Ghosts of Gods

A mother's worry for her child is unique. It is a pervasive sort of fear, genuinely deeper than any concern she might ever feel for herself. It pervades her thoughts, and steals away her peace of mind. It denies her sleep, and becomes the defining aspect of her being.

On this day, striding into Canterlot Castle at the summons of Princess Celestia, that steady, creeping terror plied itself heavily on the mind and heart of Lyra Heartstrings.

“Mom, this place is really big. Have you ever been here, before?”

“Once or twice,” she said.

In reality, there had been precisely two times; one a wedding, the other a coronation. Both would, in the end, have more bearing on this visit than the unicorn could now imagine.

She was sick to her stomach. The letter that she had received, clearly marked “From the Desk of Princess Celestia,” had instructed her to bring her son to the castle at this specific time, but had made no mention of why. There had been also clear instructions to tell nopony where they were going or what they were doing.

The guard leading them had said nothing so far, and his looming presence was becoming somewhat unnerving.

To her surprise, he led them through the foyer, and out another door, into the Castle Gardens. It was a lovely place, and it relaxed Lyra somewhat. That was probably what Princess Celestia had intended, she decided, but whether that was a good sign or a bad one, she could not guess. At last, the Princess came into view. She stood in a small grove of trees, and her face was solemn, though welcoming. To Lyra's surprise, Princess Luna was also present, sipping from a coffee cup. It was she who first noticed their approach, and she nudged her sister to make her aware of them.

The guard stopped, and gestured for them to continue. Lyra was somewhat relieved to see that both Princesses were beckoning to them with pleasant looks. Still, however, as she approached, she sensed a heavy weight in the way they observed her son.

“Salutations,” said Celestia. Lyra bowed instinctively, and the colt, seeing his mother's behavior, mimicked it.

"Salutations to you, too, your majesty,” replied Lyra, and at last she could not contain herself. “What's going on?”

“I do not know exactly where to begin,” said Celestia, “so I will start at the beginning. First, however, Luna.” She nodded at her sister, and the smaller alicorn walked over, and looked at the confused, terrified colt.

She knelt down, and smiled at him.

“Don't worry,” she said. “You haven't done anything wrong. I just need to ask you some questions. Come with me.”

As Princess Luna led her son away to another part of the garden, Lyra felt her heart tugging her after the little colt, but she knew she had to stay.

“Ten years ago,” said Celestia, “there was an incident involving a sort of... outer god. It was a powerful spirit from the distant cosmos that my father long ago named 'Cenasolus,' which means 'Sun Eater.'”

Beginning from there, she told Lyra the story of how Cenasolus had come to be known to Equestria, how it had forced her father, Sol, the former god of the sun, to sacrifice his own life to sate its hunger, how it had returned aeons later, and how, once given awareness, it had chosen to become a simple earth pony – her son.

“It's true that you filled out all the requisite forms, and underwent all the normal processes associated with adopting a foal. What you did not know was that there was another process, conducted at my behest; You were chosen specifically to be Shimmershine's adoptive mother – chosen by me.”

“Why me?” asked Lyra.

“Because you were, by all indications, of immaculate character.” said Celestia, smiling. “You also lived in Ponyville, which was adjacent enough to Canterlot that I could keep an eye on you – and him. It was unfortunate that I... lost my most reliable liaisons in Ponyville shortly thereafter. However, I still made a point to keep a certain degree of awareness as to how your son was doing. It was a stroke of luck that I happened to be in a position to find out that he had been suffering from recurrent nightmares, as of late. Luna used some of her more unique powers to examine the situation.”

She paused, and raised her head, her expression growing severe.

“Your son's very existence has become a threat to the entire world,” said Celestia.

Lyra sank to her haunches, her heart melting within her.

“How come I was never told all this before?” asked the unicorn.

“We never told you because it was always our hope that Shimmershine would have an ordinary life. Would you have thought of him the same way – treated him the same way – if you had known?”

“I don't know,” said Lyra. “I would have loved him, I'm sure.”

“But would you have wanted him in the first place?” asked Celestia.

Lyra said nothing for a few moments.

“I don't know,” she finally said, through a sigh, “but he's mine, now, as far as I'm concerned, and that's just the way it's going to be. Now, how is it that Shim can put the whole world in danger? He's just a colt, and you said yourself that he doesn't remember anything about what he was, before.”

“Very well,” said Celestia. “We think that somehow, the beings that Cenasolus absorbed throughout its long, long existence are beginning to awaken and to remember who and what they were. They are using the aethervox, the very heart that beats inside your son's chest, to project themselves out into our world. The first place they will manifest themselves is in the subconscious of ponies they can reach. It will be unicorns, first, owing to a greater general sensitivity to magical influences. I'm sure you have experienced some strange dreams as of late, have you not, Lyra?”

