The Demesne of the Reluctant Twilight Sparkle

by MrNumbers

Rating: teen
Tags: Slice of Life, Main 6, Original Character, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Spike, Comedy, Other, Romance
Length: 84612

When Luna gifts Twilight the town of Ponyville and its surrounding countryside as her demesne she's initially confused. Then, after double checking her dictionary, more than a little concerned.

[Featured on EQD 21/4/2014] [Now on TVTropes]

When Luna gifts Twilight the town of Ponyville and its surrounding countryside as her demesne she's initially confused. Then, after double checking her dictionary, more than a little concerned.

All her friends are, legally, her possessions. The town that took her in is her plaything, if she so wishes. She has been given responsibility.

Can Twilight's vision for a modern renaissance outrun the harsh realities of the shadowy figures pulling strings behind the scenes, nobles jockeying for her attention, and an irritatingly metaphorical love triangle?

Special thanks to the insatiable Blue_Paladin42, the incorrigible Maskedferret, the intuitive Southpaw and the indestructible newbiedoodle for all their hard work, past, present and future.

Published 2014-02-06 01:20:03 UTC
Last updated 2016-02-26 00:51:53 UTC

Chapter Two: Where Everything Goes Wrong Forever

Faster wings! Faster!

Faster faster faster faster faster faster!

Okay, so, it’s rapidly becoming self evident that, whilst barely faster than the royal chariot, I’m still pretty certain I enchanted Tank’s rotor to be capable of faster speeds than this. Even if I’m really proud of that particular piece of work, if I do say so myself, it still means I’ve literally made tortoises able to fly faster than I am, currently.

That won’t do. That won’t do at all.

Now, what would Shining Armour do if he were trying to make an alicorn fly faster?

If Cadance is any indication he’d pitch me like a javelin, so, maybe I need to phrase that particular question a little better.

What would my brother say in this situation that wouldn’t resort to treating me like an Equestrian Games event?

‘Arrogance and ignorance go hand in hand’? Hmm, not quite applicable, but still worth remembering.’The Hammer Of Justice Crushes You’? No, that’s just his Paladin’s dumb catchphrase in Ogres and Oubliettes. Maybe something more... militant in nature?

‘If you aren’t cheating, you aren’t trying.’ Well, I don’t see how I could cheat at flying so-

wait. Can I cheat at flying?

I feel the first traces of a grin tugging at my face. Sure, I’m rewarded with a few bugs in my teeth for the trouble, but at least I have a plan forming.

Now all I need is a suitable portmanteau for a mission name, as everypony knows that the success of the mission hinges on its name just as much as anything else! Thus, I come to the conclusion that-

Operation: Glideport!

-Will be a complete success!

See, the tricky part about flying is all in the flapping. Flapping sucks, because it’s all about physical co-ordination and athleticism, which just happen to be two fields of study I have not earned Doctorates in, unfortunately. The only books I could find to help in the library are still on loan to Rarity’s and Applejack’s little sisters' pegasus friend. If you aren’t flapping, though, you’re gliding, and gliding is fun and easy. Unfortunately it usually means that, unless you’re a good enough flier to find and use thermals, which I am evidently not, you lose altitude.

Lose enough altitude and the ground starts getting in the way, and it has a stubborn tendency not to move out of the way for anypony, not even princesses, no matter how much pleading and begging you do before impact. It’s kind of grumpy like that. The same goes for its accomplice, gravity, who art a heartless expletive. So, yeah, usually I’d be stuck with flapping.

Unless...

Unless I found a way to gain altitude without flapping that took advantage of, oh, say, my ability to Sparkleport™ perhaps?

There’s a familiar poofing, popping, banging sound and I’m higher! I angle down steeper and glide.

*Pewbang!*

Hooray for conservation of momentum! I keep angling down, aiming low and-

*Pewbang!*

-maintaining about the same height, relatively, from the ground. Every time I get too low, all I have to do is-

*Pewbang!*

-Twilyport™ back up again! Brilliant! Now my wings can rest without any of that stupid ungraceful flapping nonsense and I’m travelling at what I guesstimate to be upwards of three hundred kilometers an hour, based on some modified calculations of the ones I made when Rarity was freefalling from Cloudsdale. Fortunately I’m going sideways, not down. Well, mostly.

*Pewbang!*

Sure, it’s exhausting me in another mana of speaking, ha!, but now I’ve got enough space in between casts to recharge, as it were.

Rainbow Dash, eat your heart out.

I laugh at what I must look like. A long, downward slope, then a flash, then a long downward slope and a flash, rinse, repeat! Haha! Anypony watching me would have to be nodding like a bobblehead.

Okay, so this is fun. Like, really, really fun. It’s almost as fun as wordplay!

Oh! Oh! Why not both?

With how much fun I’m having, Time should fly with me!

Ha! Ha ha ha! Ha! Ahh... okay. Now understanding why geeks and jocks tend to be one or the other. Exercise seems to make you stupid for some reason.

I knew it!

Also that may explain why I didn’t notice that I just ‘flew’ straight past Ponyville.

Wait- What?!

The next time I do the magic part of this little routine, I’ve got to flip myself. Okay, okay, and-

*Pewbang!*

Rainbow Dash! Hey, what are you-

Oh. Oh, this is about to hurt a lot, isn’t it?

Let’s see, weight of myself, Rainbow Dash’s presumed weight, both travelling at a velocity of... mhmm, mmm hmm, just as I thought. I am in for at least a ton of pain, if I did the kilonewton conversion right.

Rainbow Dash’s eyes go wide and she pulls upward as I slam my wings shut and aim down. She might not be an ‘egghead’ but it looks like she reached the same conclusion.

We’re both going so fast, though! Assuming we each had a reaction time of 215 milliseconds, she was travelling at least as fast as I was to catch up with me...

Even just noticing each other brought us 36 meters closer! Or 35.833 recurring but, hey, who’s counting?

Needless to say, in spite of our best efforts, or maybe because of them, Rainbow only just skids over the top of me, and we miss each other by what must be a hoof’s length. I can feel the air thrumming off her as she passes!

The good news is it’s only air that hits me. Bad news is that it’s an awful lot to hit, particularly when you’re a pony who has trouble gliding, and the ability to correct for the sudden massive change in air pressure is beyond me.

I crash into a solid, physical barrier of compressed air.

I’m bowled backwards. It’s decidedly unpleasant, but I take solace in the fact that I’m not going to land like this in front of both the princesses again. Also, air is decidedly softer than the marble floors of the palace.

It’s a pity I’m still probably about to fall from very, very high up. It’s not going to kill me but, with a height like this, I just know I’m going to wish it did.

Here it comes.

Any second now.

Any... second.

I- Huh. There is a distinct lack of impact happening here. Gravity- Are we finally friends? Did you accept my gift offerings at last? Have you decided to finally see the magic of-

“Woah, Twilight, you okay? You scared the ponyfeathers off of me.” There’s a delicate pause, “You know, I gotcha now and everything, right, so you can uncover your eyes now. I mean, yeah, flying blind is cool and all if you do it right but, uh, you’re using your wings to do it, so... yeah...”

I do as requested, like a good student. Rainbow Dash is my flight instructor, after all, she knows best, so if she says ‘stop covering your eyes and help keep us from falling for a bit’, in that special way of hers, it’s my duty as a good student to oblige.

Also, well, there’s that common interest thing.

I open my eyes and see Dash holding me in her forehooves - I hadn’t even felt her grab me through all the adrenaline and panicking - wearing a very confused expression. I don’t know whether she’s laughing at me or really, genuinely worried for my well being. Actually, come to think of it, I don’t think she knows either.

Huh. Do I find this endearing or vexatious? Probably endearing, so long as she doesn’t drop me.

“Okay, okay, you look like you can handle getting yourself to the ground now, so I’m gonna let go." Vexatious, then. "Follow the air currents, they lead right over Sugar Cube Corner at the moment.” There’s a hint of a smirk, “You remember what I taught you, right, bookworm?” She’s simultaneously being sarcastically condescending and genuinely reassuring. How does she do that?! Forget flight lessons, teach me how you just pulled that off-

Oh, wait, no, flight lessons are good, Ms ‘I’m going to drop my friend in mid thought’ Dash.

“I’m taking that as a yes!”

She’s lucky she’s right.

To Sugar Cube Corner it is, I guess.

“Thanks, Dash!” I try to keep the sarcasm out of my voice. Not very hard, mind you, but I at least make the effort.

“Hey, looks like Lord Sparkle owes me a cupcake.”

“If you hadn’t been flying so close to me I wouldn’t have-” Indignation later, mouth, brain just caught up with what Dash said. Brain wins.

I groan. Nothing else to do about it as we slowly glide back down to Ponyville below us.

“Yeah, I was one of the first to hear about it. Tried looking for you, actually, no luck until I saw a bunch of weird purple flashes zigzagging all through my airspace, didn’t take a brain like yours to connect the dots.” I tactfully don’t point out I have seen her mess up join-the-dots puzzles and allow her to continue. She does so with a sigh, and a weary smile. “Bunch of bureaucrats hit up my office looking for all the latest maps of the Ponyville area, saying something about it being your new Lord’s Garbage or something.”

“Lord’s Waste.”

“Yeah, that. Then I think they went to Applejack’s, just to compare borders and something something,” she makes a dismissive, rolling gesture with a hoof and rolls her eyes, “Applejack’s a villain now, dude said.”

“Wait, wait- villain or villein?”

Dash stares at me for a long moment. “... yes?”

“Villein with an ‘e’ then. Okay, so, Applejack has been made a villein.”

“What’s that mean, anyway? Like, is this a ‘magic of friendship’ type of deal or?” Rainbow’s scratchy voice trailed off, and her eyes meet mine, and I can see just how anxious this is making her, right there, “I mean, I really don’t want to lay the smack down on AJ. For one thing, she’s like a sister to me, you know?”

“And I presume the other is, of course, that she smacks back harder?”

“Well, I was leaving it implied, but if you’re just gonna go out and say it like that...” Rainbow grumbles.

“Well, fortunately, it just means that somehow Applejack has been deemed worthy of running Sweet Apple Acres on my behalf.” I snort.

“Well, she is, isn’t sh- wait, on your behalf?” I watch Dash blink and shake her head with a small amount of amusement. She’s confused by what to be confused by first. It’s honestly not a bad reaction to have, if I’m honest. I’m pretty sure I’m about to be filled with much of the same.

“Technically, by which I mean legally, I own Ponyville now, soil to citizens. That includes the entirety of Sweet Apple Acres and, I suspect, everything under as far as the Weather Team’s jurisdiction, which is probably, by which I mean certainly, why they paid you a visit.”

“Huh. So-” I cut her off because I am not finished explaining just how... how... I need a good word that essentially means ‘Unbelievably moronic in a way that is detrimental and borderline evil’.

“Also apparently the laws are so draconic”, ah, draconic, “that Applejack is, in a way, my property now as well. Presumably most of Ponyville’s residents are. Even you.”

“Wait, so what’s a freepony?”

“Where’d you hear that?”

“One of the bean counters told me I was one of those now.”

“Ah.” I took a moment to reflect on just how inane and civil the conversation was. It was borderlining on small talk! Did Dash not get that-

“It means that you aren’t my property, you pay rent and get full civil equine rights.”

“Huh. And Applejack doesn’t?”

“I think around ninety percent of ponies don’t.”

“I’m in the top ten!” Dash grinned, “That’s pretty cool.”

“Which makes the other ninety percent serfs.” I growl.

“What are serfs?”

“Slaves, but with a nicer name.”

“Oh.” She reflects on that. “You know what? I take it back. Totally uncool. I don’t think I want to be, you know, the best if it means everypony else has to be... less, you know?” she nods to herself, grasping for the words in her own mind, “I mean, when you said ‘your property’ I kind of got that, but I mean, I see how you treat your stuff. You’re super methodical and caring. It’s different if they don’t get a say in the matter!”

I smile warmly at Rainbow, whose face is scrunched up in concentration. Maybe she wouldn’t be such a bad influence on Spike after all.

“Unless they were your slaves in, like, the fun way, cause they wanted to be. I’m not gonna judge what two or more consenting adult ponies do in the privacy, and sometimes not even then, of their own homes, am I right?.” She sports a grin so lecherous I can’t help but reflexively blush quite brightly.

Ah Rainbow, never change. Also, stay away from my assistant for the duration of dragon puberty, thank you.

Wait, that reminds me.

“So, what’s this I hear about you telling ponies I need to get laid?” I growl, eyes sharpened and cutting a nasty look, a look that has brought lesser ponies to their knees weeping forgiveness before, dragging across Rainbow Dash’s...

Goofy, bright eyed face, nodding in sage agreement.

Darn it, Dash, did you misinterpret The Look? I think you just totally misinterpreted The Look.

I redouble my efforts, upgrading The Look’s settings from Glare to Scowl, which just bounces off her insufferably smug and charming armour when she easily quips “Yeah, you know, just a fun little roll in the hay sometime. I mean, flying's fun and all, but I could really teach you how to rock a pair of wings, you know what I’m saying?”

I raise an eyebrow. Rainbow pales significantly and holds her hooves up placatingly. I don’t know how she flies like that. I’d get wobbly just looking down at this point.

“Whoah, not like that. Well, I mean, yeah, like that, but I mean... oh geeze... I don’t- We’re friends right? Just friends? I don’t want to mess that up and- it’s not because you’re not hot because you totally are- I- what did I just- Oh, geeze- can I start over?”

“Frankly, I’m rather enjoying seeing how far you can fit a hoof in your mouth.” Gag reflex joke noted, but I shall be the better pony here. Better looking perhaps- Hrm.

Let’s see, you’ve got me, versus Dash’s athletic, slim form, her bright colours, her boundless charisma and piercing gaze, her trim flank-

“Or, uh, I can not point out that you started ogling me there and we’ll call it even?” Dash chuckles sheepishly.

Damn it brain!

‘I had nothing to do with that one!’

Then who?

My tail twitches slightly. Oh dear.

I didn’t think I would ever say this phrase out loud, let alone to her face but-

I wince as I bite out the bitter words, “Rainbow Dash, I hate to say this, and I mean I really hate to say this but-”

“Woah, hold that thought, I just need to grab something real quick.” -but she totally interrupted me! What could possibly be more important?

She flies back almost immediately, now accompanied by a small raincloud.

“Okay, ready.”

“Rainbow Dash, I think you might be right.” I shudder.

*Boom!*

I stare at her.

She grins even wider than ever before back at me.

I stare at her a little more.

“Did you just drag a raincloud with us so that you could do your own dramatic thunderstrike?” I can not fit enough incredulity into this statement. It is not possible, there cannot be enough.

“Yeah.” She beams at me, totally unabashed.

“That’s...” I trail off lamely, thinking of the right word. Stupid. Melodramatic. Histrionic.

“You’re just jealous because you didn’t think of it first.”

“You think that- I mean, of all the things that-” Splutter mutter grumble mumble.

“Go on, admit it, that’s two for two I’m right about.” She’s buffing a hoof to her chest just exuding smug. So much smug!

“Gah!” She’s right, but I’ll never admit it! Never!

“Now you’re just not doing it out of principle!” Rainbow smugs at me. I didn’t even realize that ‘smug’ could be a verb, but there you have it.

“Bah!” I snap. “Bah!” I start charging my horn to teleport myself the rest of the, comparatively short, distance to Sugar Cube Corner.

It’s enough time for Dash to shout out the lunch order I owe her, apparently. A dark part of me hopes she breathes in crumbs.

*Bang* Right into the store. It’s remarkably empty, for some reason. Strange, Sugar Cube Corner is usually abuzz with activity, if only because of one of its inhabitants-

“Hi, Twilight, my humble lord and princess Sparkle butt!” Pinkie chuckles. It’s become a nickname she’s grown rather fond of, as of late, much to my chagrin.

There’s an audible snap, and I feel a brush of air hit me. I look in its direction, expecting a certain polychromatic prankster pegasus, perplexed instead as I perceive the pair of Pinkie Pie’s parents- adoptive, I mean. I notice the looks on their faces. Yep, no doubt about it.

Eyes the size of saucers, mouths agape, visibly sweating, frantic gesture making, avoiding eye contact, more frantic gesture making- last time they were acting like this was around Princess Celestia.

So, they’ve heard the news it seems. Everypony in town must have at this point. That probably explains why they aren’t here, for better or worse, though I must say I am impressed that the Cakes' horrified-in-unison head-turn managed to break the sound barrier, even if I’m a little concerned of the cause.

“It’s me, Twilight, Mr and Mrs Cake. Just Twilight Sparkle, the librarian.” I sigh. “You can stop bowing now, or at least trying to get Pinkie Pie to be less Pinkie Pie. We both know that’s not likely to happen anyway.”

They’re hesitant, to say the least, eyeing me in much the same way I watched that silver fulminate sand timer. You just know it’s about to go very, very badly for you, yes, and attempting to do anything about it would just speed up the inevitable, so all you can do is just sit there and admire and watch and hope that the whole thing doesn’t blow up as badly as you fear.

Hrrm. Perhaps they are right to needlessly grovel. Better safe than sorry around your absolute ruler when said ruler is known to accidentally, absentmindedly make time pieces out of unstable primary explosives. I touch a hoof to my recently regrown eyebrow and wince. Still, apparently it was being adapted as a new fuse system for miners, which was sort of cool if you really consider it. I mean, most science is achieved with determination and happy accidents right? Vulcanized rubber springs, ha!, to mind, and-

Oh, right, I should really stop getting sidetracked. I think I’ve just accidentally been lost in thought whilst staring at the ceiling, which is really a bad thing to do when you’ve just been informed that you’re the new owner, particularly around the current residents.

“Are you... unhappy with the decor?” Mrs Cake asks diplomatically, “Or the building? Is the ceiling height not to your liking?”

“No, no, everythings fine, I was just thinking about some explosives I made.”

Blink.

Blink.

Mr and Mrs Cake stare at me aghast. I make a hurried, placating gesture and turn to Pinkie Pie who is-

Grinning maniacally and wearing a hard hat. Of course she is.

“I meant you’re looking at me like I’m some unstable compound, not ‘I want to blow up Sugar Cube Corner on a whim’!”

Deep sighs of relief are punctuated by a disappointed ‘Awww!’. Mr Cake looks a little conflicted, actually, about the lack of explosions.

Stallions.

“Look, just because I- you have been told, right?” Three sets of nods. Thought so. “Just because I’m now Princess Doctor Lord Twilight of Ponyville, doesn’t give me the right to blow up your house. Or throw you in the dungeon. I don’t even think I have a dungeon to throw you in, besides the library basement, and that’s where all my science equipment is.”

“It’s her science dungeon.” Pinkie nods sagely, as if this was one of the most profound things in the world. The Cakes, as one, glance at her, then stare at me.

“I- well- okay, I do have restraints, yes, but it’s for medical analysis purposes only!” I tactfully decide not to add that, since I haven’t taken the Hippopotocratic Oath, that doesn’t mean I couldn’t use it as an impromptu dungeon-

Ecchem. Moving on.

“See?” Pinkie bobs, “Science dungeon. For Princesses who are also doctors. Hey, I didn’t know you were a doctor, Twilight, and I know everything about everypony in Ponyville! What’s your doctor-octor-ate in?”

“They’re still working that out, for now, I think.” I mumble, shuffling my hooves, “apparently the closest they can figure is ‘a lot of things.’”

“Is political science one of them?” Pinkie blinks.

“No, no, political science is more of a soft subject, and I’m really more into the hard sciences.” I raise an eyebrow, “Why?”

“Well, I’m just wondering why Princess Luna thought giving you Ponyville would be a good idea if politics and stuff was something you didn’t know about. I mean, that would just be silly, right?” Pinkie Pie giggles, “Imagine putting a pony in charge who only had book smarts and expecting them to run a town in a way that kept everypony happy! Could you imagine?” I... no, I couldn’t. Mr and Mrs Cake are making more frantic, silent gestures and even resorting to hissing now, but Pinkie’s lost on Pinkie Planet, Population: Pie. “It could be a disaster! Riots! Famine! Utter chaos! But thank Luna we got Twilight Sparkle, who I’m sure knows something about all that junk, instead, huh, Mr and Mrs. Cake?”

They all stare at me, Pinkie Pie with a happy, expectant look, and the Cake’s are acting like I’ve suddenly sprouted a second head (again).

“Rainbow Dash wants an apple turnover with cream, and I gotta go, bye!”

“Wait, don’t you want anything for yourself, Twi-”

There’s a clatter of bits hitting the counter and a lovely bit of onomatopoeia to signal my departure.

*Pew*

*Bang*

My stomach growls. Thankfully I picked my next destination well.

Sweet Apple Acres.

I rub my horn and wince a bit. I might have been a bit too hasty with that last jump. I feel like a bunch of angry, tiny ponies are bucking bundles of nerves all through my horn.

Shoo. Shoo, angry, tiny ponies, you are not wanted here. Not now, not ever. I’ve still got to find Applejack, and it’s a big orchard!

Well, that leaves - dramatic flutter - flying! Or - dramatic hoof wiggle - walking! Left hoof, right hoof! Left hoof, right hoof!

Oh, who am I kidding here? Certainly not myself.

Walking is not magic. Flying is not magic, though that may just be because I suck at it. Magic is magic.

I guess I see why Spike likes riding on my back so much, now. It’s not that walking’s so bad, per se, as it suddenly becomes a lot less tolerable when you realize you have other means at your disposal.

The brisk walking devolves into trudging. It leaves me alone with my thoughts.

They make for terrible company, my thoughts. All they remind me is just how right Pinkie Pie unintentionally was. There’s a reason Mayor Mare was mayor and I wasn’t- well, okay, I am a princess, but come on, Luna, there’s throwing a foal in the deep end to teach them how to swim and then there’s breaking the dam to encourage them to take up engineering. If I fail I’m not the pony that really suffers as a result. It’s all of Ponyville.

It’s my friends that will suffer on my behalf and nopony asked them if they agreed to this.

No matter how you slice it, that’s just wrong.

“Oh, howdy, boss! What’s gotcha so grumpy to see your old friend AJ? What, you too good for your used-to-be friends?”

I smile and turn to the voice. I can’t help it, that familiarity, that playful teasing, it just makes me all warm and fuzzy inside, and chases away my former companion. The nasty thoughts cannot hold a candle to the brightness that is Applejack’s understanding smile.

Her sweaty, dripping, dirty smile.

“I didn’t think it was apple bucking season this time of year?”

“Shucks, no. Ah’ve been puttin’ down stakes to see if we can’t get a little vineyard up and going. Perfect climate for it, Rarity says.” She smirks, “Give her something new to wine about.”

“Applejack, that’s not very- oh.” I note her cheeky smirk, “Was that wordplay?” Sly nod means yes? Sly nod means yes. “I approve, then.”

“I hear tell that makes it a royal decree, your highness.” AJ smirks and winks at me. I can’t help but groan.

“C’mon, Applejack, that’s never bothered you before.”

“Well, you didn’t outright own my sorry plot either. Plot of land, Ah mean, get'cher mind out of the gutter, it ain’t becomin’ of royalty.”

“Eeyup.” I whip around and, sure enough, there’s Big Macintosh leanin’ - er, leaning, I mean - against a tree with a stalk of wheat in his unreadable expression.

“Were you sneaking up on me?” I ask.

“Nope.”

“Well... okay then.” I sigh, shoulders slumping, “Sorry.”

“Eeyup.”

“Don’t mind mah brother, ah’m sure he don’t mean nothin’ by it. Macintosh just has a way of meltin’ into the background if’n he wants to. Darn spooky how quiet he can be.” Particularly from a pony so, well, big. “But that ain’t neither here nor there, is it, your highness? I heard you had the decency to let me run my own farm. That’s mighty kind of ya.”

“It’s not my fault, I swear! Luna-”

“Shoot, I know that, seems like the sort of mess you’d get into. Shame we can’t blast the elements at bureaucratic paper-pushers, though.” Her eyes light up, momentarily, “Can’t we?”

“Sorry, but no.” Owch. Watching the joyful hope die in my most dependable friend’s eyes is like telling a pony that Santa Claws doesn’t exist. “They’d give us a mountain of paperwork to fill out in their death-throes or something.”

“Darn it.” Applejack swore, “I must admit, it got pretty temptin’ to just buck them right off the orchard if it hadn’t been for all those ‘royal proclamations’ they were hoofin’ off to us left and right. Oh, but Granny Smith read the fine print whilst we were all yammerin’, now, didn’t she Big Mac?”

“Eeyup.” Big Macintosh grinned, like some kind of terrible cross between a fox and a shark.

“Turns out whilst we’re yours, beggin’ your pardon and all that, Twi, we don’t have to pay taxes or rates or none of that government nonsense, so long as you don’t ask for it specific-like. We’ve just got to give you a tithe and the rest is square.”

“But-”

“And now, before you go thinking I’m abusin’ your power or your friendship or somethin’, it ain’t like that. I just mean that, so long as we provide Ponyville with enough food, we can still sell off the excess for a mighty tax-free profit!”

“But-!”

“Turns out we’ll be makin’ more this year than last, if Granny and Macintosh did the maths right. Reckon they did, knowin’ them.”

“But you’re slaves, now!” I finally blurt out, “Doesn’t that bother you at all?”

Applejack just raises and eyebrow and looks at me all serious-like. Wait, I mean, seriously. Darn it, now she’s got me doing it! Bad country mannerisms and colloquialisms, stay out of my egghead! Echem: With perspicacity and alacrity I keep my sanity satisfactory. Ah.

“Thought I was a villein.”

“That’s just a slave with property rights!”

“Okay, let me put it this way for you Twi, and Big Mac,” she nods at her brother with a look that just screams ‘humour me’, his look just politely replies ‘okay, let’s see where you’re going with this’, so she continues, “you stop me if’n you disagree. Now, way I see it is this; who do I answer to?”

“Well, me, but-”

“Well, that’s just it, isn’t it Twilight? Not some big, faceless bureaucracy, not some crazy pony with a whip, and certainly not Prince Blueblood. You.”

“Eeyup.”

“Frankly I don’t see the downsides. , "I now have to pay ‘tribute’ to you, sure,” she looks like a poker player revealing that they haven’t been bluffing, and oh look, another ace, “but you have to be my accountant. Sounds fair." Well, she summed that up nicely.

“Eeyup.”

“Are you honestly going to say that you, Twilight Sparkle, are goin’ to go and abuse a position of trust and authority on a whim?” She spits at her hooves and knocks her Stetson back so that I may bask in the whole of her smiling, radiant face. “Somehow I doubt that.”

“I might...” I protest feebly.

That results in the strangest noise I’ve ever heard. It’s indescribable, but I’ll do my best and say it’s like some strange hybrid between a wood chipper and a particularly large frog.

Apparently Big Macintosh isn’t used to laughing.

“Ah’m gonna have to agree with Mac on this one, sugarcube.” AJ winks - winks! - at me.

“What if I don’t do it on purpose!”

“Then, knowin’ you, dahlin’, you’ll be the first one on the scene tryin’ to fix it. Beaver dam busts and you know what ornery little critter is always there before any other varmint, no matter how many little critters there are downstream.”

“But... Even if a beaver fixes the dam he can’t undo the damage he caused...”

“Nope. You gotta remember that too Twilight, though, knowin’ you, that’s all you’re going to remember. Point is we trust you, and even if you make mistakes, which you won’t,” she taps a hoof to my chest, but I’m too transfixed by her determined glare to even look down, “we all know you’re just gonna pick right back up. Cause if you don’t then maybe a real slave driver might come along, and that ain’t good for nopony.”

Wow. My friends have an awful lot of trust and respect for me. That’s deeply touching.

I’m totally going to find some way to destroy that aren’t I? Oh, dear, let me count the ways-

“Ayenope.” A deep, twanging voice resonates through my skull, shaking off the bad thoughts. I turn to Big Mac. He opens his mouth, eyes fixing mine with a steely gaze, he puffs out his chest and...

Just shrugs amicably, offering me a consoling smile. As if to say “I know what you were thinking, and I’m not having any of it.”

I guess that is his way of saying it.

He stares at me a little longer in appraisal, then gives me a little approving nod. Applejack pulls me into a tight, can’t-breathe-must-breathe-gasp, hug.

“Now you just run along now. I reckon you got more ponies to talk about who don’t have their heads on as rightly as Granny did, sugarcube. Reckon I would have been right livid if it hadn’t been for her eagle eyes.”

“Reckon?” Big Mac grins unabashedly, rolling his eyes.

“Quiet, you.”

“Well, you’re right anyway. Both of you. Thank you so much for being so understanding about all this, I really don’t know what I’d do if I were in your position.”

“I do. Panic and read a bunch of law books for a few days.”

“I...” Indignant response primed and ready. It’s a shame she’s probably right. Okay, it’s a shame she is exactly right. “... yes.”

“So, go! Go’on now, shoo! I’ll tell Applebloom her new supreme overlord Twi showed up and graced us with her high-and-mighty presence.” She chuckles, complemented by Big Mac’s chuckle-laugh which sounds pleasantly like heavy gravel rolling down a gutter, “And don’t let Rarity inflate your head none. Even if it says you own our sorry plots - of land, get your mind outta the gutter again, Princess, how many times am I gonna have to remind you - you’re still one of us, ya’hear?”

Well, if Pinkie Pie gave me the foreboding cold and shiveries, which she totally did, Sweet Apple Acres has given me the warmest of warm and fuzzies. Leave it to Applejack to bring me back down to earth again.

With one last quick hug for the siblings, I turn to make my leave. My horn still frazzles a bit, so it looks like I’m hoofing it earth pony style too. It doesn’t seem as grueling as it did before... now it just feels appropriate. Right.

Rarity... Applejack’s right, she’s going to have the most... unique view of the situation of all my friends. I should visit her last.

That just leaves Fluttershy, and she’s pretty close to the orchard anyway.

Well, that’s so convenient it’s almost contrived. Still...

... I’m not going to complain about anything that cuts down on how far I have to walk today. I’m still way too sore after falling so much. I know what I just thought at myself about walking feeling right, but that was before I remembered how badly I hurt.

After everything else, it’s probably been the least important thing on my mind. Now... now Applejack and Big Macintosh have reminded me that my friends will be there for me, just like I’ll be there for them, and panicking is just going to hurt a lot innocent ponies, because I am capable, gosh darn it!

Unfortunately the net result is now that I’m not on a constant wave of adrenaline I’m very, very sore.

That puts me in a terrible mood to deal with a friend I’ve completely forgotten about. I’m reminded of this very important friend, actually, as soon as Fluttershy’s cottage is in sight. A friend that, typically, I would have blamed for this in the first place, had I not been there. A friend that I am very reluctant to call a friend.

A friend who is currently eye-to-eye with me, despite being immensely taller than me. He has somehow achieved this by being upside-down and moonwalking on, as far as I can tell, thin air.

“Hello, Discord.”

Chapter Three: Where the White Flag is Hoof-Stitched, Darling

“Hello, Discord.” I say, oozing disdain. Really, of all the unhelpful-

“If you’re looking for Flutterby, well, she’s not home.” I would say Discord sneered, but I’m about fifty percent sure that’s his default expression.

“Well, then, where is she?” I sigh. Really don’t want to be dealing with-

“Flutterby’s at town hall, apparently, where I’m missing some absolutely wonderful chaos.” I would say Discord smirked, but that’s where the other fifty percent lies. The amalgamation of miscellaneous animal parts and biological detritus rights himself, lounging against a nearby tree lazily.

Celestia, he really knows how to get my goat. “Her name is Fluttershy, Discord.” I growl.

He blinks, sincerely surprised. That’s not an expression he wears often, and I take a small amount of schadenfreude from it whenever I see it.

Oh, who am I kidding? I revel in annoying Discord as much as he annoys me. Normally I’d feel rather petty about it but, seriously, he is anathema to anypony who likes order and organization. Heck, it’s his name!

“Fluttershy, well, duh, what have I been saying?”

“Flutterby.”

“Oh.” The mad god strokes his goatee in serious thought. “You have to admit, though, Twibright, Flutterby makes a lot more sense.”

“Since when have you ever cared about making sense?” I blink, then hasten to add indignantly, “And it’s Twilight. Not Twibright.”

“Close enough.” He mutters with an amiable shrug. Bah! “Now, normally you’d be right, Princess,” he slathers the word with as much malice as he can with a cheery smile, “but I was obviously wrong. Isn’t that deliciously ironic?”

“That’s an oddly cerebral form of chaos, Discord. What happened to the schtick?”

“My dear, are you seriously asking me to be consistent?” His face is in its default expression. Which one, the smirk or the sneer? Yes. “Oh of course, you’re never not serious are you.” Eugh. Double negative. I shudder from the sentence construction.

“So. Not that this little talk hasn’t been absolutely delightful.” I lie through my teeth, “But I really must find Flutterby- Gah! I mean, Fluttershy. Great, now you’ve got me saying it.”

Discord snickers from his shady spot, shaking the tree violently behind him in time with his harsh laughter.

“It’s been a pleasure and a privilege, Princess.”

As I trot away I’m struck by a sudden idea. It’s petty, it’s malicious and it’s a little bit evil.

Well, I’m feeling a little petty, malicious, and evil, so I open my big, dumb, brilliant mouth.

“You know, technically, by which I mean legally and not technically at all, I’m your landlord now. I have the power to evict you from the entirety of Ponyville if I so wish.” I shrug, “And right now I’m wishing it pretty hard.”

“No!” He lurches up, ramrod straight, eyes widened in terror. Then, in a flash, that look of fear was gone again, replaced with sickeningly-slick nonchalance. “I mean, not that I care or anything, it would just be... inconvenient.” He snaps his talons and a pile of luggage falls in between us. “I have all my stuff here, it would be a pity to have to move it.” With another snap, poof, it’s all gone.

I should quit now, whilst I’m ahead. That would be the smart thing to do.

