eyes and open, panting mouths.

The rush of activity gave way to a deathly silence. Pinkie and her companions hadn’t moved an inch. The sudden haste and the abject fear was a little too familiar for Pinkie’s taste.

“Jus’ like home,” Applejack said quietly and slowly slouched underneath a window. The wooden floor creaked as Twilight took up position on the other side, and Pinkie leaned against Applejack’s back. They were silent, then. Waiting.

A few moments passed before Pinkie heard them, and she was sure she heard them first. Twilight had shut her eyes, and Applejack hadn’t moved. But Pinkie heard them all the same, marching. She would recognize that sound anywhere, dozens of mailed talons beating the ground in unison.

Except they weren’t quite in unison. She regretted being too far away from the window. She wanted to see them. She wanted to know if the griffons had changed like everything else.

The sounds grew louder and louder, and soon it was clear that, outside, the griffons controlled the village. There were a few commands given in the stillness and then the sounds of Griffons dispersing. Beside Pinkie, Twilight’s eyes widened.

“We don’t need to be here. We can’t let them find us.”

Pinkie saw the griffons landing at Manehattan again, demanding to see Celestia and make her answer for the state of the sun and nature. She remembered being there with her friends when Luna went to their Beachhead. She remembered how they looked at the ponies around them. She shivered.

“Well, whatcha suggest, sug?” Applejack said, her voice tight.

“They aren’t the same though,” Pinkie offered.

Twilight grimaced at her in response. “Pinkie, please, can you focus? Of course they’re their the same party of Griffons, some offshoot.”

“No, I mean they’ve changed.”

“Yeah, like they split up, we know that, Pinks,” Applejack grumbled.

Twilight bit her lip. “Can we risk escape? How have they left these ponies here alone? It can’t be that hard to find them.”

Applejack snorted, but it was Pinkie who answered. “Oh, they hide in a hole in the back.”

Both ponies glanced over at her. “They do? Never told us that,” Applejack said, raising her eyebrows.

“I got bored and wandered. It just didn’t come up.”

Twilight seemed to accept this. “Whatever. Point is, they’re gonna… oh stars, you hear that?”

They did. The shut door began to open, and the three friends scattered. Pinkie bolted, hiding behind an overturned table. She heard a griffon enter. The floor creaked underneath them, following their progress through the reception hall, past the counters and the old map on the wall.

TWILIGHT

Twilight knew exactly how many there were, where they were, and how much mana it would take to deal with them.

She had mapped it out, even. What would most likely happen. Even how to do it with the least loss of life—potentially with no loss of life! She had it down to seconds, what she could do to force a quick surrender. Pinkie and Applejack just made it easier than it already would be. They had the advantage because they were complete unknowns. Applejack was strong. Pinkie was smart and quick. They were loyal to her. They would die for her and she for them. They were a team.

She knew all of these things, and yet she cowered next to Pinkie.

She heard the griffon stop, probably to look at something. The map, perhaps. She had no idea. She knew where he was in the room, of course. She’d mapped it all out passively with magic as soon as the old stallion had told her that griffons visited the place and came often. She’d caught them one by one as they came in, registered and tracked. It was a unique opportunity, not something she could keep going for long. Already it was straining her to keep up with them all. A minute more, at most.

Another creak, and the griffon was moving again. He was coming closer and closer. Four meters. Twilight knew it exactly. He was the only one that was still clear and burning bright in the field of her mind. Three meters. He would look behind the table. It was either run or confront him.

It wasn’t the memories of the Manehattan firepit or the contrite prince. It wasn’t any of that. She just couldn’t do it. Not anymore. Maybe one day she could have.

Two meters.

Twilight, before she could think better of it, summoned up a shield and leapt out into the open.

The armored griffon froze, his wings flaring up behind him and his beak opening to issue a alerting cry to his comrades. He broke out of his shock enough to bring his spear to bear. Twilight spoke fast, keeping her shield to him.

“I won’t hurt you if you don’t hurt me, got it?”

The griffon didn’t say anything. He didn’t alert any of the others, however.

Twilight kept on, her mouth running. Her legs were shaking, and she was thankful that she wasn’t alone. She felt trapped. She could just push this shield like a plow and pin him to the wall if he turned violent. She could easily escape. But her knees were weak, though they shouldn’t have been.

“We’re not here to pick a fight. I don’t know what you want, but I know where you come from and why you’re wandering, and I can tell you that whatever it is you want, it’s not here.” She hardened her voice. “And if it is, you know I’ll give your friends Tartarus for it.”

The griffon’s spear remained poised.

“What do you want?”

The griffon stared her down.

Something changed. One moment, Twilight wasn’t sure of anything and the next, the world came into focus, and she pumped arcane force into her voice. It reverberated, not as loudly as a Princess’, but enough to fill the room with authority.

“I am tired of ponies or griffons or anyone or thing not answering my simple, direct questions.” She said, and the words were like slaps of steel. The griffon backed up as if he felt them on his feathers and fur. His spear lowered.

“Now, you are going to tell me what I want to know,” Twilight said. “You are going to tell me right now because I am really, really tired of not knowing things.”

“Not rebels,” he said shortly. “Not rebels! Not…” he trailed off. Twilight hadn’t realized that the knot in her gut was there until it loosened. The stench of the firepits left her, as did the weakness in her knees.

She sighed. “Alright. I’m willing to believe you. I guess I should talk to who you answer to, huh?”

The griffon nodded.

Twilight began to suspect that his command of Equestrian was poor. Way to go, Twilight. “That’s fine. Just don’t do anything too quickly, okay? We’re fine. Everything is fine. Applejack, Pinkie? Could you come out, please?”

They did. The griffon’s eyes darted from mare to mare, but he said nothing. Twilight gestured, and he turned hesitantly.

Once outside, they were noticed immediately. The griffon’s companions crowded around, keeping weapons—edged, blunt, gunpowder—trained on the three mares. Beside Twilight, Applejack grumbled something that sounded obscene. Pinkie seemed fine, as if the world was bright again. Twilight couldn’t make sense of it.

Everything ground to a halt. Twilight’s eyes roamed over the assembled griffons, and they watched her in return.

Twelve, as she’d marked them. Thin, a little ragged, but still possessed of that bellicose pride of their kind. Their gear was polished, and though she could see dents and tears in their armor and gear, she knew that it had been cared for lovingly.

So not Rebels at all, then.

“I have not hurt your comrade,” Twilight said loud enough for them all to hear her. She didn’t put any magic into the words. She didn’t need any. “He’s safe, as you can see. I just want some answers as to why you’re harassing these ponies.”

The griffons looked to each other, and then at last one of them stepped forward and gestured to the group. Weapons lowered.

“I will speak to you, Twilight Sparkle,” the griffon said, and Twilight got a good look at him. He was slightly shorter than the others, with a massive scar down his face. He held his halberd loosely, almost too loosely. If anything, he seemed almost relaxed.

“How do you know my name?”

“I, too, was at Manehattan, Twilight Sparkle.”

Twilight grimaced. “Oh.”

“So you boys gonna stand down?” Applejack asked from beside her. Twilight almost jumped. She’d forgotten her companions were there.

“Of course. I am happy to parlay.” The griffon showed them his halberd and laid it against the well in the middle of the village square. He gestured for Twilight to come to him, and the soldiers backed away so that she could approach him unhindered.

He sat, and so she sat across from him, her head spinning. As an afterthought, she deactivated her shield.

“You know,” the griffon began, “this is the first time we’ve seen any ponies in all the times we’ve come through this way.”

“It is a bit intimidating to see a column of soldiers on the road, ah…?” Twilight paused.

“Gilead. Yes, I suppose it is.” He chuckled, and his voice was low and rough, but not unlikeable, Twilight thought.

Pinkie spoke. “You don’t seem so bad, Mr. Gilead. Why scare the ponies when you could just talk to them?”

He smirked. “Oh, my little friend, what do you think we’ve been trying to do? I had heard that the inhabitants of this land were a bit more social than I’ve found them.”

Twilight felt Applejack’s hoof brush her own and glanced over. In the corner of her sight, she saw her friend’s lips purse into a frown. Applejack said nothing, and she didn’t need to. Twilight knew they thought of the same things.

The griffon went on. “Yes, but I understand why. To be truthful, just because we sought some sign of life did not mean we did so without fear ourselves.The world is a much changed place, Twilight Sparkle.” He paused for a moment. “Applejack. Pink… Alas, I have quite forgotten.”

“Pinkie Pie!”

“Of course, of course. To be frank, I was losing hope. Our little band has seen no signs of life in this place or in others. I had begun to dream that we were all alone in the world. Do you know that it snows, sometimes, not that far from here? I fell asleep and dreamed we wandered for years in the snow and in the ash. I was thinking this morning that perhaps this was the dream, and that was true. Or maybe it was all the same, you know?”

Twilight didn’t say so, but she nodded her head.

“I am curious what you are doing out here. Forgive me, but I am starving for news. Has Canterlot fallen?”

Applejack shook her head. “Nah, it ain’t.”

Not yet, Twilight thought sourly.

“I am glad to hear it!” Gilead replied, and—wonders never ceased, it seemed—he sounded sincere. “Then a light shines somewhere. I am content, even if it is not there. I had hesitated in leading my friends south, but I was curious if you thought we might find lodging. We would be willing to man the walls if that was the price of admission.”

“I could see them letting you in,” Twilight said. “The Beachhead wasn’t that long ago, but Luna has also tried to be civil with the remnants we’ve had contact with.”

Applejack winced, and Twilight had the thought that it was artless of her. It was awkward enough that she had to mention it, but—

“I am glad to hear this! What a thing, griffon legionnaires defending the walls of Canterlot!” He wore a cocksure grin that melted away a bit of Twilight’s icy annoyance. “Truly, a different world. But you manuevered about my question. Perhaps I made it too easy to do so.”

Twilight sighed and glanced over at Applejack. They shared a look.

While they did so, Pinkie began talking.

“Oh, us? We’re going to find Celestia! She’s somewhere—”

“Pinkie,” Twilight said, not quite loudly, but firmly.

“—and Twilight thinks we can find her and bring her back.”

Gilead blinked. “Bringing back the Princess… well I’ll be. It’s about time.”

Twilight frowned. “Yes. We were on our way North.” Which wasn’t a lie. Perhaps it wasn’t entirely the whole story, but she felt a need to keep that to herself. To keep it a secret.

Pinkie opened her mouth, but before she could elaborate, Twilight shot her a stern look. Pinkie looked hurt, which knocked away Twilight’s reservations, and there a moment of silence.

“She has no reason to trust me, my little friend,” Gilead said to Pinkie. “She need not. Do not look so crestfallen.”

Pinkie nodded.

Gilead looked back to Twilight. “It is a harsher world, as well. I visited Equestria once when all was peace, and ponies were friendly and warm. I mourn the loss of such creatures but know that it must change as the times change. Let me relieve you of your burden. Tell me no more; I will hear none of it. I will tell no one of your progress until I arrive at the Gates of Canterlot.”

Twilight sighed. “Sorry. I’m a bit jumpy. So you will go South?”

“Sounds like a pretty good idea t’ me,” Applejack weighed in. “Could always use a few fresh bodies on the wall. A bit crowded, but…”

“I would much prefer a crowd to an empty world,” Gilead said. He stretched and stood. “It is getting on. My friends and I should withdraw. I… hm. I would ask if there are indeed ponies here, but they are no doubt hiding. I knew that there must be survivors here… It is of no consequence. I will not search them out if they do not wish to be found. We will be on our way.” The three mares rose, and he bowed to each in turn. “It was wonderful to see unfamiliar faces—or, should I say, familiar faces after so long. May the days be good to you all. Look for me when you return to Canterlot, hm? And good fortune.”

Twilight let herself smile. “And you as well.”

His smile faded slightly. “But… before I go, I must warn you. The road ahead is difficult. I would be on your guard. Avoid the towns. There is a… shadow on the world that I cannot describe. Do not enter any buildings unless you must, for the world beyond this point is all within that shadow’s core and under its baleful gaze. If you go to the ports at Tall Tail or Vanhoover, do be careful. I heard things, months ago. I fear for those places.”

With that, he smiled and in short order reassembled the gathered griffons. They left in a column, marching back down the road, and Twilight quietly watched them go .

*

They had chosen the empty house at the end of the lane because Twilight had wanted to be alone. To have the conversation she knew she needed to have, she needed to be far away from the ponies that lingered here.

And yet she was failing here, too. Pinkie was asleep already, and so Twilight had missed one opportunity.

Applejack sat on the back porch. Twilight was sure she was still awake. It was the perfect time and place for the discussion she knew they needed to have.

So why not get up and go talk to her? she asked herself in the dark. She listened to Pinkie snoring from across the abandoned living room, from the slightly ratty rug. Why not? We’re friends, after all. She’s the perfect one to talk to.

Because she wasn’t sure what all she wanted to say. Or what she was thinking.

So I don’t have your ducks in a row. So what? I have a little figured out. Talking things out can help you think.

That was true. She had to concede that.

Twilight sighed. There was no way to get around it, and so she got up and quietly walked to the back door. Pinkie continued her loud snoring. She glanced back, just to make sure, and watched Pinkie grumble and roll over in her sleep, wrapped up tight in a blanket. At least one of them could sleep well these days.

When she opened the door, she found Applejack leaning against the wall of the house, looking out at the deep woods. A slender clay pipe rested in her mouth, and occasional smoke wandered up into the dark air.

“I didn’t know you brought it,” Twilight said softly.

Applejack looked up, her expression hard to read before she looked back to the trees. “Yeah. I’ve been savin’ it for when y’all were asleep. My supplies are kinda limited, you know.”

There was a moment of silence. Twilight shifted uncomfortably, and Applejack looked ahead.

“Well,” Applejack said at last. “You gonna come sit, sug?”

“Oh… er, yes,” Twilight said and did so, smiling. This is normal. It just feels… normal.

Another puff of smoke heralded her speech.“You look like ya got somethin’ on your mind,” Applejack said quietly.

“It was an eventful day,” Twilight said.

“Sure was. You had me worried there, jumpin’ out like that. I was about to jump out after you and get t’ work, but then you started talkin’.” Another smoke cloud loosed into the night. “To be honest, I’m glad you did, now that I know more ‘bout ‘em. That Gilead was a sure nice fellow. I liked him, even if he was a griffon.”

“You seemed like you felt uneasy.”

“Sure I did. So did you.”

Twilight conceded that with a little nod and then shivered. “I kept thinking about when we went with Luna to confront them. Did you think about—”

“Manehattan Firepits. Yeah.”

“And I just… I don’t…” She sighed and massaged her temples. “Applejack, I think something is wrong with me. Or has been wrong with me. I don’t know.”

Applejack looked back to her at this. “Wrong with you? What?”

The tone was so familiar, so concerned. It broke her heart. She thought of Ponyville again, of gossip at the first cider tasting of the year, of all their friends. It was so damned normal.

Twilight hesitated, and then leaned softly against Applejack. “I’m becoming somepony else, I think. Somepony I don’t like. I’m frightened. Old me would never hesitate. She would have jumped up and dealt with the problem. She would have gone into Ponyville and been carefu—”

“Now, Twi,” Applejack began as she stirred. “You know we already put that to rest—”

“No, no we haven’t. The old Twilight wouldn’t be… wouldn’t make Pinkie sad. Or frustrate you like I do. Or be cold to ponies. Not like I have been. Not the Twilight I was in Ponyville.”

Applejack was quiet. Another puff of smoke.

Twilight went on. “I hesitate. Did you know my magic isn’t the same anymore? Have you wondered about that? Because I have. I’ve wondered about it a lot. In Ponyville, the magic I did… that would have been beneath me two years ago. I went from C-Celestia saying how I would be a wonderful grandmage to… to being tired out by a shield spell. A tracker spell makes me winded.”

“Why, you reckon?”

Twilight laughed, but it was without mirth. “Maybe I don’t believe in myself or something stupid like that,” she said, bitingly. “How should I know? Maybe the world is just all wrong now, and I can’t… do the only thing I’m good at. I’m useless.”

Applejack was quiet.

“I just… I wanted to say that I’m sorry. Pinkie’s face… I mean, I wasn’t wrong, I don’t think. Did I do that wrong? She shouldn’t have been so free with information.”

“‘Course not.”

Twilight bit her lip. She wished Applejack would say something more than simple affirmations. “I’m just… I don’t know.” But she did.

She was floundering.

It was so clear, wasn’t it? Even more so here, alone in the dark, looking out into these dark woods of confusion. It made sense. It had started when Celestia had left, and it had finally dawned on Twilight that she wasn’t coming back after a month or two.

“The heart just… went out of me,” she said softly. “I’ve been spiralling. Since I knew…”

“Since you knew she wasn’t comin’ back,” Applejack finished. Twilight stared at her, and Applejack continued. “Don’t look so shocked, girl. It ain’t that much of a secret, not to me. I been worried about you for a long time. I’m sorry it don’t… feel like it, but I am. Ya started wiltin’.”

Twilight shivered again. “I had this… this moment today, right before I jumped out of cover. I realized that I really have lost my touch. I realized I could take them all out, Applejack, with your help and with Pinkie’s help. I knew exactly how it could go; I plotted it all out. And I just… sat there. I was paralyzed, just like I was at Ponyville.

“And I’ve been thinking a lot. I’m different now, AJ. I’ve been frozen in place for a year. I never went after her. I thought I was trying to figure it all out, but I was just running away. I have been so bad to you all, and now… I don’t have three of you anymore, and there’s no way to change it. The past just… Time just moved on right past me, and I can’t grasp it. No magic brings that back. I know because I’ve been trying, and even if I was at my old strength, I couldn’t do anything like that.”

“Twi…”

But Twilight was done with silence. She was done with staring into the woods and waiting. “And what is the point? I don’t even know if we’ll make it, Applejack. Even if we do, what if we come back, and it’s all gone? Canterlot burned, Luna… gone, our families gone. Even if that doesn’t happen, we come home and Spike is dead, or he’s changed or… or Fluttershy doesn’t come back. Or Rainbow doesn’t make it, or Rarity dies or is hurt or loses a leg or… Will it all be worth it? Is anything, anymore?” She laughed bitterly. “I’m sorry, but I’m beginning to see why the Mage’s Guild started whispering about me behind my back. The Apostate. I’ll wear that name. It fits.”

“Like hell it does,” Applejack said, and her voice was rough. Twilight backed away, a bit alarmed.

“Like hell it does,” she repeated, and there was fire in more than just her pipe. She released a large puff of smoke, and to Twilight, it was absurdly like a dragon. “That name ain’t ever been fit for ya, and I’ll die ‘fore I ever think of Twilight—our Twilight—as anythin’ but my friend and a good pony.” She spat. “Apostate. I heard ‘em sayin’ it, and it made me sick cause it’s a lie, and you know it is, deep down. We all know it. Twilight doesn’t lose heart. Twilight would never lose heart.”

“Until she did.”

“Except she don’t. You don’t.” She sat up entirely. They faced each other. “Twi, I love ya. You’re like another sister to me, and I know the others feel the same. Yeah, you kinda went off the path. A lot, a whole lot—but you know what? That ain’t the point right now. The past is past, Twi, and we can’t go chasin’ after it. The tide’s all against us.” She groaned. “Look, Twi, I ain’t a philosopher. I’m a farmer without a farm. I’m a simple pony. I ain’t stupid, but I’m just Applejack and whatever that all means. I reckon it don’t mean that much, in the end, but I’ll take it. You’re just Twilight. Not some darn… Apostate nonsense. Twilight Sparkle, librarian.”

“Without a library,” she said softly and sniffled. I would cry like an idiot.

“Same boat, partner,” Applejack said and sighed. She looked down at the pipe with an almost comedic face of sorrow. “Dern pipe’s out again.”

Twilight chuckled, and it sounded strangled. She hated that noise.

“I’m not sayin’ you should just… get over it. I know you lost your faith. In yourself, in Celestia, in life, but I see it sure as sugar. But it don’t have to be that way. I believe in you, even if you don’t believe in you. Ponies make mistakes, Twi. Ponyville… yeah, you made a mistake. Here, you didn’t. You’re over there talkin’ ‘bout how you froze up, but you know what? From where I’m sittin’ I saw a mare who did something brave and bold and jumped up and said, ‘Here I am!’ and was willin’ to take a big risk—and you didn’t have to hurt a single pony. Nopony died. You know how beautiful that is?”