“Yes,” said Lyra, her blood chilling.

“And in these dreams,” asked Celestia, “What do you see?”

“Terrible things,” said Lyra. “ I see creatures... monsters that don't seem like they belong in this world. They speak strange languages, and they all seem angry and full of hate... and regret. What are they, Princess?”

“It is a crude metaphor,” said Celestia, “but in a very real sense, they are ghosts; ghosts of gods.”

“What do you mean to do?” asked Lyra.

“I do not know,” said Celestia. “There was magic in Equestria, once, which could have perhaps given them their final peace, but it is gone, now. Still, Luna and I will do what we can to put a stop to this, and with any luck, both Equestria and your son will be whole and unharmed when it is done.”

“And what if you're not so lucky?” asked Lyra.

“Optime Facimus,” said Celestia. “We do our best.”

***

Applejack sat alone, staring across the balcony at her friends. They seemed happy, she finally decided, even Fluttershy, and that was a strange thing to see, these days. She caught bits and pieces of their conversation, and part of her was genuinely curious as to its entirety. Overall, though, she wasn't sure she wanted to be a part of it.

“What are you doing over here?” It was Princess Cadance.

“Minding my own business,” said Applejack. "Ever tried it?"

Cadance gave her a hard look, but then her eyes softened.

"Come on, Applejack. You could have minded your own business in Ponyville. Don't you at least want to talk to her?”

“I thought I did," said the earth mare, "but now that I see her, I think it'd be better for her if she didn't speak to me. Might be better for me, too. I guess I really just wanted to see she was alive and well.”

“That's all?” asked Cadance.

“Reckon so,” Applejack shrugged, and she felt a watery, twisting sensation in her guts. “Where's a bathroom?”

At least that would get her away from this balcony and the pink alicorn's prying questions.

“Third door on the right in the second hall to the left,” said Cadance.

“Know what? I'll just find it on my own,” said Applejack, and she headed inside.

“Every-goddamn-pony thinks they got some kinda right to decide how I should feel about this bullshit” She ground her teeth, and something about the anger coursing through her blood actually helped her to remember Cadance' directions.

Finding the restroom, she stepped inside. She'd been dragging herself through the last twenty-four hours on nothing but whiskey, grit, and anger, and it was taking its toll on her digestive tract.

She did what she had to do, and having no better plan, decided to return to the balcony, if only to watch. She wasn't sure why. She still had no idea of why she had even come here. If there had been any curiosity in her, it had been slaked, and she should want to go home. Still, though, something gnawed at her mind.

As she neared the archway that led out onto the balcony, she almost tripped over her own hooves. Three mares had joined the group: Sweetie Belle, who stood next to Rarity, Scootaloo, who was speaking to Rainbow Dash, and of course Applebloom, who stood to the side, by herself, looking quite confused.

It wasn't hard for Applejack to guess why.

She looked healthy and strong. She was taller than Applejack – taller than Twilight, in fact. She had been for years, having received no small portion of the same genes their mother had bestowed Big Macintosh. For all her height and solidity, though, she was still pretty. She would have no trouble finding a good stallion, and she would have a happy life.

Run, thought Applejack. Get back on the goddamned train, and go home. She don't need to see your orange ass, whether she thinks she does, or not. Let this shit alone.

Applebloom sighed, and it was so deep that Applejack could see it from where she stood, seemingly so far away.

“That or I could grow some balls,” she said, and she walked towards her sister.

She moved into the light of the sun, and she had made it not three steps before Applebloom spotted her. For a moment, her face beamed, but she reigned it in to a slight nod and a faint smile as quickly as she could. It was the Apple Family way.

Applejack continued walking until she stood in front of the younger mare. She drew herself to her full height, so as not to seem so much shorter than her sister. This of course elicited aches and pains from various muscles and joints all over her body.

“Howdy,” was all that she said.

“Howdy-do to you,” said Applebloom, her eyes shifting away from her sister's face.

“I owe you a drink,” said the smaller, older mare. “That's still the rule, ain't it? Winner buys?”

“Reckon so,” said Applebloom.

Over near the railing of the balcony, at the edge of the group of ponies, Pinkie Pie stood next to Cadance, watching the two farm girls do their best to make amends.

“You gonna help that along?” asked Pinkie Pie.

Cadance turned her eyes sidelong, and saw Pinkie glancing between her horn and cutie mark.

“I could,” said Cadance, “but the older I get, the more I realize something: real love doesn't need magic to survive. Most of the time, if I just keep my hooves off, I get to watch things fix themselves.”

“That sounds kinda boring,” said Pinkie Pie.