“What stuff?” I goad him on.

He sighs, growls, and snaps his talons again. The luggage once more forms its little mountain on the ground between us. “As if you didn’t see it before.”

“Oh, I did, I was just proving a point.”

“Oh? And what point could that possibly be.” There’s a mask of arrogance, but if I look into his eyes I can see, dancing right behind the facade, a genuine sense of panic.

“Just that you’ve proven you can, in fact, move all your ‘stuff’ with absolutely no effort at all.” I chirp brightly, “Why, with power like that, I wouldn’t even have to give you two weeks notice! You could just, well, snap, poof, off you go.”

I can hear his mask crack. He looks at me, desperately. All the power of the universe, none of it matters here.

“Unless,” I add, raising a hoof placatingly, “Unless there’s another reason you wish to remain a citizen of Ponyville?”

His eyes dart back and forth and he starts pacing, occasionally glancing at me, sweating bullets. No, really, he’s actually sweating bullets. It’s... painful to watch.

“Alright!” he blurts out, facing me, “Alright, alright, I like it here, okay? You got me, oh mighty Princess, with your oh-so-mighty intellect. I like it here. There, I admit it. This place isn’t entirely boring and, frankly, I do so enjoy the company of a few good... eugh... f... f-f-f...” his face is contorted visibly from the effort, “friends!” Discord finally forces out, slumping into himself a little in defeat. “Fluttershy is just so kind and patient with me, and the pink one, well, she’s a little ball of chaos all her own, and everypony is so...” I watch as he flicks through his mental dictionary until the draconequus finally settles on; “not boring.”

The whole display warms my heart, in a rather macabre way. I didn’t know he had it in him. Basic equine emotions, right there for me to see.

It’s awfully humbling to see a god pleading before you.

Well, don’t I feel like the jerk all of a sudden?

“Discord, I’m sorry, I truly didn’t know how much Ponyville meant to you.” I mean, I’d suspected, but I’d figured it was because of all the towns in all of Equestria, Ponyville was probably the most desensitized to, and accepting of, the chaos there was ...

Sweetie Belle, Applebloom and Scootaloo live here, for instance.

But a genuine sense of compassion and camaraderie? That was different.

“Well, it does.” he scowls, back to his old self, “and I’d appreciate it if you didn’t go spreading it around.”

I cross my heart, hope to fly, and stick a cupcake in my - oh, ho ho, not this time. “I Pinkie Promise.” It’s the least I can do.

“Yes. Well. Thank you.” Discord huffs, relaxing again. “I suppose we call this truce, then?”

“On one condition!”

“Oh?”

“If you ever figure out The Pinkie Sense, Discord, you have to tell me. Explain it to me, if you can. I gave up on working it out a long time ago, and I could use a fresh pair of eyes and for the love of Celestia I mean that figuratively please.”

“Pinkie Sense?” He blinks, confused, “Why would you expect me to understand it?”

“Because it’s so... random.” I trail off, lamely.

Discord grins, wide and genuine and dreamy, as he returns to lounging.

“I know,” he sighs blissfully, “Wonderful, isn’t it? It makes absolutely no sense, no sense at all.”

I sigh, too, resignedly. “I figured. Thank you, anyway.”

He glances up at me, scowling. “There’s no need to be sarcastic.”

I- what?

“No, no,” Shaking my head vehemently, which is such a good word, I implore, “really, I meant it. Thank you, Discord.” Wow, who knew I’d ever say those words, in that order, sincerely?

Discord looks just as stunned as I do.

“Oh. Well. I’m... sorry? Yes, I do believe I’m actually sorry, then, Twilight Sparkle. I wish you the best of luck in your search for my... good friend, Fluttershy.”

We stare at each other in mute shock. Did he actually just say that?

“Yes, I think I actually just said those words.” Discord mutters, fascinated. “And, what’s more curious, I do think I actually meant them. How-” He gags, “sickening.”

There’s a small smile gracing the corners of my lips as I wave goodbye to the silly panoply of parts, charging my teleport now that it’s had a bit of a rest.

Baby steps, Discord. Baby steps.

The town hall is a, big, conical building with a cheery, beautiful, outer shell to mask the blatant bureaucracy contained within. Actually, if one were to describe it in any definite manner, the phrase “if a park gazebo and a palace minaret had some manner of child together” came most readily to mind. It is also filled to capacity, with ponies spilling out onto the street.

One might say that the supply could not meet the demand, but that would be inaccurate, since there was hardly ever a demand for bureaucracy, but needs must.

I can already see the bulk of the crowd, and I’m only up to crossing the beautiful cobblestone bridge on the outskirts of town that I guess I own now. I suppose I own the crowd, too. I’m the cause of it, at least, whether it’s directly or not.

No, no, Luna is the cause of this, not me. They’re here for me, not because of me. Now is not the time for blame or self pity.

Scratch that part about blame, actually. Now is certainly a good time to blame Luna. In fact, come to think of it, now is probably the best possible time to lay some serious blame on Luna.

Now, to resist the incredibly tempting urge to blurt that out until somepony actually asks about it. I don’t want to be too eager to tattle on her.

Don’t I?

No! Bad Twilight!

But it’s all her fault-

Great, now you sound whiny. Nice going there, Princess Celestia’s favoured student.

Isn’t all this supposed to be about how I’m far more than her student now-

Okay, now you sound whiny and distressingly logical.

Quiet. I think that stallion’s giving us weird looks.

“Of course he is. His new despot has been yelling at herself for a solid minute now!” I shout.

Oh. Well. That certainly didn’t help.

“I have really got to learn to stop talking to myself like this. Ponies might think I’m crazy!” I pointedly ignore the peach-coated stallion running away from me. What kind of colour is peach for a stallion, anyway?

Hoof to chest, inhale... inhale... and push out the negativity. Hoof to chest, breathe in, breathe in... and push out the anxiety.

Okay. Okay. Thoughts are for inside your head, Twilight, and that is where they shall stay.

I mentally survey my previous comment for quotation marks. None are found, so I suppose it worked.

It’s good to have thoughts so organized that you can rely on their dependant grammar usage. I wonder how Discord’s thoughts are like-

No. No I don’t. That leads only to pain.

I need to lead only to Fluttershy

Fluttershy in this crowd.

Oh, bother.

More trotting. Now I can Twilyport again but, well, if I did I might pass Fluttershy on the way there, completely missing the point. So far, no sight of her, but that’s to be expected: Small, timid pegasus lost in a sea of a few hundred, disgruntled ponies? Let’s see, if I were Fluttershy, in a huge crowd, where would I be?

Well, obviously, where the crowd wasn’t but I don’t see how-

Wait.

Twilight, you’re a genius!

I give my wings a few good, strong, flaps, being cautious not to run into anypony, as I scan the crowd for pockets of emptiness. When ponies form massive groups you’ll usually find a couple of bubbles around, say, alcoves that you can’t hide under if you don’t want to risk losing your place in line. Better yet, for a Fluttershy’s purposes, they tend to be dark and filled with convenient shadows to hide in.

Fluttershy is in the first one I check. That’s not to say I find her quickly: It takes me a solid fifteen minutes of knowing exactly what I was looking for just to find where a cylindrical building surrounded by ponies had a corner to hide in, but she managed it.

“Fluttershy?”

“Oh... hello, Twilight.” A graceful neck extends from its hiding place and its yellow head smiles sheepishly at me from a particularly dark pocket of shadow. Her brilliant, soft pink mane still manages to look colourful in the cool blackness.

“Fluttershy, how long have you been hiding in here?”

“It’s okay, Twilight. I’ve only been here for a few hours, and I think the crowd is beginning to thin out.”

I glance over my shoulder. Yep, that’s certainly a thinning crowd I see back there, along with the flying pigs and, why, in the distance I can almost make out Tartarus freezing over, fancy that.

“Really.” Is all I say.

“Oh yes,” she replies, head bobbing earnestly, “it was much worse when I first got here. I’m sure that I’ll get in before they close. I hope so anyway.”

“Well, good luck with that. I was just going to apologize to you for all this,” sweeping gesture with hooves should make myself more clear if context isn’t enough, “and ask you if there was, you know, anything I could do about it.”

“Oh, no, I’m fine. I mean, it’s a little strange, I guess, but that’s just my opinion, and I don’t mean it’s strange in a bad way, oh no, it’s just... I’m sorry...”

“No! No, I’m sorry.” I frantically wave my hooves in what I hope is a completely non-threatening gesture. Fluttershy shies away from it anyway. She’s like that.

“Why are you sorry? I’m the one who’s sorry. I’m sorry...”

“No, I’m sorry for everything. This is all my fault, not yours.”

“It’s all your fault?”

I’m about to reflexively answer ‘yes’ when I realize that, hang on, no, it totally isn’t.

“No. No it isn’t.” I say a smidge more proudly than I should. Is it weird that I feel proud of not being responsible for a town-wide disaster for once? I mean, that doesn’t even register on most pony’s radar as a thing, does it? “It’s all Luna’s fault.”

“I thought so.” The pegasus nodded tentatively, “There were batponies.” She said simply. “They were scary.” She appended, equally simply, with a firm bob of her head.

“Ah. Discord says hi, by the way.”

“Oh, no,” Fluttershy fluttered up to me from her hiding place, inspecting me with a worried eye, “he didn’t do anything naughty, did he? He can be such a-”

“No! Wow, is that the only way I can start a sentence right now?” Focus, Twilight. “I’m sorry, no, Discord was, if not a perfect gentledrake, than at least a tolerable one. He and I have come to an... understanding, of sorts, I guess.” I smile warmly at the adorably hopeful look on Fluttershy’s face, from the glisteningly wide eyes to the gentle, eager smile, “I guess I kind of see what you see in him, deep down.”

Fluttershy pounces me, and I’m briefly reminded of Pinkie Pie, squeezing me as hard as possible whilst still being classified as gently. Think of wrestling with a plush animal. “Oh, I’m so very happy to hear that, Twilight. I was so afraid that the two of you would never get along.”

I was about to say that we didn’t exactly get along but, looking into those big, watery, hopeful eyes, it would have been like telling a foal that Santa Claws doesn’t exist. No, scratch that, it would be like telling a foal that Santa Claws did exist, but you killed him in cold blood and and had done thoroughly unpleasant things to the body.

“Well, Twilight, I’m sure that whatever differences-”

“Hey! Hey, there she is!”

My head whips around towards the voice, only to see the entire crowd suddenly staring right at me, their piercing gazes drilling into my sensitive pony-flesh.

“It’s Princess Twilight! Over there!”

Oh, dear.

I turn back to Fluttershy and- Wait, where did she go?

Man, she is good.

The murmuring of the crowd's reaching dangerous levels.

“Fluttershy, take me with you!”

Resounding silence. I really, really could not blame her on that one.

I turn back to the crowd. Oh dear, oh dear, they’re obviously really, really mad at me. I mean, sure, I didn’t do this, but they’re still stuck here and I own them and, and, I mean-

*Pew*

*Bang*

“Gah!” an elegant, graceful, refined white unicorn with a perfectly coiffured mane shrieks an inelegant, ungraceful and hardly refined yelp as I materialize behind her at Carousel Boutique (Where everything is chic, unique and magnifique, darlings!). From the outside it looks like it was designed by Town Hall’s architect’s Fancy cousin.

“Rarity!”

“Oh,” she puts a dainty hoof to her chest and breathes deeply, eyes half-closed, “Oh, thank goodness, Twilight, it’s only you. I’d thought Sweetie Belle had found another ball of fireworks, again.”

“Another ball of fireworks?” Well, that’s evidently enough to completely overwhelm all (completely rational) anxious thoughts I was having.

“Well, yes, she and her friends thought it would be remarkably prudent to test the proposition of a ball of fireworks before they brought the catapult into the equation.”

I- what?

“The catapult? Actually, do you know what, Rarity? I suspect that the more questions I ask the more that I’ll need to ask, so I’m going to save us both a lot of pain and just blindly accept that as a totally reasonable answer.”

“Ah, the Pinkie Pie methodology. A wise choice.” Her hoof returns from chest to ground and she pirouettes, returning to her machines with a flourish. “Excellent! I presume you’re here, then, because you have received the news, by now, of what has happened, yes?”

“Well, yes-”

“And you want my advice and, presumably, forgiveness for inconveniencing me with the current situation?”

“Yes and no.”

“No?” Rarity asks, amusement barely concealed in her lilting voice, “Darling, I was so sure-”

“I spoke to Fluttershy first, and she sort of showed me how pointless it is to take the blame for something that isn’t my fault.”

“Ah. Well, that should save some time, then. Wonderful.”

The machines stop. All of them. Fabrics float daintily to their assigned messes. Rarity turns from her work with an accusatory eyebrow raised, poised venomously above some red designer spectacles, which she removes with a flourish.

Gulp.

“Tell me, dear, just how many of our friends did you see before moi?”

Oh, dear.

“All of them.” I answer honestly. Really, lying would just make this worse. I don’t know how that would even be possible, but I don’t like to tempt fate.

Well, I don’t like to tempt fate unless I note my methodology and plan on replicating the results, and now was not one of those times.

“I see.” Rarity trills sweetly, sweet as toffee, sweet as antifreeze, “So you have come to me last, then, hrrm?”

“Well, yes.”

“Well, darling, I do hope you understand that I can’t help but feel slightly offended.”

“It’s only because I knew you’d have the strongest opinion on the matter, Rarity, and I wanted to-”

“Do damage control first, yes?”

“Well...”

“Completely understandable, Twilight. So long as I wasn’t being snubbed, I suppose there’s no harm done.” She smiles warmly and trots up to me, eyes gleaming with a mixture of emotions so powerful and blinding I can’t help but look away. “Now, Princess, would you perhaps like some tea? Milk, two sugar, yes?”

“Err, yes, Rarity, some tea would be lovely, but you can just call me Twilight-”

“Ah, but I’m afraid I can’t, dear, for right now you are a princess and need to be addressed as such.” The meaningful twinkling in Rarity’s eyes had reached blinding proportions.

“But-”

“Ah! No buts! You’ve been handed a great opportunity here, Princess,” she spooning on sweet emphasis to the word even as sugar audibly plopped into a small, sorry, refined serving of tea, “One that would be wasted if we were to approach this with your usual levels of humility.”

I’m not humble! There are ponies far more deserving of that adjective than I!

“Yes, you are humble, Princess. Currently attempting to deny that, even to yourself – yes I can read you like an open book, Princess Twilight, now close your mouth lest you catch flies, there’s a good girl – should at least prove that much.”

“You said ‘we’.”

“I beg your pardon, dear?”

“Just then. You said ‘we’ were to approach this.”

“Oh, darling, I’m sure you’ve simply misheard me.” Rarity waves a hoof and shakes her head with a well-mannered titter, floating a cup of (admittedly delicious smelling) tea over to me, which I accept gratefully.

I can’t exactly contest that, so I resign myself to sipping my tea amiably. At some point I’ve found myself on one of Rarity’s comfortable purple sofas.

“There there, darling, I can understand that you may be a bit stressed,”

“You think?” I deadpan with eyebrow acock.

“Yes. Quite.” Rarity coughs into a hoof surreptitiously. “Regardless, you need to be looking at this as an opportunity.”

“I have been.” I sigh. “Think of how many exciting and unique ways I could screw up and hurt everyone I care about, and then everyone they care about. Isn’t that wonderful?”

“Princess, the fact that you’re so concerned with the wellbeing of those who are affected by this speaks volumes of your character, I’m proud to say, but you’re being dreadfully short sighted.”

“Oh?” The eyebrow once more makes its dreadful ascent, “Please, Rarity, enlighten me as to how there is, in fact, a silver lining to my woeful inexperience and the sheer, total power I’ve been given to manage with it.”

“Frankly, Twilight,” Ah, it feels so nice to hear my actual name, again, “you aren’t thinking of all the good you could do. Ponyville is putty in your hooves!”

“Your point?”

“You have the opportunity to do something wonderful here, Twilight! A cultural renaissance! Ponyville, a new bastion for art, fashion-”

“Innovation.” My eyes widen. “Science.”

“Well, they do tend to go hoof-in-hoof with renaissances of the past, admittedly.” Rarity shrugs, “I suppose that’s not totally out of the question.”

Universities as far as the eye can see. Research and development companies, backyard sheds filled with tinkerers and little stores owned by bustling little cunning artificers. I blink, shaking the treacherously appealing mental images out of my head.

“But that wouldn’t be Ponyville.”

“Of course it would be, dear, it would just be an improvement! With the extra prosperity we’d be sure to attract you could see proper cobblestone roads, cultural evolution unprecedented, beautiful new buildings filled with beautiful new ponies to complement, not detract from, Ponyville’s... unique charms.”

“Prosperity does sound nice.” I admit.

“Wonderful to hear you’re in complete agreement with me, Princess.”

“Rarity?”

“Yes, Princess?”

“Why have I got the sneaking suspicion you were not, in fact, made a serf?”

“Oh, but I was, darling.” Rarity grins, a smile that twinkles those same, deadly, jagged gleams in her eyes, “that was until, of course, I bought my way into your minor nobility.”

“I see.”

“I believe that makes me Eques Rarity now, Princess.”

“Why am I not surprised?” I say, amusement tinged with exasperation.

“Because, darling, you know I’m far too fabulous for anything other than complete victory in the face of adversity.”

I smile. It’s a warm, sisterly smile as I’m reminded why, exactly, this pony is so dear to my heart. It’s eagerly returned as we both sip our tea.

A rather unpleasant thought comes back to mind. “That is, presuming, that the town doesn’t maul me, banish me or otherwise have my head on a proverbial, or not so proverbial, pike by day’s end.”

“Hrrm? Dear, really, are you truly worried about that?”

I blink at her, eyes narrowed.

“Yes. Yes, this is absolutely a thing that I am, in fact, very concerned about, something I understand that most ponies would find utterly reasonable.”

“Dear, have you talked to anypony in that ‘mob’ out there?” Rarity smirked, evidently amused by something.

“Well, no, but they said-”

Wait, what had they said? They were drawing attention to me, certainly, but they hadn’t said anything along the lines of “Grab her” or “Throw her head on a pike” or “This is all your fault and you are a Bad Friend”.

“Ah. You panicked and jumped to conclusions, didn’t you?” she smiled slightly around a polite sip of tea.

“No!” Yes. “They were all staring at me...”

“Ah. And-”

“And Fluttershy disappeared so quickly I assumed-”

“Fluttershy hid whilst an entire town’s worth of ponies was staring at her, bar a few exceptions like myself who got out by dint of being exceptional, and you drew your conclusion based off that.”

“No!” Yes... “Well, maybe.”

“Princess, you have an entire town that, by Royal Decree,” I could hear Rarity pronounce the capital letters, “has you to thank for more or less seceding from the rest of Equestria. I’m certain that they’re more curious than they are outright livid. Barring Mayor Mare, of course, who may be out of a job. I’m not entirely certain on that regard.” Rarity shoots me a burning glance just as I’m about to dive into a pool of self-pity, effectively evaporating it, “Which is not your fault as you reminded yourself when we started this delightful tete a tete.”

“Thank you, Rarity.” I say, utterly meaning it.

“Think nothing of it, Princess. Now, I’m sure that you do, in fact, have a crowd to address. I shall gather our little cohort and meet you back at the library, where we shall discuss... further plans.”

“You don’t have to sound so diabolical when you say that, you know? I haven’t even agreed to anything, yet!”

“Ah, yes, dear, but where would the fun in that be, now? Shoo, shoo, run along, I’m sure there are ponies dying of impatience, yes?”

Well, shoot, can’t argue with that.

Even if I want to.

“And by the way, darling, before you go, I don’t suppose if, by way of arranging some meetings with some influential ponies who might assist in Ponyville’s errant expansion, you’d wish if I sent a few prime specimens your way in a more, well, personal manner, do you?”

“No!”

...

Well, yes.

I sincerely hope the *Pew* arrived before the furious blushing did.

*Bang*

Oooh, that was... significantly pain-inducing.

Like, seriously, ow.

My horn lets its disdain for my frequent magic use be known in the most irritating manner possible. Again.

Okay, that’s one thing I can’t blame Luna for. The crowd I’ve popped in front of, however?

A whisper ripples through it, and it does ripple. A minty-green unicorn in front of me, Lyra, sees me, or heard me how would I know, alright, and whispers to her friend, Bon-Bon, a gossip that puts Rarity to shame. Not that a lady ever gossips, of course, no ma’am. Well, Bon-Bon is obviously not a lady, because from there her friends whisper and turn towards me, and then theirs, reaching out amongst the crowd, from a rabble of anxious, nervous ponies chaotically milling around to-

Scratch that. It’s a reverse ripple. Normally when you throw a pebble into a pond conservation of momentum pushes that water out, and you can see stillness become movement as the wave of energy travels along the surface. Here?

Here I’m watching that little wave expand among a sea of bustling energy and convert it into an ocean of stillness, all eyes upon me, wide with anticipation.

Anticipation of what, exactly? I don’t think even they know.

“There she is!” A male voice in the crowd screams, “Get her!”

“Banish her!” A mare shrieks.

“Throw her in the Everfree!” Some ponies shout in unison.

“She’s a Bad Friend!” The rest caterwaul as they rush the podium I’ve popped up behind.

At least, that’s what I expected to happen. That’s what I’m waiting to happen.

I realize I’ve got my eyes firmly scrunched closed, something that didn’t occur to me because of the sheer force of my potent imagination painting the picture that I totally didn’t want to see.

Well, on the bright side, now that I’ve lived through the worst case scenario nothing could be worse, right?

Right?

I open my eyes. They’re still all staring at me, silently. Just... waiting.

Okay, that’s... better? Right?

“Err...” Darn it, that’s a non-word, bad Twilight, use your actual big-girl words. “Hello?”

A part of me facehooves, hard, but another part pointedly reminds that part that ‘hello’ is still technically improvement.

Then the strangest thing happens. There’s another, proper, ripple shooting through the crowd as, with an eager grin, Lyra bows, low to the ground. Beside her, eyes wide, Bon-Bon quickly follows her lead. The ponies behind them notice and follow suit.

I see Doctor Whooves bowing, the mailmare making a valiant attempt and sort of falling over in the process, Bulk Biceps bowing in a way that looks more like he’s pulling the ground to him, two ponies who I recognize as Dash’s friends, Blossomforth and Cloud Kicker, after Blossomforth tactfully elbows Cloudkicker in the ribs, prostrate before me.

Vinyl Scratch, Pokey Piercey, Cheerilee, Thunderlane, Cloudchaser and Flitter, Golden Harvest, Minuette and Colgate and Lucky, dozens more, maybe hundreds, all ponies from around town I know. All bowing to me.

Me.

As one.

Bowing.

At the same time.

What the heck am I supposed to say? “Sorry about this inconvenience, you can stop bowing now” just doesn’t seem quite right, no matter how much I would completely mean it. No, no, these ponies expect something from me and I have no idea what it is.

“Everypony, I recognize many of your faces, below me, as friends and valued acquaintances. I am dreadfully sorry, I really am, for what Princess Luna has given to me as a gift, a gift that I did not ask for, nor that was hers to give in the first place. She’s given me what she didn’t know she didn’t have the right to give away, even if it seems she had an awful lot of legal ground to stand on.” I inadvertently punctuate the statement with a cough, which seems fitting, really, “There is nothing I can do about that, and again, I’m sorry, but I am going to get this sorted out as soon as possible, and until then I promise not to abuse the power that’s been invested in me.” Then, with a nervous grin that I fill with all the fake confidence I can muster until, hopefully, it looks something remotely regal, I say “Now, please, rise, my little ponies.”

A dark part of me takes a sick amount of joy in saying that, but, honestly, when you spend your whole life next to Celestia-

Well, let’s just say I’ve always really, really wanted to say that.

The crowd does, and one pony, a short, chubby, practically spherical colt whose name is either Snips or Snails, I always get the two confused, starts clapping. His friend, who is either Snails or Snips, joins him a few seconds later. Then some of the adults join them.

Oh, boy, I can see where this is going and I don’t like it one bit.

Okay, okay, I sort of like it a little bit, but does it count if I don’t like that I like it?

“Stop! Everypony, please!” I say. Except my mouth doesn’t move and the words don’t come from me.

Oh. I guess somepony else just said what I was thinking. Well, that’s good, now I don’t have to be the one to say it.

I turn to the sound of the voice, or rather I follow the crowd’s glare to its source, and see Mayor Mare, rounding the corner behind me, mane as Pink as Fluttershy’s or even Pinkie’s at the roots, which did not flatter her, already unbrushed and unkempt, tan fur. In her hoof was a bottle of what appeared to be Berry Punch’s finest.

“I am still the democratically elected representative of this town and I-” She stops, noticing all the eyes are off of me and onto her. I feel like an enormous weight has shifted. She must feel like one’s dropped on her. “-Am going to finish this sentence very carefully, it seems.”

“Mayor, are you- drinking?” I ask, concerned. She closes some of the distance between us as the question registers to her, hitting her like a physical slap across the face, eyes bulging a little as her legs lock up. She glances away from me and back at the crowd, then looks nervously at the bottle in her hoof.

“No! No, this is just non-alcoholic grape juice!”

Oh.

Her eyebrows draw tight and jagged across her face as flames dance in her eyes, she points an accusatory hoof.

“First you usurp me, and now you try to slander me!”

“Slander?” I deadpan. “Really?”

“If you’d truly wanted power, Twilight Sparkle, you should have run against me and let Ponyville decide, not bypass the democratic system entirely like some kind of despot!”

Ah. Finally, a pony who is behaving like I totally expected.

Is it wrong that I couldn’t feel relieved until somepony started yelling at me? It’s just that I get a really bad feeling when things are going too well.

And, really, today was an absolutely wonderful day in Ponyville, wasn’t it? Probably one of the nicest days in a long time.

“I did not bypass the system. I was forcibly installed, if you will.”

“Then why haven’t you stepped down?”

“Because, and I already checked, I cannot. I can pass it on to my heir, which I don’t have, or I could sell Ponyville, which I refuse. There are laws and traditions.”

A lot of the earth ponies murmured at that. It was one thing to break the law, some rules were meant to be broken after all, but to break tradition? That was simply not done.

“It wasn’t really much of an election anyway!” A stallion I recognize as Caramel calls out from the crowd, “Nobody ran against you!”

“Well-”

“And how many ponies bothered to vote?” A pink mare with a bright yellow mane I don’t recognize calls out.

“It’s true,” Mayor Mare grudgingly admits, “That polling numbers were at record lows last election, but I am confident that it’s only because I was running unopposed and nopony saw the point-”

“If it wasn’t for Princess Twilight then Winter would have come late again this year!” A blue stallion with a gorgeous voice, calls out. I don’t see him, but it’s hard not to recognize Noteworthy’s voice. It’s... pretty Noteworthy. Ecchem.

“And last year!” A few ponies shout in unison.

Wow, so, my absolute worst case scenario is actually happening... to somepony else.

Even I couldn’t have seen that one coming.

Mayor Mare’s sweating now, backing away nervously. What’s worse is, if anything, I’m probably on her side in this.

“Ponies, please, I don’t plan on forcibly ejecting the mayor from office.”

“You don’t?” she asks incredulously. Give me strength…

“No, I don’t.” I reassure her. “Even if your office has, unfortunately, for the time being, become invalidated and rendered moot I-” I cut myself off, stomp down on that train of thought and set fire to it. “-Will still need your assistance in making sure the transition goes as smoothly as possible. You know more about running this town than anyone, and I am woefully underqualified.” I admit with a bitter laugh.

“Well, they don’t seem to agree.” Mayor Mare harrumphs bitterly. I can’t blame her, that was a pretty thorough amount of disdain radiating from the crowd. I feel overwhelming levels of suck just for being in proximity to its target, I can barely imagine being the- well, no, I can easily imagine, and it’s very unpleasant.

“Mayor, this is the general public we’re talking about. Since when has their opinion necessarily been what is best for them?” Surprisingly, that argument works incredibly in my favour for a benevolent dictatorship, and I take a moment to appreciate the irony.

Well, at the very least, it elicits a defeated sigh. Not the outcome she had wanted but an outcome she was, more or less, ready to walk away with, it seems.

Then she does something else that completely surprises me, which in itself is a surprise because I thought I was totally out of ‘surprise’ quota today.

The former-mayor bows low at my feet, the very picture of humility. I can practically see it being made into a tacky motivational poster for her office.

“Princess.”

The crowd explodes into a cacophony of whoops and cheers and noise at that. A few in the front row even try to rush me, and I fold my wings protectively in front of my soft, sensitive, please-don’t-touch-me face.

I feel the deafening roar of the crowd.

I feel myself be lifted as somepony yanks me.

I feel myself be lifted higher and higher as a pegasus rushes me into the sky.

I feel Rainbow Dash laugh maniacally into my ear.

“Say, egghead, when did a dork like you ever get so popular? Looks like I got some healthy competition!”

Oh Rainbow I could so very easily kiss you right now if I weren’t under you, being barrelled towards the library at break-neck speeds.

Other than that, you know, rampant and unrestrained affection is totally yours, my friend.

We crash through one of the first-floor windows of my cosy library home, peaceful except for the shattering of glass as two full-grown ponies hurtle through it at aforementioned speeds. Fortunately I have Rainbow Dash insurance.

That’s not a joke. The premiums for it, however, are.

“Ah, Twilight,” Rarity greets us dryly from the center of the room, flanked by a rather amused looking Pinkie Pie and Applejack on her left and a rather concerned looking Fluttershy on her right, “I hope your journey was less problematic than your arrival.”

“Had a whole crowd eating out of her hoof, Rarity. I tell ya, she’s a natural.” Rainbow smugged again over my shoulder, though, kindly enough, it seemed to be on my behalf.

“Well, that’s good news, I suppose.”

“Yeah!” Pinkie chirped up, “Because imagine what would have happened if she hadn’t? Doom! Doom!”

She had grabbed Applejack’s head between two forehooves some time after the first proclamation of ‘doom’ but before the second, eyes bulging out of her skull impossibly and capturing AJ in a reluctant stare.

AJ seemed less than amused as she gently pushed Pinkie off of her, it must be said.

“Well, not that this impromptu reunion isn’t wonderful or anything,” under other circumstances that might not have warranted sarcasm - I’d have to find something else to be sarcastic about, it sustains me - “but I’d really like to talk to Spike.”

“I believe he’s upstairs.” Rarity proclaimed. She appeared to be the spokespony of this little soiree. Of course she was. “Buried under a less-than-entirely metaphorical mountain of paperwork.”

“Do you mind if I talk to him, first, then? Not that I don’t value you girls’ input, of course,” no need to accidentally insult your friends, “but I haven’t seen him since I left this morning.” This morning, all those long weeks ago. It certainly couldn’t have been the mere hours the clock was informing me.

There was a general mumbling of agreement from my friends, aside from Fluttershy, whose mumbling of agreement was a lot more wholehearted, if no less of a mumble.

Right. Spike, then.

I trudge up the stairs, groaning as my weary muscles protest; I’m really not used to panicking this much in a day before being hurtled through a window. It’s usually one or the other.

“Hello, Spike.” I say as I open the door to my bedroom upstairs and am promptly greeted by... a lot of paperwork. Wow. That is... Did it snow scrolls? Was there a papery blizzard in here? The entire room is covered in a blanket of them, my bed, my bookcases, my drawers, my floor- All paper.

A green dorsal fin appears, cutting through the paper ocean, as the great Spike shark starts swimming towards me. He strikes! Clinging to my leg in an affectionate, if somewhat desperate, hug.

“Twilight! You’re back!” Well, I feel appreciated all of a sudden, “They keep coming!”

“What keeps coming?” I take another glance at the paper. Oh. “Nevermind, I think I just worked it out for myself.”

“It’s - Uuurp!” Another scroll forcibly erupts from my little assistant, singeing my knee, “Make it sto-op!” He wails.

"What is all this?”

“I didn’t get a chance to read all of it,” yeah, no kidding, “But it’s all from Celestia, or her lawyers, who should totally know better than to force unfeed a dragon this much in one sitting.”

“You are going to get a lot of ice-cream out of this, my number one assistant. Did you read any of them, though?”

“Oh, yeah,” Spike mumbled, stroking his stomach, “Celestia says ‘if the nobles are agreeable, and don’t squabble over shreds of power they didn’t even know they had, this should be cleared up in less than six months.’”

“So, how long is it actually going to take?”

“Probably a bit over two years.”

“Two years?”

“Yeah.”

I slam the bedroom door behind me and storm down the stairs..

“Rarity.”

“Mm, yes, darling?”

“Let’s discuss my terms of surrender, shall we?”

Chapter Four: Where Twilight Sparkle Has A Golden Opportunity

“I am ready to oblata arripe as it were.”

“Oblatta a ripe what, Twi? Cause if mah apples are involved in this-”

“It means seize the offer, Applejack. I was suppressing my misgivings about this whole thing by quoting High Lingua. For instance, I am ‘raptus regaliter’’.”

“I presume that’s delightful, darling. Fluttershy, do be a dear and fetch us a pot of tea, Applejack has some rather wonderful ideas for distribution of labour and Pinkie Pie has been a most excellent liaison, going through your old contacts, don’t ask me how, and come up with some rather promising leads.”

“And Rainbow Dash?”

Rarity sighs heavily, rolling her eyes, which I note that Rainbow Dash is finding particularly amusing.

“She has volunteered for... public relations.”

“Aww yeah, nopony knows how to work a crowd like the R to the Dash.” She seems to consider this. “Except maybe Pinkie Pie.” The pair share an approving nod of some sort of mutual respect.

“I... what?” Flummoxed is a good word. Let's go with 'flummoxed'.