Twilight shrugged and sniffled.

“It’s damn well near perfect, I’d say. Perfect as a Sunday mornin’ with work done. I don’t even know. It’s late,” she added with a chuckle. “Twi, you don’t gotta turn yourself around in one night. I know you ain’t sure ‘bout what I’m saying to you, and that’s okay. Just… know we love you. Rarity and Dash and Fluttershy love ya too. We’re gonna see ‘em again, and we’re gonna see Canterlot again.” She stood and stretched before dumping the burnt ashes from her pipe into the ground. She awkwardly fished the remnants out with the little tool. “Dern hooves,” she said softly, and then continued. “I’m off to bed, Twi, and you should be too. It’s getting late.”

Twilight nodded. “You’re right. We’ve got ground to cover.”

“Miles to go, before we sleep, even,” Applejack said and yawned. “I’ll be damned, but it’s awful late.”

For a moment, she gazed at the door leading back into the unlit room.

“Twilight?” Applejack spoke after a moment. Her easygoing manner was gone.

“Yes?”

“Do you see the firepits when you sleep sometimes?”

Twilight shivered. “Yes.”

“When Gilead was talkin’ ‘bout how we changed—us ponies, I mean—I felt a little knot in my stomach, ‘cause he’s right. We used to be so friendly. So open. I used to smile a lot more, y’know?” She shivered, and Twilight wondered if it was the cold or something else. “It’s why I wanted to talk to these ponies and why I’m always thinking about ponies, Twi. Because if we don’t try, we’ll never be like that again.”

And then, as if awaking from a dream, Applejack shook her head and continued on.

At the doorway, she paused to look back at the Twilight, who sat in the dark with no light.

“Pinkie’s been awake this whole time, by the way. Honestly, Twi, you should be able to tell a fake snore when ya hear one.”

And somewhere inside, Pinkie giggled. And Twilight smiled despite herself. No, she was not convinced, but she felt lighter all the same.

“I guess I should.”

Author's Notes:

Yeah, I know. finally, right?

Editing Credits: randomguyq97, as always.
Also, a new addition: SoPonyWow has come on board to help.

Here's to more, my friends.

VIII. That Which Sleeps May Wake

Chapter 8: That Which Sleeps May Wake

FLUTTERSHY

It was strange what one noticed in all of the chaos and ruin, Fluttershy thought for not the first time since the sun had left them. Even carnage and sorrow could be gray and flat after a while, and, though she’d not yet grown accustomed to such things, she knew that it was possible.

But Fluttershy could begin to guess what it was like. It wasn’t the blood smeared on the patched canopies of the wagons that bothered her the most. It wasn’t the smell of ash and the smoke that stole her breath that she couldn’t shake. These things she could leave behind when she closed her eyes and retreated deep within herself where nothing could touch her—a hedgehog safe in its spiny armor.

What bothered her most about the wreckage of the caravan was that there wasn’t any food left.

She sat beside a tiny fire that Rainbow had made, glad for the warmth. They were truly in the north now, with a light, intermittent snow beginning to fall. The evergreens in the distance, dark and clustered, sagged with snow, and she could not help but wonder what was beyond them. Around her was the Northern Highway’s shoulder, covered in a light blanket of snow. To her back was an overturned cart which she sat against. She was glad for the cart. It kept the winds at bay and trapped a little bit of the fire’s heat to warm her wings. She was also glad for it because it was her wall, better than any veil of pink mane, it kept out the sights of death and darkness behind her on the Highway where Rainbow and Rarity poked through the ruins of a lost caravan of refugees headed north.

Fluttershy stretched her wings, happy to feel the slightly warm air blow over her feathers, casting off the cold for just a moment. It was how she made the trial worth it, really. The little pleasures of fire and bedroll and listening to conversation.

But even the comfort of Rainbow Dash’s humble fire couldn’t help her shake her misgivings.

When they left Canterlot, food had been on all their minds. Rationing was a reality in the new world; the sun never shone long enough for crops to grow as they should. They’d all felt the rationed discontent—not quite hungry, but never full. Hunger was something she could finally understand..

Where had the food gone? It was probable that it had been stolen after the raid, gathered up, and hauled back to some raider camp--or Griffon camp if they were all decidedly unfortunate. Yet it reminded her of home and the emptying larders. It was easy to imagine that there had never been food in these carts, nor in the wagons with their broken wheels and cut canopies. A line of ponies, pale and thin. She could see their wide eyes staring ahead with no energy to watch the trees for the dangers waiting there. She thought about the city ahead. Did they have food there, or had they withered as well?

She was so focused that she almost didn’t hear Rainbow land quietly beside her, her hooves crunching the snow. It was a harsh sound, and she flinched slightly.

“Hey,” Rainbow said, her voice low. “You any warmer? Sorry for knocking you into the snow earlier.”

“I’m fine, Rainbow. It was just an accident. I should’ve been watching where I was going,” Fluttershy responded and gave her friend a smile. Rainbow folded her wings in response and came into the light of the fire properly. Fluttershy watched her, took note of how she sat and how she looked out over the fire as Fluttershy had before her.

“Good, figured you would be. Thought I should ask.” She looked about. “Rarity hasn’t come back?”

Fluttershy shook her head. Rainbow looked so different sometimes. The light would catch her oddly, perhaps, or she would have a look in her face that hadn’t been there long ago. Fluttershy was never sure what to feel about it. She saw it now, and it made her uncomfortable.

But she smoothed over it as best she could. “No, not yet. I thought she was with you.”

“Well, yeah, she was for a bit. Said she was gonna wander over here…” she sighed. “It’s rough.”

“Yeah.”

“But not really surprising, I guess,” Rainbow went on, shivering. “Figured towns and villages would start uprooting and heading to big cities.”

“They’re going North,” Fluttershy pointed out.

“Yeah, that’s weird.” Rainbow frowned. “Seems kinda stupid.”

“No, not really. Stalliongrad is up ahead. Maybe they have food. We’re not really sure how the other cities are doing, you know.” Fluttershy looked back at the fire. It bothered her, how quick Dash was to speak ill of the dead, but she once again dismissed her misgivings. They did no good.

“I guess.”

Rainbow sat as still as she could, which wasn’t very. She fidgeted. Every now and then she would squirm.

“You’re sure?” she said at last.

Fluttershy blinked at her. “What? I mean, I’m sorry, what do you mean?”

“Like, are you sure she didn’t come by here?”

Fluttershy sighed. “No, Rainbow, she didn’t. I’m sorry, but I haven’t seen her. I wish I had. I know you don’t like to wait…”

Rainbow shook her head. “No… no, I…” She grimaced. “Blegh. Sorry, ignore that.”

They were quiet for a moment. Rainbow fidgeted again. Fluttershy set a silent counter in her mind, waiting for Rainbow to make her choice. Right on time, Dash stood up.

“Okay, I’ll be back. I don’t like this place, and I don’t like that she’s here.”

"If it's no trouble, take me with you," Fluttershy said as she stood. "I don't want to be alone."

Rainbow nodded. “I want to fly, but… Rarity said to stick to the ground.”

“She’s probably right,” Fluttershy said softly as Rainbow kicked snow onto the fire to extinguish it.

With the light taken away from her, Fluttershy struggled to adjust to the sudden darkness. The vague shadow that seemed to be Rainbow moved, and she tried to follow it.

They moved quietly, avoiding the piles where ransacked chests and torn sacks were left to be buried, weaving between the wagons and empty carts. They were silent as thieves, and indeed Fluttershy felt like an intruder.

After a few minutes, it became obvious that Rarity was not where she was supposed to be. She wasn’t in the snow field on either side of the upraised highway. Neither pegasus wandered into the woods, but if Rarity had walked in there, their problems were worse than simply not knowing where their friend was. Rainbow called for Rarity, and every time she did, it made Fluttershy wince. It was so loud; not even the light wind could dampen the sound.

“Rarity?” Rainbow tried again, a little louder this time. The noise echoed about the wreckage. Fluttershy thought it that it was too easy to hear.

The wreck had been, of course, been empty: no food, no bodies, no raiders. Nothing had prowled the perimeter of the woods, natural or unnatural, and so there should be no dangers to worry about. And yet, with every repeated cry, she felt more and more like crawling under a wagon and hiding.

“Rainbow…”

“Hey, Rares, where are you? Look, I knew you were gonna get lost, hoofing it…” Rainbow groaned and muttered. “I mean, seriously, they’re all in a straight line. How hard is it to follow that back to where Flutters is? Was. Whatever.” She took a deep breath and called again. “Rares! Rares, you here?”

“Rainbow.”

“Ra--”

“Rainbow!”

Rainbow Dash stopped mid-cry, and glanced over at Fluttershy.

“Thank you. Could you please stop doing that?”

“Um… yeah, sure. Why?” But Fluttershy said nothing, letting a beat go by. Rainbow got it, as Fluttershy thought she might. “You think somebody’s gonna hear us or something? We already checked; it’s not like ponies are everywhere.”

“I have a feeling.”

Rainbow pursed her lips. She looked like she wanted to argue the point, like she really, really wanted to argue it, but Fluttershy knew that she wouldn’t. They both knew she wouldn’t contest it. The word “feeling” had too much baggage between them, too many memories of times when Fluttershy had had a “feeling” that would take far too long to explain, and she’d been right. Too many times when she saw the clues and Rainbow didn’t.

Rainbow huffed. “Fine. What do you want me to do instead?”

“Well, I--”

But she never finished. She felt a pull--it prickled and glowed, and she knew it was magic at once--and in the blink of eye she had made a choice. She let it carry her back into the dark between two wagons.

Rainbow was caught flathoofed, her cry of alarm caught off when the magic encircled her and pulled her as well.

Rarity stood over them. Her nightsight returning, Fluttershy could make out her face and saw the worry there.

“Rainbow, honestly,” Rarity began curtly, “must you be so loud?”

“Hey, you’re the one who wandered off. What the hay, Rares? What’s with the magic and hiding and the… ugh. Snow. I hate landing in snow. Wet wings are the worst.”

“Well, that’s a shame, isn’t it? Perhaps you should have gone West,” Rarity shot back. “Now, I’m sorry I didn’t come straight back to you, but I thought I saw something in one of the wagons… well, it’s not important. What’s important is that we are not alone.”

That got their attention. Rainbow sat up, and Fluttershy shook the snow and semi-frozen mud out of her mane for the second time that hour.

“At first, I thought it might be somepony friendly, but after recalling my last attempt to communicate with a supposed civilian, I thought it wise to be cautious.”

Rainbow smirked, but refrained from saying anything.

“I saw that!” Rarity let out a huff, and Fluttershy watched little puff that was visible in the moonlight. “Regardless, I watched and realized that it was, in fact, a rather unsavory sort if their outfitting is any indication. Unless the guardsponies of Stalliongrad have taken to painting themselves with paint that I’m feverishly hoping is not blood, then he is not the local authority’s representative.”

“So he’s a raider.”

“It would seem so.”

Fluttershy sighed. “I thought we’d gotten away from them,” she said and closed her eyes. “That they’d left with their food.”

“Apparently not, my dear,” Rarity said.

Rainbow stomped. “Well, we can mope about it later. Let’s just kick some butt now.”

Fluttershy was shaking her head before Rainbow had finished. “No… I mean, I’m sorry to interrupt you, Rainbow, and I know you want to, but we just can’t.”

“And why?”

Fluttershy looked to Rarity, sighing again. She felt Rainbow’s rose eyes boring into her, demanding an answer. She had one—of course she had one—but if only she could get… Rarity to tell. Rarity would know why.

But Rarity looked at her, nodding. She offered no explanation.

Fluttershy nibbled on her lip for a moment. “Well… If it was just one, maybe it would fine, but they never go it alone. I think. They’re in packs, so the one that Rarity saw will have friends.”

“Which means we should take care of them and make a break for it, obviously,” Rainbow insisted, smiling.

“No, no. I’m sorry, Rainbow, but that’s a bad idea. It’s not like how it was when we were foals. You can’t just dive into a bunch of bullies and get hit a bunch and be okay. It only takes one shootstick, one spell… and one of us is gone forever. We can’t risk fighting in the dark without knowing where they are. We have to get out of here, keep heading North.”

Rainbow grimaced. “Okay… guns. Yeah. I forgot.”

“I never do,” Fluttershy said softly, and they were all quiet for a moment.

“Right,” Rarity said after the quiet had passed. “Let’s be off, then. Now that we’re together and we know the dangers, it shouldn’t take so long. I’ll lead the way if that’s agreeable to you, Rainbow. Would you take the rear?”

“What?” Rainbow flared her wing in irritation. “Why am I not in front?”

“Because you and I both know you’re too impetuous. But I’d rather you watching the rear than Fluttershy, so if we get caught you can react quickly. ”

Rainbow rolled her eyes. “Fine.”

“Thank you. Fluttershy can stay in the middle, between us. Keep a good watch, would you?”

She didn’t wait for Fluttershy to answer or comment. She was on the move immediately, keeping eyes on her companions behind her. Fluttershy plodded after, cowering at every vague shape in the night as they quickly left the wreckage behind and dashed down the moonlit royal highway. She never heard or saw raiders. She had no sign that they had ever existed except what they had done, and it was enough.

RARITY

She would never, ever admit it to anypony--especially not to Rainbow Dash--but the absence of civilization had been grating on Rarity’s spirit far more than she had let on.

It wasn’t that she was too delicate for the outdoors. On the contrary, she could “rough it” when the situation called for it as well as many other ponies could. She was not without her own species of true, inherent grit. The House of Belle was made of stern stuff. Or, well, had been.

But Rarity was a pony who thrived off of social interaction. The possibilities of ponies and the ways in which they could combine and react, talk and fight, love and lose… it simply delighted her. It sustained her. She needed ponies--in fact, she was fond of saying that ponies needed ponies. One could not live by bread alone.

And as much as she loved Rainbow Dash and Fluttershy dearly, it simply was not enough to keep her mind exercised.

But that long drought was coming to an end. Civilization! Urbanity! Yes, rather distressingly industrialized and rather miserable-looking urbanity, but she would take it.

The city of Stalliongrad rose like a monument out of the featureless, drab steppes of North Equestria. Its ancient brick buildings and strange painted roofs, slanted and curved, jutted out from behind a stately, ancient wall that ringed the city. A river—the Solga, if memory served—ran through it, passing out of the high walls through a grate and curling around to lie between the road and the city. The trees thinned out, and everywhere within sight of those impressive walls was without secrecy. Anypony who came to it came with no secrets under the naked stare of heaven.

To be honest, Rarity thought as they approached the stone bridge over the river, it was rather refreshing. She was weary of forests. Too many places to hide and to spring out from, too many shadows.

The bridge was guarded by two stallions in red barding who watched them passively. Rarity was the one who stepped up to address them.

“Hello there, gentlecolts. We’re travellers on the road, as you can see. Is the city open?”

They exchanged glances.“Ma’am, have we stopped you yet?”

Central Equestrian accent, so pre-disaster guardspony. Rarity blinked, a bit taken aback. “Well… no.”

“Then it is,” the stallion on the right concluded with a shrug.

Rarity huffed, but didn’t respond back as she might wish to. Instead, they silently passed over the bridge and continued on the road.

*

It was a city, yes, but it was a city that was sick.

They kept to the center of the wide cobble streets, and the crowds did not part before them as they did in Canterlot. No one greeted them as the great gates of Stalliongrad shut with the iron clang that so reminded her of home. The ponies on the street faced the afternoon with looks of weary caution but not quite defeat. A few said hello, their accents thick. Rarity made a point to greet them in turn with as much heart as she could summon.

They would go and see the Kniaz of Stalliongrad first, of course. He would be the one to ask for rations and information, the one who had the power to aid them and their city. But the more Rarity saw, the less she was interested in the Kniaz, no matter his character. These ponies were hungry. It was plain as the day was short. She wouldn’t say that any of them were starving, but nopony looked well-fed. They had bags under their eyes. They wrapped their bodies in rags to stave off the cold. And yet they greeted her with the little energy they had. The more she saw of them, the less she thought of Canterlot and the more she thought of their own larders.

Asking for directions was simple, though the ponies of Stalliongrad spoke their own dialect. She had heard this one before, and even knew bits of the old northern tongue that they had slipped into everyday speech, and this delighted the mare they asked for help. She directed them towards the center of town, where the Kniaz’s palace overlooked the river. Rarity thanked her, and they were off.

She saw signs of struggle, though they went unexplained. Burn marks on brick walls and shattered windows simply bore witness to the fact that something had happened and that it was over for now.

*

The Kniaz of Stalliongrad was an old stallion. His coat was faded red, his hair devoid of its once vibrant color, whitewashed. His eyes were sharp, and he spoke with an accent that was at once foreign to her and familiar--she caught a hint of the upper-crust tone of Canterlot in it, an echo.

“I do apologize for not recognizing you,” he said, shifting in his chair. It was old and it creaked, but still it was plush and looked awfully comfortable. Rarity thought of her wonderful couches, still locked up in the top room of her Boutique. She wondered if they were still there.

“It’s quite alright. We are a bit worse for wear,” Rarity replied and gave him her best smile. She had many smiles, and she knew this particular one was certainly not the best rendition of the award-winning Rarity smile. But it had not been a pleasant walk to the palace, which had been in rather poor repair.

“But I am glad that you have come. I wondered about Canterlot and the other cities to the South. Am pleased to hear that at least some are safe, da?”

“You really had no idea?” Rainbow asked. She squirmed in the chair provided.

The Kniaz rested his hooves on his ornate desk. It was one of the few things without wear or rust or ruin she had seen in the city. “Not really. We send messengers to others, but no one responds. If nopony comes back, then news must be bad, da? At least, this is how it must seem to us, with no alternative. Canterlot never answered.”

“We never got the message,” Rarity said softly. She knew that they were all thinking of the refugee caravan and the dead in the snow.

“I know this now, and I am glad at least to know we were not ignored. The world feels… less lonely.”

Rarity’s smile was a little more genuine. “We were elated to find that there were others left, as well.”

“But that does leave me curious. If is possible to make some observations…”

“Go on,” Rarity said, nodding.

“You are not here for us.”

Rarity blinked. “I… well… what do you mean?”

The Kniaz smirked. “Do not hide yet, miss Rarity; we are not accusing you of any neglect. But you did not come to find us. You come this way to pass through, do you not?”

In the corner of her eye, Rarity watched her companions. Fluttershy seemed still, though she was hard to see. Rainbow’s chair was pushed a bit in front of her own, and so Rarity could watch her tail of many colors swish with contained impatience. She smiled a little. It was so like Rainbow to be impatient in such a situation.

Neither seemed opposed to telling him the nature of their plan. But she would leave Twilight out of it, to be safe.

“You are… correct,” she allowed. “We were hoping to find signs of civilization here, but we only intend to pass through.”

“Of course, the next question is…”

Rarity sighed. “To where. We’re heading farther North, to the Crystal Empire. Canterlot is in need of food, and we were hoping they would be alive and well.” She paused. “We’re not as bad off in that area as Stalliongrad, my good man, so I know we must seem foolish to you, but we saw the far-off signs.”

The Kniaz shook his head. “No, though I wouldn’t say it is wise. We, too, sent ponies north. Several of them came back describing monsters, same as anywhere else. One met griffons who stole his food and sent him back to us. Most never returned. We have no idea how they fair… but food, if it is there…” He gave a long sigh. “I wish, I wish.”

“Well, I mean, if it’s there we have to see if they’ll share, right?” Rainbow Dash cut in. “If they don’t, or if they’re all gone, we’ll at least know.”

He nodded. “I suppose. I do fear for you, though I won’t stop you. The North, she is hard, and the snows will be harder still this year. But if you succeed, you must promise me that you will not forget us or abandon us. Canterlot’s reputation is mixed, these days, if you forgive us saying so.”

Rarity did, and she grimaced. It was true--Luna’s indecisive and floundering response to the multiple crises had left many without support. Perhaps nothing could have been done, but it was the faltering that people judged.