“You're wrong,” said Cadance, smiling. “It's thrilling.”

***

“So, he has no memory of what he was?” asked Celestia. A snifter of Cognac floated beside her, and she and was sipping at it periodically.

“Nothing substantial” said Luna, snickering quietly at the enormous snifter. Celestia had apparently had it custom-made, at some point, and it would have been comically large for any equine other than herself. Luna was drinking from a normal, pony-sized snifter that was otherwise identical in appearance.

The two alicorns were sitting together in Celestia's chamber. Lyra Heartstrings had been asked to take some time in the city with her son so that they could deliberate upon what they had discovered.

“Is there any trace at all of what he used to be?” asked Celestia.

“Only a faint memory that plays itself out as a dream. His mind seems to revert somewhat to its former state of being, but he still thinks of himself as Shimmershine. The voices come to him in these dreams, and it terrifies and confuses him because he does not consciously remember that former existence. I am uncertain what would happen if he was somehow restored to a full awareness of what he used to be.”

“I keep wondering if that might allow him to control these manifestations. Perhaps he could absorb these consciousnesses back into his own.” said Celestia. “That would not give them true peace, but it would at least save Equestria... and the world.”

“I have considered the same possiblity,” said Luna, “but there are implications...”

“That we may have to accept,” said Celestia. “No force available to us will be sufficient to repel the advances of so many deities. We don't even know what the true scope of their power is.”

“But this is not their world,” said Luna. “You and I will be far more powerful than they are, here, so long as the sun and moon still shine.”

“Yes,” said Celestia, “but there are so many of them, and only two of us – and there are mightier beings than ourselves in the universe. What happens if even the weakened manifest consciousness of an entire galaxy or perhaps an ancient neutron star forces its way into our world? What if it's driven mad with lust for vengeance and with the confusion and agony of its rebirth? What if it decides to try and claim our world as its own?”

“Cataclysm, at best,” said Luna. Her voice darkened as she spoke, again. “More likely, we just die.”

Celestia nodded, and took a deep drink from her snifter.

"If only we had the Elements," she said, "we could lay those souls to rest."

"Let it go," said Luna.

"I cannot," said Celestia. "Is it not my own judgment that's to blame? Didn't I place the fate of the world in the hooves of somepony who wasn't ready for that burden? It was no fault of hers, but I should have seen..."

"Seen what?" asked Luna, interrupting her. "That your old student would come back to visit tragedy on your new one?" She shook her head. "That was beyond anypony's ability to predict. Moreover, would any of that have ever happened if I had not abandoned my own responsibility to the Elements?"

"I abandoned mine as well, Luna," said Celestia. "I left the greatest gift Father and Mother gave our world as so many cold, gray stones in a ruin in the woods."

"Out of despair I inflicted," said Luna. "It is as much my fault as yours."

"Failures at every turn, the lot of us," said Celestia.

The room fell silent, the two big mares drinking in silence. Finally, Luna spoke up.

“There is an option we have not discussed," she said, her words dark and solemn.

“I won't kill him, Luna; not unless every other avenue has failed us.”

“Just checking,” said Luna, sighing.

“He's just a foal.” Celestia rose, and walked to the window, where she stared down at Canterlot, far below. “Regardless of what he used to be, insofar as he is aware of himself, he's just a little colt that likes to play games with his friends. I know; I've seen him do it. He's a happy, normal child, and he doesn't even have a cutie mark, yet. I won't deny him a future, if there is any other way, at all.”

“But if there is no other way?” asked Luna.

“Then I will do it myself,” said Celestia.

“Just checking,” Luna said again, more sadly, this time. She took a sip of her own drink. “But if we restore his awareness of what he used to be, he will, in a sense, lose what he has become, anyway.”

“I know that,” said Celestia, “but we swore to help him to know what it meant to love and to be loved. If he is killed, or if the world is destroyed, and he along with it, then we have failed in that oath. If he is merely changed, however...”

“Could Discord do something?” asked Luna, suddenly.

“Doubtful,” said Celestia. “The nature of his magic does not lend itself well to our current predicament. Besides, we're talking about the rampant manifestation of a tremendous number of powerful spirits all trying to reshape reality according to their own will. He would most likely find the idea intriguing, if not outright appealing. Best he be left out of this.”

“Then I am out of ideas,” said Luna. “We shall simply have to awaken the thing that sleeps inside this colt. How do we go about it?”

“To our great fortune,” said Celestia, “Twilight Sparkle happens to be well-versed in memory spells. She used to use them to help herself memorize facts and figures. The one she used to restore her friends' memories when they were corrupted by Discord – now that you mention him -- may work, but I must confess I have no idea of its particulars, or even which book in which to find it. That one was a Starswirl number; not one of mine.”