Applejack sniggers as Rarity’s hoof firmly met face. “Yes, normally, under other circumstances, I might have done so myself, but I tend to specialize in more intimate, higher-class-”

Applejack interrupts by stepping forward with a ruthless grin, much to Rarity’s chagrin. “What Rarity is trying to say, sugarcube, is that crowds don’t take to her as well as they do to fast and feathery over yonder.”

I need to get this sorted out. “So let me get this straight: Rainbow Dash is going to help me with my public image because Rarity is going to be too busy flirting with what few friends I made in Canterlot both of whom will be aided and abetted by Pinkie Pie, whilst Applejack is, with my blessing, given total administrative control of Ponyville’s infrastructure.”

“Well, darling, it’s not that simple-”

She’s interrupted by several voices at once.

“Yeppers!” Pinkie nods so rapidly I have the overwhelming urge to check the consistency of her vertebrae. Perhaps a calcium deficiency? No, not with all those milkshakes...

“That about sums it up, pardner, yep.” Applejack steps back into line, shooting Rarity an ‘I win’ wink.

“Yeah, sounds ‘bout right.” Rainbow shrugs amiably.

“I uhh, made some tea?” Fluttershy reappeared, tea tray balanced on an outstretched wing.

“I’ve noticed a distinct lack of Fluttershy in this plan."

“Ah. Well, Fluttershy has a very special job. Fluttershy, would you kindly?”

“I’d rather not say...”

“Oh, come on, darling.”

She looks at me timidly, then away. After a few moments of panicked indecision she forces eye contact. She twitches a little, breaking eye contact. Finally, with a deep breath, she looks me in the not-quite-eye-but-close-enough and forces out, in a tumble of words: “It’s, well, it’s my job, sorry, to stop you from stressing out too much.”

“That-” I start, at a loss for words (plural).

“Sorry,” She says again, staring at the floor, hiding behind a curtain of mane.

“No that, considering these circumstances, is probably a very good idea.” Oh look, I found the words, they were hiding under common sense, the last place anyone ever looks.

Fluttershy looks up again, smiling gently, in obvious relief and gratitude.

“You aren’t mad?”

“Well, it does insinuate that I’m going to be far too mentally unstable to handle this on my own without making terrible, rash judgements.” I hum, tapping my chin in thought, “Though, admittedly, that’s an incredibly fair insinuation to make, and your intentions are kind.” Flash winning smile! “As always, Fluttershy.”

Her smile flickers briefly to something much wider, much warmer, before defaulting back to its muted nervousness. Rarity is already beside her, congratulating Fluttershy for her bravery.

The heartwarming moment is lost on me when I realize just how scary I can be, even to my friends, again.

Want-it-need-it

I’m not that scary, am I?

Build an exact replica of Ponyville right over there!

I can be trusted! I would never hurt my friends!

Applejack screaming “Real me! Real me!”

Oh come on, that one’s not even fair! Changelings don’t count!

“Err, Twi? You all right there?” Applejack. The real one.

“Hmm?”

“You’ve been staring at Fluttershy, collecting flies.” Rarity raises an eyebrow speculatively as Fluttershy puts Rarity between the two of us, like a barrier, like a shield.

“Yeah!” Pinkie adds cheerfully, “You’ve been all like bluh.” She pantomimes the action and - hey! - I do not look like that!

Do I?

Terrified, mortified, overwhelmed, incompetent, mentally unsound, unstable, scared, nervous, frustrated, frantic, frit, “ - exhausted. It’s been a really long day.” Well, it’s still a truth, if not the truth. “Do you girls mind if I... sleep on this? I’m sure you’ve got plenty of plans to discuss, but you don’t need me for all of them, right?”

“Well, it’s true we haven’t hammered out the fine details-” Rarity starts.

“Excellent.” It wouldn’t do to let Rarity finish that, it inevitably has a ‘but’ lurking in there, so I don’t. “I’m going to bed.”

“It’s four in the afternoon.” Rainbow deadpans.

“I’m sorry, but did you wake up, have a nauseating level of panic, get dragged to Canterlot, fly back to Ponyville using unstable, untested methods with no brakes" -wait, why the heck didn’t I realize that until just now? Move on before you can dwell on it, Twilight, move on before the mental image of being pancaked overwhelms you - GAH! - “be reminded painfully of your own incompetence, criss-cross the entire town several times at similar speeds, address a crowd of ponies that were probably terrified of you- ” wait, how many were bowing out of respect and how many just thought I’d shoot them with a laser beam if they didn’t? That’s... probably worth looking into, actually. “ -then crash through a window, still dealing with the fact that you unintentionally enslaved a whole town!”

I take a deep breath.

Then another.

Then another.

In. Out. In. Out. Just like Cadance showed me. In. Out - Yeah, okay, this isn’t working.

Oh, to Tartarus with it. In the words of Marked Twine: When frustrated, take ten deep breaths. When very frustrated, swear.”

I can’t bring myself to outright profanity, though, so I settle for stamping my hoof down.

I open my eyes. My friends have all taken a few large steps back... with the exception of Applejack, who simply looks thoroughly impressed.

Rainbow Dash, however, appears to be hiding behind Fluttershy.

I look down. The hard wooden floor of my precious library has splintered and my hoof appears to be stuck in a tomb of fractured boards.

Good job not being scary.

“Well, shoot.” I admit, genuinely calm, flavoured with sprinklings of remorse and guilt to taste, “I guess I don’t really know my own strength anymore.”

“Pard’ner, you buck as well as you stomp, you’re welcome ‘round the acres come harvest season like you wouldn’t believe.”

Rarity sighs as two trembling ponies crouch behind her, massaging the bridge of her nose with a hoof. “How utterly pragmatic of you, Applejack.”

“Look, Dash-” Address directly, maintain eye contact, flash winning smile, pray to Celestia it doesn’t look forced or like I want to eat her or something, “- I’m really sorry. That wasn’t at you and you didn’t deserve that.” Rainbow Dash chuckles nervously and proceeds to pretend she hadn’t just used Fluttershy as a meat-shield. The results were... mixed, at best. “I know it’s early but it’s probably going to take at least an hour to sort all the paperwork off my bed, so I’d better start now.”

“Err... right, okay Twilight.” She agrees unsteadily.

Pinkie Pie looks at me quizzically, a puzzled and thoughtful expression that doesn’t quite suit her. Frankly, it’s like watching a child try to understand why a parent goes to a job they hate, “I think,” she declares, “Twilight would like some peace and quiet time right now. Come on, girls, we’ll keep the party going at Sugarcube Corner.” She flashes me a warm, reassuring smile.

It’s times like this that prove Pinkie Pie is more than just what she appears, she’s also empathetic, observant and-

“I’ll bake cupcakes and we can stay up all night and have a sleepover and play truth-or-dare and-”

It’s times like this that shows why ponies think Pinkie Pie isn’t more than she appears.

“Yes, dear, that sounds like a very wise move. Shall we abscond, then?” Rarity nudged the pink pony.

“I wouldn’t mind scones.” Fluttershy admits, trailing the rest of the group as they follow the ever exuberant Pinkie Pie out the door.

She closes the door ever-so-gently behind her, giving me one last sympathetic nod as she goes.

Just how many ponies were bowing out of fear, anyway?

I shuffle up to my bedroom. It’s a march, a battle, up the stairs, against pure apathy and depression, a depression that’s quickly becoming a physical barrier as real as any of my brother’s shields.

“Hey, Spike.” I say weakly as I open the door to the paper blizzard that is my room.

“Is Rarity gone yet?”

“Yeah... yeah, she and the others went over to Sugarcube Corner.”

“Oh, good.”

Good? Good?

He notes my surprise, even though I don’t say anything. I guess I don’t need to, Spike can read me pretty well when he wants to. Well, that and my expression probably wasn’t exactly subtle.

“I really didn’t want her to see me like this.” He shrugs by way of explanation. Ah.

“It’s okay, Spike. It’s not your fault.”

“It’s not yours, either.” Spike hugs back, squeezing gently with his claws.

Yeah. Yeah, I guess it’s not.

But it’s still my responsibility. I can’t just give it off onto the next pony, because-

Wait.

Oh, Celestia, I’m an idiot!

“Spike!” I whisper excitedly, "Why don’t we just-”

“Wait!” Spike cuts me off, pressing a claw to my lips momentarily before diving into a pile of documents at the foot of my bed. He emerges with a scroll that appears to be in his handwriting.

“I might have already put it on the list.”

List?

Well... I do like lists. I love lists. Particularly one with check boxes on them.

Heaven is a well-organized list with no flaws or mistakes.

“Reasons why ______ won’t work.”

My stomach falls into the approximate location of the hole downstairs left by my hoof.

“1. ‘Sell Ponyville to itself’” sits proudly at the top of the list. I’ll admit, it’s exactly what I was thinking.

In neat, organized bullet points - aptly named as each one is viciously shooting the idea down - are reasons why this is impossible or impractical.

It turns out I would have to make every single citizen of Ponyville a noble if I wanted to sell it to the citizens themselves, which is some combination of impossible and impractical. I could sell it back to the local council... if this weren’t designated as a Royal demesne and I would still hold the title and power anyway, only now I’d have taken a bunch of tax payer’s bits. Impractical. I could give the title to the elected representative but they’d have no obligation to do so when they were voted out or they retired.

Too easy to corrupt. I choose my own, known, level of incompetence over the possibility and unknown potential for corruption hooves down.

Selling it back to Celestia or Luna is next on the list? Well, I hadn’t thought of that, but that idea has already been neatly shot down by some inconvenient laws about separation of court and crown, and since a demesne is - by which I mean was at the time these laws were enforced, because this is stupid and ridiculous - an important tribute and link, a show of trust between the royals and the nobles...

So I could sell it to the nobles then? That idea is next, and shot down by a bullet point consisting of two very, very powerful words.

“Like Blueblood?”

Yeah. No.

Why don’t I just dissolve the darned thing then?!

“Reasons why we can’t just dissolve the demesne:”

I really, really hate this eye tic.

As it turns out this point is the most fascinating: No demesnes were ever truly dissolved. In fact, they’re still around today, owned by noble’s who have - or, until Luna, had - no idea of the significance of their titles, truly.

So, that brought me back to selling the demesne or transferring the title...

Okay, okay, so I can’t sell it. I can’t give it back. I can’t abdicate. I can’t dissolve it. I can’t just ignore it.

Can I?

“Reasons why ignoring the problem won’t make it go away:”

Darn.

Okay, you know what? Fine.

I really, really hate this well-organized list with no flaws or mistakes.

I look up at Spike, who’s staring back at me expectantly.

“Yeah, well, is ‘good’ really the word for it? I mean, if anything, it sucks.” He grumbles, playing idly with his hands and looking almost ashamed.

Yes. Yes, it does indeed suck, Spike.

“You aren’t going to go mad with power, are you, Twilight?”

I lied about how long it would take to sort the papers on my bed. I levitate them all into several large, precarious, stacks, and dump them unceremoniously onto the floor.

“I think, if anything, I’m going to go mad from power, Spike.”

“Oh.”

There’s an awkward silence. The little drake really does care for me, and he is really - justifiably - worried. He’s just an innocent bystander in this. Well, that’s something I can fix!

“Spike?”

“Yeah?”

“Are any of these pages in there for granting titles?”

Spike plods over to one of the stacks by my bed. With one eye closed and tongue stuck out in concentration he reaches for a sheaf in the middle and-

Whoosh!

Pulls it out without disturbing the rest of the tower, handing it to me wordlessly. It’s skills like that which make me know I’m doing the right thing.

“This looks pretty boilerplate. Alright, quill, ink? Thank you, Spike, now-” With a flourish of my magic the quill dances along the page, filling out the relevant details, and the certificate floats into Spike’s hands.

He reads it.

His eyes grow wide.

Oh dear, have I done something wrong?

“I know I don’t technically have a court, yet, but-”

“Scrivener Spike? You made me a scrivener now?”

“Well, you fit all the requirements, and I do have the authority now...” Wow, great job, Twilight, this is your way to make up for having a lot of responsibility forced on you? Do it to somebody else? Why did this seem like a good idea thirty seconds ago?

He lunges for me, wrapping his scaly arms around my neck and chokes me.

It takes me a moment to realize he’s not throttling me, but hugging me very, very tightly... though there doesn’t seem to be much distinction between the two.

“Urk... ack...?”

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

“An’t... eathe...”

“Sorry, Twilight, what was that?” He lets go. I go back to my regular shade of purple.

“Doesn’t matter.” I sigh, well, pant, choke even, but it’s meant to be a relieved sigh, “I’m glad you like it.”

“You think Rarity will be impressed?” he says as he picks up a pile of paper, scanning it as seriously as possible. It’s... well, it’s adorable.

“Titles are given to ponies with a lot of responsibility, you’ll look very mature.” I answer as diplomatically as possible. He doesn’t notice I’ve dodged the question... good. Let him find out when he’s no longer this cute.

“You think I’m responsible?”

“Well, unless it involves ice-cream. Which it won’t, because you are not allowed ice-cream near official forms, mister.”

“Aww. Celestia eats cake next to her stuff all the time, though!”

“Is any of it ice-cream cake?”

“No...” Spike kicks at nothing, arms crossed. He’s adorable when he pouts, too.

“There’s your answer then. Now, I’m going to go to sleep. It’s been a very, very long day, my little scribe, and I would like nothing more than to end it.”

“Oh, okay. Do you want me to, like, organize this, or?” We really need to get him a little pair of spectacles for him to sternly gaze over the top of when he asks questions like this. Actually, it is a good question.

Hrrrm.

“How about you just sort a clear path to the door. I’ll help you with the rest tomorrow.”

He salutes, just like Shining Armour taught him - it just looks weird with hands, actually - and I collapse into bed, asleep seconds after my head hits the pillow, the shuffling of paper like a soothing lullaby.

I’m in a void of mists and darkness that seem to stretch on for eternity all around. It’s actually a lot more soothing than you’d expect it to be; The only exception is a bright pink spectre approaching me from the mists... a spectre that almost looks like...

“Pinkie Pie? What are you doing here?”

“Oh, hi Twilight! You’re dreaming, see?” she says as she turns her head a full three hundred and sixty degrees, smiling as wide as possible.

“Two things. One, that was a lot more terrifying than it was reassuring, and two, I’m not entirely unsure you can’t do that when I’m awake.”

“He he, oh yeah!” she pulls out - oh dear, really? - her chicken costume from Nightmare Night.

“Oh, no, please don’t tell me you’re going to make this one of those dreams.” I groan, “I swore I wouldn’t think about what Rainbow said. Please don’t make a liar of me, Pinkie.”

“Oh! But I’m not! I’m not the one you have deep-seated Froodian issues with!”

“Well, that’s... wait, what?”

“Yeah, I’m just here to give this to somepony else!”

With that she throws the costume up into the air, back into the mists, and runs off giggling like a little filly. This is very not reassuring.

The mists part again as -

Oh, Celestia.

No, really, oh Celestia.

The mists start to part, the shadowy void brightening into what I recognize as the Canterlot throne room. I am not coming to associate this room with dignified moments.

Celestia sits atop her throne, eyes half lidded, smoky and sultry, wearing what appears to be a very form-fitting equivalent of Pinkie Pie’s costume.

“Hello, Twilight.” she says, voice of velvet and honey that caresses the ears and warms the... tips of my ears. “Bacawk.”

What in Equestria is wrong with my brain that this is what I’m dreaming. At least no-one else is here to see this.

“Am I, perchance, interrupting something?” A smooth imperious voice whispers into my ear behind me, making me jump.

“I really hope so, yes.” I reply, mortified, eyes never leaving Celestia. Out of embarassment, of course, not for... other reasons.

“Do you wish to explain,” Luna gestures with a hoof at her ‘sister’, “this?”

I think about it for all of a moment.

“No.”

“Ah. I see.”

“Ah, dear sister.” Celestia’ greets in that same tone, “Bacawk to you too.”

Luna stares. I can hear the strangest sound gurgling from her throat, a staccato hiss of air from her nostrils. Her mouth twitches at the corners, a flicker.

Finally her legs give way underneath her as she collapses into laughter, her legs now wiggling in the air above her uselessly.

“Oh! Oh! Cease this, cease this, thou art killing us of merriment! Oh, I must show her, I must!”

There’s a ‘pop’ beside me, and a rather irritated Celestia glares at her sister in earnest. Oh, dear.

Oh, dear.

Why did I have to tempt fate? “At least no one else is here to see this?” I might as well have said ‘things couldn’t possibly get worse’!

“Luna, please, I was in the middle of that torte... dream... again...” she pauses, studying Luna squirming on the ground, tears in her eyes, and me, of course, flat on my rump and covering my face with both my hooves, moaning for sweet, merciful death. Death that would not come.

I mean, it’d probably just wake me up, but that’s pretty ideal right now, too.

Finally, Celestia turns and sees ‘herself’. She turns back with an impossible expression slathered across her face, obviously not quite sure how to feel, or what parts of what she’s feeling to hide yet, which causes Luna to start redoubling her laughter.

“Twilight, do you care to explain?”

I raise a hoof. I lower my hoof. It was fine where it was, protecting my face from shame.

Words do not come.

“I don’t think I could, Princess.”

Her doppelganger chooses this moment to address us, because my subconscious is cruel and I hate myself so much. “Ah, Celestia, care to join us? What is it that you said, Luna, to the mare who had donned this costume? Ah, yes...”

Oh, no.

“The fun shall be doubled, I believe.”

Celestia shoots me an aside glance, her face probably flushed with more embarrassment than mine, a feat only possible because she has the larger face and thus more surface area to work with.

There are tears in Luna’s eyes, who has resorted to pounding the marble with a hoof.

“Why are you here, Luna?” I growl before I have a chance to catch myself. Mouth, this is why we wait for brain. You’re an idiot.

“That’s a very good question, sister.” Celestia gazes seriously down at the princess rolling on the marble floor of the ‘throne room’ at her hooves. Unlike this morning it isn’t me!

“T’was merely the fastest way to contact you. We did not anticipate such unique entertainment.” She pauses, glancing at the faux-lestia. “Why a chicken, of all things?”

“Something Rainbow said about ‘the egghead needing to get laid’. Her choice of words, not mine. Somehow Pinkie Pie got involved and, next thing I know, eggs, laid, double in both meaning and entendre.”

Celestia seems to have walked over to inspect faux-lestia, scanning her with what looked like rather conflicted amusement..

“Ah, so it is merely the manifestation of an unwelcome mental image planted in thy psyche by merry pranksters.” We both pretend to not notice the flash of disappointment across the real Celestia’s face. Process that later. “We could bleach thy mind of this blemish, if you so wished?”

“Why does erasing parts of my memory sound like an incredibly bad idea?”

“Bah! Do you not trust me? Screw thy courage to the sticking place.”

I turn to Princ- no, I turn to Celestia for support. She appears to be suffering enough on her own. The two white alicorns are staring each other down, appraising each other. Celestia appears to be overwhelmed with morbid fascination, the other... staring back seductively?

Oh, ew. Memory spell officially looks pretty good right now. Well, actually, there is still one thing.

“Luna if you erased this memory, which you have witnessed, you’re probably going to giggle or snicker or something at me and I’ll have no idea what it’s about.”

“I would not, and I am most irked that thou wouldst think that of us. Certainly, I should be mature enough to-” It is at this point that Faux-lestia glances at ‘her’ sister and...

“Bacawk.”

Luna’s down on the floor again.

“Real mature, Luna.”

“Oh,” she says, between gasps for air, “how wonderful. You’re certainly getting better at addressing us as equals.”

“Well, it’s hard not to when I’m looking down on you like this. Literally, I mean, not figuratively.” Yet. Okay, maybe a little figurative looking-down-upon.

“Still, we see the wisdom of your words.” Luna admitted, nodding as sagely and with as much wisdom as possible for a thousands-year-old monarch currently flopped on their back tittering like a foal.

“We were having that wonderful cake dream again, weren’t we?” Fauxlestia purrs. “Well, I know a very intriguing place to put all that icing, if you-”

“No.” I declared, stamping my hoof into the dreamarble floor. My puns and portmanteaus don’t have to be good; I’m dreaming (dreamable, dreamarble, though, gosh I’m clever). Still, the world itself shudders with the impact.

Oh, geeze, did I just punch my brain? So help me if I wake up with a nosebleed.

“Ow.” Luna moans.

“Oh, shush, sister, it was your own fault for being down there in the first place.”

“How were we supposed to know she’d-”

“Luna.” I interrupt before I have two royal princesses squabbling whilst a sexy-chicken doppelganger leaps onto every double entendre and pun possible. “What is it you wanted to tell me?”

“Ah! Important news, Twilight Sparkle! I...” Luna frowned, eyebrows furrowing slightly, as she righted herself. “have completely forgotten.”

Twitchy eye, we are in complete agreement on this.

“What?” Celestia growls then blinks, seemingly surprised at herself. Wow, confronting a sexy-chicken version of yourself must be really off-putting.

“I concur. T’is so unlike me to be forgetful. It must surely have been the wonderfully entertaining banter.” Luna apologized in a way that distinctly did not feel apologetic.

“This is my dream, right?”

“Hrmm? Oh, of course, though I don’t see how-”

‘Lucid Dreaming Techniques volumes one to four’. ‘Dream manipulation; Everything you Wanted to Know and More Things you Probably Didn’t’. ‘Dozy Dreamer’s Dream Dominion For Dummies’. Fantastic books, all of them.

A very large, very heavy piano appears above Luna. Trust me on this; it hurts.

I flick my ear appreciatively as the distinctive Klong! of a very grand piano hitting its target drifts melodically past.

“B Flat.” Celestia muses dryly. “Whilst I do not endorse violence as a solution, Twilight, particularly against my own sister, I must admit that was a rather nice touch.”

“It’s the little things.” I agree.

Luna explodes triumphantly from the lid of the smashed piano, hoof pointed skyward and smiling like a lunatic.

Oh. So that’s where that word comes from, I guess.

“Thank you, Twilight, my good friend, this has jogged my memory. T’was most courteous!”

“Thank you?”

“I apologize, my sister and I can do no more with the Ponyville situation. Though my sister did not handle removing the laws as she should have.”

“It was a light touch sister, and it had almost worked if you hadn’t-”

“Nevertheless!” Luna continued, surreptitiously sliding Fauxlestia up against Celestia’s flanks to momentarily distract her with a most diabolical plot. The plan kind, not the anatomical kind, though I guess that was kind of diabolical if- “Whilst we cannot undo the actions, we are responsible.”

“Royal ‘we’ or ‘we’ as in “I’m blaming Celestia too”?” I point out on Celestia’s behalf.

“Now is not the time to allocate blame! We must focus on moving forward!” She declares, hoof still raised vaguely triumphantly skyward, now sitting on the remains of the ruined piano.

“Luna-”

“So we have decided to give you access to what resources we have at our disposal. Bits, really.”

That gave me pause. “Bits as in bits of your resources or-”

“Bits as in the currency, yes.”

“Oh.” Well. Huh, okay. “So, what, you think you can just buy my forgiveness?”

“Yes.” Luna nods eagerly.

“Well. Okay then. How many bits are we talking about?”

Luna writes a sum and shows it to me. My eyes widen.

“That’s... that’s a lot of bits.” I breathe.

“Not really.” Luna shrugged, glancing at Celestia. “My sister has led an age of prosperity for hundreds of years in my absence and has neglected to spend it. What good are bits if they lie with their brethren collecting dust in vaults? Feh. Gold may be soft as a metal, too soft to forge into anything useful, and yet it’s not soft enough to swim in, so why must we let it pool so?”

Celestia turns and fixes her sister a stony glare. Fauxlestia takes the opportunity to nibble her ear, which is...

Look, a pony can only be mortified for so long, and Celestia’s expression is sort of priceless. Unlike, apparently, my forgiveness. That price is in my hooves. The whole thing is so bizarre I can’t help but laugh. Laugh. Luna joins in.

Celestia looks at me with a rather odd expression and then-

Argh. Light.

I am not a morning pony. Never have been, never- Wait.

Okay, sometimes I’m a morning pony, but that’s only when I stay up all the previous night reading or studying or messing with the laws of thermodynamics. Then I’m a morning pony.

A few haunting words are left with me, called from very far away, drifting to me from the last vestiges of sleep: “Oh, and we've also sent for some assistance”.

Now. What could that possibly mean, beyond the obvious? Or perhaps it was the obvious – but if it were obvious why would they think to mention it when they’d already mentioned the bits, so what if they were talking about literal assistance, which-

Eugh. Thinking before coffee. Dangerous for one’s mental health.

I trot downstairs my eyes mostly shut, lest the stabby stabby rays of sun burn them more than necessary, and flop down at the breakfast table – butt flopped on chair, head flopped on table (safe from the stabby stabby burny burny sun).

“Spike.” I moan. “Coffee.”

“Err...” a rather more girlish voice replies. My head snaps up from the desk, eyes willing to accept momentary blindness to see the intruder. Yes this is a dumb oxymoron, I am not a morning pony.

Whilst it was technically true Ponyville was a public library it was widely accepted that nopony would, or should, ever visit it unannounced. It didn't do to be impolite. The exception seemed limited to my friend Rainbow Dash, but her voice wasn't that feminine. I had an intruder on my hooves.

“Who are you and what are you doing in my home?!” I declare with deadly precision... inside my own head. What I actually say is closer to; “Whothewazzahapphuh?”

“Err...” The intruder repeats, “what?”

My eyes are starting to adjust to daylight and I can finally, finally, see the mare standing in my kitchen.

No wings, no horn - earth pony, then. She's a stormy grey mare with an extraordinarily crisply cut mane and tail, very old-fashioned and professional looking pale-gold. She almost looks like the mail mare, in the same way Maude almost looks like Pinkie Pie.

She’s petite, a bit shorter than most of my friends. Okay, petite is a bit of a generous word for it, she's compact, like she never quite grew out of her teenage body. For all that, though, the flanks that bear her winged-scroll cutie mark have the lean, toned look of the permanently stressed; deadlines have a way of burning calories.

It's sort of probably maybe how I'm still so adequately figured (in spite of what Rainbow says) in spite of my own remarkably sedentary lifestyle and fondness for junk food. I like junk food, okay?

Junk food is specifically engineered to be the best. It's food made to taste good with science and rampant abuse of what we know of biology, like how fats, sugars and salts cause the brain to overload with bliss. What is there possibly not to love?

“I'm sorry I like junk food so much, please don't judge me because I'm not as fit as you so obviously are!” I snap. She blinks uneasily at me through huge, dorky spectacles which are, frankly, too horribly, horribly attractive for me to deal with this early in the morning.

“I'm sorry?” she says.

It's okay, she's sorry and – why did she say that in a confused tone of voice? Probably because that was a non-sequitur and she can't read my mind.

Coffee.

“Okay, now I'm sorry for not-crazy reasons. Could you fetch me a cup of coffee?”

Her gaze narrowed at me, hardening into a glare, which I noticed even in my sleep deprived state. “Fetch?”

“Oh, don't make me beg.” I moan, head flopping back onto the table.

“Fine!” She snaps, making me raise my head again, “I thought we could work together with some semblance of mutual respect, but if you're going to be like that, I suppose I should just tell you to deal with... whatever's going on outside and start off on my own, then.” She storms off into a corner of the library where she's already set up a delightfully rustic workstation, leaving me groggy and confused.

Well, that was... unusual.

Right. Deal with that after I deal with 'whatever's going on outside'. That sounds... horribly ambiguous.

I open the door. There's the loud yelling of a mob. I close the door. I walk over to the kitchen, grab some of the coffee beans from the machine and some of Spike's chocolate syrup, then pour and stir them in the best mixing bowl available: My mouth. Surprisingly delicious, though I'll have to use... more... chocolate...

Woah. Instant energy hit.

Neurons – firing! Synapses are synapsing! Brain cells sparking off electrical impulses and thought returning to its usual brilliance!

Percolated Princess perkiness achieved! Let's go solve problems.

I all but kick the front door open and march out, stomping in as Princessly a glory as I can muster in the circumstances. It appears most of the crowd is merely here for the spectacle and not for, as I feared, my head.

Once more I wonder how many ponies bowed out of respect yesterday and how many out of fear, or not wanting to be singled out by the crazy mare who nearly destroyed the town with a stuffed animal before she achieved demi-god status.

Crisis now, worry later.

“Citizens of Ponyville!” I declare, “What the heck is going on?” Okay, not the most royal of proclamations, but it gets to the heart of the issue.

One of the stallions in the crowd in front of me snickers, and a few point at the tree house. No good can come of this. The only thing left for it is for me to turn around and prove that it can't possibly be as bad as my imagination could make it.

Which is a good thing because my imagination is making it seem pretty awful. I don't smell smoke, though, so... alright. Turning around now. Any second now. Just going to confirm my worst fears about my home right...

Oh to heck with it.

I spin around and am confronted with... graffiti? Really? Is that all? That's not so-

Oh. Oh, be still my quivering heart, we will find the fiends who did this.

“Bad things to tire ants!” and “Poneyvil wants freedum!” and “Their is no justess!” are scrawled all over the library in spray paint. What vile fiend would misspell the name of their own town? Who would use the wrong their so unabashadly?! Who would- Wait.

I levitate a raincloud over and scrub a bit of the graffiti with it, like a giant sponge. Bits of the paint come off.

Okay, so, at least it's water soluble. That's good.

I sigh, loudly. I spot Cheerilee in the crowd nodding with approval. I tap into my inner school marm.

“Alright, everypony, who did this?”

“It was I!” A familiar, raspy voice declares from the treetop. There's a heavy rustle of branches and an orange pegasus filly's head pops out of a pile of leaves. “Scootaloo! Head of the Ponyville Kivil Rights Movement!”

“Scootaloo, get down from there!” Sweetie Belle yells at her. “You're going to get us all in trouble!”

“Nah, I got, like, freedom of speech laws and stuff protecting me.” Scootaloo shrugs, making me cringe as she loosens her grip on the branch to give the flippant gesture. Please don't fall, please don't fall...

“If you've got freedom of whatsits then Twilight's not a tire ant.” Applebloom points out with the infallible logic of the concerned friend. Her sister would be proud. Sweetie Belle nudges her in the ribs.

“Actually, I think she means 'tyrant'. And 'civil'.” She points out with attention to detail that would make her sister proud too. Scootaloo, meanwhile, is just sticking to the kind of rebellious behaviour and reckless self-endangerment that would probably make Rainbow Dash proud, herself, not that she'd admit it out loud.

“Scootaloo, did you perhaps mean civil rights?” I ask as I surreptitiously scrub more graffiti from the treehouse.

“Yeah, well, I've only seen the word written down.” She grumbles slash yells back at me.

“That's wonderful!” I yell back, turning the cloud a stained pink from the paint used on 'their', “I didn't know you've been reading. I'll see if I can find you a book you like next Twilight Time.” I pause, dramatically, glancing around the crowd. “Unless you don't want to have Twilight Time anymore because I'm a tyrant now?”

“What? No! I mean... I guess? But-” Scootaloo throws her hooves up in the air just as I finish 'justess!' “I don't know!” Unfortunately, if somewhat predictably, this causes her to lose her somewhat delicate and precarious balance and fall out of the tree. The crowd gasps.

I, being somewhat far, far too cynical to think that this wouldn't happen, catch her on the sponge-cloud with a soft pmpht!

The little filly looks up at me gratefully. “Thanks Twilight.” Her friends rush forward from the cloud and hug her. Sweetie Belle glares at Scootaloo and Applebloom, not being one for something so subtle, clocks her one on the shoulder, which Scootaloo proceeds to try not to rub too hard in front of the grownups.

She might have just fallen out of a tree after starting a failed coup but she still had her dignity. Rainbow would be proud.

“I'm sorry for calling you a tyrant.” Scootaloo mumbled. The crowd 'd'awed' in synch and then, aided by a stern glare on my part, decided to find much better places to be.

Show's over everypony.

Now I lean down to Scootaloo, making sure to get to her level but still give her a bit of space, “Now, where did you get that idea in your head, anyway?”

“My Dad said the stallions down at the pub were talking about it and... he's not going to be in trouble is he?” the filly interrupts herself.

“Probably not.” I admit. “You, on the other hoof.” I say, trying to hide a smile.

“Me? What did I do?” She cries indignantly but is silenced by a glare from her two friends. “Oh.” She rubs the back of her and chuckles awkwardly, “Right.”

“Now, the graffiti I can forgive, and I think you learned your lesson about climbing my tree.” I intone seriously, “But your spelling and grammar was atrocious. For your own sake, if not the sake of the Equestrian language, I'm going to be talking to Cheerilee about assigning you extra spelling homework for a few weeks.

Scootaloo just kicked her hooves in the dirt and grumbled something. Her friends start dragging her away before she says anything they regret, and I can’t help but smile and wave after them, suppressing a giggle. I should probably be more mad than I am but... really, that could have gone so much worse than it did.

At least Spike’s on my side. He took down the despot ruler of a kingdom before, he’d know how to best take me out. Using all his guile, skill, wit and insider knowledge we all know to what lengths he would go to crush my regime...

He’d hide the coffee. A fate truly worse than death.

My love of coffee is not something to sneeze at. Heh, get it? Cause cough-... okay, no more puns.

Oh! Oh! I like my romantic partners how I like my coffee; steaming hot and bitter, with just a little bit of sweetness to them.

Okay, obviously at this point I’m just procrastinating from dealing with the super cute nerdy girl back in the library who I have majorly ticked off. That’s not going to be fun.

Wait, did I just think of her as super cute? I did, didn’t I?

Oh, this is going to be majorly hoof-in-mouth isn’t it?

What a stupid question. Of course I'm going to put my hoof so far in my mouth Pinkie Pie could use me as a pogo stick. Rarity is going to need to use a flashlight if she ever considers giving me a hooficure again. Rainbow Dash would make some sort of horrible innuendo, I'm sure-

Twilight you are a big girl. The angry, cute mare – no! The angry, professional looking mare inside is just going to percolate in her anger like my coffee. Wait...