“We won’t,” Rainbow said before she could formulate a response. “I promise. Swear it on my life, we’ll bring you back food if we can find any. I’d never leave somepony hanging.”

He smiled at her. “Your conviction, it is nice. I believe you.” He stood shakily. “In the meantime… you’ll need food and cold weather clothing before braving the road to the border. I can have both things arranged.”

Rarity began thanking him, but the old stallion held up a hoof.

“Do not thank me yet, comrades. I would have you listen first. I cannot tell you not to go. The need is too great, the times too dark, no? But I can at least tell you what is ahead.”

Rarity blinked, a bit surprised. “Are you referring to the weather, sir?”

“No. I wish I could, but I cannot stop there. I tell you that we know nothing for certain, but is not entirely true. We knew a little, once. We knew that they were alive six months ago. The Empress’ consort… What is that one’s name, eh? Armor. One of our envoys encountered him north of border. Now, that one was not alone! He had many soldiers, da? A full two hundred, if I remember correctly.

“Now, I did not ask him if they had food, because he did not ask. Because there was no time. There are things that… sleep, yes? In the dark places of the world. They linger, exist despite years and the lack of sun or sustenance, even. Perhaps. I do not know, but I would ask you, little friends, how much you know about this place.”

Rarity squirmed. For the first time in the diminished office, she felt uncomfortable--truly uncomfortable. She had been on top of things. She could talk to ponies, lead them where she wanted to go. She had wanted winter gear that she knew the Kniaz could provide. She needed food, and now she had it. She had learned what had happened to the ponies here. So far, she was winning.

And yet the stallion in front of her seemed to know something that she did not. It bothered her.

“Not much,” she allowed at last.

“It is no surprise,” the Kniaz replied, strangely. Rarity wondered if she’d offended him, but he moved on. “The Mountain Gods, the Old Ones in the Hills, you have not heard of them. When the world was young they ruled us by fear and death, killing or eating us as they willed. Long before there was an Equestria and the tribes came together, they were hunting Earth ponies for sport in hills here. It is bad, yes? To think about. But it is true. But they disappear out of record. All dead, or asleep, or gone.”

“And now they’re back?” Rarity asked quietly. She wondered how she must appear to this stallion, and she felt small. She knew nothing.

“They come south at first. We saw them and fought them. It was… terrible.” He shivered. “Saw them, I did, with my own eyes. They are the Mitou, the Mountain Gods who walk on two legs, who can chase down any pony, who can pick us up in a single fist and devour us or throw us. Maybe you can escape,” he said, looking at Rainbow, a tiny scowl threatening to form on his face. Rarity remembered that there were few pegasi this far north. “But we cannot. They are busy now, I think. It is why I can say that the Crystal ponies must live, you know, because if they do not, then we will all die in Mitou bellies and Mitou fists.”

“How big we talkin’ here?” Rainbow cut in, and Rarity glanced at her. She wasn’t surprised to find the pegasus a bit flustered. I wouldn’t like ponies assuming I’d use my wings to abandon my friends either, if I had wings.

“Huge,” the Kniaz said simply.

“That’s really helpful,” Rainbow muttered, scowling. She made no effort to hide it.

He shrugged, and furrowed his own brow. “Three, four ponies tall? Four, that is good, that is average.”

Rainbow had no immediate answer. Rarity had nothing. She tried to imagine a creature that size. She tried to imagine how long its reach would be, the power of its hands and jaws and legs. She tried to imagine fighting such a creature. It was all quite impossible.

“So… that is what lies to the north, then,” Rarity said, though they all thought it.

The Kniaz nodded but offered no immediate comfort. “My envoy said that the soldiers won, but they fought only two and lost many. Make of that what you will, Miss Rarity. He said that there was an army to the north.”

Rarity didn’t want to think about it at all. They had made the wrong choice.

RAINBOW

The mare who took them in reminded her of Cheerilee. It wasn’t the best comparison, but it was as close as Rainbow could get.

She was older, but not quite old, not quite yet. Her mane and coat were duller than they had once been, yes, but they were not gray. Her voice still had some strength in it, and she could keep up with her youthful charges. She was a maid in the palace, apparently one in quite good standing and with enough seniority that the Kniaz greeted her with far more politeness than he had any of the other workers, almost with deference.

When they’d left the Kniaz and followed Northern Downpour, the pegasus maid, Rainbow had been quiet. She’d been thinking about flying. Specifically about flying while something tried to grab at her.

It wasn’t a comforting line of thought. She decided that it was possible to fight such a thing from the air--it had to be, it was possible to fight anything, beat anything!--but that it was going to take a lot of caution, and she didn’t like it. If only she had somepony else in the air who could fly well…

So she switched to thinking about Fluttershy, but her lack of maneuverability was a given fact of life.There was no way around it, really. She could try--Rainbow was sure that if her friends were in danger, she would try--but it wouldn’t be enough.

So she was a lot quieter than she might have otherwise been. She summoned up her usual enthusiasm for food when it was offered, but after they’d eaten, she went back to being sullen.

And so the three friends sat in Northern Downpour’s living room, quiet as could be.

Rainbow hated it, honestly. It was the same kind of silence as the one after the ponies on the road, in the woods. Yeah, she’d been right, but that didn’t end up meaning anything. She didn’t know what to say then, and she didn’t know what to say now. Because now they were all a little wrong, weren’t they? They’d thought it would be a long walk up to have a little chat with Cadence. Just ask her a favor. They thought it would be easy, or if not easy, not impossible.

But how were they going to get through and army of… whatever the hell it was? Shining Armor was dead, probably.

Except she couldn’t believe that, not really. The look on Rarity’s face said that Rarity might, but Rainbow refused to accept it. She wouldn’t believe that Shining Armor was dead and that their friends in the North were gone until she saw their smouldering tombs.

So the three of them thought about their next step in silence.

Northern Downpour seemed to sense that something was amiss, because she broke their silence with her own conversations. She didn’t talk about the Crystal Empire, or the Mitou, or even the neverending snow.

While Fluttershy and Rainbow sat on one couch and Rarity took a chair across the table, Northern picked up pictures from the table and the wall, explaining them. Rarity was willing enough to talk about the past, asking questions. Fluttershy seemed to enjoy her stories. Rainbow, for her part, found them boring, but she wouldn’t come out and say so. It just wasn’t her thing. She was glad that the old mare was trying, though. She hated when things were quiet.

“This is my brother and I. We were born in Vercoltsza, a little south of here. It is much warmer, much greener. We only came here when our parents found themselves out of work.” She took a picture down and showed it to Fluttershy first. Fluttershy cooed over it for a moment, and she smiled. “Were we not precious? My big brother and I, together all the time, wandering the streets of Vercoltsza together. I loved him dearly. Was so proud of him…” she trailed off. The picture passed to Rarity.

“Is he…” Fluttershy tried to ask and then faltered. “I’m sorry, is he gone?”

She shrugged. “I do not know. He joined the Guard.”

Rainbow’s ears perked. “Where?”

“Central province,” she answered, her ears drooping. “I am sorry. I did not mean to burden you with my old concerns. I have made my peace with it, as best I could.”

Rainbow frowned, but said nothing. Sounded like giving up, to her.

Rarity offered the frame to Rainbow, who took it. She might as well; she’d commented and everything. She stared down at the young pegasus. He seemed familiar, in some ways. He had a devil-may-care grin. Short, spiky hair. Wide, bright eyes that seemed to dominate the picture. She liked him, and she grinned back at him.

“We lost contact,” Northern continued. “Nopony could get my letters to him, or at least, none ever returned with word back.”

“What is his name again?” Rainbow asked and then looked up. “Sorry.”

“Oh, it isn’t a problem… Battleborn, if you can believe it.”

Rainbow looked down at the picture again, and thought.

“But… well. I suppose knowing the truth about what happened to him is fine and all, but I may never know, not with how things are,” she said, looking out the window for a moment. “As it is, the city won’t last for another year. And if it does, it would be the older loners like myself who will go first.”

Rarity cut in. “Oh, don’t say that. We promise we’ll return with help! There’s hope yet.”

Northern had some answer, but Rainbow didn’t hear it. She was too busy staring at this picture. That name. Battleborn. She knew it. She was sure that she knew it, that she knew some pony named that or something very, very similar.

“What was his rank, do you know?” Rainbow asked out of the blue. Rarity and Northern stopped their conversation. Both looked down at her in surprise, and she met their gazes.

“Why… he was a lieutenant last time I wrote him,” Downpour said.

“Lieutenant Battleborn.”

Rainbow looked down again, and then she started grinning. The other mares in the room regarded her with curiosity, but she didn’t mind as she stood and returned the frame to Northern.

“Lt. Battleborn,” she began. “Of the Second Army, I think. I’m pretty sure he’s under Captain Black Steel’s command, in the Celestial Tier. When we left, he was alive and well. I remember seeing him on the walls. I talked to him once.” She felt a tiny thrill of victory. Northern Downpour’s eyes began to water as she gaped. Rainbow pressed on, thinking as much about their host as about her friends. “I wouldn’t give up on him so quickly. Or on us, or your city. We won’t know ‘till we try.”

Author's Notes:

Sorry! RazedRainbow and randomguy for the editing credits

IX. Gathering Storm

IX. Gathering Storm

LUNA

Luna watched the Royal Guard out on the parade ground as they paired off to spar. They were so small, she thought idly. So far away and so small out there. Even Spike, lumbering with the awkward gait of the adolescent, seemed small from this vantage.

It was an odd moment, and she was aware of its strangeness. Time had not moved on entirely, not really. The sparring of ponies now was the same as those before her great rebellion. Once again, a knight in her service was learning how to swing a sword. Yes, this time it was with claws and not with magic, but the principle was the same as in the old days.

Though Celestia was not here for her to talk with. That was new. She looked almost by instinct to the emptiness at her side, but found it not quite as empty as it felt. Her aide watched the field as well, quiet as she did.

Her isolated reverie broken, she regarded Page Turner. His brow was furrowed like a foal at work at some puzzle.

“You seem concerned,” she said lightly.

He started. “Princess?”

“You seem concerned. A… bit for your thoughts? That is the saying, true?”

He nodded. “Yes, that’d be it. I was just thinking about your new retainer.”

“Spike?” she asked and looked back to the field where the soldiers played at war.

“Yes,” he answered, and she imagined that he nodded. “I was wondering if I might share some of my observations with you and if I could know if I am right.”

She smiled. “So a game of guesses? We did the same when the world was younger.”

He coughed. “I guess. I wouldn’t presume to intrude on your plans and counsels without permission, your Highness, but it seems to me that you have something specific in mind for Spike.” She nodded, waiting for him to go on. “You have him training with the Royal Guard.”

“Yes. A bit plain, so far, Page Turner.”

“Well, yes, but… ahem.” She smiled at his flustered tone. “I’m not done yet! You haven’t let him interact in that way with any of the House Levies, not even from the Houses Major that support the throne wholeheartedly.”

Luna hummed an ancient tune whose name she’d quite forgotten. Below, Spike faced off with his partnered pegasus. His clawed hands curled around a sword made by unicorns in the forges within the mountain, and she had inspected it herself, felt the steel on her coat and reveled in how her hackles rose. Part of her still thought of her old nomadic life, fighting monsters. Or later, defending borders.

“That’s true. A much better observation than your last,” she said with a wider smile. “Continue.”

He did so while she laughed at Spike’s amateurish style. His sword danced like a drunken Earth pony at harvest: too slow, the arcs too wide, stumbling.

He was emboldened--Page, not her newest Champion, who seemed a bit frustrated--and continued. “Well, one must start with the basics to provide a frim foundation. I also see that his training is only with Royal Guard. No Lunar Guards, either. Only Solar. He hasn’t talked to any of the unicorns in service, nor has he made any flame as long as he’s been living here in the castle as a knight. The what’s and the hows I have.”

“You miss the why.”

He groaned. “Exactly. I have two theories right now.”

“Well?”

“First: you want him to make connections with your own troops because you’re worried about them, be it loyalty or morale… Or the second option. You’re worried about them, the House Levies. But…” he faltered, waving a hoof. “What about the split between night guard and day guard? Why not… let him train with both? I thought, perhaps, you didn’t trust your own guard, but it wouldn’t make any sense, because I know that you do.”

“You’re quite sure of my thoughts,” Luna said evenly.

Page Turner grimaced and looked up. Luna grinned at him. “I am jesting. No, you’re more or less on the mark, little archer of the mind. I do not trust the House Levies. To be honest with you, I never have. We need them, and we need the Houses--Equestria must all stand together! But I do not trust them and have not since my sister and I were elevated to the Amethyst Throne in Everfree.” She looked at Spike out of the corner of her eye. Terrible form. Simply terrible. But she returned to Page Turner after only a heartbeat. “You’re right about the Lunar Guard. I do not doubt my own soldiers.”

“But your sister’s, on the other hoof, you’re not so sure of,” Page guessed, turning from the parade grounds fully.

“Not entirely… or rather, I distrust them not out of suspicion of foul motive but out of simple knowledge of the nature of ponies. These ponies swore their allegiance to my sister’s banner. They are her stallions, her mares. They are mine by accident, and I remember that always. I try to treat them as she would, talk to them as she might, but they have lost their heart. I trust them not to revolt, but I do not trust them to excel. Not without a new figure to rally around.”

“So… Spike.”

“Perhaps. It is the least of my plays in this game, and if it does not take, the little I have ventured will not be any true loss. Any gains will quite outweigh the small benefits Spike may achieve training with my own guard.” Her eyes returned to the dragon. “I remember being not unlike him, a long, long time ago.”

“Is that so?”

She chuckled. “Am I a god, that I was always of the same mind? Or a plant that sprouts from the Earth? No, I was born out of the Song, but grew. In some ways. But yes, there was a time I had no idea how a sword was to be properly used. They were… newer then. There was a time I remember having no knowledge of them, though it seems like a dream. Perhaps, perhaps… perhaps it was, hm?” She hummed a tune that she knew would go back far beyond Page’s ken. “No, I still think it was true. I learned here, in the Middle Lands. In Canterlot, in fact, though at the time it was a rather crude fort of a monarch who was rather overfond of a fine vintage. Ah, but the mead they had…”

“Who?”

“Aethelred. I apologize. I am quite distracted today. I may need to do some teaching, myself, if my new knight is to be respected! Page Turner, are your curiosities satisfied?”

“As much as they can be, I suppose. No,” he stopped short. “Not quite. Actually, there is one thing.”

“Hm?”

“Spike. I like him, and I’m not saying you can’t trust him, because I think you can! But why? Why him? Why not one of the Captains to be a rallying point, or anypony else to… well, do whatever it is you have plans for. I know I don’t know everything yet.”

“Yet is the operative word. Soon, Page. Soon. Why Spike?”

She was quiet for a long time. Why Spike indeed. It was a fair question, one of the quality she expected from her favorite aide, her scholar-at-arms, as she called him with a smile. An easy answer was that he was convenient, having been deposited right into her mouth like a ripe grape. But the argument was a little bare and far too mechanical for her tastes. No, in fact, it was not mere convenience. If anything, Spike’s unusual abilities and physique made him harder to account for and command. He was eager and genuine and honest, but so were many penniless fools, and an army of tousle-headed poets with good hearts would be a poor army. So why?

“Perhaps, friend,” she said softly as she turned away, “perhaps because he is like myself. Taller, alone, abandoned by a sister, possessed of great power and unsure of what to make of that fact. We are orphans in a wide world; we will work out our salvation together.”

SPIKE

“For the love of the stars, watch! Pay attention!”

“I’m trying!”

The levitated sword came at him again, a feint that he easily batted away. He tightened his grip on the longsword they’d found for him. It may have been large for a pony, but it was perfect for him. Or at least, that’s what Iron Guard had told him before the quartermaster had put him off on this unicorn.

Amber Wood wasn’t even panting, but Spike felt hot and ragged. Usually, he enjoyed the heat from the sun at midday, but not like this. His arms ached. He was angry.

The unicorn lifted his shorter blade above his head as if he held it in stance. Spike copied with the stance he’d been taught, clawed hands at eye level, face forward. His chest heaved, unfamiliar with the weight of armor or the encumberance of anything more than a light tunic. Dragons were not made for clothes.

“It isn’t High Thaumaturgy, young master dragon! This is a simple game.” Amber Wood and Spike began to circle as he talked. “You’ve got the footwork down, for the most part--good! It’s the sword that’s the problem, but I thought it might be. It’s in your nature to use your claws.”

Spike grunted, not wanting to waste effort on speech.

“Of course it is.” The sword wavered. Spike tensed, but it did not cross over to his side. “Of course. But you’ve got the strength, boy, got it in spades. Those claws are too soft for armor, too soft by half. You got a ways to go!”

The sword jumped, and for a moment, and Spike lost sight of it. He looked up, blinded by the sun until the secondary membranes covered his eyes, and then he saw the practice blade coming out of the white heat.

Spike sidestepped. The sword hit the ground, and his mind burned like wildfire. Before he could even register the opportunity, his frustration blossomed into rage. He stepped down hard on the hilt of the sword. He felt Amber’s magic tugging on it, but he stayed firm, hissing. There were a few seconds of struggle, and then he felt the control over the spell break beneath his scaled foot—the tingling of magical influence vanished. He reached down and grabbed the blade. Amber was grinning when he stood back up, and his horn lit up.

The blade, however, did not.

He stared at it in disbelief, and Spike’s anger dissipated into a roar of laughter.

“Luna’s sake, what did you do?” Amber demanded. His face was red, and Spike simply laughed some more.

“Hold on, hold on… ah, let me breathe.” He calmed down and sat with a heavy thud. “Only if you let me have a break, sir.”

“I think you earned it… Magic. It has to be.”

Spike sheathed his own blade and set it by his side. He looked at his hands. The claws were too soft for the work of prying armor off, iwas true. He knew it before the veteran had ever said so. Not that he was happy about it. They looked the part. They just didn’t act it. He hated the illusion of them, how they promised so much power and made him look so… competent. Like he could handle things when he knew he couldn’t. It didn’t matter what things. Just anything. Perhaps that was why Twilight had left him. If his wings had been fully in. If his claws had been hard like diamonds.

Some of the good mood died. He traced the lines on his palm with a claw.

“I cheated,” he explained. “Not exactly. Kind of. It’s Anti-Magic, old Zebra stuff Twilight taught me a long time ago. I remembered how to draw some of it just because it looked cool, and I guess I was feeling lonely and found that book again. Found on that specifically canceled out low-level Unicorn magic on touch. I was wondering if it would work! I wasn’t really thinking about using it now.”

Amber chuckled. “Might I see? Ah, yes, I would prefer you not use such things here, but it is an ingenious thing to have in the future. Just glyphs, then? Zebra enchantment is a mystery to me…” He examined Spike’s palm. “Just glyphs. You’ve quite surprised any indignation out of me, I’ll confess… Just don’t do it again, yes?”

Spike smiled wearily. “I’ll try. I kinda forgot about it until the sword was in my hand, honestly.”

Amber removed the padded leather helmet he wore for sparring and wiped his brow. “Well that’s alright, I—"

He stopped up short, eyes widening before he straightened up. A pegasus landed beside Spike and hollered a quick warning to the others before saluting. Spike looked up from him in puzzlement.

He recognized the unicorn leisurely strolling through the grounds almost immediately. Old, good posture, mane back into a stately gray ponytail. Hard eyes that locked on Spike immediately, though he gave no other sign of recognition.

Cold Blood had come to inspect the troops.

Every alarm possible went off in Spike’s head. He didn’t need the Princess or Twilight to tell him that this one was rotten; he felt it with just a look. Good ponies didn’t have that look or give that look.

He sighed and straightened. The Princess had told him not to bow but to salute, and he did so. The eyes flashed at him, he imagined, but still gave no other sign of acknowledgement. Instead, the old, noble veteran spoke to one of the stallions on the other side of the mass of sparring recruits.

Spike relaxed his posture but kept watching Cold Blood. He didn’t bother to hide it. Something told him to lock gazes, not to be the first to look away, no matter what. He didn’t know if it was wise, but it was the only thing he could bear to do. So he watched.

“You okay there, man?”

Spike did not break contact. “Yeah,” he said. It was the pegasus from earlier, he guessed.