“So, we send the foal to Twilight Sparkle, then?” asked Luna.

“Yes, but I mustn't go,” said Celestia. “Neither should you. We need her to cooperate, and she may not, if one of us shows up.”

“This is important enough that she should be able to set aside any ill feelings she has towards you, sister.” said Luna.

Celestia glanced back over her shoulder.

“She should,” said the white horse, “but could she?” She turned fully towards Luna, now, and her eyes softened.

“Could you?”

***

Twilight sat at a reading desk she had requested to be placed in her room. Had she taken the large, royal suite that Cadance had offered her, it would already have been so equipped, but she had felt strange to be offered such finery. Never, even for a moment, had she really felt like a Princess, and after what had happened, she knew that she could never begin to think of herself that way.

She was reading not a book, but a letter. It had come out of the fireplace in Shining Armor's office two hours ago, addressed to her, directly, and her brother had dropped it by her room, himself. In the interval since, she must have read it half a dozen times.

“Why can't things in my past just stay buried, these days?”

She stepped to a window, and opened it. Then, she lit a cigarette, and French inhaled, as she usually did when buried in her thoughts.

“Ghosts of gods,” she mumbled through lips half-shut. “Gonna be a rumble out on the promenade.”

She had smoked over half the cigarette's length when three short, sharp knocks erupted from her door.

“Applejack?” she thought, astonished that she could still recognize her friends by the way they knocked at a door.

“Come in,” she said, and sure enough, behind the opening door stood the earth mare.

“Howdy,” was all that she said. It was the first word she'd spoken to Twilight since arriving.

“Hi,” said Twilight.

“I just came by to say...” Applejack paused, and a peculiar look washed over her face. “I don't know.”

“Well, glad you got that out of the way,” said Twilight.

“Fuck you, Twi,” said Applejack. “How you been?”

“How do you think?” was all that Twilight could say in response.

“My guess?” asked Applejack. “Lonesome.”

“Yeah,” said Twilight. “There was some of that.”

“Hmm,” was Applejack's only response.

Twilight poured a glass of wine from a bottle of good Merlot Cadance had brought her, and took a sip.

“How about you?” she asked. “What's the deal with you and Applebloom?”

“Ah, that's kinda ugly,” said Applejack. “Big Mac got married, Granny Smith got dead, and I got mean as hell. It was all too much for her, I guess. We got into a fight, and I ran her off, like the heartless bitch I am.”

“Applejack, you might be a bitch," said Twilight, "but you're not heartless."

“Tell that to the fellas down in Ponyville,” said Applejack.

“I would, but I'm not going back there. Everything in sight would probably make me cry.”

“What for?” asked Applejack. “You didn't do nothing wrong.”

“Ponyville was my first real home, Applejack. I knew who I was there. Now, I don't know who I am anywhere – least of all here.”

“So you got knocked down,” said Applejack. “Don't know if you've noticed, but we all been knocked down. You just gotta pick yourself up.”

“I can't,” said Twilight flatly. “I tried.”

Applejack sighed, and the sigh slowly morphed into a huff. From the huff, there sprang a shout.

“Then roll over on your belly, Twi, and start climbing the floor! Crawl, goddammit! That's what I did when Momma and Daddy died. It's what I did when Granny Smith died. It's what I did when I got so motherfucking mean my sister-in-law begged my brother into building a separate house on the farm to get her and her foals the hell away from me. It's what I did when I realized I'd drove away damn near everypony I had left in the world to give a shit about!”

Applejack drew a breath, and then spoke more quietly.

“Or to give a shit about me.”

Twilight drew one last puff from her cigarette, then flicked the butt out the window.

“Just don't you dare lay your ass down and die,” said Applejack. “You lay down and die, and we're all just gonna lay down and die right beside you.”

She shook her head.

“We spent all these years hoping that you might come back and prove there was more to what we used to be than some ugly-ass jewelry, Twilight. If it turns out that's all it was, then I reckon I wasted forty bits on a train ticket, and a day I shoulda spent getting a new coat of paint on the barn.”

She turned to leave, and looked back over her shoulder.

“Reckon that's what I came all this way to say.”

She walked away, and slammed the door behind her.

***

Sweetie Belle wandered through the corridors of the crystal palace, confused, irritated, and anxious.

“Hey,” she called out to a passing guard. “Have you seen a white unicorn around here?”

The guard raised an eyebrow, and said nothing.

“Other than me,” she said. “Purple mane and tail, and three diamonds for a cutie mark.”

“Oh,” said the guard. “Yeah, but not in the last hour.”

“Well, where was she?” asked Sweetie Belle.