Oh Celestia, if I can't brave this now I'll never get myself a proper coffee! Now, when I have so many experiments to try with chocolate syrup ratios!

Okay, that thought was enough to get me back through the door. No backing out now.

I glance back at my nervously twitching back leg, the cowardly left one, and glare it into submission.

I look back up, into the nook of the library (or was it a cranny?) that this strange mare has appeared to set up as her office. With her back to the wall and a beautiful old writing desk in front of her (a beautiful mahogany one, old and immense!) covered in piles of papers and ink pots and quills. I check my stockpile surreptitiously – seven, eight, nine – and nothing's missing. She brought her own stationary! And are those papers from my bedroom?

There's a click, a snap, in my head when I realize that they, in fact, are the papers I had dumped beside my bed last night.

Luna wasn't sending assistance. She was sending assistants.

This one is glaring at me with the force of an angry sun.

“You handled that well.” She grunts at me. “So, what, you're all nice for the public but you insult your employees as soon as you're alone?”

“Insult?”

“You asked me to 'fetch' you a cup of coffee!”

“Yes. The most important task I could possibly bestow a pony, or dragon, in the morning.” I say with the utmost sincerity.

“No, no you-” she starts, then trails off and stares at me dubiously. “You then said 'don't make me beg'!'”

“I did?” I blush a bit, now that I'm more awake and aware of how embarrassing that is, “I'm sorry. I mean, I don't know how that offends you, miss,” Now it's my turn to trail off. I've been thinking of her as 'that cute mare'! I don't even know her name! No wonder she's mad at me. “I'm sorry, I never did get your name.”

That stuns her. She's rendered speechless by that simple admission. I fear I've broken her brain with indignance when she falls flat on her face on the desk. Then she starts pounding on it with a hoof and – laughing? She's laughing! Why is she laughing?

“You don't know?” she chokes out. “You never did, did you.” She says it as a statement, not as a question. “I've just snapped and snarled at a princess for absolutely no reason, haven't I?” She asks, somewhat less rhetorically. “My name, Doctor Princess Twilight Sparkle, is Golden Retriever.”

“Golden Retriever? Well, I don’t know what that-” Oh. Fetch? Beg? Oh.

She finally stop laughing, but her face doesn’t rise an inch from the desk, obscured by her neat, crisply cropped pale-gold mane succumbing to gravity. “I am so fired aren’t I?”

What? Why? I think, before realizing I can use my words. “What? Why?” I ask.

She glances up at me in miserable defeat, adjusting her adorable little pair of brass rimmed spectacles, chin still resting on her desk.

“Besides the wonderful first impression I’ve made, exploding at you for what turned out to be no reason, and not getting you a cup of coffee when you asked, you mean”

I pause to consider this. “You’re right.” I agree, deadpan. “Completely unforgivable.” She slumps back down, which is good for me, because it means I don’t have to hide how much I’m smiling. “You never did get me that cup of coffee. I think I’d still rather like one, though.”

She doesn’t rise, but one of her ear flicks up like a periscope, keying in on me, as if she doesn’t quite believe what she’s hearing. Soon, the other ear flicked up, and the whole head followed. When I nod at her, still smiling, she smiles back gratefully and almost vaults herself around that desk, right for the kitchen. She appears to be familiar with the intricacies of the machine, so I decide to glance over her flanks- work! I mean, work.

Yep, not blushing, not blushing, just looking over some boring money figures dum de dum, Celestia what is wrong with me?

I intently stare at the myriad of paperwork, hoping that if I stare at it hard enough I might come to understand some of it. Any of it.

No dice; It’s all in legaleze, and I never was good at learning other languages - High Lingua just sounds good to me, language of science and all. My eyes betray me and wander back over to the very, very cute mare now currently bringing me my coffee.

“Doctor Princess Sparkle, your coffee.” She delicately puts it down on the table in that earth pony way.

“Thank you, Miss Golden.” I reply, lifting the coffee with magic to my muzzle and taking a hearty waft of it in with a breath, “It smells wonder... wonder...” Oh dear. It smells like ground happiness brewed in the laughter of small children. I start suckling it like a young babe at its mother’s teat. It tastes like it too. After burning my tongue on it and simply not caring I come up for air. “Quaff! Oh, quaff this kind nepenthe, and forget the morn that came before.”

“From ‘The Raven’, Doctor Princess Sparkle?” she asks with a tone half of curiosity, half amusement.

“Most poetry is just whiny, preachy or self-indulgent dreck.” I admit, returning to the desperate sipping of the liquid nirvana between my shaking hooves - I’d stopped relying on magic at some point in the experience, it seemed, to have as much of my body as close as physically possible to the sheer bliss of this beverage, “but sometimes it’s really powerful stuff.”

Golden Retriever’s deep, pale yellow eyes with the beautiful opalescent shimmers in the iris - swoon! - widen in shock, then narrow again, grinning conspiratorially at me. “You aren’t supposed to admit that out loud you know. The Intellectual Bookish Society for Bookworms might revoke your egghead license.”

I gasp, fortunately getting a deep breath of delicious coffee aroma for my troubles, clasping a hoof to my chest - magic holding the mug for the moment - in faux shock. “Oh, dear, then Rainbow Dash would have to come up with a whole new term of vaguely insulting endearment!”

“The element of...” She looks up at the ceiling for a moment, lips tightening in concentration, “Loyalty, right?”

I nod, since that is a thing I can do whilst still sipping what’s left of the coffee. Multitasking efficiency!

“I read all about you when I got the assignment.” She smirked, taking the unfortunately empty mug off me. I admit, I’m not too proud of the sad grabby motions I made as she took it back to the kitchen, but there was still a little bit at the bottom that was all nice and concentrated and I wanted that inside me so badly...

That... probably didn’t come out well either.

“Does that mean I have a professional stalker, then?” I grin.

She pauses to consider that, which stops me for a moment. “Actually, I’m your new personal assistant, which is far, far more intimate. I’m like a stalker that you willingly just hand all the information. Much less work, much better pay.” She flashes me a winning smile. Was that... did she just snark cheerfully? Whilst... she’s making me more coffee. The best coffee.

Be still, my caffeinated beating heart.

“Miss Doctor Princess Sparkle, you’re drooling a little.” She blushes, and it is so darned cute I swear, what is wrong with me today, “Is my coffee really that good?”

“Yes.” I answer immediately. It’s not the whole reason, but she doesn’t need to know that, and it sort of kind of truly really is that good. “Yes it is.”

The mental image of her wearing a certain tight, form fitting chicken costume is all I can think of right now. It’s a surprisingly pleasant image. I may have a problem.

“And Spike’s not jealous?” I ask instead, floating the fresh cup over.

“Not at all.” She sighs, genuinely. “It appears somepony promoted him over me yesterday. Technically, by which I mean legally and officially and in every way that actually matters, he’s my employer just as much as you are, Doctor Princess.”

I gag on the coffee momentarily. Now, there’s a funny thought. No need to do a spit-take over the lovely lady’s paperwork though.

“Oh, and Luna sent me with this cheque. Are there any banks around here that would carry this amount?” She proffered me a cheque with a number I had literally only seen in my dreams.

I made sure to aim away from the paperwork.

Author's Note

Cor boni concilii statue tecum non est enim tibi aliud pluris illo

Chapter Six: Where Twilight Learns Many Fun Words as Better Business is Bartered over Brunch

I'm still standing in the doorway to the library as Golden Retriever stalks up to me from her little corner of the room, frantic expression on her face. "I have absolutely no idea, all I know is that we’re officially discussing it over lunch tomorrow," I admit, "I think I need your help." I consider that. "Actually, no, I'm mostly certain I need your help."

Golden's eyes widen behind those daintily balanced spectacles. "Me? Doctor Princess Sparkle, I was sent here to assist you in bureaucratic matters. I'm not a business negotiator."

"Well, yes, which means you know more about what I can and can't barter with. Rarity will be doing most of the actual business, I hope."

She stares at me for a long moment, in a way that makes me feel sort of itchy. Have you ever been really respected by somepony and then said or done something that makes that pony not only re-evaluate their respect for you, but actually re-evaluate why they ever had any respect for you in the first place?

Apparently if you watch them do this it makes it feel like a couple of baby parasprites have gotten under your coat. I don't like this feeling.

"I'm a scholar, not a businesspony. I've spent more of my life practicing how to avoid dealing with ponies than I have actually dealing with ponies. So, rather than put myself into a situation I have no practice in, I'm going to swallow my pride and delegate to the two most qualified ponies I can think of." Applejack was also considered, but that idea went south when I remembered Rich has already got leverage over her.

"Well, I'm flattered you'd consider me, but what good is the Element of Generosity in a business negotiation?"

I blink. Gears grind and crunch almost audibly between my ears as I process that.

Did she honestly just ask me that? She did, didn't she. She has absolutely no idea what Rarity is capable of, does she?

I smile the smile that drives small foals insane and adults to previously unknown levels of irritation. It's the 'I know something you don't' smile and it fits me like a sock.

"Golden, did you bring any clothes with you from Canterlot?" I can't keep a trace of sly out of my voice, hard as I try.

There's a tentative silence. "No," she finally admits, albeit a smidge hesitant. "Why?"

"The Element of Generosity is also a very talented dressmaker. Seamstress? Fashionista. Pony."

"I didn't think I'd need clothes," Golden admits, "Isn't Ponyville very... liberal in that regard?"

"Yes, Ponyville is practically naked on principle," I agree, "So how does a seamstress stay in business here, of all places?"

"I'm sure..." No words come. Whatever she was sure of when she started talking, it's evaporated into nothingness now. Her eyes scrunch up a bit in thought, almost like she's licked something bitter, "Actually, that's a very good question."

"Well, first thing tomorrow, we'll go find out." I also fail to suppress the almost giddy squee of delight as I say this. "Then we're going to need to organize a sit-down -- that's what it's called right? -- with Filthy Rich and sort this whole thing out. I haven't signed anything yet, so we should be safe until he drafts up the initial paperwork." At which point it becomes 'no-takies-backsies'.

"Will Spike be coming with us?" she asks, completely reasonably considering that I haven't told her what's happened to Spike in the last twelve hours.

"Not as such, no." It would be rather difficult, at this point. "He's not... well, he's not going to be coming back to the library for a while."

"I see..." she says slowly. "Well, actually, I don't, but I'll trust your word on this, Doctor Princess Sparkle. If you wish to sleep, I've shifted the papers into the basement. I apologize for entering your room without permission, I thought you would approve of my initiative."

You are on a roll with that initiative. Yes, I absolutely approve of getting my bedroom back, and the thought of you going through it fills me with a little thrill of embarrassment. It's always just a little shaming when a pony sees such a personal space of yours for the first time and it's so ill-kept.

Then she said the magic words, whose sound waves hit my ears like honeyed dew drops.

"I'll have a fresh pot of coffee ready for you when you wake up, with a shot of chocolate syrup."

Hallelujah! Sleeping in my normal, not paper-avalanched bed, Spike happily sleeping off his own growth spurt to leave me in relative peace – I love him, but if a little brother snoring was bad enough, waking up to the foot of your bed catching on fire was a whole other level of annoying – and coffee in the morning. A good end to an exhausting day.

I wake up the next morning to sunlight streaming on my eyes, a hot, and excessively large, mug of coffee on the bedside table, and the knowledge that I'm about to have a lovely morning introducing Golden to Rarity for the first time.

Do you ever get the feeling a day is just going to go well?

I reconsider that. I look up at the sky and – actually it's kind of gloomy and overcast. Perfect.

If it was a beautiful day I might have gotten suspicious. But, no, it's not a perfect day in Ponyville.

It's something far better.

I trot downstairs, hale and hearty from a dose of caffeine and sugar sufficient enough to give Pinkie Pie pause. I crick my neck a little bit, and a few other joints, enjoying the freedom to do so since Spike isn't here to tell me it's creeping him out. News for you, buddy: you're a dragon, you don't think fingers weird me out? Because they do.

Golden Retriever is slumped at her desk, drooling a little. She's huddled up to the edge of it and snoring soundly under a blanket of what appears to be a bunch of forms stapled together at the corners. It's like chainmail made of actual mail.

I tiphoof up to her and, fortunately, the contents of the forms are facing outwards, so I don't have to purloin her blanket to read it.

I make a little thoughtful 'hrrm' noise as I glance them over. They appear to be... blanket and room and board requisitions? She could have just asked! She should have just asked! I have a spare bed made up for her either way, it's not like I'm going to run out of room in the treehouse anytime soon. It's not going anywhere.

Still, she's set an alarm clock on her desk. The brass bells are set to irritate the heck out of anypony in earshot in fifteen minutes. I slurp at my coffee... it was still warm when I woke up. She must just be having a nap after getting me my sweet, sweet ambrosia. Err, coffee.

Silently I wonder just how much sleep she's gotten. There's a sizeable pile of files in the 'out' tray, and I don't even have any idea what's on them. How much paperwork could suddenly owning a kingdom generate?

Apparently a lot. There must be a form for every stallion, mare and foal in Ponyville right there, and their homes and businesses.

Actually, come to think of it, there probably literally is that much, because it's not official until somepony signs a form off on it, and something this... intense probably means you can't just sign it in one bulk lot. I'm heartened to know that Celestia's team of lawyers at least had enough consideration to treat ponies individually, rather than as one bulk entity. It restores my faith in lawyer-kind for a moment. They probably have some boring, practical reason, but until I'm presented with it, I'm going to choose to believe they did it this way to stall whoever is the recipient of Luna's 'gift' as much as possible.

And all that gruntwork has landed squarely on the shoulders of a pony who really didn't deserve it. I suppose I didn't deserve it either, but at least I'm not an innocent bystander sucked into all this. Like Golden is.

I grab a blanket off the spare bed and replace the paperwork-mat with it around Golden's withers. She smiles around her drool puddle a little. She deserves at least a restful slumber before she dives back into my mess...

I stop the alarm clock and get to work separating, filing and filling out the request-blanket. I'll just wake her up with a cup of tea – she seems like the kind of pony who'd prefer tea – when I'm done. She's earned it, and I need her at her best come noon.

Rarity's bell above the door chimes as the door brushes against it. She appears from around a corner, red designer spectacles still balanced on her nose, and starts reciting her mantra when she sees Golden appear before I do.

"Why, hello dear, and welcome to Carousel Boutique, where every garment is chic, unique and magnifique." It's at this point that she notices me standing behind her. "Ah, yes, and hello to you too, Twilight. Is this a new friend of ours, hrrm?"

"Hopefully the first of many." I consider the implications of that seemingly harmless phrase. "But not too many."

Better.

"I take it you're not here for a fitting then." She tries to hide her disappointment, but it's still fairly evident. Everything she's absent-mindedly carried with her from her workroom droops a little in her telekinesis.

"Actually..." I smile. I love being the bearer of good news for once, why can't this happen more often? Please, universe, let this happen more often. "We are. Golden doesn't think she needs any clothes whilst she's around Ponyville. Completely devoid of a wardrobe."

Rarity's friendly face is swapped out and discarded for a mask of impressive determination and frightening intensity. What's particularly impressive is that you can only see it from this side... if you're standing and looking at her from Golden's perspective, it looks downright pleasant. It's like a seeing-eye puzzle.

Rarity scares me sometimes, but in a good way.

"That's simply not true darling, and an oversight we must be sure to correct immediately. With a dainty figure as lovely as yours, why, you look dazzling, but we need something to emphasize the shape you have, maybe something tight on the curves but breezy on the accents. If I can make Rainbow Dash look like a lady you will be a proverbial walk in the park. Allons-y, into the fitting room, we need to get some measurements off you, yes, yes, I'm feeling very inspired." As she said this, Rarity shooed Golden deeper into the fashionista's lair, beyond all rescue.

Abandon all hope, ye who enter here unfashionably.

Golden is lost to a flurry of measuring tapes for a while as Rarity attacks her from all sides, holding up some measuring tape and a notepad and quill, tutting every few seconds for good measure. I honestly believe that she thinks a measurement is inaccurate unless it comes with a few good clucks of the tongue.

Golden's smiling at the very least, alternating between weak reluctance and genuine enthusiasm, and she's answering all of Rarity's questions. They seem to get along, at least.

I brought a book with me just for this, to kill time dead. It’s an old and thick tome about what, exactly, my responsibilities include now that I'm in charge of this humble land. Apparently I can do whatever I want, short of a violent uprising, so long as I collect taxes on behalf of the Princesses and funds for the betterment of Ponyville.

The book basically consists of telling me that, so long as I don't throw too many lavish parties for myself, I'm good. Also, if I do want to throw too many lavish parties, I have to invite everyone so they don't get mad.

There's something about letting them all eat cake, for some reason, but the heading for that chapter was cut off.

When I finally emerge from my literary ensorcellment Golden has a papery wall of designs erected about her, hovering and swirling at an even pace around her. Rarity wasn't kidding when said she was inspired. Most of them come from a folder of pre-made designs, but judging by the freshness and crispness of some of them, no few have been sketched just now just for Golden.

"Now, Golden, I know you weren't sold on it when you arrived here, but now that I have the designs here in front of you, are you sure there isn't something I could have you walking out of here wearing?" She glanced around the designs, pointing out whichever caught her eye at that moment, "Wouldn't these just accentuate your hips so wonderfully? And this, oh, so wonderfully slender, it would look positively scrumptious on such a divinely petite figure."

Golden blushed, which did things to my heart that cannot be healthy. I'm still sitting down and it's acting like I've run a marathon.

"They're all so pretty... they'd be wasted on me," she finally admits, shyly.

Rarity gawps, which is like gaping only with more intensity and a lot more fun to say. "Darling, you cannot be serious. If you cannot see the beauty in yourself, I'll have to send you home with a better mirror. I have dozens, I could spare one if yours is truly so horrid."

"My mirror's fine, it's just... this." She gestured with a hoof at her legs. "And this." She gestured again at her flanks. Frankly, I saw no problem with them, but if that's what it took I would stare at those flanks until I found one.

Nope. Sorry, Golden, but even under intense scrutiny I cannot see a single thing wrong with you in that department. I'd almost feel guilty if I kept looking at this point.

My eyes return to the book and I blush a little, glad nopony was noticing me.

"This is a crime, nay, a sacrilege, to let such beauty go unappreciated. Here is what you are going to do, Ms Retriever. You are going to buy three dresses from me, of your choice, and they are going to be very flattering and absolutely divine and make you look so splendid even you must be able to see it. But first, I will choose a dress from this list and make it for you, right now, so that you can be utterly convinced of just how right I am. Do we have a deal?"

Golden raised a hoof and opened her mouth, but Rarity had already made her decision.

"Splendid! Now, just hold still, whilst I get the fabric. Twilight, be a dear and help, would you?"

"Hrrm?" I ask, intelligently and with much dignity. "Oh, yes, sure, right, certainly. Fabric. You. Help. Carry.Yes." I then get up to go and do this thing which is asked at me.

I meet her up in her organized chaos room. She hefts over a large bolt to me, smiling like a big Cheshire Cat that's caught a little Cheshire mouse. "Your new friend, hrrm?"

I grip the bolt and steel myself for the next. These things might be heavy to most ponies, but yesterday I pushed a train loaded with precious metals. Hit me with your best shot! "Why did you say it weirdly like that?"

"What? Like this? Your new friend?" She repeats, hefting another bolt over to me, this one a beautiful wine-red.

"Yes, like that."

Rarity stops smiling very suddenly and studies me very seriously for a moment. "Oh, dear me, you really haven't worked it out yet. Truly?"

Worked what out?

"Are you saying she's not my friend?" My heart stops, dead, and I grow very concerned because it makes me feel very nauseous. This is a very bad feeling and I wish it would just go away because it is unpleasant and icky and I don't like it one bit.

"No, dear; you couldn't hear us, but I assure you she appears to think the world of you."

Icky feeling is killed stone dead, and a bubbling cheery brightness blooms from its deadened stump. Mood swings? Really? This is getting extremely irritating now.

Rarity continues, still observing me carefully as she adds some powder-blue to the growing pile. "I'm saying, Princess Twilight, that you have a crush." I blink numbly, dumbly. Rarity forges ahead, determined to make her point, "You are smitten. Golden Retriever has you twitterpated. You would like to snuggle cozily up to her on a cold winters night. You wish to have cute pet names for her and for her to have the same of you. You desire of her a romantic courtship. Your heart yearns for her tender embrace. Am I getting through to you?"

Honestly, I should be surprised, but this would explain a heck of a lot.

I try to think of a snappy riposte, retort, some acerbic wit or some friendly sarcasm or something intelligent. All I muster up is a weak little, "Oh."

There's silence as Rarity grabs a few bolts for her own pile, then nods towards the door. I finally manage to think of something vaguely intelligent to say. "So... if I like her... do you think she likes me back?" Okay, intelligent by twelve year old needy foal standards, but a steady improvement from 'useless babbling baby', for sure.

"Honestly, that I could not tell you. I hold an innate bias in desperately wishing everything would just go perfectly for you two, I don't trust my own judgement, I'm afraid." A tense, tight little Gordian knot forms in my chest. Darn emotions, they don't do anything but mess you up. "But I can tell you she has a profound level of respect and admiration for you, Princess, and that's a start." The Gordian knot is cut! Hooray emotions! Sometimes they mess you up in fun ways! They're like... gliding.

Sometimes you're just falling and it's terrifying and awful and icky, other times you hit a thermal and you're soaring and it's the best thing in the world, and you can never know which it's going to be until it happens.

"Now, stop standing there grinning like a lovestruck filly and carry those down for me, won't you kindly? We've got to get this mare to see in herself what we see in her, I dare say."

I nod, but Rarity's already turned to the door and started leading me down the stairs. I nod again to myself, though, to confirm the first nod wasn't all in vain. I received your message loud and clear, me.

Don't judge me, we've all done that.

We get back downstairs, Golden watching us from her little modelling pedestal with a curious mix of trepidation and an anxious curiosity. She doesn't believe we'll be able to do her justice, but not-so-deep down she hopes we can.

Well, Rarity can. I'm just the muscle at the moment.

Yesterday put me through some serious magic training. Oh, man, I can't believe I didn't think of that until now.

"I don't know what you're smiling about," Rarity tells me, with a rather amused expression of her own, "but if you'd just put those down in the corner over here, that would be lovely. Thank you very much."

I avert my eyes for modesty's sake. Even though we're always naked, there's something about the act of dressing and undressing that's just inherently intimate. It feels rude, for some reason, to watch Rarity work her very special magic.

Even if the temptation to do exactly that is overwhelming.

There's a certain fascination involved with watching Rarity zap and stitch fabric into what amounts to a wearable sculpture, a work of art cut from cloth. It really is amazing to watch such a skilled pony turn nothing into something, particularly on a pony as attractive as Golden. With their gorgeousness combined, it's like a force multiplier, more beautiful than the sum of their parts.

Okay, so I peek. Can you blame me?

What Rarity's worked up for Golden is elegant in its simplicity, which is to say it's simply elegant. It's a tight scarlet slip with one long cut along the side from her waist to the floor. The colour compliments her pale-gold mane and grey-with-just-a-bit-of-blue coat and it's just... it's indescribable, but I'm trying as hard as I can to put its glory into words.

Usually she looks petite with long, shapely legs, which is attractive enough, but the slip just emphasis her legs whilst hugging tightly to her form in a way that emphasizes what form she does have, particularly around her hips. Oh, those hips.

"Wow," she breathes, admiring herself in the mirror. Wow is right. Wow is certainly a word I would use if I hadn't just been rendered breathless.

Rarity smirks triumphantly at me. "It seems our audience is in complete agreement. There is no way you can tell me that you don't look drop-dead gorgeous. Princess, some choice adjectives for Ms. Golden?"

"Stunning. Awe-inspiring. Elegant. Graceful. Ravishing" Beautiful, I don't add, because I'm being slightly less-than-professional as it is.

"Thank you, dear, so you may keep this, and I'll start work on the next three as soon as possible, yes?"

"Oh, yes, thank you. Thank you so much!" Golden hugs Rarity, tears in her eyes. "I'll pay you whatever you want, it won't be enough, just... thank you."

"Think nothing of it... unless you're telling your friends," she adds with a sly wink.

"So, Rarity, I'm sorry for taking so much of your time already, but you're the most talented business pony I know. Would you be amenable to helping me negotiate a business agreement with Filthy Rich?"

Rarity smiles. It starts low and cheerful and then develops; it develops teeth and bite and other things that would send small herbivorous animals into a catatonic state. "Darling, I would be delighted to flex these new ladyship muscles. Tell me, when is this negotiation?"

"It's at midday today. At the bank, so Spike can sit in. He’ll be meeting us there. He'd adore a visit from you, anyway."

Rarity pursed her lips and glanced at a clock. I followed the direction of her gaze and--

Oh, woops.

Big woops.

It's five to twelve, and it's at least a ten minute walk.

"Alright, quick question; would it be faster for Golden Retriever to change out of her new dress, or for us to change into one."

Golden stares at me in a look of utmost horror and clings to herself protectively. Rarity levitates her spectacles over to her and I almost weep at the result. This is what Rainbow Dash would call the 'sexy librarian' look taken all the way to 11.

"Well, normally, I'd say changing out. However, factoring time in to coax her out... I'm afraid I'm too brilliant for my own good, Princess, I've really outdone myself."

"It's... it's still just Twilight. But, okay, I see your point. Would you happen to have anything suitable for us to wear?"

Rarity stared blankly at me for a long second. Finally, she broke the silence with a little, "What, you were serious?" and a glance around the store. At all the dressed up mannequins in our approximate measurements. Rarity ducks behind a curtain and, with a few sundries pulled in from hither and thither, re-emerges in a beautifully tailored and exquisitely expensive suit. I suppose that makes her a haberdasher too, which is a fantastic word.

"Now, I have two options for you; that little yellow number you seem so fond of, or your coronation dress. I'd suggest your Grand Galloping Gala ensemble, but I haven't quite refit that to your current change in physique. Not only are you taller, but it doesn't quite work with wings."

I glance around the mannequins. "I'm looking for something a bit more business." My eyes fix on one in particular. It's a flattering dark grey skirt with a white dress shirt and red tie with a waistcoat to compliment the skirt, resplendent with thigh-high stockings. It just screams professional at me, and let's face it, I'd look darn good in it.

Rarity follows my gaze and makes a thoughtful noise. "Well, I suppose, the original client decided they wanted to try a different style, upon seeing it. I suppose with only a few adjustments..."

A few adjustments later and I had 'high-powered executive' written all over me. Maybe high-powered secretary, or High Librarian, but those were rather fine, too. Unfortunately there was now only two minutes to spare.

Fortunately I have had a lot of magic practice, lately, and have gotten quite good at this whole teleportation business.

I just pray this works.

Wow, long distance teleportation is so much easier when I get the chance to glide in between Pewbang!s.

"Eugh, my head," Golden mutters.

"Yes, you never quite get used to that." Rarity admits. "Though, admittedly, it's far more pleasant than the alternatives, when we've come to need it."

I don't know what they're talking about. Twilyportation is awesome.

We're currently outside the bank

"Shall we abscond to the vault, then?"

Abscond, like haberdasher, is a fun word.

"Why, yes, I would like to see how little Spikey-wikey is doing."

'Little' Spikey-wikey? Oh boy.

"Just hold on to your proverbial hat, Rarity. He's not so little anymore." I chuckle. She shoots me a curious look over her shoulder. I shoot a conspiratorial wink back. "Just wait, you'll see. It's sort of really hard not to."

Rarity goes on ahead first, with me and Golden following shortly behind side-by-side. She leans in close beside me and, be still my beating heart, whispers "Are you sure about bringing Rarity in for this? She did just give me this dress."

I roll my eyes. "And managed to sell you three more in the process whilst still making you think you were the one coming out ahead."

Golden stares at me for a few long moments, again one of those long calculating looks of hers. "She is good."

I smile and try to keep the smug out of it. "She's right though. You do look beautiful in that dress."

She blushes a little and glances away. If before I got that feeling that she was reassessing why she ever had any respect for me, now I'm getting the feeling she's reassessing how she could ever possibly have doubted me.

It's not just a good feeling; it is the best feeling.

I would even dwell on it were on not for Rarity's shrill shriek, forcing the moment to die an immediate and pained death.

"Should have seen that coming." I murmur, mostly to myself. Golden arches an eyebrow at me. She has the most expressive eyebrow raises, she's managed to make this one seem both accusatory and quizzical. "Spike got big. You'll... you'll see."

We manage to get down the spiral stairs before Golden sees Spike. I can tell she's seen him because she gasps and throws a foreleg over her mouth.

Spike got big. He's nearly two and a half times as tall as a pony now and it's all thick, scaly muscle.

Also, his modest little throne may be gaudy like nothing else, but it's got a certain charm to it. Rarity's certainly fawning over it, much to Spike's bittersweet chagrin. There were a whole host of conflicting emotions on his face. Embarrassment, pride, a bit more embarrassment, joy, discomfort, nervousness, infatuation... basically, the whole gamut of emotion you experience when your childhood crush starts showing an unprecedented amount of interest in your physical appearance.

Rarity, for her part, seemed to have shrieked in giddy delight, because of course she did.

"Oh, Spike, what happened to you?"

My surrogate little brother nervously rubs the back of his much more masculine-looking head with a claw the size of mine. "Twilight gave me the bank vault as a hoard, which is how dragons mature, I guess. So, I'm big now."

"Oh, yes, and so handsome too." Rarity crooned, cupping the bottom of his newly-elongated jawline with a hoof and fluttering her eyelashes at him. He's bashfully avoiding her gaze. Eyes on the floor, ceiling, walls, anywhere but his crush. I surreptitiously sneak a glance at Golden, and she's smiling warmly at the pair. I get the feeling we're both trying not to laugh at the big, tough, scary dragon's expense.

"Gee, Rarity, really?"

"Oh, absolutely, Spikey-wikey. Just look at these, ooh, broad shoulders or this, mmm, thick chest muscles and, oh my, biceps and abdominal muscles. I bet you could just throw this gold around like it were a sack of potatoes, couldn't you."

I smile, and my 'annoying older sibling' senses tingle. There's a chance to mortify Spike afoot! "You should have seen him, pushing whole wagonloads around like a shopping cart." When he was barely big enough to push one of those by himself the other day, I don't add. There's harmless teasing and then there's just being mean, and it's a fine line to walk. Besides, harmless teasing results in--

"Oh, I could just imagine. I have a whole summer lineup forming in mind, just based around this wonderful colour scheme you have working for you, it's delightful. Oh you look so absolutely gorgeous, I hope you haven't been too lonely down here."

"Nah. I'm napping a lot, and Pinkie Pie has been keeping me plenty of company."

"Well, I'll be sure to come down and visit, Spike, just be sure about that. I wouldn't want you to get cabin fever."

"Are we interrupting something?" an infinitely amused Filthy Rich interrupts from the top of the stairs, followed by two ponies I can't yet identify. "I thought we could talk business."

"Filthy Rich, right on time." I inject as much cheer and enthusiasm into my voice as possible. Punctuality scores big points in my books, but it's hard to be enthusiastic about business. "Who is this you've brought with you?"

Filthy smiles, and it seems genuinely friendly. His constantly-tired eyes belie the constant thought and calculation that goes on behind them. It takes a very smart pony with a very unique skillset to be able to profit more from the Apple family's labour than the Apple family do.

Huh, I never thought of it like that. I don't know whether that thought should make me really impressed or kind of angry. Maybe both? Is that petty?

Ceasing her doting on my not-so-little surrogate brother, Rarity shoots me a glance that says a lot. Like, really. In that glance she manages to say "Just let me do the talking for a while. Interject if you must, but trust that I know what I'm doing. Please pass the message on to Golden Retriever in confidence, if you'd kindly, as she doesn't have the friendship-based-telepathy we do. Thank you, in advance, darling."

Huh. So I guess friend-based telepathy is sort of a thing. Yesterday at the train station suddenly makes complete sense.

"Just let Rarity do the talking for now," I whisper to Golden, "we'll go from there."

She nods. I nod. There's a lot of succinct nodding all around. Good. It gives the illusion that we're actually ready for this.

Filthy Rich descends the stairs into the vault. Fortunately Pinkie Pie won't activate whatever security systems she has in place until we advertise that this is actually a bank, because that makes this a heck of a lot easier. I have no doubt the collective insane genius of Discord and Pinkie would be enough to destroy whatever chance we had of a pleasant business negotiation should Filthy accidentally trigger a trap.

I can finally identify the ponies that trail behind him, but I don't recognize them. One is a unicorn that has a coat that appears to be both the colour and texture of a burlap sack and a mane that's dark and very tightly cut, no curves, all right angles. His cutie mark is a bright yellow iceberg and he's serious looking with tight, thin lips. Filthy introduces him, which is a relief, because otherwise I'd just think of him as Goldberg and that'd be stupid.

"I hope you don't mind I brought my own counsel, Princess. This is my accountant, Goldberg."

And now I'm really glad I didn't say that out loud.

Beside him is a leaf-green unicorn mare with a salmon manecut styled in a manner that appears to have escaped from fifty years ago, latching onto her scalp in the present with a vengeance. She wears thick, horn-rimmed glasses in front of eyes that are cold and humourless. Whereas Golden Retriever pulls off the whole brainy-secretary look in a manner that's professional, endearing and, let's face it, kind of... kind of... she just makes it work for her, this mare just comes across as professional, sterile and discomforting. Very discomforting. Even her cutie mark is a blank, crisp piece of paper.

"And of course, to take the minutes, I brought my secretary, Pencil Pusher."

She gives the room a curt little nod, her chill calculating gaze lingering only on Spike, who's trying to juggle gold bricks. I shoot him a stern look and he reincorporates them back into his throne, smiling back at me sheepishly.

No matter how tall, wide and muscular you get, my dear Spike, I will always be the Big Sister.