Cold Blood looked away first. Spike smiled and showed every last tooth. The pegasus whistled.

“Damn, son, you’re scary! You know that?”

Spike glanced down at him. “Hm?”

“Teeth, man,” the other responded, pantomiming. Spike snorted and shook his head.

“Nah, I’m not so bad. Who’re you?”

Puffing up his chest, the pegasus replied, “Rainbow Rays, nice to meet you, big guy. New in the service, same as me?”

“Probably newer, Rays. Any relation to—?”

Rays groaned and shook his head. “Gods, no. Everyone asks that! We don’t look anything alike, even!”

“Same name. Got wings.”

“And I already don’t like you. Got wings! Cheeky bastard,” Rays said with a smile. “Anyhow. Could tell you two were eyein’ each other.”

Spike turned his full attention to Rays. “Cold Blood?”

The pegasus chuckled and sat down. Spike had lost track of his mentor, but the veteran had produced a canteen and offered it to Spike, who accepted it happily.

“That’s General Blood to you,” he said sourly. “Or Lord, or whatever.”

“Don’t sound so eager to do the man honor there, Sargeant Whatever,” Spike said and offered the canteen back.

Wood shook his head and gestured at Rays. “No, let ‘im have some if he’s gonna barge up in here with news. We’re about done anyhow. I noticed it too, boy. You looked like you were about to kill that iron-hearted bastard.”

Spike shrugged. “Eh, not really? I just didn’t want to be the first to look down. He had his eyes on me when he walked in.” Probably came to spy on me and maybe say a word or two to anyone who’ll listen, he added sourly in his head.

“Not sure why he’s here. The Royal Corps aren’t exactly fond of the House Blood, you know.”

Spike’s honed skills as an expert notetaker came to the fore of his mind. Silently, he blessed Twilight’s bookishness. “Oh?” he asked, as innocuously as he could. Mental Spike prepared parchment and pen.

“Oh, yeah,” Wood continued. “Of course, boy. We’re not some lordlings ‘lap dogs. We’re not overly impressed by upstarts who think they can mess with the Lady Celestia! Or her sister,” he added quickly. “Besides, House Blood’s troops and the Royal Corps have been rivals since time out of mind. Our officers never dine together. Solar and Lunar, by the way, in case you’re about to ask. Oh, we’ll fight by their sides! But you think I’m gonna be caught dead breaking bread with some whoreson out of—” he cleared his throat and took on a grumbling, mocking tone“ —ouse Major Blood, Grandest of the Assembly?”

Rays drank greedily from the canteen when Spike offered, much to his amusement, before chiming in. “Oh yeah, definitely. They used to tell stories about him pushing the Griffons back at Farpoint in nine-seventy-nine, and I expected some sort of strutting hero, but his Lordship’s a cre—”

Woods stood up, his face red. “You mean to tell me they’re sayin’ he was at Farpoint! Stupid boy, I’ll tell you—”

“Whoa, whoa,” Spike said, putting out a hand. “Chill, Sargeant.”

The unicorn looked at him for a moment and then sat. “Lordlings,” he spat.

Rays had recovered from cowering. “Sorry, sir. Didn’t mean nothing by it. What I’m trying to say is that the Royal Corps… well,” he faltered, eyes looking to his superior and then back to the dragon who towered over him. Spike yawned, showing some teeth for good measure.

“Er, right. Well, the officers have their old hatreds and stuff, yeah, but the rank and file… I don’t know. It’s kinda hard being a Solar Guard when there’s no Princess of the Sun.”

“She’s still around, you know,” Wood replied darkly. “Right as rain and living as surely as you and I and Master Spike, here. Doing what she can to help, even from out there, you mark my words!”

“I guess,” Rays allowed, not quite meeting Wood’s eyes.

“Twilight will find her,” Spike cut in. He smiled, careful not to show off teeth. “I’m sure of it. Have you ever tried to keep a secret from the greatest librarian in the world? I have, and I can tell you that it’s impossible. Nothing goes unturned, unsearched, or unresearched. If anyone can find a needle in a haystack—Princess, needle, whatever—It’ll be Twilight.”

TWILIGHT

The buildings had tumbled in on themselves. The skyline was no longer on fire, but ti had been. She had the fleeting glimpse of a feeling, like a suspicion that it had been beautiful and bright and warm, and shivered. She was unsure if it was the wind or the image that brought it on, but Twilight had lost her balance.

Tall Tale was dead, and beyond it, she could see Vanhoover. The fires were gone. Everything was black from ash.

They entered the town of Tall Tale to no applause or ceremony. Not one of them said a word. Twilight reflected that there was not really much to be said, though she had no doubt they would try. Maybe not yet. Maybe later. Maybe any moment now, but they would do what ponies always did and try to give it all a name to curse and a face to spit on.

Twilight catalogued every burnt-out carriage, every busted taxi with a harness for pulling. She counted and drew with her eyes every ruined building and pockmarked sidewalk. What had done it? It didn’t matter. She guessed civil unrest had started it, and madness had finished it. Perhaps it began with a panic over food. This high up, perhaps it was anxiety over the cold. Too many ponies got to coughing, and then a few too many remark they are hungry in rapid succession. Riots started small, with tiny things, and they grew, and every attempt to quell them only made them stronger until ponies died or wish they had.

And I just feel numb, Twilight thought to herself. And so she did, as she stumbled through the uneven streets. I guess… why shouldn’t I be a little numb by now? It’s the same as Ponyville, only bigger. The Beachhead at Manehattan with fewer griffons. It’s just… it’s all the same. Bigger or smaller, but the same color and the same smell and…

There was no conclusion. Her thoughts trailed off without offering one, because there wasn’t one. So evil was banal. The final horror was the end of horror, yes she understood that intellectually, but what now? Was there even an Equestria to save anymore? She looked up at the obscured sun and wondered if it was tethered to a pony at all, or just a dream she’d woken up from. Or perhaps a liar.

A jolt of pain went up her leg, and with a cry, she stumbled forward. Twilight squeezed her eyes shut, but the expected pain never came. She opened them again.

Applejack was supporting her. They locked eyes for a moment, and Twilight quickly looked away while Applejack set her back up on four legs. Twilight sat.

“Look where you’re goin’ there, Twi,” Applejack said softly. “You’ll get hurt.”

Twilight nodded but didn’t answer.

They continued on. They passed through the residential areas on the fringe to the business district. Ruined signs, broken windows, a few corpses but not many. She suspected they’d been burned. She found it hard to care, right away.

The silence remained, heavy—not a blanket but a net, a weighed trap, a heavy fog. Twilight looked up at the gray sky. The clouds were gathering. Dark ones.

“‘S gonna rain soon,” Applejack said as if reading her thoughts.

Twilight glanced at her as they turned the corner. The street ahead was littered with overturned carts and vehicles. She was sure the smouldering aluminum wreck in the crater of that building was a personal airship. Strange, it seemed like forever since Twilight had seen one.

“Oh, definitely,” Pinkie said, a little too quickly and a little too loudly. Twilight’s ears twitched, but Pinkie went on. “Pinkie sense told me so earlier, but it…”

“Weren’t the right time,” Applejack finished.

“Yeah. But I guess now’s as good a time as any, right? Um… anypony hungry? Lunch was supposed to be thirty minutes ago. I didn’t say anything because nopony seemed hungry but I’m really, really, really hungry.”

“Thinking about food in a place like this?” Twilight muttered.

“Speak up, Twi?” Applejack asked, voice like a sword.

“Nothing. Sorry, just thinking aloud. Food would be appreciated, yes. Let’s get out of the street first.” Twilight looked around, making sure not to meet Applejack’s gaze. “There’s an alley over there.”

They crossed the street and retreated into the alley in question. Twilight slumped against the wall and stared at the bricks on the other side. Pinkie knelt and squirmed out of her bulging saddlebags and began to root around in them, humming quietly. Applejack stood at the mouth of the dirty, little alley, watching.

Twilight couldn’t care less if it were dirty. It wasn’t out in the open, and that was all that mattered. Not that she thought anything lived here. Nothing could. Nothing did. Everything was lost.

Applejack wandered into her static field of vision, offering a canteen in her mouth. She raised an eyebrow.

Twilight sighed and took the offering. “Thanks.”

“Ain’t nothin’. You alright?”

Twilight chuckled. It was a violent, one-off, angry sort of barking laugh. It was almost a genuine spot of amusement. “Absolutely not, AJ. Not even a little.”

Applejack sat beside heragainst the wall. “Well, thought I should at least ask. I suspect nopony’s quite alright.”

Twilight took a drink, relishing the slightly mineral taste of water. She realized how dry her lips had been only now, when they were wet, but restrained herself from gluttony. “Thanks,” she said, needlessly. She levitated the canteen in front of her. “Enchanted?” she asked, quietly. She felt the magic there, underneath her own. For a moment, the world fell away, and she was feeling the threaded patterns of another’s thaumaturgy.

“Hm? Oh yeah,” Applejack responded. “Sure is! Picked it up from a vendor in Canterlot. Rarity checked all that magic stuff for me, told me it was good ‘fore I bought it.”

Twilight smiled. She didn’t think about it; it came naturallyl. “This is good work. Very good. Granted, it’s not exactly thesis material! But this is good spellcrafting… elegant, even. See how… Oh. Sorry. Well, you can’t see, but the pony that enchanted this either had a lot of time on his hoovesor he was incredibly skilled. It’s… beautiful, really. Cleans any water contained in it after a minute or so.”

“Guess I got my money’s worth,” Applejack commented.

“You sure did.” She levitated it back, and Applejack drank. Wiping her mouth, she continued. “You know what I could use, ‘bout now?”

“What?” Twilight asked.

“Whiskey. Wild Pegasus. Not a lot, mind ya. Not a lot. Jus’ a little, and I’d be set. There ain’t a thing wrong with a bit of fortification as my Pa used to say.”

Pinkie cozied up to Twilight before either of them could say anything else, grinning. She offered them both sandwiches, and they ate in quiet while Pinkie talked.

“Oh, yeah, I had some in the apartment! Didn’t I tell you? We totally should have had some before we left, AJ! You know, one for the road, a little party before…” she faltered, but recovered. “Anyway, it’s back at home. We should have some when we get back.”

“Pinks, hon, that stuff is expensive. You spent money on how much of it now?”

“Oh, I’m always stocked!” Pinkie laughed. “Allllwayyys. But yeah, super expensive. Lots of bits. Or at least, it woulda been, but I did a favor for White Russian, and he had some, and since I…”

Pinkie rambled. Applejack would interject here and there, keeping the strange, wandering story alive, and between them Twilight sat as she had all along on this trip, mostly quiet, smiling despite herself.

A story. Just a story and the quiet and the dark. The dark which was not that long off, she guessed, glancing up at the clouds. She wondered if that was how it would always be. Maybe they would just wander forever and forget how to go back home, and just talk about it forever and ever, until they dropped one by one, leaving just Twilight in empty streets. Maybe she would tell stories. Just jaw on about anything, really, blabber at length about embarassing incidents as a student or about that one time when Spike grew to be huge or about how Fluttershy “liberated” Philomena. Or she could make up something new, Twilight supposed. A story about a brave knight who knew that the Princesses would come back one day, and was sure if he could just pay their ransom, that they would. Or maybe one about a circle of friends, all sorts of races and types and faces, going out on a long journey to find a magical ring. She would get desperate for tales, eventually, she supposed. Maybe ones about space, up there in Luna’s realm, the real cold and dark and quiet. Ponies she knew, maybe even one of their siblings, up their among the stars. Hell, let there be some ghosts. A few love triangles! Some bad breakups. Drunkenness. Sex. A lot of tears. Spike can get into a tussle with some grown dragon and marry Rarity, and a thousand years from now there’ll be some… some lonesome pony wandering around in these ruins, one of a whole race of us who lived on and were happy in some far away place under…

She sighed.

After a few more minutes, they headed out. Twilight led again while Pinkie took the rear and Applejack inched closer and closer to the lead as if waiting for Twilight to do… something.

It was around the docks that things changed.

The streets emptied out. Somepony had dragged debris away and pushed it into alleys and buildings. There were no more bodies. Twilight noted the remains of a fire in one of the open sidestreets, and they all paused around it.

“Company?” Applejack asked.

“Yes.”

“Well… damn, maybe they’re just some harmless ponies, Twi. If it were raiders… I mean, they’re all touched, y’know? We’d see scrawled symbols and all kinds of weird messed up… things. Bodies imapled or somethin’, beats me.”

“Not likely,” Twilight said, staring at the embers. “We’ll just have to avoid them.”

Applejack let out a sigh, but Pinkie spoke first. “Twilight, we can’t allllways run away from every single pony! We could use some directions… and food… and we could talk to them, and—”

“No.”

“Don’t be so damned quick, Twilight. This is what I’m talkin’ about!” Applejack hissed. “Just… think. Use that damned noggin of yours, ‘cause I know it works. It works like a dream, but I can’t tell from how you just get to shuttin’ down. Now, there ain’t any signs of raiders or at least that they’ve been here long. We could look for survivors. I wanna know what’s happened here.”

“Death happened,” Twilight said flatly.

“Well, duh, thankya for your beautiful insight there,” Applejack said.

“Girls…” Pinkie tried to butt in, but Applejack continued.

“We could call out, make sure we ain’t all bunched up. You could have your shield ready. They might be down at the docks. We need a way across the ocean, Twi—”

“We can find our own boat.”

“Girls…”

“Can you sail it?”

“I can figure it out! We don’t need any other ponies.”

“Oh? Cause I sure can’t navigate all that well, and even if you can, you can’t fix no boat, and furthermore—”

Pinkie shook them both and tilted their heads up towards the windows above. “Girls, look.”

Eight sets of eyes watched them.

**

“You have no idea how glad we are to see somepony’s still livin’ around these parts,” Applejack said, drinking from a battered mug. Cider, provided by the survivors of Tall Tale, bearing her family’s own mark. Or at least, Applejack had said the barrel did. Twilight could hardly tell with how much of the paint had been worn off. It hadn’t helped how dark it was by the docks. Night fell quickly, with Celestia gone, and it always caught Twilight by surprise.

“We were surprised to see ponies comin’ in from outside. Refugees stopped months ago,” Harvest said. He was a big earth pony, from good, rustic stock. He reminded Twilight a bit of Big Macintosh back home in Ponyville. Canterlot, she corrected.

“Oh, we’re not refugees! We’re travelling through,” Pinkie said. “Well… I mean refugees travel too, but…”

Harvest chuckled. It was a deep, resonant sound. “I get what you mean, little miss. You three are far too well fed to be refugees anyhow. From Canterlot, you said?”

Twilight watched from across the fire, which itself sat in a barrel. The ponies of Tall Tale gathered in little circles around other barrels, lodged in tents and lean-tos. She’d asked them why they’d left the buildings behind, but Harvest had simply asked her how she would feel about sleeping in a mausoleum. Besides, she thought to herself, glancing out over the soiled bay, with structural damage and lack of maintenance, they might not be a wise lodging.

“Eeyup,” Applejack drawled. She was smiling; Twilight could see the slight flash of her eyes reflecting the fire and the way the dancing flames illuminated her easy smile. It was… refreshing, she decided. It was a little bit of home. Not her own, perhaps, but somepony else’s, and it was enough for now.

Twilight drifted.

The ponies of Tall Tale were few, but more than she would ever have hoped for. Hundreds, living by the docks and in a makeshift fort only a few blocks away from the campsite they’d found. They ate from the leftover scraps of the earlier world and gathered from the tough weeds and bushes and vines in and outside of the city what fruit there was to be found. There wasn’t much, but the snows usually didn’t fall in the bay area, and so they returned home with dried tubers. They lived like ponies did in the beginning, she thought. Off the complexities of the land, eating from the surface, digging if they had to and it was shallow, but mostly just taking what was offered. It almost sounded alright.

Winter would still come, and even they would be frozen and die with every other Equestrian. Not even this simpler way of living could survive. The Sun was needed to help things grow, after all.

They’d gotten much of the story of what happened in Tall Tale, and a glimpse of the ruin of its sister city across the bay, Vanhoover, from Harvest. These ponies elected no leader and gave no thought to succession; at least, so they claimed, and yet, for all intents and purposes, Harvest led them. He gave no orders, usually. He simply asked, and ponies did. He was a leader of Stallions, Twilight supposed. Built into him was the stuff of Generals. He smiled at every foal and knew their names, and he was quick to offer them a tent for the night. She was sure that he watched them and that his guard was up, but she could not see it in his eyes or hear it in his voice. He had an upturned hoof.

It bothered her.

It bothered her not only because it was so out of place in the world around her but because simple generosity itself… bothered her, now. How far had she come? Twilight sighed. Pinkie had told him much of their purposes, though not where they thought Celestia might be. Twilight had made her swear not to talk about Jannah or the West at all if she could help it, but nopony could keep Pinkie from excitedly revealing the rest of their journey. She told it well, Twilight admitted. Embellished Twilight’s magic, which embarrassed her, but otherwise more or less with accuracy, if a little too much color. The smiling, dirty ponies of Tall Tale had accepted it all with eagerness. There wasn’t much news to be had in such a world.

Harvest told them that Vanhoover had lost contact with Canterlot partially out of choice. The griffons landed, and when the Beachhead was announced, ponies fell into despair. Twilight had said nothing, only nodding. It was an appropriate response, really. But then the old stallion had committed suicide a week before the Army of Griffonia dispersed, and no one cared about what was happening in Manehattan or Canterlot then. The Vanhoover telegraph office burned down, anyhow, in a small riot. Tall Tale, across the bridge, was stable if afraid. The farmers came into town when the days grew too short and the air too cold and the raiders too lean and aggressive. In Vanhoover, they chose a new Mayor.

Democracy, Twilight thought sourly, as she stared across the starry, spoiled sea towards the greatest of the Western ports.

Tall Tale and Vanhoover were Earth Pony towns, traditionally. They voted on everything. They elected other ponies to do voting for them, even. It was all a bit silly, but she supposed it was something you had to understand from the inside.

“Now, we got aristocrats,” Harvest said, chuckling. “But they’re not much but rich folk and proud folk, and there ain’t many lords and ladies that keep those titles long. Not since… well, I guess not since the Old Bear himself, but that’s just a story. I guess they got to lookin’, you know. At how you unicorns do things. Or how the Pegasi obey the Strategoi. I guess, when you think of yourself as a leader and bred to lead, it only makes sense that you try to lead when everybody’s all panickin’.

“So I don’t blame ‘em, not as much as other’s might. Anypony, really. It just… is, and takin’ sides is pointless now. So the nobles and the rich folk put up their candidate, a young dandy… oh, hell, I think I forgot his name. No! No I remember. Gray. Gray somethin’. But ponies liked him. He was a nice stallion. Maybe not the brightest or the most subtle, maybe not the most experienced, but Tartarus take me if he didn’t prance around like a hero out of the tales. He wasn’t so bad.

“The Populares, these new upstarts, they hated him. Wore blue, I think. Brown? No, it was blue. Blue and Gray. The Dandy won, but only barely, and they say it was all a cheat, and so there was a recount, and then another fella won, and there was a riot. We heard that much from the ponies that came across the bridge. You heard noise drifting across the bay for days. Thought they were killin’ each other, and I was right. Days of fire and smoke. Blew themselves up, I suspect. The Young Dandy died quickly. The fool who got the better of the recount ran as fast as his fat little legs could carry him. The Populares control the docks now, and they're still fighting. Some. Aren’t that many left, I guess. They’ll be done soon, any day now they’ll finally finish it. I suppose nopony at all is gonna win, as I see it. They spilled their fightin’ over here, and now both of us live in dead places.”

So the city was a warzone. The first step off the bridge would be like re-entering the Beachhead.

She had asked him about the survivors, thinking that perhaps she could ask them questions about the city, maybe ask if anypony knew what might be safest way to the docks.

“They… there’s somepony, somewhere around here,” he said, but then shook his head. “We’ll deal with it in the morning.”

Twilight had shrugged, but she had watched his eyes. The moment passed. They moved onto other topics, Pinkie steering the conversation into every metaphorical bush and wall and house that she could manage to. Everything was fair game to her. Harvest chuckled often, and asked questions. Twilight thought he seemed genuinely amused, and Pinkie seemed to like him.