“Last I saw her, she was going into one of the guest rooms with that pink earth pony,” said the guard. "What's that pink one's name, by the way? She stops and gets kinda hoovesy with me every time she passes by."

"Don't bother," said Sweetie Belle. "Pinkie Pie gets hoovesy with any stallion she thinks might be single."

"Pinkie Pie, eh?" said the stallion. "Thanks."

"She's got three kids," said Sweetie Belle.

"Never mind," said the Stallion.

"Good boy," said Sweetie Belle. "Now, which room was it?"

"Fourth on the right."

"Thanks," she said, and walked off towards the indicated doorway.

It was less than two hours until her show started, and she'd heard no word from Rarity since before noon. She wandered up to the guest rooms, wondering if Rarity would still be there, and if so, how to find which room she even occupied.

It wasn't hard; she could hear her sister's laughter from down the hallway, and followed it to the door, where she stopped and gave a knock.

“Who is it?” This was Pinkie Pie's voice.

“It's Sweetie Belle,” she said. “Is Rarity in there?”

There was no response for several seconds, and then the door opened. Rarity stood before her, swaying slightly. Sweetie Belle could hear Pink Floyd's “Us and Them” playing from somewhere inside, and the air hung heavy with the scent of marijuana smoke.

“Yes, Sweetie?” Rarity asked, plainly.

“The show's in two hours. What are you doing here?”

“Just relaxing with an old friend,” said Rarity, which of course meant she was high.

“Rarity! You can't do this! I need you, tonight.”

“I'll get myself in gear for it, Sweetie; don't worry.”

“Which means what?” asked Sweetie Belle. “You're gonna snort a line on top of whatever you've already been doing in there?”

Rarity sighed. “I'll handle myself. If you need something fixed, just lay it out. I'll be there to do it in about an hour.”

“That's not what I mean,” said Sweetie Belle. “I mean I need you to be there, and be yourself.”

“I am myself,” said Rarity, a hard edge in her voice. Then, her eyes brightened. “Why don't you come in for a moment. You're really uptight, for some reason.”

“Uptight?” asked Sweetie Belle. “I'm worried about you, and I just want you to be somewhere nearby in case I fuck up again.”

“Sweetie, you're fine. You always do well, and nopony ever notices those little flubs here and there. You're trying too hard to be perfect. Now, come inside.”

“No,” said Sweetie Belle, and she headed down the hallway, the way she had come. “Just be there,” she said, not looking back. “Please.”

“I will,” said Rarity, her voice distant.

As she shut the door, and stepped back into the room, Pinkie Pie gave her a peculiar look.

“Is that how things are between you two?” she asked.

“It's nothing,” said Rarity. “That girl has got to learn to stand on her own four hooves.”

“She's just a little nervous, Rarity,” said Pinkie Pie. “She's only been doing this for a little while, now.”

“I know,” said Rarity, “but still...” She shook her head. “I'm going to need something to pick me up.”

“Don't,” said Pinkie Pie. “Please.”

“You're the one that brought the weed and the pills,” said Rarity.

“Well,” said Pinkie, “I wish I hadn't.”

“Don't be like that,” said Rarity. “We were having a good time.”

Pinkie Pie sighed.

“We're getting too old for this, Rarity.”

“Too old?” asked Rarity.

“I mean we have responsibilities, now,” said Pinkie Pie. “I can't let myself do this kinda thing, anymore. What if my foals found out their mom was a junkie party girl? I don't want them to live like I used to.”

“It'll be okay, Pinkie,” said Rarity, doing her best to be reassuring. "You're a far cry from a junkie. Believe me, I know."

“No,” said Pinkie Pie. “I'm done – at least for now. I'm going out for a walk to sober up.”

“Alright,” said Rarity. “I'll just have to run back to my suite at the hotel and pick something up before I head over to the amphitheater.”

“Don't,” said Pinkie Pie.

Rarity sighed, and rolled her eyes just a bit.

“If anypony should know that I know what I'm doing,” said the unicorn,” it's you.”

She opened the door, and stepped out, leaving the earth pony standing alone with the music still playing.

“I hope you do, Rarity,” said Pinkie Pie. “I really do.”

***

Elsewhere in the Crystal City, Applejack sat alone at a bar, staring into an empty glass. The bartender's hoof came into her field of vision, and tapped the empty vessel twice on the rim.

She nodded, and it was quickly refilled. Before she could so much as take a sip, a yellow hoof snatched it away.

“What the hell?” She looked to her left, and was surprised to see Applebloom.

“Only took me three bars to find you,” said her sister. “What are we drinking?”

“Old Granddad One-Fourteen,” said Applejack – to the bartender, who poured her another.

“Gods bless Old Granddad,” said Applebloom, raising her glass.