I teleport a desk and chairs from upstairs, with Spike's throne at the head. Fortunately Pinkie Pie started organizing comfortable furniture before she worked out exactly what she wanted the walls to look like. She and Discord are still arguing over the swatches, which I wasn't aware you could get in marble. Anyway.

I offer the three newcomers seats on one side of the table and gesture my little entourage to ours.

Rarity looks at me and gives me her own curt nod. Right, my time to shine.

"Mr Rich, this is The Element of Generosity," I notice Pencil Pusher's smirk and commit the sight to memory for later indulgement, "Rarity. Your daughter and her sister are in the same class."

"We are acquainted." Mr Rich smiles faintly. "Has Diamond Tiara been causing any trouble for Sweetie Belle lately?"

"Not lately." Rarity admits. "So you may rest assured I may keep personal feelings from the matter out of this negotiation."

"That's right," I grab on to this and run with it, "she will be my business consultant." Rarity sits down in the offered seat on my left, next to Spike's throne. "On my right is Golden Retriever, who will be acting in a legal capacity to help draft and witness for Spike," I nod once at the dragon, who does an odd little finger wave where he opens and closes one finger at a time in order. It's hard to describe when you have hooves. I think he just likes rubbing in the fact that he has them. "Who will be acting as my scrivener and notary, so this all turns out nice and legal. Any objections so far?"

"This all seems perfectly acceptable to me." Filthy Rich says as Paper Pusher levitates a briefcase onto the table in front of him. Goldberg stares at Golden with a very odd look.

"Your name is... Golden Retriever?" He asks, finally. Golden just smiles and fishes a little laminated card from her dress and slides it wordlessly across the table to Goldberg. He glances down at it with a curious look before turning very pale and sliding it back. "I respectfully retract my statement."

Golden leans across and whispers "Thank you," in my ear. I'm glad to see she's already getting mileage out of my gift.

"Now, let's start by discussing what we previously agreed, then." Filthy announces. Rarity glances at me aside, looking rather amused.

"Yes." She says, "let's."

"Ponyville is in dire need of new infrastructure to support the new influx of citizens," he states clearly, "which it will need to reignite the economy here. Ponyville has been a stagnant economy, moving neither forwards nor backwards, for years now. We have brain-drain, or skilled labour shortage, no incentives to operate out of Ponyville... It's a tragedy. Our home has the potential to be so much more than a podunk farming town, it's just that nobody has been able to give it the little push it needs."

I take a second to glance at my co-conspirators. Golden seems as fascinated as I did yesterday when I first heard this, and Rarity looks serious. She has that expression whenever somepony mentions spreading her business in Canterlot or Manehatten; interest and excitement tempered by wary dubiousness.

"I'm offering Barnyard Bargain's full support in the development of Ponyville. With our interests in construction and construction supplies, by making a minimal investment, we would be able to build the planned universities, corporate sites, technological parks and the homes and infrastructure to support them, all for, and I cannot stress this enough, minimal costs and locally sourced labour." He finishes, pushing a small pile of well-labelled, sorted and itemized papers in front of us.

"Wow." Golden mutters before slapping a hoof over her mouth and glancing at Rarity, as if for permission. Rarity doesn't seem to notice... she's staring at the packet in front of her, sorting and shuffling through the papers in the air in front of her, the papers dancing in her levitation. Again an odd expression on her face, the one I have when I see an exotic food for the first time; I'm told it's excellent, but if I have to be told it's excellent it tends to be because I won't believe it of my own volition. That sort of expression.

"Your deal seems to make a lot of sense, Mr Rich." Rarity admits tentatively, "You do appear to have the resources at your hooves, or the potential to access those that you don't. This would also be a fantastic investment on our end, the influx of new population, and earning potential, increasing our potential tax income."

I guiltily admit to myself that I didn't even think of that. All I thought of was universities and tech-parks as far as the eye could see, staffed by Ponyville's best and brightest mages and scientists and scholars and teachers and don't drool on the paper, it's not polite.

Still.

Still, I sense a but coming.

"There appears to be two main caveats that I can identify. This deal works excellently in both our favours, at first glance, but then I caught the words 're-zoning'. How much of Ponyville do you plan on developing?"

"The bounds of the demesne aren't overly large. We would strive to keep as much of the farmland intact, as it is still the lifeblood and heritage of Ponyville, but a majority of the land edging towards the Everfree forest would--"

"The Everfree forest?" I interject, "Isn't that, I don't know, kind of dangerous?"

Goldberg makes a placating gesture. "It does negatively affect land value, we must admit, but we feel that the low initial cost of buying that land for development could pay the highest dividends."

Filthy shoots him a glare. "I don't think the Princess was informed of the financial risks involved, Goldberg." He turns back to me, smiling placatingly, "Actually, I had that well in mind. If you look in the packet, you can see that the building site closest to the forest--"

"Is the planned agricultural research university and labs." Golden finishes, finding the relevant page and passing it over to me. "The research potential of such a unique natural landmark would be boundless, and to get the most qualified ponies in Equestria involved in studying and protecting it..."

"I'm very impressed, Mr Rich." I admit. "A lesser pony might have just considered bulldozing the forest and being done with it."

"We considered that." Goldberg adds with a sigh, "But the costs were rather prohibitive."

Filthy Rich and I both glare at Goldberg. Finally Mr Rich massages the bridge of his nose with a hoof, "I apologize for my accountant's outbursts. I assure you there are very few ponies that are better with the numbers than he is. It appears that sometimes he forgets about what meaning those numbers can have."

"Yes." Rarity rolls slowly, savouring the sarcasm, "I'm sure you had no part in suggesting that particular plan."

Filthy Rich, at least, had the common decency to pinken and look away.

"Also you say minimal investment: How minimal are we talking?"

Whilst Rarity and Filthy (and Goldberg) haggle over the price I lean back over to Golden. "Do I really have the power to rezone Ponyville?"

"Absolutely. One of the key roles of a demesne is to influence it in ways you think best benefits its citizens and the kingdom. Rezoning is one of the least of your powers."

Gulp. So much power.

"Thank you, Golden." I say, not really feeling it. She smiles with pride regardless.

"So, we've settled on a reasonable price then?"

"Barnyard Bargains will match, and beat, any quote an outside competitor offers, in exchange for initial investment, a cash seed, for the growth necessary to undertake the planned undertaking."

"That sounds... utterly reasonable." Rarity admits, although she sounds disappointed. "I do say, Mr Rich, that I had half expected you to have swindled our very intelligent but rather naive Princess into a deal that was vastly in your favour, but it appears, at this current stage, that everything is on the level."

"Lady Rarity," Filthy pantomimes shock and indignation, "I'm appalled that you'd think so poorly of me."

That draws a smile out of her. "Liar. Admit it, you're rather flattered."

"That you thought I could so easily take advantage of Princess Sparkle? Of course I am." He laughs. I shoot Rarity an indignant glance and, across the table, Pencil Pusher graciously gifts one to Filthy.

"I suppose now is the time to draft it." I admit, still glaring at Rarity, who pretends not to notice.

"Ah, ah, ah!" Rarity tuts, finally acknowledging my glare and matching it with one of her own. "Mr Rich, I'm afraid at this juncture we can only agree to the terms set by Barnyard Bargains in regards to investment and future contracts. The nature of these contracts is still to be decided. I will not allow my good friend Princess Sparkle to pen her name to some legal bondage that allows you to resculpt Ponyville in your own image especially not one that allows you to choose which areas are re-zoned for what purposes. That shall remain the exclusive right of the ruler of this demesne."

Pencil Pusher blanches, looking at Rarity like she's suddenly placed a cockatrice on the table. I compare it to that smug look of hers when I mentioned she was Generosity and am filled with a serious case of the warm and fuzzies. I knew that was worth dedicating to memory. Goldberg stares at Mr Rich curiously as a dangerous glint forms in the latter’s eyes. "Ah, Lady Rarity, I wouldn't dream of it."

I make a note of him kicking Pencil Pusher under the table, making a note to make sure he doesn't notice my noticing, and a pile of papers in the briefcase are stealthily wrapped in her magic and promptly torn to shreds. Macerated, one might say, because much like abscond and haberdasher, it's a fantastic word.

"Did you see that?" Golden whispers to me.

"Still any lingering doubt about the Element of Generosity?" I whisper back.

Golden shakes her head slowly.

I smile. "Well, I'll have my legal consultant look over the paperwork you've prepared and make the necessary adjustments, then Spike can sign it and it'll be all nice and legal."

"It would be my honour, Princess." He bows his head graciously. I approve. Also, I'm going to name something after Rarity for this. Maybe an orphanage or something.

Another hour or so is spent by me hovering over the legal pair's shoulders, dotting i's and crossing t's. Rarity and Filthy continue talking for most of it pleasantly, but it feels like there's a conversation under the conversation they're currently having. Diplomacy hurts my head, but I suppose it would be far too easy if ponies just said what they meant.

Spike and Goldberg managed to keep themselves occupied by trying to work out the current market estimates of Spike's throne. I only had to intervene when Goldberg told Spike that the value of his throne would probably increase, due to craftsmanship, if he melted it and sculpted it with his dragon's fire, rather than just leaving it as a collection of gold bricks. I had the feeling as soon as my back was turned Spike was going to try it.

Finally it was time for the signatures. Filthy Rich and I both scrawled our names in fluid cursive letters and Spike stamped it, marking it official. I cast a simple duplication spell on it and a blank pile of paper, effectively giving Filthy an identical copy of our agreement. Pinkie Pie apparently had already installed a safe for me in the main vault, because that's where Spike found a place to put our copy.

Goldberg coughed into a hoof. "I don't mean to be rude, but when can we expect payment? The sooner we receive the seed money, the sooner we'll be able to effectively-"

I cut him off, because I find him highly unpleasant and I don't wish to hear his nasally voice a second longer. "I'll load up a cart for you. You can count it, if you wish."

Goldberg blinks. "You mean us, figuratively, right?"

"Well, I was thinking you. You look stronger than Pencil Pusher, no offense Ms Pusher, and I don't see you fobbing it off on your employer." I smile at Mr Rich. He tries desperately to conceal a smirk at the idea as he nods back.

"None taken."

Goldberg looks horrified, "Can't we just-"

"Come on, Goldberg, it's character building." Filthy smiles blindingly, like a lighthouse. Goldberg is overpowered by it. He grumbles slightly, and a petty part of me revels in it.

"Excellent!" Filthy declared. "It was a pleasure doing business with you Princess Sparkle. Hopefully we'll get a chance to do it again sometime.

After dropping Rarity off, leaving behind my infinite gratitude, I return to the library with Golden in tow, grinning like a lunatic.

She keeps shooting me odd glances, but I wait until the door closes behind us before I break into full-on dance mode.

"I didn't stuff up nearly as badly as I thought!" I squee, dancing, "And even when I did stuff up, I knew to go get help and unstuff myself, rather than let ego get in the way! Today has just been great hasn't it?"

Golden Retriever has found a mirror to do a little twirl in front of, smiling almost as wide as I am. She looks back at me rather abashed. "I'm sorry, Doctor Princess Sparkle, I'm not normally this vain, but..." She breaks off, devolving into schoolgirl titters.

I join her. We dance around the library like drunken loons, smiling and grinning like idiots. The kind of idiot that can only be achieved by very, very intelligent ponies.

"I'm not as naive as Rarity thought!"

"I'm as pretty as Rarity thought!" We declare simultaneously, then fall back to giggling and that bizarre, seizure like writhing that unco-ordinated ponies do when they get very happy and excited about something that they can't contain it, so it comes out of their bodies in excited shudders.

"What should we do now?" Golden finally asks, panting, both our faces still sore from smiling.

"Celebrate!" I declare. "Rarity's a bit busy, us taking so much time out of her schedule to help us--" I'd feel more guilty about that if I wasn't seriously going to make it up to her, "But you could meet the rest of my friends."

"You mean the other Elements of Harmony? The national heroes that have saved Equestria more times than I have hooves?" Yes, them. Who else could I be referring to? I mean, why even mention it.

"Yeah, my friends. They're really nice. Well, Fluttershy is really nice. Rainbow Dash is, to use her word, awesome, and Applejack is about as friendly as they come. Just... steel yourself for Pinkie Pie. I'm sure she and Discord could use a break anyway."

Golden turns very pale. I assume it's about Discord, because what about meeting my friends could be intimidating?

"Don't worry about Discord. I don't think he'll want to come, even if he's invited. Actually, I think if we invite him he won't come out of spite."

"Oh..." She murmurs, "Good."

"Well... okay! Where should we have lunch?"

"Can... can it be somewhere nice?" Golden asks, rather timidly at that. "I don't think I'm quite ready to stop looking pretty yet."

I smile knowingly at her. "I'll organize for us to meet at Pomme Frites. It's a nice little cafe, but it's still reasonably affordable. You won't look out of place in your new dress there." I don't think she could look any happier if I told her that I had resurrected a beloved grandparent and they'd bought her a puppy. "Besides," I add thoughtlessly, "I think you look pretty without it, anyway."

And then my brain catches up to my mouth.

"You... you do?"

Oh, well, in for a bit, in for a gold bar. "Absolutely. You're a very beautiful young mare."

She blushes and looks at the floor, murmuring something that sounds like a 'thank you' but could just as easily been 'milk, eggs, bread' she says it so quietly.

I fight down the redness of my own cheeks and try to manually slow down my hammering heart. I resist the temptation to use my magic to do it, because that might kill me, but then I wouldn't get the chance to die of embarrassment, so I'm tempted.

"Alright! So! You have work to do here. I guess. Try not to spill any ink on yourself whilst I go rally my friends, and I'll come back and take you out to the cafe."

That's a plan. It's a good plan. I like plans.

When I think about plans I don't have to think about the things that I just said to the really pretty mare blushing across from me oh geeze think of checklists, think of checklists.

First Fluttershy, then Rainbow Dash, then Applejack, then Pinkie Pie and Discord. Right. Let's go then.

The walk to Fluttershy's cottage is uneventful. I think people are avoiding me after yesterday. It might be the normal fear intermingled with the fact that I literally threw Big Macintosh like a lawn dart at somepony.

Yeah, I'd avoid me, today, too. Somehow the fact that I did it to protect my friends means that the usual anxiety about ponies being scared of me is replaced by a dim sense of warm pride.

Today is a good day.

I knock on Fluttershy's little cottage door, and the meek little pegasus greets me for my troubles. "Oh, hello Twilight. It was very nice of you to drop by. Would you like to come in for some tea?"

"Actually, Fluttershy, I was going to invite you out for tea. We're celebrating all the new changes that are going to be happening to Ponyville!"

Fluttershy smiles weakly for a moment, but it dims and dies over the course of the next few seconds. "Changes?"

"Big changes!" I declare proudly, "Huge!"

"Oh." Fluttershy replies simply. "I see. Why... why are we celebrating that?"

That throws me for a complete loop. Why would you not celebrate complete and utter change? I mean, change is... big and scary and new and an unknown.

Oh dear. Maybe this wasn't the great idea it seemed like it was an hour ago.

"Did somepony say change? I adore change! It's so wonderfully eclectic." Discord curls around the doorway, beaming broadly, over Fluttershy's head. "Tell me, am I invited to this little shindig of yours?"

"Of course you are, Discord."

"Oh. Well, it's no fun if I'm invited." He pouts, receding from the doorway a little, "Still, I wish you the best! May our futures bring a great many changes, yes?"

"Thank you Discord." I say, suddenly feeling anxiety in my gut.

To understand why I feel anxious, let me sum it up in a simple statement: "Fluttershy thought it was a bad idea, but that was okay, because Discord gave it his full support." Tell me in what universe this statement results in good things. I dare you to think of one.

I guarantee that there are very, very few scenarios where it is this universe.

"I'm surprised you're not with Pinkie Pie, actually." I admit.

Fluttershy's eyes are sad as they meet mine. "He and Pinkie Pie had a... disagreement of sorts."

"She's a genius! I admit it!" Discord wails in lament, "But the girl is so dreadfully biased on the subject of which rocks to use. Pop rocks, rock candy, that we can agree on, but her choice of structural material is just so boring and practical."

"Discord, you're designing a bank." I remind him.

"Yes, which is why I take making it not boring and practical as a personal challenge. It's never been done before! Nopony had thought it possible!"

I take a deep breath, sigh, and prepare to lay down the law of my kingdom on the one denizen who could flout it whenever he wanted. "Okay, Discord, I'm implementing a new rule; if it's too fun for Pinkie Pie, then there's probably a very good reason for it. So from now on you can ask try to talk her into something exactly three times. If she still says no, you are to drop it and suck it up rather than fight with her about it."

Discord grumbles, and Fluttershy and I both shoot him a Look in response. He acquiesces, fortunately.

"Well, what if I don't?"

"Well, if you do," I'm going to use carrot and not stick here, because if I want to use stick this badly there is no way I'll be able to use a reasonable amount of it, "then I'm sure you'll win Pinkie Pie's lasting friendship. Also!" I raise my hoof skyward, as befits a proclamation, "I shall recruit you as my resident Everfree Forest expert if you can prove you can work well in a team with others. Which means you'd get to boss a bunch of eggheads around and have them all be jealous about how much you know about chaos magic all day."

Discord looks thoughtful regarding Pinkie Pie's friendship but I can tell he's practically salivating at the prospect of legitimate authority. Hook, line and sucker.

"I'm actually surprised you're not with Pinkie Pie either." That was from Fluttershy.

"Why's that?"

"Well, I if you're inviting all our friends out for tea, why didn't you just ask Pinkie Pie?"

I think about that for a few moments. Then, deeming no other action or combination of actions more appropriate, I apply my hoof to my forehead with velocity.

"Oh. Right. I should probably do that, then. We're meeting at Pomme Frites at four. I'd be delighted to have you."

Fluttershy smiles kindly. "You're welcome to come in for tea, now, if you want."

"No, thank you for the offer though, but I think I better go corral Pinkie Pie. See you later."

I trudge off, Fluttershy waving the whole journey down her path – Discord blowing me a raspberry he thinks I don't notice – and set off for Pinkie Pie.

She'll be back at the bank.

I spread my wings and take flight, aiming in the general direction of the bank's construction site, missing, then overcorrecting, then readjusting, missing, overcorrecting – how does Dash make this look so easy?!

I finally touch down at a little shack Pinkie Pie has set up for herself by the blueprints table. Work is coming along nicely, and the plans look suitably grandiose. It's not Pinkie's engineering skills I'm after this time, though.

"Pinkie Pie?"

The door of the shack bursts open, "Look, Discord, I don't care how good a backscratcher pumice stone is, we can't use it as as load-bearing column... Oh! Hi Twilight."

"Discord's been suitably reprimanded."

"Well, it's good he was primanded again. I tried primanding him myself, but I don't think it stuck."

"Yes, well, he shouldn't bother you about it again. I've told him that if you say no to the same question three different times, then he's not allowed to talk about it again."

"And he listened to you?" She gasps incredulously, like she can hardly believe it. Probably because she can't, actually, I was there and I still have doubts.

"I told him your friendship was on the line." I answer, completely truthfully except for all the bits I leave out.

Pinkie’s smile is as big and wide as I've ever seen it, and I've seen it big and wide enough to engulf entire wedding cakes in a single bite, so it's quite wide indeed. "Really? Aw, he knew he was just a big softy, at heart."

"If he asks for a glass of water, you're allowed to kick him, too." I add.

"I'll keep it in mind. So, is that all you came here to tell me?"

"That's just a bonus. I'm giving you a break from all your hard work, and inviting all our friends out to a big, celebratory afternoon tea at Pomme Frites, my treat, and I was hoping you could help me invite--"

"Applejack, Rainbow Dash and Rarity. You must have already gone to Fluttershy, 'cause you talked to Discord, and she probably gave you the idea to ask me for help, which you wouldn't bother with if you'd already done more than half the work yourself anyway. But I will help, because I'm always happy to help a friend, particularly when helping that friend results in tea parties!"

My mind catches up to the adrenaline rush that is Pinkie Pie Exposition. Finally, my mouth catches up to my brain, which makes a nice change from it being the other way around, "That's right, actually. How erudite of you."

"Erudite's a good word isn't it?" Pinkie agrees. "Like haberdasher. Or macerate. Or abscond! Or, oh, chimmichanga and picklebarrel. Those two are my favourite."

Okay she's in my head now and it's scaring me.

"No I'm not!" She chirps brightly.

Well maybe it was just my imagination then – wait, arggh! Argh!

Pinkie gets me back on track, though, "Anyway, yes, tea party, Pomme Frites, Applejack and Rainbow and Rarity. What time?"

"Four. Oh, and Rarity probably won't be able to make it, because we already... borrowed so much of her time, but tell her that's totally okay if she can't, and I promise I'll make it up to her. I Pinkie Swear."

"Do it properly!"

I sigh, but I sigh with a smile. Honestly, it reminds me of being a foal with Cadance all over again. It's childish, but sometimes childishness is fun. That's why kids love it so much. I recite the sacred ritual and pantomime them appropriately; "Cross my heart and hope to fly, stick a cupcake in my... oh, no, no, I'm not falling for that one again."

"Good enough!" Pinkie agrees in a manner that can only adequately be described as bombastically. "Rainbow Dash might like it more if you invited her in person, but I don't know where she is, and if I don't know where she is then you won't know where she is, and I'm much better at hide-and-seek than you are, so I suppose it's a moot point anyway. Moot. Mooot. Moot point. I just keep finding more and more fun words, today, don't I?"

"So." I say in a desperate plea to rerail her train of thought, "Pomme Frites at four?"

"I'll see you then!" Pinkie agrees and zips off, her construction helmet falling to the ground where she once stood, as if she had exerted no friction upon it as she fled from under it.

Well, now that that's done, I might as well go talk to Golden about our lunch date.

Lunch date between friends you stupid, fickle emotions, you pipe right the heck down.

Then we can talk to my other friends about the proposed planned production of Ponyville's proliferation and get their opinions on it. A lot of ponies are about to start moving in to Ponyville... I want to gauge the reaction of Ground Zero for when it all happens.

Author's Note

In keeping with my new One A Month promise.

Chapter Seven: Where the Finer Points of Pet Projectiles are Discussed

Twilight sat at the head of the table with Golden sitting on her immediate right. Pinkie Pie would inevitably sit at the head of the other end, the rest of the chairs inevitably devolving into a case of first-come-first-serve. Twilight sat anxiously at this table at Pomme Frites with Golden Retriever, desperately trying to think in the third person to avoid acknowledging she was alone with a pony she had a crush on in a rather nice cafe whilst the both of them wore very pretty dresses that, particularly on Golden, were rather flattering to key desirable anatomical features.

Twilight only felt she succeeded in making herself sound like Trixie inside her own head.

So I stop that immediately and suppress a shudder, focusing instead on Golden.

She's still in her Rarity original gorgeous red slip, but she's looking pointedly at some offending fixed spot on the long table reserved for us, some point between myself and her. Four chairs remain vacant for the next few minutes, at least until their occupants arrive. Golden looks very happy and very conflicted over the fact that she feels happy.

“Is something wrong?” I ask. We've just politely turned away the waiter, a pleasant young stallion named Toodlepip, and I'm hoping it's not that. Okay, I'm hoping it's not me. Okay, so, I'm hoping the reason she's happy is at least partially because of me, I'm just hoping the conflicted part isn't because of me.

“No, no, everything's just fine, Doctor Princess Sparkle,” she reassures me, then stares down at the table and mumbles, “just great,” which renders null and void all reassurance that might have been had. Alright, so the former sounded sincere and the latter didn't. What can we learn from this, Twilight?

We know she's making an effort. We know she actually wants to be here. We also now know she doesn't want to be here just as much. This implies anxiety about what might or might not happen, something I'm exceedingly familiar with.

Is she anxious because I'm anxious? No, that's not it, I became anxious after noticing she was already anxious when we sat down together, which is when I tried to think in the third person. That fixed nothing, and might have made my own anxiety slightly worse, so let's cross out other options before I dwell on it further.

There's a simple way to find out; by putting her on the spot and asking why she's so anxious. This idea is a double edged sword, isn't it?

I'm going to risk it.

I've got one shot at asking this question, otherwise she'll probably just close off completely.

“You don't have to be nervous about meeting my friends,” I hazard, “I'm sure they'll love you.”

She lets out a sigh of dubious relief and pent up anxiety. Score! She's nervous about meeting my friends! I have no idea why she'd be nervous about meeting them, but it seemed the most logical guess.

“Why, though?” She moans, head flopping down onto the table. I translate her words through the muffling effect the wooden table imparts upon them. “I'm a scribe. They're national heroes. I'm an egghead. They're the embodiment of Equestria's greatest virtues.”

“Spike's a scribe too,” I point out, sipping at my glass of complimentary ice water (fancy!), “and I'm the epitome of eggheads. Are you doubting that my friends like me? Or that Spike is any less cool?” I'm glad Rainbow Dash didn't hear that. I'm the sort of pony who makes the word 'cool' sound distinctly 'uncool'. It's not my fault, I think it's genetic. I certainly inherited dork-speak from Dad, after all; he's the kind of pony who'd think dork-speak was a perfectly acceptable term.

She raises her head sullenly from the table and achieves some amalgamation of a look that is half glare, half pout. “You two don't count. You two are exceptions, insofar as you are exceptional.” Her head falls back down again. “Exceptionally exceptional exceptions.” She declares through the table.

“You flatter me,” I deadpan. There can only be One True Snarker, after all, and I won't go down without a proverbial fight. Particularly if I can have one with actual proverbs. “Well, they probably won't arrive all at once, so you’ll probably be meeting them one at a time.” There's the carrot, now for the stick – see? Proverbs! “But I don't really think you'll make a great first impression if this is how you greet them.”

Golden reacts as if she's been struck by a bolt of lightning made of caffeine, head jerking off the table and eyes wide and alert. I'm counting that as a win, too. Her spectacles fall off her face in the process and she fumbles for them whilst I make my salient point. “You've already met Rarity,” I reassure her, “and you seemed to really like her. I'm pretty sure she liked you too.”

“... yeah. She was really nice.” Golden grudgingly admits. Well, that wasn't like pulling teeth at all.

“Which leaves Fluttershy, who is the bearer of the element of kindness. I don't see her being a problem,” well, that's not true, I'm totally prepared for her to be very unhappy with me, in her own quiet way, over the course of this conversation, unless her opinion on massive change completely, (and somewhat ironically), massively changed since I last saw her. I just doubt that her ire is going to extend to Golden. “Then we have Rainbow Dash, who's the element of loyalty. A friend of mine is a friend of hers. Pinkie Pie... I don't think I've met a pony Pinkie Pie didn't like. Except Nightmare Moon. I remember her being so mad as to call her Black Snooty.”

“What about Applejack, element of honesty? Intel says she doesn't like city-types! If she doesn't like me, she's going to make a point of saying it. Then Rainbow Dash might side with her over you. And if Pinkie Pie hasn't not liked somepony before, then statistically she's due for one, and I know that's the Gambler's Fallacy, but it's still true. Then all your friends will hate me, Doctor Princess Sparkle, and then you won't be able to work with me, because how could you? Then you'll send me back to Canterlot as a failure and I'll be knocked back to being a notary in the mailroom! No, the mailroom notary's assistant!”

She ends her rant with some wild eyed panting. Her electric eyes focus on the iced water in front of her, which is downed in a single gulp. That, at least, calms her down.

She focuses on me again. I've got a very enigmatic expression on my face. I know, because I'm trying very hard to make it one. The more she focuses on trying to understand what it means the less she focuses on how panicked she is, which again, is another win in my book. I should start keeping a tally. Her muzzle wrinkles up in consternation, which I take as my cue to explain myself.

“You know, being on the other side of an anxiety attack like that is kind of nice for once. It's kind of funny seeing how silly I must look to some ponies.” She looks offended at that remark, and is about to say something that is, rightfully, indignant, but I push ahead before she gets the chance, “I don't think you look silly at all, Golden. I know exactly how you feel right now. In fact, it's nice to have somepony who gets this whole 'thing', you'll have to remind me next time I have one. Actually, last time I had a meltdown that bad, I ended up causing a massive riot over one of my stuffed animals that nearly tore Ponyville apart. That was over not sending a friendship report in on time. Princess Celestia herself had to-” Keep smiling, the memory is barbed and painful but we are going to laugh it off to reassure our friend here, Twilight Sparkle, “had to come down to Ponyville and break it up.”

“The Want-It Need-It spell.” She breathes, finally meeting my gaze. I refill her glass from a pitcher on the table, I figure this is the sort of conversation that needs tentative sipping at things occasionally, “I heard about that. Was it really as bad as they say?”

I swallow the dry lump in my throat at the thought that there's a rumour going around about it. “Probably,” I admit.

Golden smiles wryly, taking a tentative sip from her refilled glass. “You really think it's going to be alright?”

“Well, if it helps,” Fluttershy says softly over my shoulder, “I think you seem pretty nice.”

We both jump. It's apparent that neither of us heard her coming. Golden might have been able to see her, if it weren't for being so distracted by the table in general. Fluttershy’s face falls instantaneously.

“Oh, did I frighten you? I didn't mean to. I'm sorry.”

I half stand and gesture to the seat beside Golden. I figure if she's worried about meeting my friends, I'll seat her next to the least-threatening of our merry band. “Fluttershy, this is Golden Retriever. Golden Retriever, my friend Fluttershy.”

Fluttershy smiles kindly, soft and subdued like almost everything she does, and offers a hoof to Golden. Golden meets her gaze with reluctance, scanning it for any hint of suspicion or betrayal or anything else she fears she'll find. It warms my heart to see she doesn't find what she's looking for, just like I'd hoped.

Fluttershy's hoof is met with a friendly bump and the pegasus takes her seat. A unicorn, a pegasus and an earth pony now sit at the table, what a diverse bunch we are.

“So, what does the Element of Kindness do when she's not out saving the world?” Golden smiles. Actually smiles! Hooray for Fluttershy's passive aura of non-threatening kindness!

“Oh, I tend to Ponyville's animals. They look up to me.”

“So you're a vet, then?”

“Not a licensed one,” Fluttershy admits, still smiling warmly, “I'm more like a caretaker. How about you? What do you do?”

“Well, currently I'm an assistant to Doctor Princess Twilight Sparkle, but before then I was one of the Royal Scribes. Hardly glamorous, but all the cogs need to be greased or nothing runs smoothly.”

“Well, I certainly think that sounds very important.” Fluttershy has this way of making things that, from anypony else, would sound condescending or patronising... just seem genuine. She just does. “But why 'Doctor Princess Sparkle',” Here Fluttershy glances at me, confused, “Shouldn't it be Princess Doctor? Or just Princess?”

Golden shakes her head vigorously. “The more important title goes first,” she informs her gravely. This statement amuses me, and I hide my smile behind another sip of my own water. Oh! I should probably pour Fluttershy a glass whilst I'm at it... going to need another pitcher for the rest of my friends... I try to flag down Toodlepip.

“Isn't Princess more important than Doctor though? I'm sorry, that's just what I thought.”

Again Golden shakes her head. “Prince or Princess is a title somepony is born with, or married into. Anypony who has met Prince Blueblood knows how meaningless that title can be. Doctor is a title that somepony earns,” and here she shoots me an awed glance, so I promptly miss a chance at catching Toodlepip's attention whilst I bask in it, “and some ponies like Doctor Princess Sparkle earns several times over.”

Fluttershy looks even more confused now. “But... Twilight earned her title of Princess, too. I was there.”

Golden blinks blankly, mentally reshuffling her entire worldview around the statement. “Well, yes, but, she's an exception to the rule. I base it on the rule itself.”

“Oh. Okay, well that sounds reasonable,” Fluttershy says, sounding like she's utterly unconvinced but doesn't want to make an argument of it. I continue hiding my amusement behind a particularly long sip, trying not to laugh.

I must admit, I really do like the ring of Doctor Princess, now that I've gotten used to it. It's utterly absurd, but in the best possible way. Is that narcissistic? I hope it's not narcissistic.

“What sounds reasonable?” Rainbow Dash asks right in my ear, and I mean she’s hovering behind me with her mouth right in my ear. Okay, Fluttershy getting the drop on me I could understand, but Rainbow Dash is anything but subtle. How did she – I glance up at the single cloud in the sky, which appears to be right above my head. Oh, so that's how.

Her prankster streak can really get on a pony's nerves.

“Calling me Doctor Princess Sparkle,” I answer with as much patience as I can muster.

“What's wrong with just calling you Twilight?” She smugs at me as she takes the chair beside me to my left. It's as annoying as it is charming. The smugging, not the chair taking.

“Absolutely nothing. Rainbow Dash, this is Golden Retriever. She's my new assistant from Canterlot. Golden Retriever, this is Rainbow Dash, local weather manager, prankster extraordinaire and, of course, Element of Loyalty.”

“Pleasure to meet'cha,” Rainbow beams wide and happy at Golden before something about her catches her eye. Her face falls a little bit, but she offers her hoof in a bump anyway. Golden tentatively bumps it back, but it's obvious she's noticed how unsubtle Rainbow Dash is, too.

“Is... is there something wrong?”

“Nah, it's just... you're really pretty in that dress,” Rainbow glances her up and down, to which Golden looks... shocked and flattered, which is pretty much the standard reaction to one of your heroes admitting they find you attractive completely at random. “It's just a shame.”

“What is?” She rises to Rainbow's obvious bait obliviously, ear flicking with curiosity. Even Fluttershy looks curious to see where Rainbow’s going with this. I prepare a weary sigh in advance, just in case, as I sip my drink. I've nearly gone through half a glass with all the sipping I've had to do to maintain the conversation at this point. Toodlepip, at least, has noticed and has finally brought another pitcher.