Twilight excused herself quietly from the happiness around the fire. She felt Pinkie watch her go, but she didn’t say anything but goodbye.

Instead, she found an old tavern on the boardwalk. The windows were intact, but she didn’t bother to read the white lettering on them. The name of this place didn’t interest her. What interested her were the tables.

Inside, it was dusty. Tables and chairs were strewn about, and the bar was ransacked. Twilight had little interest in it all, really. She supposed Applejack would have had some comment to make, a sad musing on the ponies that had been here. Pinkie would have sat at the bar, perhaps, and Twilight herself might have been reminded of older nights and older parties. Perhaps. It wasn’t that she didn’t think remembering was bad. No. She was sure it wasn’t that; it was simply that she had something important to do. It seemed the right time.

She produced the scrying stone from her bag and placed it on a table.

It was golden or at least appeared so. Twilight knew it wasn’t. It wasn’t nearly heavy enough to be gold. It was perfectly round and yet sat without difficulty in one place, reflecting the moon. She sighed, placing a hoof delicately on its smooth surface. It was warm to the touch. Not unpleasantly so. In fact, to Twilight’s surprise, it was like touching a pony. Warm, alive. Not metallic at all. She marvelled at it.

But she needed some light, first. She concentrated, setting four amberish lights about her in midair so that now she saw herself reflected in the stone’s mirrorlike field.

What would she say? “Hey, how’re you doing? Everything sucks here. Is Canterlot still falling apart?” “Oh, just up to the usual. Dying cities.” No, not quite flippant enough. What should I say? I have been wandering in the alleys and graves?

Hesitantly, she reached out with her magic and touched the stone.

It reacted instantly. It was like the mental handshake of combining magic with another unicorn, tingling sensation and all. The orb glowed brightly golden, and Twilight waited silently in the dark for she knew not how long until Luna appeared in the circle which shone so bright that it seemed a white hole in the night. But the light faded, and then she found that it was clear as glass, and inside was Luna in some chamber of her own, she guessed with the other stone on a pedestal.

“Twilight!” Luna said, her voice high and her eyes wide. Twilight couldn’t help it. She heard her name said in such a way, and she smiled.

“Hello, Princess,” she said quietly. “This really is fascinating magic.”

The princess coughed. “Yes, right. Sorry, you startled the decorum out of Us, Twilight Sparkle…” The princess bit her lip and looked up from the stone.

Twilight was puzzled. Was something wrong?”

When Luna looked back, she was smiling. “But please, do not call Us—me, I apologize! Do not call me Princess, not right now. We are alone, yes? Call me Luna. We may drop the masks of decorum here.”

Twilight smiled wider and raised an eyebrow. “You strike me as the kind who likes ceremony, Luna. Changing your mind?”

Luna—Celestia forgive her if Celestia even cared—seemed to pout. “I have not. Tradition and ceremony are very important! They are our way of imposing order and beauty onto the mundanities of chaos, after all. I quite appreciate them. But in private… one does wish to be called by one’s own name, Twilight Sparkle.”

“Same, Princess. But you have to stop calling me by my whole name.”

“We—I! I shall try. Twilight,” she said for emphasis. It was strange, but to hear just her first name made Twilight happy. The princess always used the formal full name of every pony but her sister. It was a little like being accepted, she supposed.

It all felt so… easy. She felt like talking again, which was a miracle. “I hope everything is going well in Canterlot, Luna. My party has just reached Tall Tale. We’re crossing the bridge over into Vanhoover tomorrow.”

Luna grinned. “Excellent! I’m so pleased you finally were able to contact us, Twilight… Has everything been alright? Your companions are safe?”

“Yes. Applejack and Pinkie are fine. Pinkie’s been a little down, but it’s hard not to be, out here. Applejack and I have been butting heads, but that’s not really new.”

“Butting heads?” Luna asked, frowning. Her brow furrowed.

“No, no it’s fine. She’s usually right, probably. I dismissed the possibility of survivors who didn’t want to kill us out of hoof, earlier. I’ve just been… off, I guess. It’s hard to be on target out here.” Twilight paused, organizing her thoughts. “The city is toast. Both of them are. Not sure how many are left around here. There’s a little community of survivors in this town who are peaceful and making do. You’d be proud of them.”

“And I would. We have always appreciated the resilience of ponies of the earth,” Luna said. “But… I am sorry to hear that. I had hoped they would be alright, alone…”

“Well… I’ll tell you about it later, I guess, Luna. If it’s not… too much trouble, could I ask about Spike?”

Luna’s smile returned. There was something else, too, Twilight thought, in how she handled herself. A bit of pride, perhaps. “Oh, yon master Spike is quite in good hooves, I assure you! He’s my newest knight, after all.”

“What?”

“Yes, I’ve put him to work as you might say! I need every hoof and claw willing to help, Twilight. Spike has been training with the Royal Guard since you left and attending me during the nights.”

“How are the Houses liking that?” Twilight asked, picturing a regally armored Spike and smirking.

“There is a mixed reaction. Some appreciate the power he has; few can deny the romantic appeal of it… and the usual offenders are annoyed with us. As usual.”

“As usual.”

“Regardless,” Luna continued. “Spike is… I will not lie to you. None of us are ever safe, Twilight. The Game is now afoot, the Game of Houses, old as the throne. Now that the Elements are gone, the preliminaries are finished, and the Opening moves are being made. We are playing chess while the world burns, Twilight, and no one is as unahppy with it as I am… but I have to. Spike is my opening gambit.”

The words raised a flag somewhere in Twilight’s mind. She recalled many chess games, and her face folded into a worried frown. “Luna…”

“Twilight… please do not be upset. I would bare it ill if you were,” the princess pleaded, and Twilight was surprised at her tone. It was… not raw, but soft. Not as a queen, but as a pony. She blinked, surprised.

“He’s like… Well, in some ways, he is my brother.”

“I know. I respect him highly. We are alone, he and I, and we become friends in the ways that the left behind tend to. But I need him. I need somepony—someone, I should say—who is not already on the inside. To be my eyes and ears. To be my dagger, my rook. But he is also my companion, Twilight. My gift from you, as it were,” she finished.

“What are you planning?” Twilight asked. She rested her head on her hooves. How late was it? Her weariness was catching up to her.

“It is… hard to say. At the moment? There are pawns to move out of his way. And I need more than a single rook to do the task. He needs companions, and I believe he’s finding them. There is but one more to collect, and then the game will truly begin. Canterlot must be preserved. It will be here when you get back.”

Twilight looked out the window, but it was impossible to see anything with the glare of the lights. It was just as well, really. There was nothing to see. The city was dead. One dead city of many.

“I hope so,” she said quietly.

X. Shaken From the Wrath-Bearing Tree

X. Shaken From the Wrath-Bearing Tree

TWILIGHT

As the clouds of troubled sleep faded, the morning came, announced by Pinkie’s snores and the hard feeling of sleeping on concrete. Twilight lay in the semidark of their tent, listening to the way the lapping waters of the bay broke in here and there between loud snoring. Bit by bit, she became more aware of her surroundings, of the feeling of the bedding wrapped around her and the warm of Applejack’s back against her own.

Twilight sighed. Harvest had promised to walk them to the bridge. Twilight still hoped the map he’d mentioned having was good enough to be of use. Hopefully a real street map, one not drawn from faulty memory.

It was time to get up. She squirmed out of her bedding and nuzzled Applejack first, receiving a guttural groan for her trouble. Twilight smiled, suppressing a yawn, and moved on to Pinkie.

“Pinkie? You ready?”

“Mrmf.”

“Yeah, I figured so.Harvest is waiting.”

Applejack was up by the time she turned back around. The two of them folded up the bedding while Pinkie stumbled out of the tent, murmuring to herself. Twilight smiled when she caught the scent of coffee in the air. Pinkie was the only pony who could give Twilight’s caffeine addiction a run for its money.

“Somepony’s in a good mood this morning,” Applejack commented.

“I’ve always enjoyed the morning.”

“Really now? What’s a librarian do in the mornin’?” Applejack asked, stuffing a few personal odds and ends into her saddlebag.

Twilight shrugged. “Not one anymore, remember? But I used to read with coffee in the mornings. You’d never believe it, but I used to sleep in on Sundays. Me, the one who plans every second of every day, slept in. Crazy, huh?”

“A bit hard to imagine,” Applejack conceded with a chuckle.

It occurred to Twilight that it had been a while on the road since they’d woken up to anything other than sullen silence. It was refreshing, like a bit of the old days had snuck in while nopony was looking.

“Well, I would lie there, lazing in the sun. Just a crack of sun through the curtains, cutting across the bed… the promise of coffee downstairs…” She smiled, and they pushed the bags out of the tent ahead of them. “I used to love it.”

Together, they dismantled their little tent and packed it away. Twilight was glad for the space enchantments on her bag at times like this. They’d taken her two days to get right, but they were proving to be worth it.

Pinkie sat by her tiny fire, built in the ashes of the night before. She had wrapped a handkerchief around the handle of the coffee pot (why she had this Twilight did not bother to guess) and held it over the fire as it began to bubble.

Twilight, as usual, offered to take it and make their shared fix herself and took the saucepan with Pinkie’s grumbly consent. Pinkie yawned and look at the fire.

“Woulda never figured you could go ten minutes without movin’, sugarcube,” Applejack said.

“Mornin’. Can’t talk. Coffee.”

“I know, just thought it’d be polite to try,” Applejack replied and retrieved her hat from where it sat on top of their clustered saddlebags. “Anyhow. Twilight, where’s that Harvest fella? I forgot what he said ‘bout meetin’ him this morning.”

“Nothing special,” Twilight said, looking out at the bridge and the morning view of Vanhoover’s heights. “We’re just waiting for him. We’re not in that much of a hurry, not yet. We have roughly eight hours left of sunlight if we’re unlucky. A whole ten if we’re not. You know how the days are, now.”

“Right. Well then, cry your pardon,” Applejack said and dug around in her bag. She produced the old pipe and her little pouch of tobacco and sat up against her bag. “Light me?” she asked. Twilight did so, and Applejack and she watched across the water.

Pinkie was first to have a large mug of coffee drifted over towards her, and she was on it like a starving animal. Twilight considered asking her where she had procured the sugar which she poured in greedily but decided the undoubtedly long-winded explanation was too much for this morning.

Harvest’s arrival found them like this, Applejack blowing idle smoke rings and Twilight watching the sun’s reflection. Pinkie drifted this way and that but greeted the patriarch of Tall Tale warmly. The others made their own, slightly more subdued greetings, and they retrieved their belongings and followed him.

In the good light, Twilight was beyond impressed by him. He was physically imposing in a way that left her looking up permanently. Musclebound, as if he were made of steel or red marble, with eyes that looked at her sharply. She had no doubts, now, about how he’d kept intruders and ne’er-do-wells out of the manes of his band of survivors.

Harvest kept up idle chatter, telling them about the town before the griffons and Celestia’s disappearance. Twilight’s eyes wandered to and fro, cataloguing as they always did. Curiously, one would struggle to prove that these ponies were even here if it weren’t for the ashes of their fires and the physical evidence of their tents. There wasn’t even the barest hint of a whisper of activity on the docks. The concrete beneath her hooves was cold and unwalked.

“Harvest?”

“Hm?” He looked back at her, eyebrows raised. He had been midway through a rambling, gregarious story that honestly she’d found rather tiring.

“I’m sorry, just a quick question while it’s on my mind. Where is everypony?”

He blinked. “Come again, little miss?”

“The ponies. Your ponies. It’s… at least seven thirty? Maybe almost eight in the morning. It’s not that late, but I’m surprised that none of them are up. It’s completely silent.”

“Well, you see,” he shrugged and looked away from her eyes, “we don’t quite have those Canterlot timetables, y’know? Ponies wake up about when they want to and not before. Can’t be bothered to wake up when there’s not that much work to do, after all! I mean,” he continued, making a sweeping gesture, “wouldn’t you stay in bed in such a place?”

Twilight did not answer, giving him a distracted nod.

“But sleep is boring,” Pinkie cut in. “I mean, if I lived here, I would explore all the time!”

“Hard to explore your own town,” Harvest pointed out. His voice was quieter as if suddenly remembering there were sleepers nearby.

“Oh. Well, I guess, but I mean… it’s so big!”

“Yeah, not sure I’d sleep in, either,” Applejack drawled, cracking her neck. “But, then again, that may just be me an’ the way I was raised.”

“Shame,” Twilight said, sighing. “I had hoped to be able to talk to one of the survivors from Vanhoover… Are you sure you can’t wake one?”

Harvest shakes his head. “No, Miss Twilight, no can do. Trust me, they’d be useless to ya. Now, you three have been nice to me and mine, but I’d rather not be dragging memories out of the dark for little reason.” He coughed, and they stopped at the street. “Now, I thought you might be of that mind… so last night after I left y’all, I talked to Old Stallion… ah, Jenkins. His little granddaughter helped me draw the routes on this map if you’ll let me show you.”

She noticed the saddlebag he had, now, as he dug through it and came up with a rolled up map. Twilight took it with her magic and examined it. A smile blossomed on her face.

“A street map! Excellent. A legitimate, civil engineer’s street map, zones and everything. I was worried it would be drawn from memory. Er, not to say… What I mean to say is thank you,” she finished lamely but allowing a little smile. His evasion seemed less troublesome now.

There were even notes scrawled childishly. Perhaps a bit too childish… she struggled with some of the words, thinking to herself that it was perhaps some of the worst spelling she’d seen from any child, but in a world such as this, it was to be expected. But with this, Twilight was sure they’d be able to navigate no matter how badly the streets were damaged or blocked. Harvest’s tight-lippedness about the other city aside, his map was a boon.

They walked the cracked streets in a clump, and Harvest made up for his absent eyewitnesses. “Now, I will tell ya again that I don’t know much ‘bout the city, but I do know a little.”

“As it is? Or as it was?” Twilight asked.

“Both,” he said. “Now, most of my knowledge of the city in the notes and map and such. But I do know that ‘fore all this mess, there was a steamboat in the harbor that was good for ocean journeyin’. Read about it in the papers; all of ‘em got busted for smuggling goods in from the Port Iver. I think it’s an island out there.”

“So, you think it might still be there?”

“Very possible. Since you’re lookin’ for ships, thought you might want to know. There might be others, but that one I know was there. There’s coal on the dock, so I’d be on the lookout. You’ll need quite a bit.”

“So… these two factions,” began Twilight, but Applejack chimed in, and she stopped to listen.

“I got a question, big fella,” she said, adjusting her hat. “How many folks came over the bridge? How many you think are still in there?”

He shrugged. “I… I ain’t really sure,” he admitted. “I’d have to count, I suppose.”

She blinked. “Huh. Apologies. Last night, you struck me as one of those types that keeps track meticulously. Like Twi,” she said, raising an eyebrow at Twilight, who rolled her eyes in response.

“Actually, I was going to ask you something similar. The Blues and the Grays. Are there many left, would you say? Are they blowing things up regularly?”

Harvest chuckled. “If there are lots left, ‘s only ‘cause there were so many of ‘em in the first place. Vanhoover, big cities in general, they’re all like ant beds. Too full, too crowded. Nuisances. But I don’t think there are that many left. We don’t get many explosions these days, but every now and again, I’ll walk by our barricade and hear a gunshot echo.”

Twilight blinked, and as they turned down a wide street, she spoke. “Barricade?”

“Eeyup. We put up a barricade up ‘bout a third of the way up the bridge to keep the riffraff out, keep the Vanhoover ponies on their side.”

Twilight imagined it, built of carts, perhaps. A wall of debris, guns pointing over the top.

“I’m assuming you had to use it at least once.”

“More than just once,” Harvest said, and she noticed his pace was a little quicker than before.

APPLEJACK

The long bridge across the bay was cluttered with vehicles. No bodies, or at least not yet.

She liked him, but Harvest’s refusal to do or say anything about the city across the bay rubbed Applejack the wrong way. She got protecting your own. It made a lot of sense—she’d be tight-lipped if it protected Applebloom or helped Big Macintosh. But the stallion was a stone wall. If it happened across the bay, he didn’t care. If it happened outside the city, he didn’t care. It just bothered her, how he would shrug. He didn’t care for any news they could give him. There was no interest in Canterlot or the fate of Equestria despite the silence Tall Tale had languished in.

Twilight stopped them at the pile-up of carts. The cartsponies had all fled, she supposed, and abandoned their cargoes. Or they’d been moved. Applejack didn’t really want to know which, honestly. She peeked around it and found a hole bit out of the asphalt. She tsked and returned to Twilight, who watched her.

“Can’t go that way,” Applejack said. “Though I guess I ain’t surprised. It bein’ a wall and all. I figured they woulda made a way to get through.”

“I thought it might be impossible. They didn’t need it to be that useful.”

Applejack’s ears pricked. “Come again, Twi?”

“I have a hunch as to why, but… Well. Somepony piled up the detritus of war to shield themselves from bullets, and that takes more than one or two ponies, and yet Harvest just mentioned that he made it. You see the little holes? You could stick shoot sticks through there and brace them.”

“The way you say that makes me think you’re gonna lay somethin’ heavy down ‘bout it. Seems natural to me. It’s a fortification…” Applejack said, frowning.

She watched Pinkie wander around the wall, humming to herself. Pinkie avoided the body completely, and Applejack didn’t blame her.

“Harvest an’ them didn’t want any fools comin’ across. Makes sense, you know?”

“Of course.” Twilight’s horn lit up. “Which is why I’m going to put it back together after I dismantle it.”

Applejack watched, ears twitching, as Twilight lifted the carts and put them away one by one, like a child with her toys. Applejack would be lying if she said it didn’t bother her a little, and it did in a way she couldn’t rightly describe without it seeming petty. It was easy. That was it, she thought, as Twilight finished. It was easy. All it took for anypony to do anything with magic was a whim and a horn. It had probably taken the earth ponies in Tall Tale an hour or more to build it. Two hours. She had no idea.

They passed through.

“I’m gonna guess on somethin’, Twilight,” she said quietly.

“Go for it,” Twilight responded on the other side as she stood and put the barricade back as it had been. The carts flew through the air, cradled by a purple glow.

“You don’t like Harvest so much.”

Twilight set the cart down and glanced at her out of the corner of her eye. “What makes you think that?”

“How you act. It’s not like you’re subtle, Twi. Sorry about that, but it’s true. Now, I ain’t sayin’ he’s a saint. You aren’t the only one with some misgivings.” She sighed. Twilight moved the next cart. From this side, the barricade seemed impassable, a true wall. She could almost imagine ponies trying to assault this place.

And she had material all around to aid her. Bodies littered the bridge. Now that she looked, she saw foals or what had been foals a long time ago. Stallions and mares cradling broken weapons—and personal effects. She wandered, looking at them, feeling something trying to break through to the forefront of her mind. Some last connection trying to find a grip.

“I think Harvest didn’t let refugees leave the city,” Twilight said presently. Applejack turned and looked at her silently. Twilight continued. “I’m not sure, Applejack, but the way he acts… the bodies here… I think the refugees he mentioned? I don’t think that we didn’t see them just because we were busy being with him. I think we didn’t see any because he wouldn’t let them past the barricade, and they were mowed down.”

Applejack stared down at the ghoulish face of a foal, the skin rotten and mostly gone, the eyes pecked out by some vagrant bird. A filly. An earth pony, probably not that much different from Applebloom a few years ago, running for the wall with Tall Tale survivors on it, praying they would save her. Knowing they could. She would know that they could’ve saved her even as she died. Applejack saw the wound, now. Gut wound. Dying was slow.

Applejack stared.

“How do we tell?” she asked.

“We can’t.”

Applejack rounded on her. “Well, dammit, Twi, why not? Why not turn around right now and go ask that son of a bitch? Why didn’t you say nothin’ before, when we left him at the intersection?”

Twilight stared down at her hooves. Pinkie approached and laid a hoof on her shoulders, and Twilight seemed to accept it without much trouble.

Applejack continued. “Just… dammit. It ain’t right!”” she yelled, her voice carrying. The morning wind had died. The air was far too still. Far, far too still. “Twilight, you know you’re right.”