“And the whiskey that killed him,” said Applejack, raising her glass, as well. “Clink and drink.”

They did, and the bartender refilled both glasses without being asked.

“You're gonna run up a hell of a tab,” said Applebloom.

“I'm charging it to Princess Cadance,” said Applejack.

“Does she know that?” asked Applebloom.

“Would she care?” asked Applejack. “Doubt she keeps her own books.”

“Probably not,” said Applebloom.

Neither pony said anything. They just sat, and sipped in silence. It was their way of making up.

Finally, after each had finished her drink, Applebloom looked at her sister.

“Something I never told you,” she said.

“Huh?” asked Applejack.

“Back when Granny Smith was going downhill there at the end, she started confusing me for you, a lot.”

“She confused everypony for everypony,” said Applejack, “even before she started going downhill.”

“Yeah, but she'd say things to me that she meant for you.”

“Like what?” asked Applejack.

“She'd say, 'Promise me you won't work yourself so hard, today, Applejack. Go into town and talk to some ponies. Find you a nice gentlecolt.' You know; all that sorta thing.”

“She said all those things to me all the time in private,” said Applejack. “You ain't telling me nothing I didn't already know.”

“Yeah, I kinda figured,” said Applebloom. “But I wanted you to know that I didn't just leave home on account of we had a fight. I left home because I thought that maybe if I got gone, and you weren't worried with me all the time, you might take some time for yourself; be a little happier, you know?”

“Is that it, now?” asked Applejack, the emotion dropping out of her voice.

“I'd been thinking of it for awhile,” said Applebloom. “I asked Pinkie Pie, though, and from the sound of it, I don't reckon it worked out that way.” She took a sip of her drink.

“I wish you'd let yourself off,” said Applebloom. “Everypony else has, including me.”

“Fine and dandy,” said Applejack, shrugging. “but still...” She tilted her head back, and stared at the ceiling, a sigh escaping her throat. It came in a long hiss, the product of lungs now too powerful for the body that bore them, strengthened by years of hard labor that had made them stronger while slowly breaking down everything that they fed. Applejack's lips did not open and nostrils did not flare, but Applebloom heard the sound, all the same. Finally, the orange mare spoke once more.

“I'm sorry I said what I said. I ain't gonna say I didn't mean it, but I shoulda had better sense than meaning a thing like that, to begin with.”

“To mean I oughtta get out and do for myself?” asked Applebloom. “Fuck, girl, I needed to hear that shit.”

They said nothing for a while, and then Applejack spoke.

“So what do we do, now?" she asked.

“Get on with living, I suppose.” said Applebloom. “I'll be home for Hearth's Warming. Right now, I gotta go run light and sound cues.”

“Alright,” said Applejack. “See you Hearth's Warming, I suppose.”

“Oh yeah,” said Applebloom, and she reached underneath her vest. “I got something of yours.”

From underneath the khaki vest came nothing other than the Element of Honesty. Applejack almost spat her whiskey on the bartender's face.

“I threw that goddamn thing away,” said Applejack, stunned.

“Yeah,” said Applebloom. “I saw. I went down in the old ravine the next day and found it. I always kept it with me 'cause it sorta made me feel like you were around, somehow. Made me feel at home, you know?"

She gave a short, embarrassed laugh, and turned her eyes away from her sister, not speaking for several seconds.

“I always felt kinda bad about taking it," she finally said, scratching at the back of her head. "You can throw it away again, if you want. I won't go digging for it, this time.”

With that, the younger sister gave a nod, stood, up, and walked away, leaving Applejack alone, staring at the necklace lying on the bar.

“Ugly thing,” said Applejack, draining her glass. “Ugly as hell.”

***

Fluttershy plodded along a corridor of the Crystal Palace. She'd been wandering its halls ever since she and Rarity had returned from a shopping spree that unicorn had insisted upon once she learned that Fluttershy had been unable to bring more than one sweater and her old Winter Wrap-Up vest. It had done little to curb the pegasus' confusion.

“Where do I even go from here?” she asked herself. “Who am I, now? Twilight's back, and I can't go home, and...”

“There you are, Fluttershy!”

The sound of Cadance' voice startled Fluttershy so much that she actually leapt aloft, and hovered briefly before settling back down.

“I'm sorry,” laughed Cadance, who was standing behind the pegasus.

“It's okay,” said Fluttershy. “Just thinking; that's all.”

“Well, okay,” said Cadance. “I just wanted to talk to you. You... Your heart is a little... different, than I remember it.”

“You can just see that, huh?” asked Fluttershy, her face reddening.

“Feel it more than see," said Cadance. "It's what I do."

Fluttershy did not know how to respond.