“That there's policies against fraternising with employees and junk.” Not what I expected at all. I choke on my drink a little, I'm not proud to admit. “Guess that means Twilight's still all mine then.” She grins salaciously at me. I choke significantly more on my drink as Rainbow Dash leans across, patting me on the back. You know, to 'help'.

“Actually, Twilight's government operates independently from the rest of Equestria's. Such regulations only apply to her staff if she chooses them to.”

There's silence. Everyone at the table, especially me (whilst still choking a little, of course), stares at her incredulously. I don't think she's realised exactly what she's said yet. We give her a few seconds as she notices us, and her brain finally catches up to what she said and processes it. Rainbow desperately tries not to snicker in an effort not to spoil her little joke, but Fluttershy doesn’t face that same restriction. She-- Fluttershy! No!

“Oh. Oh dear.” Golden Retriever utters with utmost solemnity, nervously fidgeting with her spectacles, before taking another long, pointed draw from her glass, presumably to drown the embarrassment.

Still that's... very interesting to know. Fascinating really.

Rainbow is the first to recover. “That's kinda disappointing actually,” she says, holding her own glass of water in front of her with her wings, looking down at it speculatively and swirling it in a manner I bet she thinks is philosophically, “'cause now that I'm Twilight's employee too, I was kind of hoping we'd make for a massive scandal.”

Okay, I finally stop choking on my water long enough to spray it all over poor Fluttershy. Of course, she apologises to me before I get a chance to apologise to her.

“We are not going to make for a massive scandal, Rainbow.” I say, watching Rainbow carefully as Golden leans over to help Fluttershy with a napkin. It's weird, when I say it, Dash keeps smiling, but it retreats from her eyes for a moment.

Just a moment and it's gone, though, and it's right back in full force as she replies, “Not with that attitude we aren't.”

I groan. What else can I do?

Golden's still blushing furiously into her drink, but she's not quite as bad as I must be at the moment. Fluttershy scans us both and looks like she's about to scold Rainbow when Applejack interrupts, taking the seat next to Rainbow and plopping down into it, leaning across the table to address us all.

“C'mon Rainbow, rein it back in a notch, will ya? Look, you got this lovely pair as flustered as... well, frankly, as flustered as you get whenever Rarity gets her hooves on you for a fitting.” She smirks and Rainbow 'harrumphs', going so far as to cross her forelegs and everything. “Howdy, you must be Golden Retriever. Pinkie Pie mentioned you in the invitation. I'm Applejack, pleased to meet'cha.” She grins broadly, offering a hoof across the table. Golden tentatively accepts the grip given and is rewarded for it with the hoofshake of a lifetime. AJ's got quite a bit more muscle on her than ponies seem to think. “Now, what's for lunch?”

“Lunch is still on me for yesterday, isn't it?” I ask knowingly. Rainbow and Applejack both look the picture of innocence for my asking, which is about as close to a 'yes' as I’m going to get from them. Fluttershy glances back and forth at the pair and me.

“What happened yesterday?”

“Nothing.” Rainbow answers a little too quickly... okay, a lot too quickly. She looks to Applejack for support. The farmpony just shrugs at the table, then gives another shrug to me for emphasis.

Seems like not everything was fixed with a judicious application of Scootaloo.

“They helped me move the gold into the bank vault. Rainbow's just being modest.” I answer, looking at Golden and Fluttershy but watching RD out of the corner of my eye. She sighs in relief. Hrrm. I don’t think Fluttershy quite buys the concept of Rainbow being modest either. Curse my terrible lying skills.

Toodlepip materializes behind me. “Are the madames ready?”

“Six menus please. We're just waiting on one more.”

“But of course.” He nods, then slinks back into obscurity the way really good waiters are able to. Pinkie Pie was apparently standing right behind him, because we can see her waving at us the second Toodlepip moves, beaming and waving at us.

“Hi girls!” She declares to the world at large, but more specifically us, taking her rightful place at the other end of the table across from me. “Sorry I'm a little late, Discord was doing the stuff with the things and I had to deal with him and that. What’d I miss?” She scans us for a moment before her eyes lock on Golden's. “Loudest of gasps!” She says. Yes, you heard right, she actually says that, as opposed to actually doing it. “You must be Golden Retriever! You're exactly like Rarity described, right down to being really pretty in a red dress! How coincidental is that? Rarity couldn't come by the way, just like Twilight said, but she said she appreciated the gesture.”

Golden blushes slightly again. “Everyone keeps calling me pretty today,” she mumbles, glancing down at herself, “It's nice.”

“Well, you seem nice, so it's only right that nice things are said to nice ponies.” Pinkie proclaimed, even going so far as to raise her glass in a mock toast.

“Pinkie Pie, Golden Retriever. Golden Retriever, Pinkie Pie, Element of Laughter.”

“I'm a funny pony,” Pinkie declared in a tone I will claim to be chipper, but in actuality is somehow more cheerful than that, “I have a funny voice, a funny face, a funny smell. Yep, I'm a real funny pony.”

Golden Retriever snorts with laughter, then catches herself snorting with laughter and looks mortified. She looks so mortified that I think that's really funny and also giggle-snort, which sets off this whole chain reaction...

Basically we're all falling off our chairs laughing at the fact that we're laughing in a very nice Fancy restaurant.

Not our finest moment, I will admit, but I can't complain if I'm smiling as much as I am.

“So, yes, now that we're all here and introduced, I think we can all agree that Golden Retriever seems like a pleasant enough pony, yes?”

“Well, we have only just met her,” AJ says, but it's in an obviously playful manner, obvious enough that even Golden sees it for what it is, “but short of tellin' us her favourite hobby is kickin' puppies, I think we should be fine.”

Golden looks bold for a moment. Looks like she’s finally warming up to my friends, and that she won’t say something silly that will make us all hate her. “Don't be ridiculous. Why would I kick puppies when you can get so much more distance out of kittens?”

There's another shocked silence at the table and we all stare at her again. I swear, this is becoming a habit at this point.

Finally Pinkie bursts into raucous laughter, banging her hoof against the table. “Oh, oh, that's so funny.”

“It... really wasn't.” Fluttershy says, looking a distinct shade of pale green that Rarity would say looked actually quite flattering on her, but that was neither here nor there.

“No, no, it's funny cause she thought that it was going to be a joke, and then it just wasn't.” Pinkie laughs. She looks around the table, meeting all our awkward – and in Golden's, embarrassed – gazes. “Oh, c'mon,” she pouts, “you can't say you've never done that. Where it just sounds better in your head but then it comes out of your mouth and you wish you could just put it right back in there, but you can't? Everypony's done that!” Pinkie's eyes twinkle at me, and what she just said gives me an idea.

It's crazy, it's risky, but darn it, it just might work!

“How was it a joke?” I ask, rolling my eyes. The next part only works if I put my all into the delivery, like it's the most obvious thing in the world, “Everypony knows that kittens are lighter, and far more aerodynamic, than puppies.”

“Woah, now, hang on,” Rainbow slams a hoof down onto the table, rattling all our waters, glaring at me, “You can't seriously be suggesting it's better to kick kittens than puppies?”

Well, it was a nice effort. Sorry, Golden, I tried. At least we'll go down together. “Well-”

“Because you're right; kittens are lighter. But they're too light! You can't get any, whatchamacallit, inertia behind it. AJ knows what I'm talking about, back me up here.”

AJ stares at us all and blinks. Finally a slow, knowing smile dawns on her face and I know that I have done well. “Rainbow has a point. You can put more power behind something with more heft to it, gettit to stay up longer. Otherwise you'd be better off with one of Pinkie's party balloons than a proper hoofball.”

“I hadn't considered that,” I admit, acknowledging my weakness in the forethought of the puppies vs. kittens kicking debate, something I have never put prior thought into until now, “but the soft fluff of a kitten would provide at least partial lift at comparable velocities. Back me up on this, Fluttershy.”

“I think it's utterly awful that you're discussing whether to kick a puppy or a kitten at all,” Fluttershy scolds us, looking rather upset with us... until she adds, with a cheerful smile, “when there are so many baby birds out there that would just try their absolute hardest to go as far as their little wings could carry them, if you gave them that first little push.”

It's at this point that Pinkie Pie falls off her chair laughing, flopping onto the floor like a fish and Golden graces me with a grateful look. Yes, I should definitely be keeping a tally of my wins today. The rest of us try to keep a straight face as a rather bemused Toodlepip turns up to take our orders. Applejack fails miserably, which sets Rainbow Dash and myself off. Golden covers a smile behind a foreleg whilst Fluttershy is the picture of innocent serenity.

I love my friends.

The waiter takes our orders; An apple turnover for don't even pretend you don't know who ordered the apple dish, a sorbet for Rainbow Dash, an Everfree Forest gateau for Pinkie Pie once she manages to climb back into her chair (not a slice, the whole thing), I ordered the large carrot-ricotta quiche (I was hungry, okay?), Golden takes the soup of the day whilst Fluttershy goes for the house salad, after reassuring the waiter that everything looked nice, and that she was rather sorry that she had to choose.

“And make it snappy,” Rainbow demands in her haughtiest voice, “chop-chop, toodlepip.”

Toodlepip stares at her oddly. Golden smirks and slides him a little laminated card across the table, which he glances at and returns to her with a look of complete and utter jealousy. Rainbow remains blissfully ignorant as to what just happened, for better or worse.

The waiter then walks away with our orders, which is great, because it creates a conversation vacuum. Usually this would be filled with a few moments of awkward silence until a new conversation could be picked up, but I pounce on it and nail down the reason they're all here.

“So, I have big changes planned for Ponyville,” I announce, “and you are my focus group. You're a pretty diverse slice of the Ponyville demography and, though you're probably biased, I trust you to tell me your absolute honest opinions. Especially Applejack,” I finish. She tips her hat back at me with a smile.

“They going to affect our new, low tax rate?”

“Probably,” I admit, “but Luna's seed money was... very generous, as you've seen. Mostly I still need the tithe at the moment to pay for existing infrastructure and employees, like Rainbow Dash and Fluttershy.”

“Thanks boss.” Rainbow smirks.

“About the whole tithing thing... do I still have to pay it if one in ten of my parties are in your honour?”

I'm about to say no, offhoof, but I think about it. I glance at Golden, who merely shrugs. I can't think of a good reason to say no, actually. As part of public relations, really it's something I should be asking her for, actually.

“I suppose you can pay in parties,” I say, but it's accompanied by a Very Serious Look indeed, “but you need to promise that they're very good parties indeed. By royal decree.”

Pinkie Pie salutes me, her face equally serious, “Aye, Princess, my Cap'n!”

“So, what's the plan, Princess?” Applejack snickers. I was hoping somepony would ask, because it gives me a perfect opening to pull out a modified zoning draft of what Filthy Rich was proposing. Rarity was right to be suspicious, some of what he suggested was a little suspect, but the overall plan was actually pretty close to ideal. I suppose that was his plan; distract me from the trees by making the forest really darn pretty.

The plans spread across the table like a placemat, I focus on levitating glasses and pitchers out of the way as it unfurls. Pinkie Pie regards it with a little 'ooo!' noise, but otherwise my friends silently regard it, studying it.

I've simplified it and added keys so that there's no mistaking exactly which means what to who. Just have to wait for them to soak it in.

“That's an awful lot of universities,” Applejack muttered, mostly to herself but loud enough for me to hear, “Town's going to be flooded with wannabe eggheads, then?”

“Ponyville is in a desperate labour shortage at the moment,” Golden informs her, pulling out some graphs of her own, “and a large influx of part-time labour might be exactly the stimulation it needs.”

“As a villein, you wouldn't be required to pick your own crop. I'd be able to offer agricultural degree credits to students who took an unpaid internship on your farm and helped maximise its output, or just learn the trade.”

“It'd be nice if Mac an' I didn't have to run ourselves ragged every applebucking season, and there might actually be enough cider in Ponyville for once.”

“Exactly,” Golden concludes.

Fluttershy looks conflicted. After a lengthy internal debate as to whether to bring it up or not, she finally decides she needs to be assertive Fluttershy for the moment. “There's an awful lot of change happening near my home. I don't think I like that.”

Golden jumps at the chance to be useful. “We're planning on opening a veterinary college near your home. You said yourself that you're not a licensed vet... well, now you could be, whilst still being able to take care of the animals near your home.”

“Oh, but, where would they go?”

“We're keeping Whitetail Woods as a green site, meaning no-one can develop on, or too near, them.”

“Well... I guess that's okay.”

“Okay? Maybe I like Ponyville just the way it is,” Rainbow Dash grumbles, “maybe change isn't good. Maybe Ponyville was doing just fine until now and we don't need to wreck everything trying to fix what ain't broke.”

I have no idea what to say to that. No, really, no idea, my mind is a total blank. Just because I like the new changes doesn't, and shouldn't, mean all my friends should just go along with it, but for Rainbow Dash to feel so strongly about it... I guess it makes sense. Ponyville is her home, it's what's she's most loyal to.

Fortunately Pinkie Pie appears to know exactly what to say. “But Rainbow Dash, think of all the new ponies in Ponyville.”

“Yeah, I am thinking about it. That's the problem.”

“No, I mean,” Pinkie shakes her head vehemently, so hard I think it might fall off, “think of all the new fans, and ponies who'd show up to your air shows, and how much bigger the crowds would be. Think how much better the parties will be! I'm gunna need to upgrade the Welcome Wagon!”

Of course Pinkie would think of that... Oh, Celestia, please, never, ever let Pinkie Pie discover what a frat party is. It'd doom us all.

“Wait, wait, woah, woah... new fans? Bigger crowds? Okay, yeah... yeah, I can get behind that.”

“You know, I have missed the good Canterlot coffee shops too...” I add, thoughtfully, before blinking in confusion. “Wait, why am I convincing myself?”

“Because you're not sure it's a good idea, and you're hoping we'd help talk you into or out of it, Sugarcube. This ain't the hokey pokey, though. If you ain't sure about it, well, you're just going to end up doing to a whole lot of ponies a whole world of hurt. You need to be absolutely certain on this.”

“I am one hundred percent, absolutely, definitely sure about this,” I say with utter conviction, “I think.”

“You think? You mean you don't know?” Rainbow stares at me.

I'm about to answer when the waiter returns with our food, serving it with an absolute minimum of fuss. Still, even that's enough to derail a conversation, I hope.

Rainbow glances down at her sorbet, then back up at me, then down at her sorbet. It appears dessert wins, and she takes to eating it with gusto.

Unfortunately I hadn't factored in Fluttershy.

“What about the ponies who already live in Ponyville?” She asks, stirring her salad idly in front of her with a fork, not really touching it, “Maybe they don't want to live in a city. Maybe... maybe this isn't the best thing for Ponyville.”

“What's not to love about a bunch of new ponies?” Pinkie Pie asks, before taking a large bite of the cake in front of her with her face. Just... with her entire face. Her mouth opens so wide she looks like a shark and she just leans in and suddenly a quarter of the cake is just gone.

“Well... some ponies... might not like all the strangers. Or maybe they just like Ponyville the way it is.”

Golden takes the initiative. Hooray! “Doctor Princess Sparkle's proposed plans would raise the income levels of all Ponyville's citizens and give its residents countless opportunities they'd normally have to move away for to have access to, like higher education.”

“Our business ponies like Rarity are constricted by the small market and forced to move away if they become too successful,” I point out, “in a lot of ways, we're holding Rarity back. She's just nice enough to not rub it in our faces.”

Rainbow Dash is roused from her sorbet by that point, “No we aren't! She loves it in Ponyville.”

“She loves it in Ponyville because of us. Don't you realize how many more opportunities she'd have in Canterlot? Or Manehattan?”

“Well, yeah, but she doesn't because... those ponies are all noble jerks, right?”

“And 'noble-jerks' are the ponies with all the bits. The kind of pony I'm trying to attract to Ponyville.” Sort of. Kind of.

“Now just hold on a moment,” Applejack takes her hoof and taps the table with it, rattling her turnover, “we're trying to get snooty rich ponies to move here? Twilight, by which I mean Princess, have you lost your marbles?! Why'd we want-”

I hold my own hoof up placatingly to try to cut her off before she gets a, very justified, rant going, “Applejack, scholars are lesser nobility. They've all got money but, in my experience, tend to be less of a jerk about it.”

“Sometimes,” Golden corrects me. “Some of them can be just as insufferable. They just tend to be insufferable about much more specific things.”

I think back to one of my old lecturers at Oxfjord (Celestia might have been great for magic, but even she can't know everything (wow, I feel dirty just for thinking that (praise Celestia))) and how much of a smug jerk he was, just because he had tenure. Then I remember the look on his face when I pointed out he'd used the wrong equation and his methodology was flawed, and I feel good again.

“That's a fair point,” I admit “but they also have a lot of disposable income. Also, think of what a few important scientific discoveries would do to put Ponyville on the map!”

“What if we don't want to be on the map,” Rainbow grumps. Funny, you never miss her smugging until she stops doing it.

“Then... I don't know.”

I don't know. I really don't know.

Applejack glances back and forth between us. “Hey, now, c'mon Rainbow Dash. You'd finally get cider every season, big crowds to show off to... what's really got you down?”

“I don't know. It just... I don't know.”

“That ain't mighty helpful to the Princess, Rainbow.”

“I don't really care,” Rainbow pouts, “I just... I don't think I like this.”

And with that she flies off... for a few seconds. She returns long enough to grab her sorbet before zooming off again. Compliments to the chef, I guess.

“Okay, hooves up everypony who didn't see that coming?” Pinkie Pie shatters the silence, raising her right hoof high into the air and wiggling it about, “Everypony?”

Applejack raises her right hoof, as does Golden. I tentatively follow but Fluttershy's remains fixed on her fork, still toying with her salad.

“Rainbow just cares a lot about this town,” She mumbles, “and she doesn't like to keep her feelings bottled up.”

I get the feeling the words 'like me' hang in the air after that statement.

“Mighty sorry this is our way of introductions, Golden,” Applejack apologizes, “we're usually much friendlier.”

“No! No, you guys are great, I'm just sorry I'm... the instrument of change around here, I guess.”

“Change is good though! Even if you have, like, one super-duper favourite flavour of cupcake, you can't have it every,” pause, “single,” pause, “day,” final dramatic pause, “or they just get sick of it. Then again, some ponies just like staying with their safe flavours and they don't want to try something new, even if they'd like it if they tried. You can't make them try. Well, I guess you can Princess Doctor Sparkle Butt, but...” Here she giggles instead of continuing her train of thought, “I just said 'butt' twice.”

“Yes Pinkie,” Applejack murmurs, bemused, “Yes you did.”

“Pinkie has a good point though,” I nod, “not everypony is going to like this. How do I know this is a good idea?”

“Well, if I may be so bold, could I offer a suggestion, Doctor Princess Sparkle?” Golden asks, somewhat tentatively at that. That elicits a smile from me.

“Of course, Golden. You've been perfectly 'bold' until this point, anyway, in case you hadn't noticed.”

Golden pales significantly, “Oh, dear, have I? I have, haven't I... oh, goodness, I'm so sorry, Doctor Princess Sparkle, it won't happen again--”

“That's a shame,” I interrupt, “because I was rather appreciating your candour. Seriously, just say what you were going to say, oh assistant mine.”

Golden coughs and readjusts her spectacles, composing herself, as Pinkie Pie buries her face into her gateau. “Well... why don't you just hold a vote?”

“A vote?”

“That sounds like a good idea,” Fluttershy agrees, “anonymous voting. Where nopony knows what you vote. Yes, that sounds... nice.”

Actually, that does sound like a good idea. I glance at Applejack, who shrugs amiably, “Sugarcube, you ain't gotta ask me what you want, being my humble lord and master and all, and same goes for everypony else here... but if a vote is what you want, heck, nopony stopping you from that, neither.”

Yeah... yeah, an honest to goodness vote, like the one I deprived Mayor Mare of. That sounds... that sounds good. Whilst I can't change how much power I have over Ponyville, I can at least change how much power it has over me, at the very least.

Pinkie Pie re-emerges from her cake to declare, “I vote for more parties!” before burying her face back into her dessert.

“I'll make sure to put that on the form,” I concede, wryly. “Anything else?”

Applejack shakes her head firmly, Fluttershy too with a little less conviction. Golden just watches me, waiting on my decision and Pinkie Pie... Pinkie Pie licks her plate clean.

“Well, great afternoon tea, everyone!” I smile as wide as I can, now that I actually have an idea of exactly what I'm doing. I try to find Toodlepip and get his attention.

Cheque, please!

Time to conclude my wonderful speech to my adoring public, and it's only taken me thirty three pages to do so, a new personal record for brevity! “So my wonderful new assistant, Golden Retriever – wave to the lovely crowd, Golden,” she does, and tentative is not nearly sufficient enough to describe her reaction, particularly when quite a few of the crowd snickers at the mention of her name, “has helped draft up the new zoning and planning for Ponyville. If all goes as planned, quality of life should skyrocket, as should wealth, health and a third rhyming thing.”

Two of the three members of the crowd still awake clap wearily, the third, Doctor Whooves, gives a rousing standing ovation. Looks like I found my target audience. The rest are obviously just trying to absorb all the information I've just thrown at them, it's a lot to take in.

“So I will be posting the plans for the new rezoning and total overhaul of Ponyville on the Town Hall door, along with idealised statistics for and against the change. Ponies will be free to vote over the course of the next two days. This is your benevolent dictator saying; thank you for your time.”

Friends start rousing friends from their little naps, informing that “It's over, oh thank Celestia it's over”, whatever that means. The voting's only just begun!

Golden follows me, two steps behind, somewhat anxiously. “So, we have two days before we tally the results... what should we do?”

I pull the rollydex from its place in my notes. “We're going on a recruiting drive to Canterlot, otherwise Filthy Rich is just going to build us a bunch of hollow buildings with nopony to fill them with. We're looking for the best and brightest in select fields and trying to poach them, to help make Ponyville Equestria's--”

“Scientific and cultural capital of the world,” Golden finishes for me, with a sigh. “No disrespect intended, Doctor Princess Sparkle, but you already mentioned that in your speech... several times. Actually, a lot. I was there for the whole thing.”

I chuckle, more than a little self consciously, “Oh right, so you were. And so I did.” More nervous chuckling should solve this! It doesn't? Darn it. “We should probably catch the first train out of Ponyville.” I steer us towards the train station. I'll send a letter to Spike when I get there, so my friends shouldn't be too worried, so long as somepony visits Spike.

Which they should. If they don't, well, their worry will be punishment on Spike's behalf.

“Well, you still need to return the one you borrowed, Doctor Princess,” Golden pointed out helpfully, “two birds, one stone?”

“What a violent metaphor. Did you ever think about that? I mean, really think about it? What an awful thing to do to a pair of birds.”

“Doctor Princess?”

“I mean, Fluttershy would have quite a lot to say on the matter,” I plough on, trying not to let me eyes look too shifty, “particularly if they got seriously hurt.”

Golden's eyes narrow in suspicion. “You're avoiding the issue, but I have no idea what the issue is. How can I help, Doctor Princess? I am at your beck and call and so forth.”

Darn it, sometimes I'm just as bad at faking something as Applejack. She's not very good either. I mean, there was this one time when we were hiding for one of Pinkie Pie's surprise parties, and Applejack ended up wrecking it by fighting with Pinkie Pie over whether it was dishonest or not. I mean, it was a surprise party that she didn't know the 'guest of honour' even wanted, so it wasn't like she was in the wrong, there, but-

“Doctor Princess?” Golden nudges my side, and my heart leaps at the physical contact because it is stupid, “You were just standing there, staring. You haven't said anything for a while now. It was getting kind of creepy.”

I cough awkwardly into a hoof. Right, well, no avoiding it now.

“Well, the thing is, a lot of the ponies on this list... we might not have been as close as Pinkie seems to think we were. I was really antisocial and introverted and... kind of a jerk... before I came to Ponyville and learned the magic of friendship.”

Golden stares at me silently for a few moments. I wonder if she's not just exacting some kind of revenge against me when she finally says, “You? A jerk? Really?”

I feel my cheeks heat up, because embarrassment is an autonomous response and I have yet to master my own, treacherous, body. “I didn't mean to be!” I protest, raising a hoof defensively, even as we near the station. “It was passive jerkiness. I just thought other ponies were,” and this sounds really, really stupid in retrospect, but it's true, “holding me back, or something. If they weren't teaching me something, I could have spent that time studying or... magicking stuff.”

“Magicking stuff?” Golden snickers, trying very hard not to let me see she's snickering and failing abysmally.

“This is a really awkward conversation for me to be having, okay?” I say, cheeks reaching ever redder hues. No matter how hard you try, or what spells you study, you can't go back in time and slap some sense into your past self. You have to learn to live with the mistakes you lived and learned from. Still, doesn't make remembering being that person any less unpleasant. “It's hard telling a pony you really like that you're not everything you're cracked up to be.”

Golden smiles reassuringly at me. “Well, I still like you too, Doctor Princess Sparkle.”

I smile weakly, then a bit stronger. It's nice hearing that she likes me too, but it's hard hearing it's in spite of something, rather than because of something. It taints the goodness a bit.

“Twilight! Wait!”

I turn and Rainbow Dash is soaring towards us at reckless speeds, even by her standards. “I saw you guys heading toward the train station? Where you going?”

“Canterlot,” I answer with a breathy sigh, “to find experts for Ponyville, just in case the vote goes through. We'll be back before the votes are tallied.” She looks panicked, and suddenly I'm a bit more concerned. Rainbow Dash doesn't panic easily. “Rainbow... what's the matter with you? I've never seen you this twitchy before. You might even pass for having Pinkie Sense.”

Rainbow glances over her shoulder at something? Nothing? Before turning back to me looking... annoyed? She's almost scowling, but I feel like it isn't at me. When she realises what she's doing she even manages to look downright apologetic.

“Nothing!” she says, far too quickly for it to be even remotely true, “Nothing's the matter with me. I was just... I mean, you're leaving.”

“Yes. On a business trip.”

“Cool, cool... and uh... you're going alone?”

“Actually, I'll be taking Golden Retriever with me. I'll probably need her help.”

“Oh, so you need her. Right.” She mutters, sounding downright miserable, eyes staring down at the ground below her as she hovers in place. “That's cool. I mean, she's really pretty and all, and your type, so I guess-”

“Hey!” I interrupt that train of thought before it can leave the station, glancing mortified at Golden beside me, who looks rather delighted by the praise, “Golden is coming with me in a purely professional fashion.”

“Yeah, well, don't let that stop you.” Rainbow smirks at me. I glare back at her and she recoils, looking away like I've physically slapped her. I'm about to apologize when she turns back to look at me, watery eyes and all, and just says “No way, I'm sorry, I was, like, way, way out of line just now. Just... sorry. I don't want you to just remember being annoyed at me if you're going, okay? I'll tell our friends, don't worry about it. You just... you two just have fun in Canterlot. Or not fun. Business. Go and have business in Canterlot and be businessy business ponies.”

Golden answers whilst I'm still speechless, working out what exactly I can say to that. Rainbow's been weird around me all day and I have no idea what's going on, and I don't like not knowing things. “We'll try, Rainbow. On behalf of Doctor Princess Sparkle, let me just say that we're very sorry you don't agree with the changes planned for Ponyville, but we really do think it's for the best.”

Rainbow’s muscles tighten visibly and she bristles, “Hey! Twilight can talk for herself plenty well enough without you, okay?”

Now Golden looks incredibly hurt, like she's been physically punched in the gut. She's gone very pale and I think she's about to cry... yeah, well, one of her heroes did just snap at her, so I suppose I can understand why. I turn back to Rainbow, fully expecting myself to be furious with her, because at that moment Golden said exactly what I wished I could say, but Rainbow looks... she looks like she's beating herself up about it enough. She's literally kicking herself and mumbling something I can't hear.

“Oh geeze, oh geeze, I'm sorry, Golden, I'm so sorry, you didn't deserve that. That was me, that was all me, totally not your fault. I'm just... I don't know!” She moans, “I don't know, okay! Just...” and now she deflates, all that hiss and steam leaking out of her like the air out of my balloon. “Sorry.”

And with that she zooms off in the other direction as fast as she possibly can, banging a hoof against her skull in a self-chastising gesture I recognise far too well.

Golden nods weakly, wiping tears out of her eyes. I don't think she's quite bought it yet, but still...

Celestia's sake, Rainbow, what is wrong with you today?

That whole exchange was just bad and weird.

“Is there anything you need to pick up from the library particularly urgently, Golden?”

She thinks about it for a moment, sniffling, before shaking her head slowly.

“Good, neither do I, so we can leave as soon as possible. I have a feeling we need to get some distance from Ponyville for a while, at least until the votes over. If this is how my friends are acting...” I shudder. “Let's go. We've got a train to catch.”

Chapter Eight: Where a Harmless Little Question Is Asked of Twilight

With a lurching, crunching, hissing, shrieking cacophony, our train finally pulls into Canterlot station. Even though Ponyville is my new home, my true home, Canterlot... Canterlot still has a lot of familiarity. Never underestimate how much sway the familiar holds to a pony as... okay, let's just out and say it, OCD as I am. Familiarity is a warm, snuggly blanket for my soul.

I have Golden Retriever beside me as we disembark for my triumphant return instead of Spike. Part of me is disappointed, another declares this an improvement and a third, surprisingly large part, decides to over-analyze the first two parts and work out why they feel the way they do.

The word crush keeps swirling to the front of my mind. I'm in a classically romantic city alone with the pony I apparently have a very large crush on. I'm going to say it's distracting and leave it at that.

Distracting. Yes. What's worse is how she clutches at the dress Rarity designed for her like a foal with a security blanket. It'd be endearing if the dress didn't do straight-up silly things to my concentration. The red whispering tight against that stormy grey coat, accents that make her blonde mane pop, and those charming ever-present little gold spectacles balanced daintily on her nose. I've spent an unfortunate amount of our train ride with my nose in a book, sadly neglecting it, watching her out of the corner of my eye as much as I can without feeling creepy. Which is hard to do, because it's sort of a really creepy thing to be doing.

"So!" the unwitting object of my desires pipes up as we stand at the otherwise-empty station and I assess our options, "where should we stop first?"

I consult the rolypolydex. It's staggeringly useful – thank you, Pinkie Pie. "Well, we have a plan, right?"

"Your 'plan' so far seems to consist of stealing some of Canterlot's best and brightest for your own ends, Doctor Princess, but I'm not quite sure how you planned on going about it."

"Oh," I say lamely. "Are you sure? But we had a whole train ride to talk about it."

Golden smiles warmly at me, and I melt like butter. I'm weak, I admit it. "You seemed very involved with your book. I didn't want to disturb you."

"Oh," I repeat, somehow even more lamely than before, "well, thank you. Still, nothing?"

Golden just shakes her head.

"Oh," I finish the trifecta of lame monosyllables. "Well, I think the first thing we should do is see a few old friends from my 'Celestia's Student' days. We need a physicist, a mathemetician, a mage, a chemist and an agricultural scientist." I flip through the rolypolydex and mark significant names. "I can think of a few."

"What about the soft sciences and the arts?" Golden mused.

"They'll flock to my new schools once we have the best and brightest there. They're like barnacles, latching on to the useful subjects." I scowl at nothing in particular.

"Doctor Princess!" Golden gasps, shocked. "The hard subjects might be the how, but the arts are the why. It's not very kind to devalue them so lightly."

"Well, it's still true," I huff.

"Which is why it's particularly unkind to say it out loud," Golden admonishes me. I giggle a bit in spite of it.

"Still," I grudgingly admit, "I suppose you're right. Rarity would never let me hear the end of it if I didn't try to attract more culture to Ponyville. I wonder if Octavia would still be interested in teaching. What was her last name again? Melancholy? Elegy?”

Golden stares at me a long moment. I blink uncomprehendingly, which is what I do when I don't comprehend something, sometimes. It doesn't happen often – I comprehend most things.

I break the silent stalemate that seems to have formed. "What?"

"You can't possibly be referring to Octavia Melody?"

"Melody!" I smile in relief. "That was it." I process that for a few moments before finally, "Wait, how do you know her last name?"

Golden stares at me with a look I'd frame as the definition of 'bemused' and points at a poster on the station wall. I trot up to it and give it a close inspection.

The poster is for a quartet, performing a few nights from now. I recognize the mare on strings right away: It's the same Octavia I remember from my teen years, just older and more mature. She's gorgeous, and not in the way that I find Golden. No, she's this... unattainable beauty, perfection and elegance poured into a bow-tie and moulded around her instrument. She's beautiful in the way you'd find a perfect marble statue beautiful, and it's slightly intimidating.

"Do you think she'd be interested?" I ask Golden over my shoulder, staring at the poster.

Golden stares at the poster, then shrugs uncomfortably. That's not reassuring in the slightest. "I don't know. Maybe? Can you offer her more than her current quartet?"

"I have no idea," I admit, "but I plan on finding out. Later. Much later. After we've already got some solid ponies lined up. She might be more inclined to hear us out if we've already got a reputable staff backing us up."

"What if the votes show ponies don't want change? Even if all of this goes according to plan, what if we end up recruiting a bunch of ponies for no reason?"

"Are you kidding? After that speech I gave before we left? You heard the speech right?"

Golden rolls her eyes, for reasons I can't fathom. "Yes, Doctor Princess, I heard your speech. You were very thorough."

I beam with pride. She thought my speech was thorough! There's no possible way to interpret that negatively, not that I'm aware of.

"So, who do you have in mind?" she asks, ever-curious. Drat, that means I need to make a decision. I glance over my rolypolydex one last time and make a decision.

"First we'll visit somepony I know would be interested in teaching, Fine Mane. He's a fantastic physicist, one of the best. Then we'll have to swing by the park at lunchtime, that's when One Stone and I always used to play chess. If he still remembers half as much about magic as he used to, I'm sure he'd love to get out of the patent office."

"Patent office?"

"Trust me, he's really too smart to work there. He just... does." I shrug. I can't explain it either. I suppose he just enjoys the comfortable tedium. I can understand that.