“I can’t tell for sure—”

“Don’t give me that bullshit, Twilight. I’m your friend. I love you like you’re another Apple, but don’t gimme none of that cautious bullshit. Cowardice ain’t becomin’. When did you start wondering?”

“Twilight?” Pinkie broke in, voice soft. Applejack stopped short, blinking. The tone of her voice… frightened Applejack. She didn’t try to sugarcoat the feeling. It was unnatural, alien, frightening.

“Pinkie?”

“Will you tell us the truth? Did he… Did Mr. Harvest not help these ponies?”

Twilight met her gaze only for an instant, and then she pulled away. “I… I can’t be certain, Pinkie.”

“Why not?” Pinkie asked. Her voice did not change. “You’re good at puzzles, Twilight.”

The former librarian flinched. “Pinkie…” It was like all the air had gone out of her, like a limp balloon. “Pinkie, please don’t ask me.”

“I need to know.”

“No, you don’t!”

Applejack was mute. She simply stared at a shaking Twilight and Pinkie, who was still as a statue. “Twilight,” Pinkie implored, smiling. “Mr. Harvest was a nice pony. He’s a good pony.”

Twilight whimpered.

And then Applejack understood. The placement of bodies… It made sense. There had been none on one side of the wall and many on this side. She almost paused to count, but the thought made her feel sick. Harvest had sheltered them. The ponies in Tall Tale loved him. He fed others—he even fed strangers. Without him, the survivors by the docks would be scattered. He was their father.

Maybe they knew. Maybe they didn’t. Maybe he had been protecting them all along from all of the outsiders. From Vanhoover and from Canterlot. He had kept them from talking to anypony to save them from hope and knowledge and so they didn’t start wondering why nopony had come over the bridge. To save himself. To save them.

“Twilight…” she breathed, tears rolling down her cheek. “Twilight, we can’t say anythin’ to him, can we?”

Twilight shook her head.

“It ain’t right.”

“What’s right?” Twilight barked.

“But… he laughed,” Pinkie said. It was nonsensical. Applejack almost wanted to tell her that that didn’t mean anything.

Applejack walked to the barricade, passing between Pinkie and Twilight. With a roar, she reared up and kicked the barricade with all of her strength, breaking the wood and sending shards everywhere. Stumbling back, she looked down to find small cuts up her legs, and she laughed, an unpleasant, awful laughter.

“You know, Twilight, I’m beginning to wonder what’s gonna happen afterward. How we’re gonna convince anypony to keep goin’ after all this.”

“What… do you mean?”

“You noticed how little he cared ‘bout the rest of us. Guardin’ his own like a pa ought to but without a bit of attention for anypony outside of his damn little circle.”

“It’s only natural…”

Applejack looked at her legs. “Oh, I know. I know it is, Twilight, and that’s the problem. I ain’t no philosopher, like the ones that write the thick bricks. I went to the agricultural college up in Chadron same as my pa and Big Macintosh did. But lemme tell ya, Twi, I understand how somepony who’s got a family feels about the world.” She spat. “The outside—the whole thing, ponies and the Everfree, wolves, weather—everything outside of the three or four of you seems like the enemy. It’s how you survive in hostile territory. Everypony wants to take your farm or your life or your apples or… whatever you got. You know what, though? I been thinkin’ lately, after that village and Tall Tale, and I don’t think that even if Celestia comes back, we’ll be Equestrians again. It’s broken, Twilight. What’s it all for? Harvest did what he did, and ponies lived. You and I can’t make him pay for it. We can’t make it right, cause nothin’ is going to and nothin’ ever will. It’s all just… dammit, broken, I guess.”

“If we find her, they’ll come back,” Twilight said, her voice cold. “We’ll show them they have to.”

“But you see? Think about that. Go back to Harvest, and tell him he has to care about Canterlot, and let ‘im tell you what that sounds like. Like foolishness. There’s no Canterlot or Celestia to tell these ponies they have to care ‘bout anypony over in Vanhoover, Twilight, and so they don’t. Or at least, they let themselves not care.”

“They don’t know any better!” Twilight insisted. “He isn’t… He won’t…”

“An’ why should he?”

Pinkie shook herself. “Because it’s right,” she said, and her voice was still changed. She started walking again. Applejack thought to answer, but didn’t. There was really nothing to say. The whole conversation was pointless. They had to find Celestia for it to even matter, didn’t they? And would they? Was it really possible? She was the one who said so.

She hadn’t said it in a while.

TWILIGHT

The city of Vanhoover was a pockmarked, bruised, swollen face.

A face that told Twilight approximately nothing beyond the obvious. There were signs of battle, yes, but no way to tell how recent. No ponies in the streets that were alive, or had been alive recently. There had been a brief and distant report of gunfire after they left the bridge behind, but it had been singular, unanswered, and as far as she could tell, useless.

But she knew that she was not alone. It was obvious. A city this size? No brief and bloody civil war could rob it of its life. Not all of it. The bodies would pile, and the blood would be rivulets; in short, there were far more alive than Harvest insisted there were. Or wants to think about, she guessed as she navigated around a bus stop sign, nibbling on her lip.

It was different from Ponyville and decidedly different from Manehattan. The streets were clogged with not only vehicles but debris from buildings that had been blotted out like little mistakes on the map that she had put away for now. To be frank, though she had been delighted to have it, the map’s effectiveness was not quite what she’d expected. Whether Harvest meant it to be a boon or not, the city was completely different.

But so far, the city’s basic landmarks were still visible and existent. Mostly. Even if they had holes blown all in them, there was enough left to make shadows in the hot sunlight.

More or less, the city was a pile of highrises surrounding the bay with a bit of urban sprawl continuing on lazily along the river a stretch before both curled around into Lake Ourous. In truth, everywhere there was city, there was water nearby, not all that dissimilar from Manehattan. Not that she appreciated the similarity, but it was hard to escape. She’d done her best to ignore the wine dark waters, keeping inland. If the docks were occupied, Twilight wanted to see the state of the city before she ventured into territory firmly in the control of militia ponies.

So far, she was seeing mostly evidence of fight but not of flight. There were no slaughtered caravans or at least none that had been left where they’d been destroyed. No signs of official evacuation.

It was Applejack who suggested that some had gone underground. Twilight was sure that she was right, but none of them had any desire to brave the dank sewers. Pinkie had been as puzzled as Twilight at the lack of life and had fallen back into silence. Until, of course, they came to the park.

She’d seen a picture of Republic Park, once. The hill had a modest bronze monument to the Earth Republic that had officially elected to merge into Equestria during the reign of the first king, but the real attraction was the greenery. It was gorgeous. She remembered smiling at the brilliant colors of its gardens, thinking of Ponyville as she admired the path leading up to the hill, with trees on either side.

Of course, she found herself unsurprised as they hid behind a charred barricade of tables staring out over the muddy Republic Park. The trees had been cut. She assumed for a clear line of sight. The hill was covered with makeshift fortifications, doors and furniture and what she thought might be metal from the hulls of at least two different ships had been erected hastily and then savaged. The grass had been eaten up by the trampling of hooves and the bite of artillery fire.

“Looks like they lost,” Applejack said, scowling. “Twi, I’m voting it’s empty.”

“I’d agree. I’m worried about somepony panicking and shooting from the walls if they see us. Pinkie?”

“Whatcha need?”

“This is going to be odd, but… Well, I guess it is odd, but you’re an odd pony, you know?”

“Thanks!”

“Welcome. You’re the one who notices ponies. If we’ve done nothing at all this trip, we’ve figured that out. I’m terrible at stealth, and Applejack is alright—”

“A bit more than alright, there, sugar,” Applejack said without force.

“—but you’re the best. I think. Can you slip around and look for signs of life?”

Pinkie nodded with a little smile. “You got it. Pinkiespy has got your back, Twilight!”

That got a chuckle. “Sure. Just be careful, alright?”

Pinkie was already darting off, waving over her shoulder in a way that somehow managed to avoid being tripped, leaving Twilight still smiling but slightly more bewildered. Soon, she was out of sight. Twilight tried to track her, but she hadn’t been paying favors without cause. Pinkie was the stealthy one in the party. Twilight trusted her keen eyes and her love of prowling, playful or not, even if she sometimes doubted Pinkie’s abilities to maintain a serious conversation.

Guess that’s a little unfair, she thought, leaning against the barricade. A table legged poked her in the back, and she shifted.

“Kinda makes me wish I had wings like Rainbow,” Applejack said from beside her.

Twilight glanced over at her. She could only stare at the same dead street so long. “Thought you were afraid of heights.”

“Oh, I am.” When Twilight raised an eyebrow, she continued. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, Twi. I’d be scared as hell up there without nothin’ to catch me. But anything beats this.”

She gestured at the street. Twilight looked at with her. What was there to describe? She could only say dead so many ways, communicate fallen with so many words. She could only think about it so much.

Twilight sighed. “I’ve been having dreams.”

Applejack didn’t look up. “I’ll take a guess. Manehattan?”

“Yeah.”

Applejack did look now, and her face was flat. “It’s not exactly the same.”

“No.”

“But I get it. It ain’t like I hadn’t thought of all that mess, Twi. I’m still glad not all of us went.” She adjusted the hat, blocking out the sun. “Glad it’s warmin’ up,” she commented, and Twilight did not answer. “I don’t know, honestly. I reckon it’s better not to forget, ‘cause it just feels wrong, but I’d rather not think much about it, you know?”

Twilight shrugged. “We talked that night, but I’ve been thinking since then. I think that’s… I just left something back there, Applejack.” She waved a hoof. “Eh. Maybe I’m just sort of grasping at nothing, trying to catch smoke. My magic has declined since.”

“Really?”

“Inexplicably. I… I don’t talk about it much. It’s not like I’m losing it. I don’t know why. I don’t know how. I mean, of course I have theories. Mostly, the stress and the helping Luna and then… you know how I was for a while.”

“Damn well stopped leaving the towers.”

“Yeah,” Twilight said, like a balloon letting out its last bit of air. “Damn well stopped, indeed. Nicely put. Magic is strange, Applejack. I’m not as sure of it as I once was.”

Applejack’s ears perked. “Wait, come again?”

“I mean… there’s more to it than the numbers. More and more, I’m sure of it. Psychology… something mystic… Pinkie sense, I don’t know. I just know that the further I get from how I was, the less control I have. I almost lost it back in that village. The blanket? I pulled too much energy at once, and I was about ready to fry myself. Or somepony else without even meaning to.”

Applejack stretched. “You know I ain’t a huge fan of magic.”

“Earth ponies aren’t, sometimes. You’ve never said much outside of Winter Wrap Up.”

“That’s ‘cause you’re my friend, Twi, and it means a lot to you. Which is why I wanna know why you ain’t been practicing.”

“Practicing?” Twilight asked. “Practicing what?”

“Twilight, maybe I’m all kinds of off base on this one, but when I’ve been injured, or Mac has, we gotta work back to apple bucking with baby steps. Today, I’m gonna walk to the store and back without stoppin’. Today, I’ll try to carry something on my back. But you can’t just rest and hope you get better. I mean, well, you can,” she faltered. “Just trust me.”

“I suppose I could do something,” Twilight replied, looking back out at the street they’d come from. “I’m just sort of worried about…”

“Manehattan.”

“Right.”

Time crawled. Twilight thought about moving up, if only to do something but sit, but decided against mentioning it. The silence was starting to get to her. With a dearth of sound, her mind began to supply its own, and with the surroundings provided, she once again returned to the Beachhead.

It was Pinkie that brought her out from the past, crawling over the top of their barricade in an unceremonious and rather obvious manner.

Twilight didn’t even realize it was happening until her field of vision was overtaken by a voluminous, bouncy, pink mane. She jumped, startled, only to find Pinkie already talking and tangled up with her.

“Not empty!”

Applejack pulled Pinkie off. “What? Fast, Pinks.”

“Not empty! There’s two ponies in there! I think we sh—”

Pinkie stopped mid-sentence, jumped off of Applejack, and then spun around. Her eyes were wide. Her gestures were wild, spinning arcs. “We need to go!”

“Go where? Slow down—” Applejack began, but Pinkie shook her head violently.

“Up there! Pris…” Pinkie took a deep breath. “There’s a pony trapped in a cage. He asked me to help him, so I climbed over the wall—”

“Pinkie,” Twilight growled. “You could’ve been seen!”

“—but that doesn’t matter because he needed my help,” Pinkie finished. “But there was another pony, and they’re going to kill him!”

Applejack and Twilight looked at one another, and the old argument rose in an instant. Twilight opened her mouth to protest that they couldn’t help every single pony in the world, but then she stopped. No, no they couldn’t.

“Twilight, we—” Applejack began, but Twilight cut her off.

“I know. Let’s just hurry, alright?”

There was no time for subtle maneuver or stealth. They ran now, across the war torn street into the mud-bowl park, Applejack leading. Her head was bowed, her ears flat, her hat hanging on only by a miracle and years of inertia. Twilight grasped at no magic. She would wait, wait until she saw whoever it was cresting the hill, and then she would let them have it.

But they saw no ponies besides themselves. They came to the first barricades, at the base of the hill, and thought struggling in deep mud, Applejack turned and kicked at the cobbled-together wall, and it shattered inward. Pinkie was first through the gap, throwing herself like a missile, and Twilight began to think they could do it. They might find this pony before his foes could; there may be no fight at all.

Pinkie led them up the hill, where patchy grass still dared to grow here and there. The path up to the only opening large enough for them, what Twilight guessed had been some attempt at a door, was worn by hundred of hooves, and Twilight felt a sense of déjà vu, of having done this many, many times, charging up this mountain over and over.

But she could not dwell on it. They were to the gap. She heard somepony shouting, but it sounded distant.

There was no way to continue. She stopped dead in the gateway of the makeshift fortification in an abject and complete horror.

Yes, it was all familiar. The bodies were not missing here as they were in the torn streets. They were scattered everywhere, left haphazard without even the dignity of burning. The air smelled of acrid smoke and sweat and mud, and Twilight felt her stomach churn. No roof, no protection from above. They had created a barrel, and somepony had shot them in it at leisure. She imagined pegasi in the air, swooping down, hoofblades cutting from out of the sun.

Applejack did not stop, and she and Pinkie pushed on ahead of Twilight. Twilight saw where they were going: a cage in the corner.

An earth pony stallion pushed against the rusting bars. He looked up to see the three mares, and a wild grin blossomed on his face. “Oh, Lady preserve me, help! Lemme out!”

Pinkie arrived first, resting her hooves on the bars. “I brought help, but I hear somepony coming,” she said to Applejack, who came beside her and examined the lock. “Not close, but if we’re not fast…”

“Stand aside,” Twilight said, clearing her throat and focusing on the cage. Business. She couldn’t afford to be distracted now.

Her friends obeyed, and the stallion edged back. Twilight summoned her magic to the tip of her horn, only drawing the tiniest modicum before releasing it as a tight, concentrated beam that burned through the lock. It fell into the dust, and the stallion pushed the door open with his shoulder.

“Oh, stars, thank ye,” he groaned. “I thought I was not for the world, young miss. Can we go now?”

“Pinkie, how close?” Twilight asked.

Pinkie shook her head as she examined the stallion for any wounds. “I don’t know. Don’t you hear them?”

She did. “What’s your name?” Twilight asked the stallion.

“Main Sail,” he said and coughed. “Look, if ye’re worried ‘bout yon Blues, I can gladly offer you some safety below ground.”

“Explain. Quickly,” Twilight added, and they began to slowly back away, towards the exit. “We need somewhere they won’t follow.”

But as she finished, it was too late to avoid discovery. A pegasus soared over the shabby ramparts, and Twilight saw something glint on his body in the sunlight before she lost track of him for a moment. “Run!” She yelled, calling up another hooffull of magic, waiting for him to dive.

But he did not. As her friends sprinted for the entrance, he came back into view and stopped in midair. Time slowed. She could see him in detail now, out of the blinding sunlight. He wore a workpony’s utility barding, a deep blue, and on his shoulders was something she’d never seen on a pony in the air before. The barrel was unmistakable, and she had to accept it. He’d fitted a saddle with a longbore rifle. It was insane. He would throw out that shoulder. She found herself absurdly offended at its stupidity even as she charged the magic that would end it.

Twilight roared, drawing deeper into her reserves for something that would blow the pegasus out of the sky, but he had steadied himself. He fired just as she did, and though she heard the loud report, she felt no wound and knew he’d missed her. She did not miss. Her blast of purplish arcane energy hit him square in the chest, and he spasmed before careening down towards earth, trying weakly to correct himself with wings that were no longer obeying.

That’s when she heard somepony close to her whimpering.

“Pinkie! Damn it, that… Twilight, come hold ‘em off!”

She looked back. Pinkie limped at the gate, her eyes wide, her flank red. Twilight gaped as Sails and Applejack tried to support her.

But she heard shouts of alarm from over the barricades, and she knew more were coming to reclaim their old fort. Or their enemy’s old fort. She had no idea. It didn’t matter.

“Who the hell are ya?” she heard Applejack shouting at the new pony, but Twilight could not hear his answer, as she was already looking back.

Another pegasus over the barricade, this one echoing her earlier cry. She saw no ridiculous shoulder-mounted weapon, but the glint of the dragon-like claws were enough. She called up the magic, and it obeyed without question. The new pegasus came in, strafing, and she fired twice. It dodged the first, but the second clipped a leg and sent the attacker sprawling in the dust. Before she could hit him again, she paid for her lack of attention as a winged mare fell out of the sky, out of the sunlight, right on top of her. A hoof connected with her face, and Twilight hit the ground.

The mare was laughing, and it was no crazed, dull Raider’s laugh but a clear one. Twilight hated it. She hated them. She hated everything.

The magic sprang to her defense almost without her having to pull at it. An arcane fist crashed into the mare and sent her flying. Twilight rose and hobbled back, shaking her head. Her vision swam as her eyes watered, and the world righted itself. She felt warm wetness creeping down her brow.

The first pegasus was up again and threw himself at her. He would just dodge a blast, so she coated herself with a layer of arcane energy, and when his shoulder hit her, he found himself reflected back into the air, body splayed out like a beautiful, perfect target in midair. Twilight took the invitation; repurposing the mage armor was easy. She rolled it into a ball, and it hit him like a stab in the ribs, a sucker punch by a giant, and she heard something break as she went limp and fall back to earth.

The mare was on her, screeching incoherently, knocking her aside again.

Twilight’s mane was in her eyes. She flailed, calling the magic up, panicking as she felt the mare bite her shoulder, her chest, just trying to hurt and bruise and beat. Hooves kicked her, and she felt the cold steel of a hoofblade on her flank.

And then the mare was gone, and Twilight was staring up into the sun.

She was up on her hooves. Sail had kicked the mare off and was behind Twilight, but without a follow-up, the Blue was still going to get up. Twilight channeled her panic into another bolt and put the pegasus down for good.

As soon as the Blue’s face hit the dirt, Twilight turned heel and ran at full speed. Applejack and Pinkie were halfway down the hill. Sail was right on her flank, and she called out to him as they came up on the limping Pinkie.

“You’d better lead the way, Sails. Pinkie’s hurt for you! You’d better be worth it!”

“Just follow!” he shot back.

They did, beating as quick a retreat as they could with an injured pony in tow. Twilight used her magic to alleviate the pressure of Pinkie’s leg on the ground and levitate her slightly so that two ponies could keep her moving relatively quickly.

So they followed him through streets until they came to a subway station. Sails took no second look. He read the sign as he ran, turned, and disappeared into the darkness, and Twilight realized, as they followed, that they were going to be trapped with a pony they didn’t know in a city that had lost its mind.

Author's Notes:

Thank you q97randomguy for editing!

XI. The Lament of Lud

XI. The Lament of Lud

Twilight

They were soaked and bitter. The tunnels went farther than she had ever imagined, were darker and more fetid than she could have ever dreamed. They seem to go on and on forever, like some sort of maze at the foot of Tartarus, and deliriously, she wondered if at the end, at the bitter end, she might not find that door of adamantine and good rowan wood.

Instead, she mostly saw scattered and wretched ponies on islands of dirt. The tunnels were wide, and here and there, the ground was torn, and the wounds allowed the sun into the network of cavern-like sewers.