“You feel kind of... heartsick,” said Cadance; “Longing, regret, shame, anger. That's not how I remember you.”

“How do you remember me, then?” asked Fluttershy.

“Distinctly,” said Cadance. “I always loved it when you were around. It gave me a wonderful feeling. You seemed to carry something with you wherever you went. It was this sort of calm, healing, beautiful... peace.”

“Really?” asked Fluttershy, staring at the floor. “I don't remember peace, Cadance.”

“Could you try?” asked the alicorn.

“What do you mean?” asked the pegasus.

“I have a little sister upstairs who doesn't quite believe in herself, anymore. She keeps locking herself in her room, even though all of her friends are here. I think she could use some of that peace I remember. I guess I was just hoping if you could go and ... well... be Fluttershy.”

“I think Fluttershy's a little broken,” said the pegasus.

“I think so, too,” said Cadance, choking back a tear, and clearing her throat. “Would you go, anyway?”

Fluttershy thought for a moment, and finally decided it could do no harm.

“I'll go,” said Fluttershy. “but I have no idea of what you're hoping for.”

“Nothing,” said Cadance.

So, Fluttershy climbed the stairs, and found her way to Twilight's room.

It wasn't hard to spot; it was the only door on the hallway that was shut.

“Twilight, are you there? It's Fluttershy.”

The door glowed faintly, and opened. Fluttershy stepped inside. The alicorn sat at a desk, smoking, and staring at what appeared to be a letter.

“Hi,” said the pegasus. “We didn't get to talk much, earlier.”

“Wow, Fluttershy.” said Twilight. “You're complaining that you didn't get to talk enough? It must be chilly in Hell, today.”

Fluttershy actually laughed.

“Probably,” she said. “Remember when we met?”

“Yeah,” said Twilight, still not turning her eyes from the letter. “You made squeaking noises.”

“That I did,” sighed Fluttershy.

“Then you freaked out over Spike,” said Twilight, and her shoulders slumped visibly.

Great, thought Fluttershy. I'm making things worse.

She turned, meaning to leave, but then, Twilight spoke again.

“I miss him, Fluttershy,” she said. “I wish I could apologize to him. I don't even know what happened to him. What if he's still alive in that world, stuck as a goddamned dog for the rest of his life? He was supposed to live for thousands of years as this gigantic, majestic... thing. I fuck up, and he gets maybe ten or fifteen years as a mutt – assuming Sunset Shimmer didn't just kill him.”

“If he's still alive,” said Fluttershy, “I'm sure he doesn't blame you. He probably misses you as much as you miss him.”

“More, I'll bet,” said Twilight. “He was really just a child, and he's stuck in a world he doesn't even belong to as a thing he was never meant to be.”

“Well, that's Sunset Shimmer's fault,” said Fluttershy; “not Twilight Sparkle's.”

“Guess so,” sighed Twilight, but Fluttershy could tell from the sound of her voice that she didn't really believe it.

“What about you?” asked the alicorn. “How have you been?”

Fluttershy drew in a breath, meaning to speak. She could find no words. She sighed deeply, and then it came to her.

“Twilight, have you looked at me?” Her voice cracked, and a tear ran down her cheek.

Something about hearing her old friend's composure beginning to crumble managed to pull the alicorn's face away from the letter.

“Yeah,” she said softly, and she stood up. “What happened?”

Fluttershy said nothing. She was in tears, but made not the slightest whimper. It was, by now, a practiced habit.

“Don't want to talk about it?” asked Twilight.

Fluttershy shook her head slowly and gently.

“Well,” said Twilight, her voice uncertain, “is there anything I can do?”

Fluttershy nodded, and then spoke, speaking slowly and carefully to keep her voice under control.

“When everypony else goes home to Ponyville,” she said, “will you ask Cadance if I can stay here? I can't go home.”

“Fluttershy,” said Twilight, “if I have to give you my own bed, I won't make you go home, if you don't want to.”

“Promise?” asked Fluttershy, and she began to sink downward, slowly.

“Promise,” said Twilight.

Fluttershy sank down completely onto her belly.

"Thank you, Twilight," she said. "Tell Cadance she'll never know I'm here."

***

Sweetie Belle felt the panic creeping through her mind well before anyone in the crowd noticed.

Why hadn't Rarity shown up? Her saddle was laced up all wrong; she was sure of it. She missed a step. She forgot a few lyrics. The lights seemed unbearably hot and bright. Why couldn't she hear herself in the monitors?

Then, it hit her: she wasn't singing, anymore. She was somewhere backstage, and the crowd was booing, loudly. It sounded like the droning of a thousand horrors from beyond the gates of Tartaros.