"Anypony else?"

"Of course. You can't create a new city of science with just two ponies. My old friend Mulch could probably be cajoled into being a professor of agricultural sciences, and Burette should be willing to head a chemistry department if we offered... if I can still find her. She was never the sort of pony to settle down anywhere."

"So you can't start a new city of science with two ponies, but you can with four?"

"Hey! Five including me. Four more of the absolute best and brightest Equestria has to offer should be more than enough to start, too."

"If that were true, why wouldn't they be heading their own departments already? I apologize for playing Nightmare's Advocate, Doctor Princess, but-"

"No, no," I cut her off, shaking my head, "you're absolutely right. The problem is politics though, or motivation. These deserving ponies just haven't played the games they've needed to, or jumped through the right hoops. We're offering them something they couldn't get otherwise, so hooray us."

"Hooray," Golden echoes back at me, dryly. "Won't ponies complain if you just hire your friends?"

"Politics is a game I'm not very good at either." I grin.

Golden stares at me warily. I continue to grin, unashamed. Look, the simple fact of the matter is that they're my friends because they are the best, not that they're the best because they're my friends. Any criticism against my hiring policies will not stand up to actually testing these pony's capabilities.

"Let's head to the other side of the tracks. Fine Mane... that's where we'll find him."

"I'll follow your lead, Doctor Princess," Golden assures me.

I lead on, committing Fine Mane’s address on the rolypolydex to memory. Apparently he's an assistant lecturer at Corncob University, a mean little place on the bad side of town. I've been there several times, for lectures, so I'm at least familiar with the location.

Still, two mares walking there alone doesn't sound like the safest of outings. Fortunately one of those mares is me, so, not to sound arrogant or anything, we should be fine.

I lead Golden to the other side of the tracks, because that's where we'll be heading. It's all, quite literally, downhill from there, following the twisting paths of lower Canterlot, to The Bad Side of Town. The streets gradually grow narrower and narrower, crushed under the weight of all the ponies pressing down from above. After a while, Golden has pressed tighter to me, eyes darting about all the darkened alleyways and corners suspiciously. We're able to follow the smell, too. The further in you go, the more it makes your eyeballs peel.

"I don't like it here, Doctor Princess," she hisses in my ear, "this place doesn't feel safe."

"Normally, it isn't." I shrug, staying as close to her as equinely possible. "But somepony tried to mug me here once, and the word sort of spread to avoid me. It's not late enough for anypony to try anything yet, though... everyone who'd try is probably too busy sleeping off hangovers."

Golden stares at me in awe and horror. "You fought off a mugger? How?"

I smile at the fond recollection. He'd underestimated me... big mistake. "I turned him into a newt."

"You... what?"

"A newt," I repeat, cheerful and chipper. "I turned him into a small amphibian. Improved his looks considerably."

The awe grows in equal measure with the horror on Golden's face. She fiddles with her spectacles a little, pushing them as far up her nose as they'll go. "Did you change him back, at least?"

"Oh, eventually. I was pretty mad at the time, though, and he’d scared me pretty good. I think it was my brother who eventually talked me into changing him back."

Golden's horror finally wins out against her awe. My smile fades, pulling tight into a small grimace.

"Oh, don't look at me like that. He really did scare me, and I was young. I would have changed him back eventually!"

Golden's horrified expression fades a bit and she goes back to scanning the alleys and side streets. "I will say this much, I feel a bit safer standing next to you, knowing that."

I glow with pride, ignoring the cold rush of blood at the idea of Golden being scared of me. Ponies being scared of me is old news now, already panicked over that, don't need to go through it again this week.

Not going to let it get to me.

Nope.

Darn it, it just got to me again.

Fortunately and thankfully the rest of the walk is uneventful.

Corncob University looms ahead of us, a series of buildings made of brownstone poured concrete. It's cheap, it's loud, it's messy, it's filthy and it's where some of the greatest minds of the lower classes come to get the best education they can afford. It's also where we're going to find Fine Mane.

I spot the administration building. It's easy enough to find: A tall, old brick building, stained and rough, with an age-yellowed clocktower standing triumphantly. Its beautiful wrought iron clock is the sole piece of equipment that actually looks prized and respected, if a little industrial-looking.

The foyer stinks of mould and is splattered with its own strange green and grey stains covering the walls and ceiling. The floor itself consists of rotten wooden planks which creak underhoof. A real estate pony would call it 'much-loved' or 'a handypony's dream'. I call it a big heaping pile of-

"Hello?" A weedy looking unicorn stallion appears behind the desk, popping up like a whack-a-mole and surprising the bejeebus out of me. He's holding up a clipboard , like a shield between us.

"Ah, hello. We're not here to hurt you. Or take anything." As I say this a ceiling panel falls to the ground beside me with a crash. I glance at it, stepping over it – see, most ponies would step away from the crashing, falling bit of ceiling, but that ignores the very pressing issue that other places still have ceiling that has yet to fall. "Not that there's anything here worth taking."

"Oh, that's not t-true," he assures me, lowering his protective clipboard. I can see now that he's a young pinto stallion, just blooming out of his teens, with a slight acne problem and a decidedly unwashed-looking mane. "We have some of the b-best stocked chemistry and physics departments this side of Manehattan."

"Really?" I ask incredulously. A long fleck of paint detaches from the wall and drifts lazily down to the floor. At least I hope it’s paint.

"Oh, yes. Don't let the, uh, other facilities f-fool you. The administration just believes in putting the money where it c-counts." He nods, once, satisfied with his answer. That makes one of us, then.

"Well, speaking of those departments, I'm here for a pony named Fine Mane. You wouldn't happen to know where he is, would you?"

"Oh, F-f-fine Mane?" The stallion smiles, wide and toothy. "He's a legend around here. I think he's giving a demonstration in B Building."

"Which building?"

"I just said. Building B."

"Oh." I connect the dots and feel silly. "Well... can we see him?" I ask as Golden trots up to one of the walls, inspecting it closely. She jumps back as part of it moves.

"I, uh, I don't know. C-can you?" the stallion stammers, actually reading his clipboard-cum-shield. "Y-you don't seem to have an a-a-appointment." He machine-guns the a's with his nervous stammer.

I flutter my wings pointedly, just about sick of this whole ordeal. I'm half convinced the entire building is about to come crashing around my ears. There's a dangerous groaning from the ceiling and I glare at it, just daring it to try something again. "Do princesses need to make appointments?" I ask the pony at the desk with my eyes fixed on the unfixable ceiling.

"M-m-maybe not. Let me check."

He glances down to look through Celestia knows what files he needs to, so I cast a quick mending spell on the ceiling, touch up the walls, and even scrub the floors a little bit. The bit of ceiling I'm standing on is the first to be patched. I fixed the Ponyville Dam with a lot less to work with, I'll say that much. By the time the nervous receptionist pops his head back up the room is back to... well, it's not good, but it's now functional.

"What h-happened?" he stammers, looking around goggle-eyed.

"Nothing," I say, sweet as any of Pinkie's creations. "Now, you were about to tell me about appointments."

"O-oh. No, it l-looks like princesses don't need them, you were r-right. I'll show you to Fine Mane right away." The stallion unfolds himself from what must be a stool, because he's taller than me, but probably half my weight. He's lanky, if one were to be generous, and scrawny if you weren't.

Still, he leads us out of the administration building, out and around, until we get to a rather large brown brick building in comparatively good condition. It must be the science department, or 'where all the money goes'.

Through the comparatively clean corridors we go until we come across a packed lecture theatre, with Fine Mane at the front, speaking passionately.

"The first principle is that you must not fool yourself—and you are the easiest person to fool. So you have to be very, very careful about that. After you've not fooled yourself, it's easy not to fool other scientists. You just have to be honest in a conventional way after that!" he declared, underlining a diagram he had up on the board.

I smile softly and sneak into the room, Golden still in tow, trying not to be noticed. The door opens into the back of the lecture theatre, so that only Fine Mane might notice me. It suits me just fine when he doesn't.

"Now, to get back to, to the question. Where, uh, does a photon come from? We know it comes from the, the electron. Is the photon in the atom ahead of time, or, or where does it come from? Well, photons are created by the motions of the electron, well, when you make a sound, does it come from your word bag? No! No, it comes from your, from your... it's created, made up as you go along, and it's the same with photons." He draws a squiggle on the chalkboard, I suppose it's meant to represent the photon travelling in a wave. "Now, if you'll all excuse me, I believe the princess at the back would like to have a word with me, so we'll be having a fifteen minute recess."

So he did notice me, he's just got one heck of a poker face. Sly stallion. Everypony starts whispering at once, the information passing over the hall like a breeze through the underbrush, and a lot of eyes are suddenly on me. My smile turns a bit fragile as I wave at the theatre of students staring at me. Fortunately the moment only lasts a few seconds before they respectfully start filing out. When the last student has left I trot slowly up to the front of the class.

"They seem nice," I offer in greeting, stretching a hoof in front of me for a hoofshake. He accepts the gesture, and my smile feels a bit more genuine again.

"To what do I owe such a prestigious visit, Doctor Sparkle?"

"This is my friend and assistant, Golden Retriever. She's also more fond of the 'doctor' title than the 'princess' one, so with that in common, I'm sure you two will get along famously."

He stares at Golden for a long moment, unabashed, before blinking and shaking his head, snapping out of whatever he was thinking. "I do, must, apologize, Golden, I was momentarily surprised by your name. I mean no offense by it."

Golden rolls her eyes and offers her own hoof, which Fine Mane graciously accepts. Should I just start thinking of him as Fine? It sounds weird in my head without the 'Mane' part.

"So, can't an old friend just drop by for a friendly visit?" I ask, feigning offense.

Fine Mane twists his lips at me, too wry a creature for it to be called a smile. "We could have been good, friends, if you hadn't insisted on being great colleagues instead." He rolls his eyes and I blush a little in embarrassment, scratching the back of my neck . "You were a fantastic colleague, Twilight. One of the best I was fortunate enough to have. Probably the best. A pony like you doesn't just, just take a train up from Ponyville for social visits."

"You're right," I reply, firmly, "though I would like to offer the invitation of friendship, regardless. You were a great colleague, too, which is why I'm offering you a professorship at a university under construction in Ponyville. I'm looking for the best and brightest minds in Equestria, and you're the first pony I thought of."

"Really?" he asks me, deadpan and disbelieving. He glances at Golden for confirmation. She nods emphatically. "Really," he repeats, this time more in amusement. "Well, if that's the case, then, well, I'm going to have to accept your generous offer... of friendship." I wince a little. It's still better than I could have hoped, but he's about to roll all over me, isn't he? "I've got a fantastic position here, Doctor Sparkle, as it is. I can't leave it."

"Why not?" I ask, trying not to sound like a petulant child and failing miserably. Golden certainly looks less than amused, though whether it's at me or him I can't tell. Probably both.

"I'm sorry, Princess, but I can't. I mean... no, no I can't. Canterlot is my home, and I fought tooth and hoof for this position. I can't leave it on, on a whim. I'm sure your professorship offer is very generous, but I'm afraid it's not for me. You'll have to find some other physicist."

"But I don't want another physicist," I moan, "I want you."

He chuckles. "You sure know how to flatter a stallion, Princess, but my answer is still no."

I muster up A Look, and turn to blatant grovelling. "Please?"

"The answer is still no, Twilight."

"Fiddlesticks!" I huff. Huff! "Well... what now? We've come all this way, and we've got at least another ten minutes before your students come back. It'd be a shame to leave so soon."

"Would you like to join me in formulating hypotheses about superconductivity of metals as they approach temperatures nearing absolute zero?"

"Sure," I say, delighted. And so we do. The conversation is riveting.

I settle into the park at a familiar table, covered in an eight by eight grid and containing well-worn pieces for the game it's suited to.

"Are you sure he'll come?" Golden asks beside me, nervously readjusting her spectacles. She must still be overwhelmed after our visit with Fine Mane. Understandable. I didn't expect him to turn us down, either. Hopefully it's not a sign of things to come.

I busy myself with preparing the board. "Oh, he'll be here. He's always here." The pieces dance around the board as my magic casts them about to their designated players. Every piece has a role, to be delicately moved about the board to suit a higher purpose. It's a wonderful metaphor.

Is this how Celestia feels all the time? No wonder she's always smiling so cryptically.

I'm sitting at a park, a designated Romantic Thing To Do, with Golden Retriever and I barely even notice, so anxious am I to see my old friend. It's been far too long since we’ve played a game together. I glance at the old clock set up in the centre of the park, dusted by the branches of swaying yew trees, and wait for it to tick to exactly thirteen past noon. It's a lovely park... the game it’s going to host will be brutal. I've been practicing.

One Stone was one of the very few ponies I could never beat at chess, the other being Celestia herself. Let's hope I'm at least good enough at negotiating to keep him interested.

A moss green unicorn stallion with a curly, frizzy mane, not unlike Pinkie Pie's except for its white colouration, rounds the corner. He notices me. I make eye contact.

Solid electricity thrums through that gaze. He smiles with only half his mouth, not quite a smirk, not quite a sneer, something else entirely, and moves to sit across from me. He's towing his lunch behind him in a brown paper bag and I can smell it from here. Pickle sandwich. Wretched, but his favourite for whatever reason. It's almost as good an indicator to his foreign nature, mind and body, as his accent is.

"Ah, Tvilight Sporkle, ve meet again. Und who is ze loovely mare you have brought with you?"

"Hello, One Stone. This is my friend and assistant, Golden Retriever. How's the patent office treating you?"

One Stone doesn't say anything about Golden's name, and I can see a little smile of appreciation crop up on her face when she notices it too. One Stone suffers too many jokes about his own Allermane name to draw attention to someone elses.

"Ah ze patent office is so dreadfoolly dull, wouldn't you agree? No, it's far better to talk about what you have been up to, yes? Tvilight Sporkle und her own demesne! Wunderbahg! I always knew you held such promise!"

I blush in spite of myself. I've taken black – I always manage to lose by a narrower margin when he makes the first move – but the moss-green unicorn across from me has no problems with this. He simply moves the pawn in front of his black-square bishop two spaces, then looks up to smile at me expectantly.

I push the pawn in front of my king two squares to free up my queen and bishop. "That's actually what I wanted to talk to you about. I'm establishing a new magical theory department at the first University of Ponyville, and I was hoping you'd be interested in teaching."

We move pieces in silence for a moment, Golden watching from the side in fascination. My pawn is the first casualty, taken off the board with a little 'plink', to be traded for the pawn that took it. Even ground once more.

"I am honoured zat you are thinking of me, Princess." One Stone smiles at me, "Und vot vould you have me teach, hrrm?"

More tiks and plinks on the board. "Magic."

"Magik? Ah, but what vould an old fool such as me know about magic?" He leaves a bishop dangling. It's an obvious trap, but I can't see how yet. My only choice is to take it and prepare to counter to the best of my abilities. Plink.

"The old fool is acting coy, and it doesn't suit him very well." I smile, eyes darting across the pieces dangerously. "You helped me with my thesis for Celestia on the potential magical energy of sunlight. And what about your own paper on the effects of magic on submolecular particles?"

"Feh!" he declares as his queen finally roars out into play, and I realize taking the bishop was a mistake as he pins two of my pieces, dominating center board, "Idle musings, nothink more. Sometimes I think vhen I eat my sandvich, und sometimes I put those thoughts to paper."

I snort. "And sometimes you write amazing, world changing papers. My offer stands." I reverse the pin, threatening his queen. It's a weak threat, but it's enough to save me from the pin. One Stone grunts, pulling his queen into a more defensible position.

"I do not know, Tvilight. Not all of us are destined for greatness." He pronounces greatness like it's a hiccup. "Some of us ver just meant to be patent clerks." He pushes his rook to attack my king from the side... Golden's eyes widen. She must have been following the game. I can't help but smile at the familiar play. I always fall for this.

"And some of us were meant to be part of something fantastic," I enthuse, pushing my knight forward for what little good it will do. The game is lost.

He strikes with his queen, drawing it close to my king. The king is forced to take it, venturing out into a weak position... The trap, a queen sacrifice, springs shut, the bishop drawing its deadly gaze upon my king.

Checkmate.

One Stone smiles down at the board, then back up at me. "A professorship, though? My own department of theoretical magic? Are you sure?"

"One Stone, I've come all the way from Ponyville to find the best and brightest the world has to offer, and you're only the second pony I've approached. I'm positive that it would be a pleasure to have your help."

"The second, eh? Vell, what did the first say?"

"The first one turned me down." I admit, shrugging it off. "I was hoping you'd go better."

"How could I turn down Doctor Tvilight Sporkle's generous offer? I accept, Princess." His eyes go glossy with tears he's trying to suppress. He's failing, though.

"Why are you crying? You won!" I reset the pieces for another game. We always have a rematch.

He always wins those, too. He moves a knight first, this time, just to be different.

He wipes one dewy eye with the tip of his hoof. "I may have at that, Princess. I zink I just may have. When would you have me?" The pieces move rapidly across the board for a while.

"A year from now, exactly. Unless you'd like to move down sooner, I'm sure I could find work for somepony as talented as you."

"No, no, ze patent office, she needs me." One Stone sighed, pushing his knight into the centre squares, where it can do brutal amounts of damage. I'll have to find some way to dislodge it.

"Are you sure? One Stone, you're one of the most brilliant theoretical mages I've ever met. The world needs you more than the patent office.”

"When did you get this chatty?" he smirks at me between bites of sandwich. "You never used to talk this much unless it vos about a theorem."

"I'm more friendly than I used to be." I smile back, moving my pawn forward to dislodge his thrice-darned knight.

One Stone stares at me incredulously. I feel the weight of his look settle on me, and it's not entirely pleasant. "What?"

"Ah, Doctor Princess?" Golden whispers, pointing down at the board.

Oh. I'd forgotten about his bishop. I've just given him my queen for free.

"Friendly, yes," One Stone laughs, taking the undefended queen, "but better at chess? Not hardly."

"Hey! I was distracted."

"Sure," he croons, laughing. I take his knight and stick my tongue out at him.

"But you will come, right?"

"Be part of something so revolutionary? Or recessive, depending on whichever pony you think to ask... I vouldn't miss it for the vorld!" He laughs almost explosively, rat-a-tatting with a wheeze. He's not an old pony, he's not even middle-aged, he’s just... he's one of those ponies that was born old, I think, whose intelligence supercedes their ability to be young.

There's a few plinks, and suddenly my rook is at his king's door. He scowls, moving it out of harm's way... I push the rook, the bishop behind it setting its sights on his king once more. Normally it wouldn't be anything other than a minor inconvenience, if I hadn't just pushed my rook to attack his queen.

"You underestimated me, old friend."

"Friends now, are ve? After zat?"

"Oh, hush."

"Rivals, perhaps," he muses, "colleagues, certainly. But friends? That's a new vun on me."

"It's new to me too," I admit, devastating his side of the board, pillaging it with my surviving knight. "I've kind of grown to like it, though." I glance sideways at Golden and she beams back at me. Yes, yes, friendship is most certainly magic.

"You have a very funny vay of showing it," One Stone grumbles, knocking his king over. "You vin. Vell done."

I stare at the board. "But... but that wasn't checkmate?"

"There vos no way I could come back from that upset, Tvilight."

"But... but that means... I beat you?"

"You vere right. I did underestimate you and I let my guard down. I vill be careful never to let it happen again."

I stare at the board in disbelief. "But I've never beaten you."

"Yes, and if I have my way, you shall never do so again. But there you have it. Tvilight Sporkle has bested old One Stone at chess for the first time in recorded history. Und you know vot, Tvilight?"

"What's that?"

"I'm still very happy. Extraordinarily so. Today has been a good day. I hope you bring me many more in my future. Now, if you'll excuse me, my lunch break is over, and I have finished my sandvich. Shall we be in touch?" One Stone gets up to leave, shaking Golden's hoof emphatically on the way past.

I'm still staring at the board. I won? I won. Huh. That's... never happened before. I expected... more. It's the first time I've ever truly made him let his guard down, I suppose. Even when we talked about complex magical formula, we still concentrated utterly on the game. It was just two different parts of the brain.

The question is, what threw him off more? Throwing away my queen so recklessly, or calling him my friend?

"Well, that was... fascinating," Golden says, slowly. "Who's next?"

"I won," I answer dumbly.

"Yes, it was a close run thing, too. But we need to be moving on, Doctor Princess. The day is only so long."

"Right. Right," I mumble, shaking the stupid from my head, flinging it far and wide and, most importantly, away. "I think we might be able to get Mulch and Burette done together. They're both working at Oxfjord University, so getting them in the same room might not be as difficult as I thought," I declare, rising from my seat. My eyes lock on to a food cart. "But first, I think we need lunch. Hay fries?"

Golden's stomach rumbles loudly and she blushes. Yep, hay fries it is. Ooh! And it looks like there's a barista cart just off to the side too! I could use some coffee right about now.

Oxfjord is a fantastically famous university. I'm positive you've heard of it, everypony has. It's the other university in Canterlot, the one for the noble kids, parent's money thrown heavily around... or for those very clever few there on academic scholarship. Three guesses as to which group I got along with better, and the first two don't count.

It’s made of massive white limestone quarried from the side of the mountain, each massive brick bearing just a hint of the crystal residing within the mountain's core. Its many swooping spires jut into the sky and glint in the afternoon sun. Always sparkling, a shining beacon of knowledge, a metaphor the school is more than happy to cultivate. I have many fond, and some less-than-entirely-pleasant, memories of my old alma mater. I'm about to meet the source of many of the pleasant ones again.

Golden was kind enough to navigate the bureaucracy for me to get Burette and Mulch together in a science faculty staff room. It seems that both of my old roommates got research professorships. It's time to put them on the fast-track to academic success, the Twilight Sparkle way.

But before that I have to wait.

The wait in the reception area is agonizing. I feel like the parent waiting to hear what, exactly, their problem child has done now. It doesn't help that I'm sitting in the right place for it, or that the ponies I'm waiting for are Burette and Mulch. I wouldn't put it past either of them to need a visit from a strict parental figure at any given moment.

Burette and Mulch both have a particularly... active sense of humour. Rooming with them is probably why I find putting up with Pinkie so... achievable in comparison. I love them to bits, though, which is why I'm putting so much effort into finding the least offensive descriptors to denote them. There are much less pleasant words that other ponies have used over the years, but that only seems to garner Burette's wrath, in particular. I just don't think Mulch minds much either way.

Burette is much like a true wizard of legends: Subtle and quick to anger. One time I had deigned to 'borrow' some of her books without her permission. I was awoken that night by a dry ice bomb being detonated under my bed, waking me up with a start. Of course, that was the plan, and she was poised with a pie perfectly at sit-up-suddenly height. In her defense, it was a very good pie. I can't remember what flavour, I just remember it was good enough to mollify my annoyance at being awakened by an explosion in my ear at two in the morning.

Mulch's pranks are a lot more insidious. One night he re-sewed my favourite cardigan so that all the buttons were on the other side. A normal pony may have fumbled and thought it weird, but ultimately figured it must have always been like that, somehow. Against a mare as OCD as I am, though— I may have... overreacted, flipped out, questioned my entire life and existence up until that point and ultimately contributed more to the philosophy of solipsism in that day than quite a few ponies will in their lifetimes. Indeed, I have a couple of footnotes credited to me in the book I lent Golden the other day. They managed to eventually put out all the fires, though my professor apparently never returned to his natural colour.

Brilliant minds, though, both Mulch and Burette. They just have their own ways of showing it.

"Doctor Princess? Doctor Princess?" Golden nudges me.

"Hmm?"

"Sorry for, uh, touching you. That was unprofessional. You were just, um, really zoned out. I just meant to tell you that they're ready for us now."

"Oh. Well, you're forgiven, I guess." Don't apologize for the physical contact, Golden, you'll break my poor little pony heart.

Now who's being unprofessional...

"Burette and 'Mulch' are ready for you now. Though the receptionist was confused as to who you meant by Mulch at first. You know that's not his real name, right?"

Oh. I had totally forgotten about that. It'd been so long since I've heard 'Mulch' called by anything other than his preferred nickname.

"I hope we got the right pony then."

"Oh, don't worry, we managed to work out who you meant in fairly short order. It just made things a bit more complicated, which works out fine because it's not fun if it's easy." Golden smiles wistfully.

"Excellent! So, do you know where we need to go?"

"Of course!" Golden declares with all the good cheer she can muster. She even nods for a second or two. Unfortunately what she doesn't do is move. Or point. Or indicate.

Anything actually useful.

I arch my eyebrow at her.

The periodic nodding stops. "What?"

"Would you care to lead the way, then?"

"Oh! Ah, right, of course." She turns tail and heads off down one of the corridors branching off from the main trunk that is the reception hall, hoping I didn't see her blush in embarrassment.

I did.

The expensive hallways are also made of that same marble and metamorphic rock carved from Canterlot mountain itself. Even the sound of your own hoofsteps on that floor seem expensive. It's all polished to a shine and gleaming, almost sterile. It's almost the exact opposite of its rival, Corncob. The student fees reflect it, too. The doorways and fixtures all appear to be made of a pearlescent wood. I idly wonder, not for the first time, what kind of timber they used. It's one of those things I’d always planned on looking up, but always got distracted by something else in the library.

It's not my fault, they have a really big library here. Huge. Cavernous! And all the books are so amazing and expensive and wonderful.

I'm going to have to show Golden.

"Hey, Golden? After we're done with Burette and Mulch, or the pony I know as Mulch, would you like to visit the library with me?"

Golden's eyes widen and her eyebrows shoot right up over the rims of her spectacles. "Do you mean it? I mean, are we allowed?"

"The librarians all know me, and I'm sure one of Celestia's former scribes would make an acceptable plus one. As long as you're okay with being my guest, that is."

Her eyes sparkle. I like that. "It's probably the biggest collection of legal literature outside of the palace archives! Of course I'd love to be your guest."

"Excellent," I announce, "it's a date."

Golden smiles giddily and makes some rather high-pitched squeaky noises that sound like delight, or perhaps a kitten with colic.

I keep walking but Golden stops, falling still in front of me. I shoot her a quizzical look.

"Ah... it's here, Doctor Princess."

"Oh! Oh. Excellent. Shall I go first then?"

"I think that would be best, yes. They won't recognize me."

I grin, wide and carefree. It's going to be nice to see the old pair again. I open the door and step into a small staffroom, one with a cheap wooden table in the centre that seats about ten ponies. There's an icebox and a stove with a sink attached to the wall to me right, and the rest is just open space to mingle and eat. The opulent feel of the building seems to stop at the door, because the staffroom itself feels kind of cheap.

Sitting at the table, facing the door, is a yellow earth pony stallion with long green dreadlocks, distinctly greasy looking. This would be the pony I know as Mulch. He's smiling and waving with a little more enthusiasm than is strictly appropriate for an adult pony to show. His head is bobbing from sheer force of his waving. Beside him is a salt-white mare with a brilliantly red, curly mane, like fresh blood bubbling from an open wound. She's tapping her forehooves together on the top of the table in a manner that is either glee or menace. Knowing Burette, it could easily go either way.

"We've been expecting you, Princess Sparkle." Burette smiles chillingly at me, too wide and all teeth. "Please, have a seat."

I stare at her suspiciously, looking for any sign, any tell, as to what she's up to. I give Mulch the same treatment but he just shrugs lazily at me.

I sit down in the offered chair across from them.

Phffffttttt!

"Doctor Princess!" Golden gasps, trotting into the room. I roll my eyes.

"Oh, very mature." I sigh, getting up and glaring at the chair. Burette cackles, but Mulch sticks to a goofy half-smile, like there's more I'm just not getting yet. The chair... looks completely normal.

"There's no whoopie cushion?"

Burette's smile sharpens and grows all pointy, with little edges to it. "Why, Twilight, why would there be a whoopie cushion? Trying to blame us for your own ill manners. Do grow up."

I poke the chair with a hoof.

Pfft.

"Oh, very clever." I sigh, moving the chair aside and replacing it with another one. Golden prods the old chair with an inquisitive hoof, jumping back when it noises at her. "You actually sewed it inside the cushion?"

"Better," Mulch replies, his cool facade cracking just long enough to go on about how clever he's been. "The cushion is a hoof-crafted exact replica of the other chair cushions, except with appropriate valves in the base. Undetectable to the naked eye."

"Is that why it took me so long to get a meeting with you two? You were busy setting this up?"

Mulch stares at the ceiling and whistles an innocent tune. In the history of that tactic's use, has it ever done anything but make a pony look more guilty? Burette just shakes her head, twice, and levels her gaze at me.

"We were working on an interdepartmental project. I've discovered a chemical compound that makes soybeans grow much faster."

"It makes wicked tofu, too." Mulch nodding so much that it looks like his head is about to fall off. "You've got to be careful which plants you spray it on though. If you use too much, it just liquefies the plant. It makes for a pretty effective weedkiller, though."

I blink. "So, you're using it to grow more soybeans... but if you use too much, it ends up wiping out your whole garden?"

"Why would anypony want to do that though?" Mulch looks genuinely confused.

Burette's eyes, though, flashed with inspiration. "Think about it Mulch... we could burn our names in the grass on the sports field!"

I shake my head and look at Mulch instead. "Think of how much damage it could do in the wrong hooves!"

Burette smiles even wider and grabs him around the shoulders, spinning him around to face her. "Yeah, Mulch, think how much damage I could do with it!"

"That wasn't meant as encouragement, Burette."

Golden trots up to me, still eyeing the whoopie chair uneasily, and whispers in my ear. "Are you sure about these two?" I meet her eyes and nod once, firmly.

Burette, of course, disapproves. "It's like you don't even know me at all, anymore, Twilight. Where's your scientific curiosity? What happened to the young enterprising Twilight Sparkle I used to know and weaponize?"

I fold my hooves over my chest. "I developed morals."

Burette pouts at me, a curl of red falling down in front of her eyes. She blows it away, still pouting. "Spoilsport. Those just hold you back."

Mulch brushes her hooves off his shoulders. "Sorry, Twilight. I'll make sure we're super careful with it."

"That's all I could ask for." I blink. "Wait, no it's not, I have something else I wanted to ask you. In six months I'll be establishing whole new universities, the likes of which Equestria has never seen before, and I need the greatest staff this world has known to help teach there, run their own departments with a tender fist of iron. So, I thought of you too. Oh, and Fine Mane, but he said no."

"Pomp-and-Circumstance said no? That means we have to say yes, out of principle." Burette nods. Mulch smiles wide.

"Me? A professorship? My own department? Are you sure?"

"You'd have to leave Oxfjord though," I warn.

Burette folds her forelegs in front of her. "We'll tender our resignations, then."

"Why be tender about it?" Mulch asks, stars in his eyes, "we're quitting!"

The other three of us groan at his 'joke'. Still, Burette looks thoughtful, grinning wickedly, eyes staring at nothing on the ceiling in particular.

"Professor Burette. I like the sound of that. How about you, Mulch?"

"Yeah, I like the sound of Professor Burette too," he agreed. Burette shook her head, eyes darting from the ceiling to the pony beside her. He seemed to twitch under her gaze.

"I meant Professor Mulch. It works for you."

Mulch squirms a little bit in his seat, like he's sat on a colony of ants and they've chosen this moment to try and get rid of him. "I uh, wouldn't be Professor Mulch though. That's the thing."

Burette blinks. It seems I'm not the only one who thinks of Mulch as just Mulch. "Oh, right. Uh, sorry about that."

"You can't possibly be that ashamed of your name. It's not that bad," Golden huffs beside me.

Mulch straightens up, drawing upon the vast reserve of indignance that comes naturally to scientists. He looks like somepony has dared question his research methodology. If you were a scientist you'd know the look well. "But it is that bad. Not that you could possibly understand, Ms..."

"Golden Retriever. It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance."

"Right, Ms Golden Retriever, I-" Mulch's mind catches up to his mouth and it slams shut with a little clack of teeth. "Oh. Uh, sorry."

"Indeed. 'Oh' is right," Golden replies primly. "For what it's worth, I think your name is lovely."

"Cursive Script is not a 'lovely' name. It's a boring name." Mulch huffs, crossing his forelegs across his chest and slumping in his chair.

Oh, right, that's what it was. It doesn't suit him at all. Particularly since he has the frequently terminal disease of Doctor's Hoofwriting – I don't think I've even seen him write in cursive. His hoofwriting is like carving the page in jagged runes.

"I'll be sure to make sure you're listed as Professor Mulch. It's my demesne, I get to do things like that. Isn't that right, Golden?"

Golden turns to me and seems to consider it. "Actually, I think you might have the power to legally change his name. I'm almost certain having his nickname officially listed is within your not inconsiderable powers."

I clap my hooves together, trying not to giggle. "Then it's settled. Professor Mulch and Professor Burette, as of six or so months from now, when we have facilities for you." I fail at the whole not giggling thing. "Are you two excited?"

"Weak minded students upon which to inflict my terrible marking? Heading a chemistry department? Pinch me, Mulch, I think I'm dreaming."

Mulch jabs her in the shoulder with a little more force than strictly necessary, grinning soft as a whisper.

"Ow! Above and beyond the call of duty." Burette whines, massaging her shoulder. Golden looks like she's trying not to snicker, again something I'm failing at.

"I know, I've just been wanting to do that since you poisoned my breakfast cereal."

"What?" Golden and I both ask simultaneously. Okay, so we definitely heard correctly if there's corroboration going on.

"He's being a big baby about it." Burette complains, still rubbing her shoulder with a hoof, "I put the antidote in his coffee."

"Yeah, but I hate coffee." Mulch sticks his tongue out at her, making a little 'bleugh' noise like a toddler.

"What? I thought you loved coffee? Couldn't get enough?"

Mulch blinks. "What? No, that was Twilight. Remember that semester where she helped you set up a rig to brew the perfect cup of coffee?"