Main Sail stirred the water again, the paddle firmly gripped in his strong jaw. Twilight, from behind him, looked at the little lamp suspended at the front of their tiny boat, watching it bob in midair.

The sailing pony had explained it all already, of course, in great detail with a variety of stories of dubious basis in truth and ludicrous exaggeration. She found it mildly annoying but excusable. It whiled the time away, which was a blessing in the dark, and more importantly, what things seemed plausible in his tales were, in fact, useful.

Namely, the tunnels were ancient. Main Sail claimed that the modern city had been built over the old, but she doubted this. Not that it was impossible: they said that the great Crystal City was built atop the cavernous ruins of some other place, and she had seen the primeval unicorn settlement that the builders in Canterlot had uncovered. No, she was slow to believe him entirely because the city was not old.

She quite believed that the tunnels had been built in and around natural caverns. They had left normal sewers behind entirely, now. In fact, Main Sail had been quick to exit them. The real caverns below were the safe place, he had insisted, the only safe place.

Perhaps it was. At any rate, the caverns were full. She’d tried keeping count of the ponies, but the lighting was too bad in most of the great chambers. She’d counted at least fifty of them huddling on dry mounds and in damp piles of rubble, peeking up into the gray world above. Rebar hanging down from the heavens became the backbones of their lean-tos, and she’d even seen two sullen earth ponies timidly collecting scraps from the streets to build something on their small corner of dry cavern floor. They had looked at her for only a moment with their sunken eyes, following the movement of their tiny boat of salvage but not comprehending it or what it meant. If it meant anything, she supposed.

The boat they had gotten from a mare without ears in the metro station.

Fresh from pursuit, hunters hot on their heels, Main Sail had jumped down onto the tracks, and the three mares had followed him as best they could, Applejack and Twilight still struggling to keep Pinkie mobile. The Blues had come to the gate of the station but had refused to enter. They’d shot a firearm of some kind into the dim station, but after a few threats, they had retreated. Twilight had thanked the stars fervently, as she had not since foalhood.

In the following empty silence, Twilight’s eyes had tried to acclimate to her surroundings. The empty metro tunnel stretched on and on, curving to the left out of her view. There were occasional lights that flickered on and off overhead, and Twilight wondered if the Grays had found generators to keep running in all of the devestation. The ground beneath her was hard, but as they stood and began to slowly walk, she had found it coated in sticky patches of oil and filth.

The one-eyed, no-eared mare with a wicked smile had been waiting in the tunnel, sitting beside a huge hole that led into the sewers and beyond. She had called to Sail like an old friend, and Twilight had imagined, for a moment, that she was a witch out of some fairy tale. It didn’t take much to imagine.

And so they had wandered, or at least to Twilight, it had seemed like wandering. She had tried to keep up and cross-reference the map, but it proved useless. The caverns were not mentioned or shown at all. It was like she had left the world behind.

The little boat—and calling it a boat was a stretch—creaked loudly in the cramped tunnels.

The lantern swayed with the movement of their craft. Back and forth, back and forth, Twilight’s eyes followed it loyally until she pulled herself away and shut them. She was losing track of things.

The lantern, at least, provided her with a good view of her companions. With a sigh, Twilight examined them.

Pinkie’s wounds were bandaged as best as they could be in the dark. She slept in front of Main Sail, out of Twilight’s reach, her puffed-up, cotton candy-like mane become straight and matted in the damp air of the underground. Her body moved only in breathing, and Twilight watched mutely for a moment that dragged along. She wished that Pinkie were closer. The boat need to be balanced, of course, but she still felt like it would be better. What did ponies do in such a situation? An injured friend… She imagined herself stroking that mane or lying beside Pinkie—quiet things—and found it odd that she had not the inclination to do so. Not right away. Was that how to respond?

She was worried. Pinkie’s injury had not been as terrible as she had feared, but it was not as minor as she had hoped. Not a glancing blow, but not a crippling one. The bullet had gone right through, cleanly, taking with it tissue but not sinew or bone, and she was grateful.

The real danger was less in the physical. Pinkie would heal and probably fast if experience had taught Twilight anything. No, the real danger was in the immediate future. How would Pinkie flee if they were caught? How would they, with Pinkie in tow?

Twilight sighed.

Her gaze turned to Applejack, who lay in the back of the boat. Her hat obscured her face as well as a wall against the weak light. Part of Twilight wished that her friend would look up, let in just enough light for Twilight to see, but the lion’s share of her heart wouldn’t bear it.

Thinking was Twilight’s strong point. It was what she did best, above all—even above magic. Magic was, as Starswirl wrote in the long gone ages, a matter of the mind.

She turned her attention back to Pinkie.

All magical issues are born out of the imagination, Star Swirl argued, and she heard Celestia reading from De Ars Arcanum in the oratorium. Twilight almost felt the padded couch underneath her stomach and flanks as she had then.

“All magical problems are fundamentally rooted in deficiencies of the imagination, Twilight,” Celestia explains.

Her voice is like a song, like an aria in the early morning, and Twilight drinks it all in. The radiant sun like the ocean at hide tide pours in through the stained glass of the oratorium. They sit in on couches against the wall, Celestia on one and Twilight on the other. There are tables here and there, left over for students to use in a quiet place, but the hall is empty. There are no speeches to be given or talks to be held, not today. Today, and specifically this morning, are for Celestia and her most beloved student.

“What does that mean?” Twilight asks in the voice of a child.

“Well, why don’t we finish, Twilight, and then let us see if you can answer your own question,” Celestia says with a smile—it is not knowing, it is all-knowing. She clears her throat. “All magical problems are fundamentally rooted in deficiencies of the imagination. The emotional core of ponies is the heart of magic. Do not mistake me, for I am not speaking in parables. Where there are prophecies, they will cease; where there are great works of arcane might, they will fail—if they are not rooted in the right mind, they are like a house without foundation.”

Twilight blinks. “That’s kinda hard…” But as her teacher opens her mouth to explain, Twilight quickly jumps into the mental fray. “But I think I know what he means!”

Celestia raises an eyebrow, and thought Twilight knows it not, she is faking her serious air. “Oh? You think you do? Well, my faithful student, I suppose now is the time to show me what you’ve gathered.”

Twilight bites her lip. The habitual gesture has already become familiar, and she will retain it.

“I… well, magic isn’t just about horns?”

Celestia beams. “That’s a good way to say it, Twilight.”

“And, um…”

She struggles, and will not relent, because the eyes of Celestia are always on her. She feels them like the sun on her back, like she is in the throne room of God. The answer is within reach. Celestia is simply waiting for her, and she must not be kept waiting.

For her part, Celestia sips at her tea and enjoys the morning. Twilight has come far in the years under her tutelage and the oversight of the teachers of her school. Every goal set before her, she plows over. She does not simply learn; she devours, absorbs, masters. Celestia is both fascinated and delighted by this. She is so driven! So bright! So happy.

“Well, I guess he means you have to know the secrets?”

“Oh?” Celestia asks softly.

Twilight scrambles. She backpedals.

“I mean, no, wait…”

“Would you like some help?” Celestia asks.

“No! No I can do it! I promise.”

“Alright, alright.”

“Right… mind…” She grimaces.

Celestia waits a moment more, enjoying her tea and wondering about her student, before she speaks into the silence. “May I read a bit more?”

Twilight nods.

“Now,” Celestia begins, floating the book up before her, still watching Twilight. “By right mind, we mean, of course, a mind that has the proper reaction to the world around it, or rather, the proper inclination, in that it is both active and receptive. The ruling power within, when it is in its natural state, is so related to outer circumstances that it easily changes to accord with what can be done and what is given it to do. Magic relies on a tranquil mind. By a tranquil mind, I mean nothing else than a mind well ordered.”

“Concentration,” Twilight says when Celestia paused to flip the page. “Does he mean it requires concentration?”

Celestia sets the bookmark on the page and places it down. “Oh, I do think so. I think that is a large part of it! But not all.”

Twilight sighs. “Princess… I’m not sure what I’m supposed to find out…”

And Celestia notices the look of defeat and pauses. She does not simply recognize it, perhaps. Twilight wonders, later, if she does at last begin to see an inkling of something more than puzzlement there, something longer and darker.

“Oh, Twilight, I think you’ve misunderstood what I intended. This is not a day for tests,” she says, smiling as she does.

“What do you mean?”

“I met Star Swirl and worked with him for a time. He made, for my sister and me, many enchanted things. They were very beautiful, Twilight. Art, more than simple utility, was often his aim. At first, he seemed such a strange, almost cold pony, but more and more, I believe that he was simply taken with everything.”

“You knew Starswirl the Bearded?” Twilight asks, and she is in awe of Celestia the Eternal.

Celestia the Not-Quite Eternal chuckles. “I did. Our paths crossed, you could say. There was no Equestria then. I was a sojourner in the land, fighting monsters in the north and cheerfully exploring the world with… Luna.”

Her voice falters. A young Twilight does not notice. An older Twilight will think and wince at this recollection.

“Carefree and courageous,” she says quietly. “Anyhow. He wrote this while we were in the old Zebra kingdom of Ma’ain, and when we returned to the northlands of Unicornia, we found him near death. It was… hard. We had grown to love him. But he gave us his last work and asked us to give it to the sages we came across, that he might not be lost to time. I have since given it to every bright young mage I’ve come across.”

“So it’s very important?” Twilight guessed.

“Yes. And don’t fret, Twilight. I wanted you to wrestle a bit this morning with his prologue because you and I will be returning to this book often, I believe. He got to the heart of something quite important, Starswirl, and I think it will be a good lesson for you.”

Twilight stared ahead, enjoying the warm memories in the small boat.

“Twilight?” Applejack called softly.

Twilight almost jumped. “Yes?”

“You there? We’re gettin’ out.”

Twilight blinked and looked around.

Their destination was an underground shore crowded with ponies in faded clothes and torn barding. She thought she saw tattered blues and grays and even a few rust-colored cloaks, but when her eyes fell on any of the downcast-looking ponies, they seemed to shrink back into the mass of their own kind as if offended, as if her sight was like a touch that burned them. The low, claustrophobic tunnel had opened up into a high-ceiling cavern, perhaps two stories tall. She marveled at how it could exist at all.

It was lit with lamps that stood atop long poles. They jutted from the crowd, here and there, with no real rhyme or reason to their placement. Above maned heads, Twilight noted lean-tos and a pile of barrels with no labels. What was this place, before? Did anypony ever come down here? Was it abandoned?

Main Sail ran their boat aground on the gray sand, and the quiet ponies backed away. Twilight wanted to say something, ask where she was, but they would not stay to answer, and she knew this with queer certainty. No, they had no answers for her.

“Main Sail?” she asked, and her voice echoed in the great hall—for that it was, she realized. It was the antechamber of some great hall. She half-expected a lumbering earth pony thane to burst out from the crowd to see who was bothering his silent thralls.

“Ye have a need?”

“Where is this? How is this… here? Without…” she struggled. “Why haven’t I ever read about all of this?”

They stood beside the boat while Main Sail worked. The thralls parted before him like the clouds before the wind, and there was a spike of rebar there. He produced a rope and tied the boat down.

“Take what ye care about,” he said to them. Twilight noticed that he ignored her question.

So, with characteristic stubbornness, she pressed her suit. “Main Sail, why haven’t I—?”

“Because it ain’t got a thing to do with ye magic, I suppose,” he said softly, sourly, looking back at her. “Give a moment ‘fore the questions fly, will ye?”

She huffed but obeyed. The mares followed close behind him, Applejack and Twilight supporting Pinkie, who graced them both with a weak smile.

The crowd again parted, and Twilight found herself in a strange and otherworldly village.

It had the looks of a temporary settlement, and yet Twilight thought it old and established, by now, if only by the way that ponies congregated and seemed to have set down their own private homesteads. The path through the middle of the huddled thrall shelters was well worn, and she supposed that it was more port than cavern.

Twilight spoke again, softly, trying not to look too closely at the strangers. “Main Sail, can you tell us where we are? Or what we’re doing?”

“You told me that ye need passage, earlier. Is that right, young miss?”

Twilight scowled. “Well, yes, we do.”

“Then ye’ll be needin’ help.”

“I’m not sure any of these ponies are likely to offer help or be helpful in general even if they were willing.”

“You’d be right ‘bout that,” Main Sail replied. “But it ain’t them that ye need.”

“Then who? Please, just answer me.”

“Ye’ll be needin’ the Duke.”

“There isn’t a… Oh, nevermind,” Twilight said.

The cavern continued. She wondered at it, guessing it was over a hundred pony-lengths in any direction. Two hundred, legs spread out and everything.

But the nature of their surroundings changed. The thralls gave way to slightly more alert ponies in gray barding who did meet her gaze, and Twilight found herself looking away first. They were proud-looking ponies, though coated in the filth of the sewers and metros and though most looked poorly-fed.

They all shared a common look. Long manes, male and female. Eyes like hawks. She tried not to find the poor attempts at mustaches on some of the stallions funny but failed rather miserably. There was just something absurd about them, strutting in the dimly lit cave, talking amongst themselves.

At the end, near the cavern wall, she saw a large tent. There were others on either side, but this one was the biggest and perhaps the cleanest. Twilight realized that they were all stolen or borrowed from the Army of the North. She’d seen their gear before.

In fact, in a lot of ways, the whole thing was an absurd museum mock-up of the Army of the North. Like laughter in the morning, it dragged old and painful memories out of bed in wrath. She grit her teeth and stayed in the present.

The camp was guarded. Two of the barded ponies—she couldn’t bring herself to call them soldiers—stepped forward from where they had slouched about a table of cards and barred the way.

Twilight knew those uniforms were familiar-looking. She had an inkling but pushed it down.

The one on the left spoke first. Twilight guessed that once he had been handsome and well-built, but now he seemed only old and thin. “Well, then. If it isn’t Sail. What are you doing here again, you little shit?” He said it with a grin the size of a freighter and a tone as bright as the sun, but Twilight was on her guard as much as she had been in the park. This was not a friendly pony.

“Oh, ye know,” Main Sail replied, also grinning like a shark. “Just wandering by. I have business with the Duke.”

“Duke doesn’t need your kind here, bootlicker,” the second soldier said. He did not smile. Twilight did not really feel that he was angry at all. If anything, he was bored. “You’re a Neutral at best, and a coltfucking Blue lapdog at worst. The Duke has no need of either of these things.”

“Like I was saying,” the first guard continued, his grin growing wider if such were possible. “What are you really up to? What could you even offer the Duke, and why shouldn’t we finally put an end to your little career, hm?”

Main Sail sighed. “Look, Stalwart, just because—”

“Hey, don’t you start talking,” the first guard growled. Twilight scowled, mentally preparing to push the two earth pony guards away and bolt.

“Just listen to me,” Main Sail replied, slowly. “Ye knows I wouldn’t be wanderin’ around here without good cause. I have some mares he might be wantin’ a talkin’ with.”

“Mares? These three?” Stalwart replied, raising an eyebrow. “What could they give the Duke? What…” He rolled his eyes. “Now, you know the Duke won’t be taking kindly to trying to sell him ponies fo—”

“Oh, Luna’s sake,” Main Sail groaned, losing the calm demeanor. “It’s important. Just let me through, you fat sod.”

“I’d let him through, Captain Stalwart,” said a new pony who walked in from the right of Twilight’s vision. His light willowbark coat and olive mane stuck out from the gray barding and cloak he wore.

The guard in question side-eyed him. “I don’t remember you being in charge of me, Axiom.”

“I don’t recall playing cards being a part of your guard duty nor complaining.” The newcomer smiled now, and it was unpleasant. “Nor, of course, do your wonderfully complex and fulfilling duties include petty revenge on the stallion who buggered you and skipped out to the next port of call, as it were.”

Stalwart sputtered.

“Yes, well.” He turned to the mares and smiled. “Hello. My name is Axiom. You would be Twilight Sparkle, of course.”

Twilight blinked. Ponies had known her name, but her likeness had not been as widespread. “That… that would be me,” she said. “Sorry, I’ve been used to ponies only recognizing me after I introduce myself.”

Axiom chuckled. “I have an approximate knowledge of many things, Miss Sparkle. You would be surprised what I know and think. And your companions… Ah, forgive me. I will guess. Applejack, yes? I would assume your injured friend is the infamous Pinkie Pie, the laugher.”

“Got that one right,” Applejack replied.

The two guards stood mute. Stalwart’s companion seemed to finally show interest, but Stalwart had eyes only for Axiom.

“Are you done with all your smarmy stupidity?” Stalwart asked.

“Only when you are done with your rather vulgar sort,” Axiom replied without bothering to look.

Stalwart growled wordlessly and left.

“Now,” Axiom continued, and now he seemed to relax. “I am terribly sorry. The… I know I’m stealing this from somewhere, but the hospitality of the house has been lacking of late. Or, rather, always. You know how it is. Stalwart can’t really helping being repressed, belligerent, and stupid, but I suppose the world takes all types.” He turned his eyes to Main Sail. “Ah. And you.”

“An’ me, say true.”

“Well… Hm. If you’ll follow me?” Axiom turned and strode off towards the little camp.

Axiom brought them to sit before the empty wooden chair that was in front of the tent. Begging their pardon, he disappeared into the large tent for a while before emerging with a scowl and shaking his head. The Duke was asleep; it would be ill to wake him.

They sat in front of the empty chair for what seemed forever.

Axiom talked intermittently, almost exclusively to Twilight. Out of the corner of her eye, Twilight watched her companions. Applejack seemed to tolerate their new companion if barely. Pinkie mostly just seemed to be puzzled.

“You know, I’ve been thinking, Twilight. About memories. I think about the past a lot, you see. I make observations that don’t do anypony good at all. Do you think everypony dwells as I do?”

She glanced over at him. “What?”

“Sorry. I do tend to ramble. I can’t help but notice, though, how you… ah, I want to say stare, but that’s not quite right.”

“At?”

“At everything,” Axiom said, evenly, as if explaining that the sun shone and that rain was wet.

She sighed. “I’m afraid I’m lost, Axiom. Do you know when this Duke will be ready to speak to us?”

He chuckled in response. “No, I don’t. The Duke is a capricious stallion of dubious faculties but superb courage if that’s even a thing. If nothing else, he is wonderful at hitting things until they die. Champion sleeper, coincidentally, and known for looking disfavorably upon being woken up and anypony who happens to be doing it.”

Twilight sighed, and Main Sail cut in. “Axiom, you don’t have to keep up the act.”

“Act?” He turned the smile on again. “Act?”

“The young miss has not a shred of context, and all ye’re doin’ is botherin’ her. Lay off.”

“How droll. Fine.” Axiom said, waving a hoof.

“Though you do seem a bit agitated,” Main Sail followed up, and Twilight watched his brow knit together. “Has something happened?”

“Something is always happening.”

Twilight sat quietly between them, glad to not be the subject of Axiom’s address. Instead, she looked around and realized that he was partially right. She was staring, not so much in curiosity or in awe. She seethed. It was a shock to realize it, to realize that her teeth were grinding together and her blood was running hot.

Dreams have a way of continuing. Not lingering, per se, but continuing. They pop up, here and there, like thieves in the night or like disease or misfortune. They lie in wait in corners and in constellations of ponies. They brood in newspaper headlines and in pictures. Sometimes they couch themselves in the luxury of the spoken word and wrap themselves around every syllable out of a loved one’s mouth, and with every sentence, the dream lives again and forces itself upon the waking mind as if to rule it.

In the camp, Twilight was thinking about Manehattan.

Around her, Axiom and Main Sail continued what she understood now, like lightning, was an interview, a preliminary. Axiom probed.

“Yes, but ye be agitated, and it’s not quite ye’re normal even-keel.”

Axiom laughed—a fake sound. “As if I live ever in an even-keel, you bilgerat. Honestly, what could be the matter? As you can plainly see, the banner of the Gray is quite advanced, and the sun is lovely.”

As if he had been cued, Main Sail lowered his voice and leaned in. “That bad, say?”

“Worse,” Axiom said roughly, and like a snake sheds its skin, he shed his persona. To Twilight, it was an almost visible change. The smirking and the smiling and the half-lidded eyes were replaced by a hard, but perhaps earnest, stare. She thought, absurdly, that he seemed sad.