“Get her some water,” was the first thing she understood. It was Scootaloo's voice. Then there was Applebloom standing over her, as well. No; she was kneeling.

She realized that she was huddled on the floor in a fetal position, and Applebloom was stroking her mane.

“Tell the tour manager we can't go on with the tour, right now,” she heard Applebloom say. “We gotta reschedule or cancel or something.”

“We can't do that,” said Scootaloo. “We have to get her back out there. Where the hell is Rarity?”

“Nopony's seen her!” said Applebloom. “Look at her, Scoots. She's having a full-blown freak-out. Tell Sapphire Shores' crew she needs to go ahead and get started.”

“We're only fifteen minutes in!” shouted Scootaloo. “We can't just kill the show!”

“Well, do you wanna sing!?” asked Applebloom, angrily.

“Oh, haha.” said Scootaloo.

“What the hell is all this?” It was Rarity's voice, and Sweetie Belle lifted her head, slightly.

“Your fault!” shouted Scootaloo. “That's what it is!”

“Rarity?” it was the first word Sweetie Belle had uttered since running backstage in a fit of panic.

“What is it, Sweetie?” asked her sister, kneeling beside her. “Are you hurt?”

“No,” said Applebloom. “She's having a panic attack, or something.”

“Sweetie,” said Scootaloo, “if you're gonna unfuck yourself, now would be a good time. Ponies are leaving.”

“I can't do it,” said Sweetie Belle. “Not after that.”

Rarity surveyed the scene through hazy eyes.

It was, indeed, her fault. She hadn't meant to pass out, of course, but it was a risk she never should have taken. Pinkie's words about responsibility rolled through her mind, but she shut them out, quickly.

They would do no good, now.

***

At the same time Sweetie Belle was succumbing to her panic attack, Rainbow Dash sat in the dining room of the palace, hunched over in a dining chair. She felt horrible.

“Are you alright?” Twilight Sparkle spoke from somewhere nearby.

“Nuh-uh” was all the pegasus could manage.

“What's wrong?” Fluttershy's voice, she was sure, but it sounded a little hoarse, for some reason.

“Dizzy,” said Rainbow Dash. “Water. Get me some water.”

Twilight walked away at a fast trot, leaving Fluttershy.

“What's going on?” asked the pegasus, squatting down to bring her face into Rainbow Dash's view. Her eyes were puffy and red, even above and beyond what the inflamation around her stitched-up eyebrow should warrant.

“I'll explain in a minute,” said Rainbow Dash. “Just gotta get something to drink.”

She was badly dehydrated from repeated bouts of nausea.

Twilight returned with a glass of water, and Rainbow Dash guzzled it quickly.

“It's getting worse” mumbled Rainbow Dash.

“What's getting worse?” asked Twilight. “Are you okay?”

“Take me somewhere I can lie down,” said the pegasus.

They helped her to her hooves, and guided her to a couch in an adjacent room.

“Guys,” she said, “I might be done.”

“What do you mean, 'done?'” asked Twilight.

Rainbow Dash covered her eyes with a foreleg to shield them from the light.

“I've got a head problem. Too many concussions; maybe an inner ear thing, too,” she said. “They grounded me, and if this doesn't go away, I'm out of the Wonderbolts.”

“Oh, no,” said Fluttershy.

“Rainbow, I'm sorry,” said Twilight.

“Stop saying that,” said Rainbow Dash. “It's just bad luck; that's all.”

“It's your dream, though,” said Twilight; “all you ever wanted to do or be.”

“Yeah?” asked Rainbow Dash. “Well, I got it, didn't I?”

“Yes,” said Twilight, “but...”

“Put a lid on it,” said Rainbow Dash. “Stewing over this won't do me any good.”

“Could you fix it with magic, maybe?” asked Fluttershy.

“Not something like this,” said Twilight. “Chronic problems aren't usually receptive to magical treatment, and when it does work, the side-effects can be extreme.”

“Yeah,” said Rainbow Dash. “I read a little on it.”

“I'll bet you did,” said Twilight, touching her friend's shoulder.

Author's Note

I originally had the scene where Rarity asked Fluttershy to go shopping with her as more than a passing line, here, but it got absolutely nothing done. I hate when a scene doesn't accomplish anything, so I cut it. One of the few things I'm really disappointed in about this story is that I didn't get more Rarity/Fluttershy scenes into it, but Rarity is preoccupied with her own problems and with Sweetie Belle, and I felt that was more important for me to explore.

Cadance was a lot of fun for me. I liked the idea of her not just taking the shortcut of using magic to fix everyone's interpersonal problems. I used her as sort of a conniving, almost Gandalf-like character, here, but in a good way. She just wants everypony to be happy and to be friends, again, and I think that comes across.