“Especially if ye drop the game. Aye, I’d feared as much. The Blues take the old hill fort again.”

“Let them,” Axiom said, sneering. “It’s not as if that thing matters. It’s trash on a muddy excuse for a park. Who cares?”

“It’s a good vantage point.”

“So is half the city, and no one is fighting over a lot of those towers. It’s beyond stupid. Blues take the hill, stay for a day, end up leaving or moving almost the whole garrison elsewhere, we charge up the stupid hill and take the thing, and then we have it for three days at the uttermost before we run screaming from the damn pegasi.”

“The Duke wants it back?”

“Hell, the Duke doesn’t even think anymore,” Axiom said and then sighed heavily. “Never bright, but never stupid. I can’t say that now. Well, I could say that, I guess, it would just be demonstrably false.”

Twilight could almost see him, this Duke. It made her want to pull her hair out. She imagined him strutting, sure in his prowess. Just like Tidewater, just like Sidestroke. Manehattan, Manehattan, Manehattan.

Beside her, Applejack stirred. Twilight felt a hoof on her shoulder and heard a soft, warm voice in her ear. “Twi, you’re worryin’ me. Are you alright? You’re grindin’ those teeth of yours somethin’ fierce.”

“Manehattan,” she said.

Applejack was quiet a moment as if thinking. “Damn, I kinda see it too, now. Army camp. Brings it all back… but you need to calm down. Do you want me to do the talkin’?”

Twilight shook her head. “No. If I don’t talk, it’ll be noticeable. If he’s really a noble…”

“Then he’ll notice on account of he’d have seen ya,” Applejack finished with a grunt. Axiom got up, and he and Main Sail huddled together, whispering. Applejack scooted forward and turned her back to them, cutting into Twilight’s line of sight. “Right. I don’t feel like I rightly trust these folks, Twi.”

Their voices didn’t carry, but Main Sail’s did. She heard him asking about the docks.

“I’m not sure I like them either,” Twilight said, taking a deep breath. The dream still swirled. She shoved the Beachead down deep into the depths of her heart. Let it simmer. She must not let it out.

“Not just on account of their actin’ like real soldiers and appropriatin’ all this stuff that don’t belong to them, Twilight. The looks they’re given us make me feel dirty. You see ‘em? Over there, watching?”

“No, and I’m trying to forget there are other ponies here.” It was true; she’d ignored most everypony not directly involved, so far.

“Well, I ain’t been. It’s bad, Twilight. What in hell’s name happened to all these ponies?”

“War,” Twilight said and coughed. “Sorry, the air is foul. War happened, Applejack.”

“Twilight?” Pinkie weighed in from the other side. Twilight realized that she had snuck up and completed their huddle.

“What’s on your mind, Pinkie?” Twilight responded. “Are you alright? Um… your bandages, those are okay?” She asked, feeling foolish.

“I’m a-okay, Twilight! Thank you, though.” Twilight saw Pinkie smiling in her peripheral vision. “I think Axiom is an alright pony, girls.”

“You’re kidding me,” Applejack said flatly.

“Nope! If I were joking, there would be a punchline, silly. Or well… a set up, you know. Joke stuff! But I really think he’s okay. Maybe a little… okay, a lot grumpy, but that doesn’t make a pony bad.”

“Yes, but it doesn’t make them trustworthy either,” Twilight pointed out.

Pinkie shrugged against her, and Twilight fidgeted at the odd feeling of being touched even if by accident.

“Nope. But it doesn’t mean that they aren’t trustworthy. He’s very unhappy, Twilight. I think you should be nice to him, and he might help us.”

Twilight blinked. “That’s…”

“Fair,” Applejack finished. “Twi, this fellow—and I ain’t sayin’ I like him or know him from Adam—but he might just be good for us and to us. We need a pony in our corner that ain’t just been let out of a cage. You know, a pony that’s got some stock.”

Twilight scowled. “Why’s it have to be me?”

“I’d say you’re the only one he’s gonna give the time of day to, sugarcube.”

Twilight reinforced the scowl with a quiet groan. She was not in the mood to make nice, especially not with strange ponies. She had business to attend to. Important business. Celestia business.

The two stallions returned. Axiom’s mask was not quite restructured, and Main Sail seemed disheartened. Twilight did not comment. Instead, she thought. She imagined, and she planned, thinking about Starswirl and the prologue read in the sunlight.

Eventually, after another age had passed, Twilight spoke softly to Axiom, who lazed in front of her.

“Axiom? You were right earlier, you know.”

Axiom lifted his head. “Hm?”

“About my staring. I was staring.”

“Ah,” he said as if this was a pointless statement. Twilight did not sigh or back off. No, her scouting had been useful. She began her attack in earnest.

“It reminds me of another time and place,” she explained. “All of this… well. It’s an army camp, really, in miniature, and perhaps with less order and less sunlight.”

“Another time and place?” Axiom said, and Twilight realized that the mask had been resumed. “Please, enlighten me.”

So, Twilight decided to be bold. “You know a lot about me. I think you can guess.”

She felt the eyes of her companions on her, but she was not worried. He would show what he knew.

Axiom lifted his head and smiled. “I do, at that. I know many things. Specifically, I know a lot about two ponies. You can maybe guess which two, but I do know what you are talking about. Manehattan, correct?”

“Yes.”

“That would explain the supremely angry look you had earlier,” he remarked and sat up. “You have my attention. I’m glad you decided to join us, Twilight Sparkle.”

“Thank you. Who is the other pony? And why me?”

“Why you? Have others…? Well, I take that back. The playthings of Gods are many. Celestia, your teacher, is the aim of all my thoughts in these last days.”

Twilight blinked, surprised. “The princess?”

“Of course.”

“What about her? I mean, specifically?”

“How I absolutely, irrevocably, and without doubt, resent and deny the fairness of her immortality and existence,” he answered in a cheerful singsong. “It is simply not fair. It’s axiomatic. I would know.”

“Unfair?” Twilight was beyond bewildered. Her plan faded away into nothing. She had not foreseen this at all.

“Isn’t it obvious?” he answered. “Honestly. She lives forever. We do not. Where do we go after we die? Where does this god send us, Twilight?”

“When we die? Celestia doesn’t—”

“Ah, it was rhetorical. Consider it, Twilight. Think hard on it. How can it be fair that we are small, and she is great? Her existence is alien, Twilight. Nothing is nor ever can be nor ever will be constant, and yet there she is, still alive. It’s obscene. It’s indecent.”

“Now hold on,” Twilight said, rage hot. “Her existence is hardly unfair. She can’t help being the way she is.”

“Can’t she?”

“If you ate meat, I would tell you your way of existing was monstrous.”

He smiled and showed every last tooth. “Who is to say that I have not done so in this new and beautiful world?” When Twilight gaped in open and naked dismay, he laughed. “All things bright and beautiful, Twilight, the Sun made them all—to be eaten or eat, that is. I have, by the way, eaten meat, but it was not a sentient creature.”

“Moon preserve me,” Twilight mumbled.

“And yet you do not tell me I am monstrous,” he pointed out.

“Because I’m in shock,” she shot back, irritated.

Twilight wished she could see Applejack’s face. Or simply lean on Applejack. Feel Pinkie’s presence beside her. Anything. But her friends were not as close as she would wish them.

“Bah,” he dismissed her, but he still smiled. “But the axiomatic evil that is the god-queen has little to do with you and I. Do you know what they called me, Twilight, before I became a jester to an old warless and woundless veteran?”

“Crazy?” she guessed.

“Close! They sneered at me and called me Seer. I was quite taken with the name—I freely admit to a bit of vainglory, but when you live in a sewer to avoid being torn apart in the streets, you keep your spirits up as you can. It became clear to me, in the dark, what it all meant. She’s a necessary evil. Ah, but I’m going on again. The important thing is Manehattan.”

“It is?” Twilight asked. She was lost. The conversation was like rapids, and her boat was shattered.

“Yes. You had mentioned it before. Now, continue your confession.”

She scowled. “It was hardly a confession.”

He cackled. “It was that and more, Twilight. I’m sorry, I had never suspected it would be so fun to get a rise out of you. I say confession because you obviously attach some meaning to the affair, enough to be angry, and beyond that, if it were not forefront in your mind, it would not be the first thing you led off a conversation with, especially not one designed to woo me.”

“Woo you?” She said, stirring.

“Figuratively.”

Main Sail also stirred. “How long’s that old stallion going to sleep?”

“Forever, probably,” Axiom said quickly and then returned his attention to Twilight. “I only ask because I’m insatiably curious. I am insatiable in many things, actually. Also, as much as I have explained myself and my motives, in my study and ruminations on you—and yes, by the way, we have met before—I have decided that your story is perhaps the most interesting one left in this insipid and wasted world.”

“We’ve met?” Twilight asked, racking her brain. It was galling to be the slow one in the conversation. “I feel as if I would remember meeting you, Axiom. I can’t say I have ever met you or anypony quite like you.”

“Ah, the underhoofed insult is nice. I quite like it. But no, I was different then. I was working on a degree in Equine studies, in fact, at the Canterlot University. We had classes.”

Twilight blinked. “Oh… Stars, were you the small stallion in the back?”

“That is all you can muster? Is that my name forever? I won’t even begin to comment on the implications of ‘small’,” he said, grimacing. “But yes. By your look of confusion, I can see you’ve noted how I’ve changed. But, as I was saying, my study of you has mostly been secondhoof. It began a bit after the fall of Manehattan. It was then that I realized that we were all doomed, you see. We’re all going to die.”

“That’s a bit certain.”

“Epistemic distance is shit,” he proclaimed. “No, I’m certain of it. Unless the author of this increasingly cold world—which there isn’t one, I would caution—has in store a deus ex machina and a rather unsatisfying ending, we are all going to freeze.”

“So, because it would be unsatisfying, you think we’re going to die.”

“Don’t you?”

Twilight wanted to say that she did not. She would have loved to say that she had hope, that she clung to some warm hope and dream of Celestia riding the clouds over an embattled Canterlot, bringing with her the light of the sun.

Instead, she said, “The world isn’t a story. It’s a country full of living, breathing, real ponies like you and me, who deserve better than to freeze to death because aesthetically it would be bold and impressive.” She paused. “This whole… line of discussion is odd. Let’s go back to Manehattan if you’re so interested in it.”

“Which I am.”

“What do you know?” Twilight asked. “I guess instead of talking, I’m going to be lecturing.”

“I have it on reliable sources that you do that very, very well. I know nothing. Well, no, that is a lie. I know many things, but pretend that I am ignorant as a child.”

So she told him everything.

Twilight

The Beachhead is twelve miles wide and seven miles deep. At the shallowest point, it is still a mile of contested territory. The city stands but is taken. The outskirts burn or are ash to be carried by the wind and trod under horseshoes made from iron. The air is cold, which Twilight could stand if it were static, but it is not. It moves. It whistles. It screams and pushes at them when they leave the safety of the hollow shells of households or stand too long in the wind tunnels of streets.

They are not all gathered in one place. Luna wished for all six of the elements at her side, but Twilight had talked her down. Fluttershy is back behind their lines helping with wounded streaming in from the bridge, with Pinkie as her right hoof. Rarity is at the heel of the Moon’s shepherd, which leaves the fighters with Twilight in the Manehattan suburb of Canter’s Crossing.

They came over the sea because the sun was failing. It’s rather logical, honestly, when one’s homeland is freezing over in the long night. The sun will not shine long enough to thaw the mountainous eyeries of the Griffons; they shiver and they grow faint, and the prey moves or dies. The crops of their thralls and serfs do not grow, and the lesser beings that are confined to earth wither.

In short, they are dying.

Even now, they are dying. As an old stallion may yet raise himself out of bed right at the door of death, so they too sail across the sea and take a single startled city in hopes that they might at least die in company.

The city they took without too much of a fight. With twenty thousand armored griffons hurtling out of the sky, much of the potential resistance just failed to materialize. Celestia was gone. The skies were dark. It only made sense that the griffons fall from the skies and raze the place, being the end of the world and all.

But, so far, they have not razed it. The outskirts they burned after moving ponies in or sending them away. It has all been to keep the city isolated and keep any defenders from feeling comfortable. There is nowhere for them to sleep, nowhere to find food or the faces of the fearful that could give them courage.

Above all, Twilight is preoccupied with two things: the rain and the sun. Or, rather, the all-encompassing presence of the first and the sucking vacuum of the second. Her coat is damp but drying. It is hard not to at least be grateful for that even if it came at the cost of taking refuge in a burnt-out house a bit too like the ones in Ponyville. Without the sun peeking through the uniform gray sky, it was hard to dry off without magic.

The rain beats down upon the churned mud of the Manehattan plains. It beats a steady march upon the exposed floor above them. It pools outside the doorway that had lost its door. She thinks it the best of all possible weapons in that it required nothing to use and, even when missing, it added to the misery.

But inside, where Twilight could summon and maintain a small magical fire, there is relative peace. The miserable rain’s rhythm was more like a song, strange and lilting and too far away to be of any meaning or import.

They all huddle close together for warmth. Rainbow, Applejack, Twilight, the two aides. Everypony suffered in kind. It was the way of the Army of the North.

Time passes. The Army is marching. Luna is impatient, and Twilight is restless. Applejack is reserved. Rainbow Dash wants to break things. It is as it will be later on, for not much has changed. It will change, perhaps, but in the Now that is Twilight at the bridge into Manehattan, they are all playing their own self-assigned roles.

The fighting is fierce. Twilight will remember it well, remember calling down lightning from the burdened, pregnant clouds on the griffon gunners. She will recall, months hence, how the lithe pegasi tried to dodge and weave but were weighed down by water and were caught in strong, iron grips and torn from the sky they were born to like bugs crushed by cart wheels.

But she will mostly remember that the Army of the North threw themselves upon the embankments dug into the earth and raised upon the great drawbridge and how they were repulsed. How this happened many, many times. She will remember the rain stopping and the long day where the sun shone for fifteen hours and ponies and griffons alike could have wept for joy but killed each other in the light instead because it was useful.

But most of all, Twilight will remember when Luna ordered the Army of the North to cease their bombardments. She will remember the look in Luna’s eyes that she will never, ever name, but will say made her very still and took all of the sun’s warmth out of her. The day passed, the night passed, and Twilight sees the coming of the end when the King of Griffona arrives in the early light of blood-red dawn with his ironshod bodyguard. He is old, and he is weary, and for all the world, Twilight wonders at how he is not upset or angry. He seems resigned. Almost relieved. It is the look of a creature that has gone to great lengths to say something to someone.

The griffons revolt. Within the city, order has been kept and ponies unharmed, but the entropy in the air has worked its dark magic on the hearts of griffons. They hem and haw, they argue, they push each other, they hunger.

Twilight, above all, remembers the disbandment of the last army of Griffona. She remembers it because of three things. She remembers his son crying over the slain after the week of blood. She remembers the piling of bodies.

She remembers the evidence that griffons eat meat.

Twilight

Axiom accepted this until the end.

“And then? What did you find?”

Twilight shrugged as if trying to shake him off. “I can’t describe it.”

“Nonsense. You’re Twilight. I watched you leave teachers speechless. You can keep up with the princess. You can describe something simple like this.”

Twilight shook her head, adamant. “No, I can’t. It wasn’t something simple at all.”

“Fine,” Axiom groused. “I suppose I got something, at least.” After a moment, he sighed. “The Duke can be manipulated easily, brought around to your side like he chose it for himself. Especially if you can mention the Blues and make it seem like something that the Chief will hate.”

“Chief?” Applejack asked, and Twilight found the sound of her voice after so long to be strange.

“The leader of the Blues. He was the chief of police above us in Vanhoover before the fighting.” He chuckled. “You see, we were all quite different, not that long ago. I was a dropout, the Duke was a minor noble who owned a string of restaurants and collected art, and the Chief was keeping the ponies on the street safe. Now, I’m somewhere between court jester and advisor, the Duke is leading a guerrilla army, and the Chief is murdering anypony who shows their face long enough for him to kick it.”

“Pretty drastic change,” Twilight said.

“What happened?” Pinkie asked. “Why are they doing all of this? Didn’t you all get along before?”

“Perhaps. It’s hard to really talk about that when you have so many ponies to talk about. Aren’t we getting along, Ms. Pinkie Pie?” Axiom asked.

Twilight glanced over at Pinkie, breaking her connection to the chair, and saw her nod.

“And yet we are not really friends, though I bear you no ill will. In fact, outside of circumstance, we have no connection. So it was with Vanhoover or, really, any city. We get along because we are separate and because it is convenient to be so.”

“I guess,” Pinkie conceded with a look of contemplation.

“So you ‘Grays’ jump outta these caves, wallop some fools on the surface, get your flanks kicked yourselves, and then just hide again?” Applejack asked. “Can’t hold onto nothin’?”

“Not at all,” Axiom said, grinning sardonically. “It is rather idiotic, isn’t it? It seemed like a good idea, at first. Those damn Blues—you see, I can’t escape how I feel about them. I’m not entirely detached. But when it begins, you feel as if it is necessary because perhaps it is. Action is called for or else surrender to meaningless death. So you fight. And then a few months later, you wake up, and it feels like it is all for nothing. It helps that the city is ruined.”

“And all these ponies? Who are they?” Applejack pressed.

Twilight looked down at the ground, troubled, but glad, somehow, to have spoken. Even if she kept that last, promised end to herself. They could guess. She didn’t have to say it.

“Refugees. Some of them pledged the Gray when it was a matter of voting. Most just don’t want to die quite yet, and so they got off the streets any way that they could and kept burrowing deeper into the earth until they found our camp, here.”

“And where are all y’all? You talk as if there’s some sort of army, but all I’m seein’ is…” Applejack counted. “I’d reckon only about thirty of you at most.”

“There are other camps,” Axiom said, his eyes drifting to the Duke’s tent. “Do I hear him? I think I do. Listen to me quickly. Only one of you speak at a time; ask what you need, and do it quickly; and don’t lie to him. Treat him like an actual duke.”

Axiom left them, then, and stood before the opening of the Duke’s tent. Twilight and her companions stood at attention, waiting for him to appear.

And he did. Twilight’s first impression was that he was a reimagined Harvest. He was massive. His legs were like trees; his body was hard like stone. His eyes were clouded, not quite milky with blindness, but dangerously close. His gait was like a parody of a king’s.

He said nothing to Axiom, simply nodding and prancing to his old chair, which he sat down in heavily.

To Twilight, who knew better, the airs that he tried to affect in that chair fell flat. He was no duke, she thought, though she thought it without any fire and with little ice. He was a hoary head without a crown on a chair of borrowed wood in a cave filled with lost and lonely eyes. Oh, he was trying to appear elsewise, she could feel it. He certainly sat up straight and looked her in the eye; that was clear. She thought there might be recognition there, but the strange milkyness of those diseased things was hard to read.

“Twilight Sparkle, then,” he said, and to her surprise, his voice was light and youthful, like a young stallion’s. He appeared older than he was, perhaps.

“That’s my name,” she replied evenly.

Yes, he really wasn’t that old. She guessed, now, that he was out of his early adulthood but not yet in the prime of life. Given a few years, as a noble, and he would have been running the circus honorum of local offices, small political appointments to build his character and prestige. If the northern earth ponies did that. She thought they did.

“And yet you do not ask how I recognized you on sight.”

Twilight sighed. “Honestly, I’m more surprised that so few seem to. I mean, yes, Celestia tried her best to keep us out of the papers…”

“Ah, but I happened to attend the Grand Galloping Gala, Miss Sparkle.”

It was strange. Twilight blinked then tilted her head. A smile slowly, slowly brightened her face, and at last she sat down and laughed.

Axiom gaped at her in genuine dismay. Through Twilight’s peals of laughter, she saw no trace of his mask. But Twilight didn’t care at all. The Gala! The Grand Galloping Gala! What a ridiculous name! What a ridiculous event! What tiny, ridiculous ponies!

It felt like another world altogether as if something had bitten off her own chunk of time from the main and the Gala was in a happier bit yet undevoured. It was too funny. She couldn’t even picture herself there, let alone him, let alone any of it.

The Duke straightened in his ludicrous chair, and somehow it just made everything funnier.