"Oh. Yeah, right. You grew the beans though."

I try not to cry. That rig had been so perfect... the beans, the temperature, the brew... it had culminated in the most magnificent cups of coffee this world would ever see. It was taken by Burette's professor for the assessment and he never gave it back, and I could never replicate its success without her help.

Be strong, Twilight.

"How did you forget that I liked tea and Twilight liked coffee? I grew my own leaves in a hydroponic kit in the room we shared. You often commented on the smell!"

Mulch hates coffee. I dislike tea. This resulted in many a passionate debate between us. Excruciatingly passionate. Burette had to separate us, occasionally with an airhorn. A few times with a spray from one of Mulch’s garden hoses. Only once, though, with acid.

"I thought it was just your deodorant or something."

We both stare at her for a long moment. Once more Golden leans and whispers into my ear, "Are we absolutely sure about her, Doctor Princess?"

"I was. Now I'm not. It's funny how that works."

Burette grumbles loudly over us. "Well, if that's the case, I don't know why I'm keeping those coffee-still notes for you. I should probably give them to Twilight."

She kept the notes? The ones supposedly lost to time immemorial?

No tears, Twilight! Additional research is still required to incorporate a shot of chocolate.

Mulch grumbles. "I don't see why you couldn't try making a tea brewing apparatus for me."

"That's easy. You insisted brewing tea was an art, not a science."

Mulch does a doubletake, then his face sets like stone. "You remember that, but still got Twilight and my beverage of choice mixed up – you are incorrigible." He pauses for a moment and then gets up from his seat, looking at me and nodding once. "There will be vengeance for this, Burette. You won't know what and you won't know when. Princess, it was a pleasure to meet you again under these circumstances. I apologize again for your seat of choice. In our defense, it was sort of really funny. If you'll excuse me, I have some plants to get back to."

"Drama queen," Burette sneers as she gets up, too. It's a friendly sneer though. I think. I mean, probably.

"Would you just point us towards the library before we part ways?" I ask, somewhat gingerly. I don't want to set her off again. She's about as stable as the silver fulminate hourglass that, now that I think about it, she talked me into trying anyway. Things tend to blow up in my face around her, figuratively and literally.

"Oh. Sure."

Burette dumps us at the door unceremoniously, waves goodbye, then darts off to find something more interesting to hold her attention.

The library. Wow.

I remember this. How could I ever forget?

Books. Books as far as the eye can see, until there’s a wall filled with, you guessed it, books. There’s only about half a dozen other ponies beside us in here.

There are three distinct layers of books, three stories stacked upon each other, a large, cavernous main room encroached on both sides by more levels of books and lit from above by an enchanting stained glass dome the size of an observatory. The structures and archways are the familiar polished white marble of the rest of the building, whilst the floors and bookshelves themselves are of a dark, rich wood, like hardened red wine. Skeletal pillars are connected by rich mahogany sinew, with books acting as the teeming cells. The place feels alive, almost like walking back into a nestling womb of knowledge.

Okay, that metaphor creeped me out a bit at the end there, too, but I assure you it feels womb-like in a totally relaxing, welcoming, non-creepy way.

I look up and there’s books. To my left are books. To my right are books. Old books, classic books, hoof-bound books, row upon row, shelf upon shelf, of books on their old but well-maintained shelves.

“Isn’t the library so romantic?” I ask with a happy sigh.

Golden hums thoughtfully to herself. “Actually, with all the emphasis on natural lighting and the curved arches, I’d say the library is more baroque with romantic, or neoclassic, influences.”

How can a pony so clever be so oblivious?

“Right. How observant of you,” I say out loud, instead. Golden beams with pride. I can’t bring myself to take that away from her, so I forge on instead, leading her deeper into the core of the library. “It’s lovely and quiet in here, isn’t it?”

“Absolutely,” Golden nods enthusiastically, “so I shall do my very best to maintain a stoic and professional attitude at all times, so as not to disrupt it.”

Okay, now I’m starting to feel a little desperate.

I chart a course towards the law section. That’s up two flights of stairs. Let’s hope I can steer this conversation in time.

“I really like your spectacles.”

Golden bristles at that comment. “They’re of an adequate prescription for my eyes,” she says, a touch defensively, “I assure you that I can read at the required proficiency expected of me, so long as I wear them.”

Oh no. She must think I’m testing her! Quick! Think of something sufficiently small-talkish that she couldn’t possibly misinterpret as a challenge to her competency!

“So, lovely weather we’re having?”

Her eyes widen, and she practically vibrates with nervous energy. “Oh, dear, I haven’t been keeping up with recent forecasts, but the meteorology department is nearby and I can assure you I’ll have the most accurate two week forecast on your desk by the time we return to Ponyville, Doctor Princess.”

“Golden! You can relax. It's--" If you have to say it's a date, then it isn't a date. "-- just me making small talk. This isn't a job interview. As far as I'm concerned, your resume is exceptional." Celestia doesn't employ her scribes lightly. Good enough for her, good enough for me.

"O-oh. It's just... I'm only just now realizing I never formally had one."

"You were sent on the Princess's own recommendation, weren't you?"

"Luna's," she confirms.

"Then why wouldn't that be good enough for me?"

"I don't know!"

"But you can't stop stressing over this anyway?"

"Not really."

"Well, we're in one of the greatest libraries in the world. Surely there's a book you'd usually read to calm yourself?"

"I usually read old law books. They're... they're quite soothing. Letting the old legal-speak wash over you," she admits, somewhat tentatively.

"Excellent! Because that's where I was leading us. Very good thing, that."

"Why were you leading us to the legal section, Doctor Princess?"

We reach the cylindrical flight of brass-and-wood stairs. The guardrails are like a woven web spun by a very large, clockwork spider.

Actually, I think 'large clockwork spider' has popped up in a few engineering student's final reports here. Something about giant clockwork spiders entices the mad scientist in ponies, and something about Oxfjord attracts mad scienceponies.

I stare at the intricate brass latticework with new appreciation.

"Ah, Doctor Princess?"

"Oh, right." Apparently I stare for a little too long. My head was full of spiders, for a moment there.

Now it's full of images of my head being full of spiders.

Once more, I shake far too literal cobwebs out of my head.

"Well, I was hoping to see what the old law books had to say on demesnes."

"But that's why you have me, right, Doctor Princess?"

We ascend the stairs side-by-side. There's just enough room.

"Of course!" That and the mountain of paperwork. Yeesh. "But I'm in a position of power. I don't want to make any decisions out of ignorance that could drastically affect ponies lives, especially without knowing what I'm doing."

"Oh. That sounds completely reasonable."

Up to the top of this flight of stairs. Law section. Excellent.

"I'm certainly glad you think so, Golden. Though I'm sure you could help me right now by pointing me towards a good book on the subject?"

"I have just the book in mind."

She trots along the walls of books, scanning them. I go in search of the reading tables on this level. I find them behind the first row of bookshelves, which screen them from the view of the main floor, and in front of an ocean of more shelves. A very shallow ocean, mind, but an ocean nonetheless.

There aren't many students in here at this time of year, which isn't entirely a surprise. What is a surprise is the white unicorn with the monocle and glorious moustache, who I recognize, reading what appears to be a very thick, hoofbound book.

"Fancy Pants?"

He glances up, looking mildly miffed. "Hrrm? Yes what is it?" Recognition sparks in his eyes, and he bows slightly in his chair, as dignified as he can make the somewhat feeble gesture. "Ah! Princess Twilight Sparkle, the catalyst to this whole mess. It's a pleasure to see you again, though I wish it were under better circumstances."

"Better circumstances? What circumstances could be better than reading?"

He smiles at that. "Yes, quite right, I suppose, if it weren't for the dreadful nature of the subject matter."

I trot a bit closer. From here I can plainly see the bags under his eyes, the stray hairs bristling in his moustache, slightly unkempt mane – all completely normal and forgivable on a pony who isn't Fancy Pants, but alarm bells on the pony who is.

Golden trots up behind me. "I looked, but it appears somepony has it out."

Fancy Pants looks rather amused by her appearance. "Ah! Ms Golden, it's certainly quite good to see you again. Moving up in the world, I see?"

Golden turns to study Fancy Pants. "I'd have thought you'd have forgotten me, Mr Fancy Pants."

"Heavens forbid it, you've been so helpful to me over the years, and I never forget a friendly face."

"You two know each other?" I ask, quite thoroughly lost.

Fancy Pants chuckles. "Oh, I should certainly hope so. If an act of philanthropy were to ever make it through the channels of bureaucracy around Canterlot, without lining a pocket or seven, it would be through Ms Golden's channel."

"It wasn't a particularly hard job to do." Golden winces.

"Ah, but it was certainly inestimably difficult to do it well, which is where you excelled. I'm dreadfully sorry to see you go, for my own rather selfish reasons."

"I'm sorry to interrupt this reunion, but what are you doing studying a book of demesnes, Fancy Pants?" I ask.

Fancy Pants raises an eyebrow and checks the cover of the book for any identifiers. None are easily visible. "How exceptionally observant of you. What gave it away?"

"You're looking as exhausted as I feel, and I came here looking for just such a book, only to have Golden tell me someone has taken it from the shelves just now. I'm inclined to believe that someone would be you, though I'm not entirely sure why."

Fancy Pants sighs and gently lowers the book in front of him to the table, sliding a red silk bookmark into his page. "I never was one for history, I'm sure you're likely aware, but I'm afraid I've become doomed to repeat it nonetheless. Princess, when Luna gifted you Ponyville as your demesne, you weren't the only pony to find they had received one overnight. Many noble families are just now rediscovering land and titles they had long ago believed lost."

"I take it, then, that you're one such noble?"

Fancy Pants taps the side of his nose. "Quite right. Now, I have the rather unfortunate burden of being a decidedly self-made noble, you see, and my own land isn't exceptionally large. Not that I particularly minded. I had survived this long without it, after all."

"I sense a 'but' coming along, Fancy."

He smiles wryly. "It appears I have an unruly neighbour in Lady Lazuli, whose family owns far more land than I. It also appears she deems her current amount insufficient, and is readying for war at my borders."

"A civil war? In Equestria?" I gape. Golden gasps.

"The first in a thousand years, apparently. Which is where we arrive at myself, here before you now, reading through tomes of old law, looking for something which would allow the Royal Guard to intervene. I've been at it a night and a day, and I've yet to find anything of use."

I stare at Golden pleadingly. "You're the expert. Is there anything we can do?"

She shakes her head, utterly miserably. "Demesnes can only be granted and designated by the Royal Family, but if a rival can prove himself the superior by combat..."

"That's what this book is drilling into me," Fancy Pants sighs, tapping it against the table. I wince slightly, for the book's sake. "It seems I may just have to relinquish my land and titles. I must do anything and everything possible to avoid any bloodshed."

Golden grimaces. "You're a good pony, Mr Fancy, but unfortunately you're exactly the kind of pony these laws were intended to keep out."

I gape. "What? Why?"

Fancy Pants sighs. "If I may, Golden? Demesnes were originally intended to be called upon in times of need, as it was the lord's role to raise a personal army to fight for the nation."

Golden nods. "So they wanted to root out the weak, or the cowardly, or even the just and righteous, because they wouldn't be able to handle the rigours of war."

Fancy Pants sighs again, louder than he should in a library. "It's just unfortunate that these laws were intended at a time when 'diplomacy' was a dirty word. I'm afraid it's the only means I'm acquainted with."

"It's probably, almost definitely, why Celestia tried to make these laws forgotten, rather than repeal them directly. She'd have been trying to take the power from ponies that controlled Equestria's armies. Can you imagine what they would have done if they were told Celestia was taking their power away from them?"

My eyes widen. "No more petty squabble level civil wars, hello take-over-Equestria-rule-by-force coup civil wars."

Fancy Pants and Golden nod their heads gravely.

"That's what we've brought back?"

Fancy Pants grins grimly at me. "As I said, Twilight, you are merely the catalyst. A lot of dominos had to be lined up before Luna knocked them over on your behalf. We're just about to see their glorious fall, however."

"Why don't... can't you just..." I stammer, mind racing for possible solutions. Fancy Pants shakes his head slowly.

"My 'citizens', if we were to call them that, aren't even allowed to leave their homes voluntarily. If they do, they have to flee to a city and remain there for at least a full year, and relinquish whatever meagre possessions they're afforded in the interrim."

"Wait, is that true for Ponyville, too?"

Golden wears a funny look, not ha-ha funny, but milk left out in the sun for a week funny. "For all demesnes."

I gulp. "I guess it's good that I'm holding elections then."

Fancy Pants adjusts his monocle, even as Golden fiddles with her spectacles, "A capital idea, though I think you're most fortunate because Ponyville is, as it were, a new location to the crown. It's hardly more than a couple of hundred years old, and is thus immune to having neighbours to worry about, at least of neighbours long since forgotten. You aren't likely to be pressed against immediately."

Gears start whirring noisily between my ears. "I sense there's another but to this."

"It means you won't have warning when somepony tries to raise an army against you, and they will. Tartarus knows no greed like a noble with newfound power. When that time comes, you best be ready, Princess."

I imagine Ponyville as a warzone, streets pitted by cannon fire, all so some noble can get a few more tax dollars wrung out of their citizens. I shudder.

"We need to talk to Princess Luna," I declare. "Fancy Pants, I hope the next time we meet it's under better circumstances."

"And I the same. I wish to you the best of luck in your endeavours, for I fear you shall be needing them."

"I'll be sure to find out how you're doing, too. I'll keep in contact, Fancy Pants."

Fancy Pants shakes his head slowly, sadly. "I'm afraid it's a much larger problem than just myself. If you have any success, or progress, attacking the root of the problem, I'll be all ears."

With that, he recedes back into his book with a sigh. I don't have the heart to borrow it from him.

I wince. The only thing I can really do now is talk to Luna about what she's done. Do I have the nerve to face her? The motivation?

We head down the stairs side by side again. I don't think the library holds anything for us anymore. It's time to leave. Do I head to Ponyville, though, or the palace?

I'd need to be mad. I'd need to be furious. I'd need to be in soul-crushing despair. Sure, I was upset on Fancy Pants' behalf, and for the ponies in his unwitting care. I was upset to see such a proud and kind stallion, one who thought I was charmingly rustic, reduced to the lethargic husk I saw before me then. But it wasn't personal.

Big sigh. Bigger sigh. I don't think I could work up the sheer distress needed to confront Luna. Not now.

I turn to Golden with another big, heaving sigh. Full of those right now. I feel like melancholic bagpipes. "So, that whole small talk thing. Want to try that again, maybe?"

Golden looks at me, blushes, looks away. Looks back up at me. Looks away again timidly. Looks up at me a third time, manages to hold her gaze. "Well, there was one thing I wanted to ask you?"

My heart hammers in my ribcage. Badum, badum, badum. Like an overexcited gorilla is playing the ventricles like bongos.

"Yes? You can ask me anything! Anything at all."

"Well... you mean that right?"

"Absolutely! I promise I won't be mad at you, or upset, or anything of the sort. Cross my heart and hope to fly, stick a – sheerly proverbial – cupcake in my eye."

Golden nods to herself and pushes her spectacles up her grey nose as far as they'll go. "Oh. Good. Because, I was wondering, and it's sort of personal--"

Badum. Badum.

"But you're right, I could ask you anything, couldn't I? I trust you."

BadumBadumBadum.

"Do you think a mare like Rainbow Dash would ever be interested in a mare like me? You know, romantically?"

Bad--

Oh look at that. My heart stopped right on the bad. Urk. Pain, chest, tight, like vice. Golden's looking at me so hopefully, so desperately, can't hurt her, can't say anything to hurt her, even if I feel like she's just shoved a red-hot broken cider bottle into my chest and twisted it. Even if it feels like my insides have been shredded, slowly, into confetti and fired from Pinkie's party cannon. Even if it feels like I want to take the all of reality, squish it into a single ball of singularity, and manually reboot the universe into one where this doesn't and could never happen.

I've run the math before.

"Golden, I'd be more than happy to answer that question completely honestly. Have a long and detailed conversation. But for reasons absolutely crucial to the answer I give, we really need to head to the palace and speak to Princess Luna. Right now."

"Why-"

"Please trust me Golden."

"Oh. Uh, okay. So, uh, should I... should I try small talk on the way there?"

"For the moment, it would probably be best if you didn't. Just for the moment."

Not her fault don't take it out on her.

Take it out on somepony who more or less deserves it.

Chapter Nine: Where Twilight Gets Mad, Then Goes Mad

I storm toward the castle. Even if I hadn't been there literally countless times before – though a rough estimate would be two multiplied by days since accepted as Celestia' protege, subtract the amount of days in Ponyville with a margin of error calculated by I do maths when I'm stressed, okay? – it would be remarkably easy to find. Just follow the mountain, the spires, the overwhelming beauty.

I do my best to remain whelmed, focusing on my anger. I have an awful lot of it.

Golden. Golden. Golden! … Oh, Golden.

Golden Retriever had, matter of factly and with no malice, rejected me.

Oh, she was just the start of it, too. Or, rather, the end to a long list of grievances. Equestria on the precipice of civil war, peering over the edge, all over an ill-thought gift with my name attached. Lives are in peril. My friends are legally my possessions and, whilst ponies like myself and Fancy Pants are level-headed about it, others with more ambition, less empathy, or just plain boredom would be... less empathetic.

And whose fault is it?

Luna's.

Who had started this whole cascade reaction?

Luna.

Who had somehow thought that I could even remotely appreciate being given an entire town, like a trophy, with no consideration of its citizens?

Luna.

Luna. Luna. Luna! … Luna.

Day court had long since stopped, and the Night court was still a few hours away. The castle is off limits to the public, but I am not in the mood to wait, and I need to get to the Princess of the Night before she has a crowd around her. This isn’t the kind of gossip I need spread around.

So, I do the only logical, rational, totally-situationally-appropriate thing to do. I storm up to the gate and give a contingent of guards a threatening look.

This is not the first time I’ve stormed the castle looking like one of the four Ponies of the Apocalypse.

Probably War.

The guards – at least two dozen of them – glare at me, weapons raised, wings firm, horns ablaze. I glare right back at them. Shining Armour isn't here to talk them down for me this time, but I’m not worried. These ponies know me – some of them have since I was a foal.

Which means they know I could totally take them all on if I was in the mood to, and brother am I in the mood. Come on, just try something, I dare ya. It'll be cathartic. I bet half of you don't know what 'catharsis' means. Well, I've been told I'm a fantastic teacher.

Their sergeant, quite sensibly, sticks his hoof under his neighbour’s spear, pressing up on its shaft, raising it back into its vertical resting position. The soldier stares at him incredulously.

“It's Princess Twilight Sparkle. Notice the wings and horn?” He bellows. All eyes are on him, looking stunned. He stares down at me nervously. “I don't think I can let you through without an appointment, though, Princess.”

Horn glow.

Pew.

BANG.

I re-appear right in his face, nose to nose with the sergeant. I can see the fire in my eyes reflected in his. He's a pale brown pegasus, and at this close range I can see how tired and bloodshot his eyes are. They're red and wide open, giving me a clear look at each individual blood-vessel.

“That's Doctor Princess, Sergeant.”

He gulps. Good.

The soldier beside him, whose spear the sergeant had raised, darts his eyes back and forth between me, the sergeant, and directly ahead of him. The soldier on the other side of the sergeant points his spear at me, moving as if to jab me.

My horn glows, though I never break eye contact with the sergeant. The spear that would so haplessly prod me fragments into its weight in toothpicks, the spearhead falling to the ground with a metallic clang on the cobblestones. I distribute the toothpicks evenly amongst the squad, feeling their eyes on me. To the particularly nervous ones, I offer a spiky balled up wad of them. There's plenty to go around. You can make an awful lot of toothpicks out of a spear.

I smile.

“Do I have your attention?”

The sergeant nods. “At ease, lads. That's an order.”

The tension in the air becomes one of helplessness, of impatience, of awaiting their fate at my hooves. The white-hot-searing-ball of anger burning in me gives a happy little twitch. This wasn't all just catharsis for me, though. Pointlessly taking out my anger on helpless, harmless soldiers wouldn't do me any good, or them any for that matter. And it would, frankly, be immoral.

Fortunately, it wasn't for no reason.

“I, Doctor Princess Twilight Sparkle, ruler of Ponyville, Bearer of the Element of Magic, conqueror and now reluctant friend of the mad isn't-really-but-would-like-us-all-to-think-of-him-as-a god Discord, and occasional human, request an audience with Princess Luna immediately. There are to be no interruptions, no eaves-droppers and no questions.” I pause. “Are there any questions, though? I mean, no questions later. I suppose you could ask questions now, if they're pertinent.” Pertinent is a good word.

I hear one soldier call out – I was still in a staring match with Sergeant Sensible, so I don’t know who. “What's a human?”

“Irrelevant,” I deadpan. No need to spread rumours that I occasionally choose to be an omnivore. Save that for Nightmare Night filly-gobbling jokes.

“But you said-”

“Private!” the sergeant bellowed, taking this as an excuse to break eye contact, “you heard the Pri– Doctor Princess.” Now he frowns thoughtfully and turns to me, seemingly against his better judgement. “Why not Princess Doctor?”

I smile patiently. “I assure you, there is a long and rather satisfying explanation for that. The mare who phrased it best has just dumped me. Well, I say dumped, but really, it turns out I never had a chance with her anyway. This is the sort of thing I'm saying out loud to console myself, and that's the best I can come up with.” My smile cracks. Audibly. “I am in that sort of mood. Would you care to remind me of her again?”

“Oh, er, sorry.”

I raise my left eyebrow. It seems the sterner one.

“Sorry, Doctor Princess,” he mumbles.

The soldier whose spear I’d converted into dental products stared down at the spearhead lying on the ground, looking decidedly emasculated. “How did you do that?”

Do what? I furrow my brow. Oh, his spear. Magic questions. That's alright then. I like magic questions. Brow unfurrows.

“I just grabbed each individual bundle of cellulose and lignin in the wood and pulled on them simultaneously. Not as hard as pulling every apple off of every tree in an orchard all at once, I assure you.”

“So you could do that to, say, a pony then, if you wanted to?”

I think about it. “Well,” I muse, welcoming the distraction, “I suppose. Ponies are just composed of a rich lattice of cells. It would simply be a matter of pulling those all apart at once, though I'm pretty sure that would just liquify the pony when all the cell walls burst, which begs the question of why I'd want to do that in the first place. Just because I can liquify a pony doesn't mean I – you seem to have gone dreadfully green all of a sudden, which is a shame, because you're the first pony to ask a question right now that didn't annoy me.”

The stallion stared at the spearhead on the ground, trembling slightly with tinges of green in his cheeks, and I was left wondering why. Was it something I said? It must have been. What did I say?

Oh. Well, I did describe how I'd liquify a pony by tearing apart all of their cells simultaneously from each other, but I also said I wouldn't do it. So, really, that couldn't be it.

I massage the bridge of my nose with a hoof. I'll puzzle this out later.

“If that's all, I'd really like to speak to Princess Luna now?” Yes, that question mark is out of place, since that's technically a statement, but it's to denote the questioning tone of voice I used to say it. My internal grammar is incredibly important to me, as it should be to you.

The sergeant screams out orders and, in a flurry of military professionalism, enough of the stallions regain enough of their composure to throw themselves into motion.

About a dozen of the guards scurry around me. The big double doors behind them open, and we storm together down familiar halls. It's kind of, as Dash would say, pretty cool to have a dozen guards escort you. Wildly impractical to do this around Ponyville, so I appreciate it whilst it lasts. Sergeant Sensible – the name seems to have stuck in my mind – by my side as we head our way into the castle, with six ponies in front, five ponies behind.

It's probably rude that I'm mentally calling him Sergeant Sensible. Particularly since I've been so insistent about my own titles.

“Actually, I do have a question of my own in mind, Sergeant... what is your name?”

“I am Sergeant Commonsense, Doctor Princess.” His answer is somewhat gruff. I have a feeling I've wounded his ego somewhat. Still...

So close. Commonsense is close to sensible, but it doesn't have that S.S...ness to it. It lacks the alliterative allure of proper pony pronunciation practices.

Then again, that means that for a long time he would have been Corporal Commonsense. One day, he might even be Captain Commonsense.

There was hope for alliteration yet!

“Prin- Doctor Princess? Your smile is... unnerving, to say the least. I'm certain it's an improvement over your previous... Permission to speak freely, Doctor Princess?”

“Always and of course, Sergeant. You should never have to ask me for that right. You've more than earned it.”

He straightens up considerably. A hint of something that might be surprise darts around the corners of his eyes, as he sizes me up again. “Scary. Your previous, downright terrifying mood. Unfortunately, after seeing that, your smile just makes it worse, ma'am. I think I'd rather be stationed in Cloudsdale than risk facing you.”

“Cloudsdale? But you're a unicorn! Wouldn't you just... fall through?”

“That's rather my point, Doctor Princess,” he admits.

Hrmm. He's right. Not just about the unicorn thing – that speaks for itself – but rather about my mood.

A few moments ago I was furious. I was glowing with potentially productive rage. What happened?

I need to be angry. I need to be furious, otherwise I'm never going to have the nerve to face down Princess Luna.

I know instinctively that cooler heads should prevail. Thinking everything through is my creed, my mantra, my raison d'etre. That was my point in being mad, though. I need to be strategically furious to do this.

The thing about truly cool heads is that they're utter cowards. I don't mean that in a bad way, though. The clever thing to do is usually to avoid confrontation. To compromise. But you can't compromise on, say, having only half a civil war. There's no way to compromise on half of slavery. Celestia had tried to take that approach, in her way.

I certainly can't back out of this now. Not after rousing the guards. I need to have a certain degree of unrelenting wrath right now to convert into the raw courage to face Luna, the will to make her see my point, and the passion to make her do something about the trouble she has inadvertently caused.

It's just hard for me to cultivate that kind of needed anger for prolonged periods of time. I'm prone to thinking it through, and thought and consideration are toxic to prolonged bouts of ire. The opposite of being angry is literally called being reasonable, and reason is everything that makes me me.

So here I am, faced with a golden opportunity and-

Oh. Golden opportunity.

There's that wellspring again. Cold fury wells up from the tips of my hooves to the points of my ears.

I hear a pony whispering behind me. “Well, at least she isn't smiling anymore.”

Yes. More fuel to the fire.

Excellent.

“I think she can hear us, Anvil.”

“You think she heard that?”

I look back at the pair, still walking at the brisk-and-determined pace I'd set for the guard. The two stare back at me. I smile, slow and wide. Oh, and with teeth. They gulp.

The white pegasus pony apparently named Anvil leans closer to his friend in a manner he thinks is surreptitious, “I think she heard it, Hammer.”

Hammer was also a white, but minus the wings. The guard seems to have a lot of white ponies. “Why did you use my name? Now she knows!” The whispering was becoming less and less of a whisper at this point. I roll my eyes and look back at Sergeant Commonsense. He appears apologetic.

The stage-whispering behind me has gotten more heated, and far less whispery. “Do you think she needed to know your name to melt you? Besides, you already said mine. It's only fair.”

Hammer appears to be a pegasus and Anvil an earth pony, but they are otherwise identical. I've worked out how to tell them apart, though: Hammer has green eyes, Anvil has blue. Anvil's voice is higher pitched and a little scratchy, like a masculine Rainbow Dash's, whilst Hammer's voice is deep and firm.

Anvil again. “I think she's sizing us up.”

“I know.”

The three guards around the pair take a step away from them, managing to do so without breaking their march's synchronicity.

“We're screwed aren't we?”

“I know.”

“Do you know how much a pony splashes when they liquify?”

“I don't know.”

I furrow my brow in annoyance. “I already said I didn't want to do that.”

“She can still hear us!”

“We didn't exactly get quieter!”

“We're probably making her so mad right now.”

“I know. Really. Stop making it worse!”

“I don't know how! Every time I try to be quiet I end up saying something stupid!”

“Try saying something stupid then,” Hammer scowls sarcastically, “Maybe it'll come out as silence.”

“Oh. Err... If she is a princess, how come she's so short?”

My ear flicks, not of my own volition.

“Anvil.”

“And what's she the princess of anyway. Celestia's the sun, Luna's the moon, Cadance has love... Is she a princess of books, now?”

“Anvil.”

“Do we even really need a princess of books? Why did a librarian, of all ponies, get wings? And, for that matter-”

“Anvil!” Hammer drops all pretense of whispering.

“I'm sorry! It turns out trying to say something stupid makes me say something stupid and so I got nervous, and when I get nervous I tend to ramble but then I started rambling about the stupid things I was saying which made me more nervous because she's right there and she can totally hear me and now she's going to make me... Gak!”

“Gak?” I ask innocently enough, pointedly not looking at them.

The Sergeant beside me sighs wearily. “I believe it's the sound a pony makes when they are liquified, Doctor Princess.”

“The thing I assured them I didn't want to do,” I state plainly.

“Fortunately for them, yes, though for the life of me I can’t see why not at this point.”

“So, unfortunately for them, they proceeded to do their literal best to change my mind on the matter.”

“It would seem so, Doctor Princess.”

I appear to have the rest of the guard's undivided attention, though most of them pretend not to be listening. A quick look back over my shoulder reveals that Hammer and Anvil look like two ponies being led to the gallows. If the gallows were also made of fire and pointy metal bits.

“That doesn't seem like the well-honed survival instincts of a trained guardspony, does it?”

“Most certainly not, Doctor Princess.”

“You're just using that title in the hopes that it placates me enough not to do something horrible to them, aren't you, Sergeant?”

“And I don't particularly know why I'm bothering, Doctor Princess, because I'm fairly certain I am planning the same thing.”

“I appreciate your honesty, Sergeant. Fortunately for them, we appear to have arrived at what I believe is Luna's bedchamber, correct? So there is no further time for them to make fools of themselves”

“Correct, though I believe the Princess is still sleeping, Doctor Princess. It would be wise not to wake her.”

Hammer clears his throat. It sounds like gravel being crunched under a hoof. “In my defense, most of it was Anvil.”

I round on Hammer. “I'll have you know that I am not the Princess of Books; I'm fairly certain I am the Princess of Friendship, and friends do not sell their friends out, no matter how much their friends totally deserve it. I am more appalled by that act of... dibber-dobbering than any of the ramblings your friend has, well, rambled, and I'll have you know he was pretty appalling in his own right.”

Hammer gulps again, loudly.

“That being said, I would like to thank the pair of you. If it weren't for you, I would not have the nerve right now to do this.”

And, with that, I create a crude hoof of force with my magic and slam it against the door three times, to be polite.

Knocking is to this what a butter knife is to a chainsaw. But to not knock at all would simply be rude.

The dozen guards unanimously stare at me in terror.

“You just woke Princess Luna early.”

“Oh, good. I would be dreadfully embarrassed if I had gotten the wrong Princess,” I deadpan, “and since Celestia's still up and about, somewhere, and Cadance is in the Crystal Kingdom, and I am right here, I suppose process of elimination dictates that it was, in fact, Princess Luna who I have woken up early, yes.”

The Sergeant's eyes spark into new life. Possibly adrenaline. Possibly the glint of his life flashing before them. “Alright, those of you who were in front, clear the perimeters, I trust you to know the area enough to separate yourself and cover the most ground. Those of you who were behind, patrol the corridors, make sure nothing slips past the first line of defence. Privates Hammer and Anvil, you get door duty where I can keep a personal eye on you.”
The two privates saluted as the rest scarpered off.

The sergeant glares at them, then nods at me. “I’ll be back shortly. Very shortly.”

He trots off, leaving me in command.

They stare at me fearfully, one on each side of the double-wide archaic wooden door between me and Luna's bedroom.

The doors open. I can see them bristle, like cats, backs arching and the hairs on their necks standing on end. It's my magic, of course, not a rage-stricken Luna's.

All three of us surreptitiously peer into the room. It's certainly a sight.

Well, I say a sight, what I really mean is it's a total lack of sight.

The darkness in her room is thick and inky, almost tangible. It absorbs the sun-and-torch-light from the corridor and just... I'm not sure if it's eating it or somehow reflecting it. Is Luna's room like the dark side of the moon, or a black hole in nature?

I briefly entertain the notion that it might eat me if I step hoof in it.

I briefly entertain the notion it might eat me.

I don't seem to understand the meaning of the word briefly. See, briefly means that I think about it momentarily, and then stop. I can't briefly entertain the notion if I'm still thinking it. So let's try this again.

I briefly entertain the notion that-

Alright, that's not working, new tactic time.

I lock eyes with the soldier on the door's left. “Hammer, is it?”

“Private Hammer, Princess, yes,” he replies somewhat timidly.

“I'll forgive you for forgetting the 'Doctor' part if you forgive me for forgetting the 'Private' part, deal?”

“Er...”

“Excellent. Now, I need to borrow your spear, just to make sure this room isn't actually a hungry metaphysical maw.”

“Err...?”

“Thank you very much.” I smile sweetly, grabbing his spear with my telekinesis and poking the darkness with it.

It's as I suspected; the spear seems to sink into the darkness. As soon as it passes the threshold it becomes almost invisible, in the sense that it lacks visibleness, with the exception of the light of my magic glowing faintly around its edges. I pull it back out and it seems to be fine.

Alright, so it's more or less safe. My horn lights up, brighter, as I pass Private Hammer his spear back.

“Thanks again.”

And with that, I step into the room. It's dark, incredibly dark, and I suddenly have the irrational fear I'm going to bump my shin on something, or several somethings.

The first thing I notice is just how cold it is in here. Ice crystals form in my face, ethereal mist visible only by the glow of my horn, purple light catching its edges, floating through the space in front of me like a distant nebula, yet close enough to touch. The next thing I notice is that my hooves on the floor feel like a duller stone, more granite than marble, a dusty white stone that reflects back at me what little light from my horn makes its way down to it. It must be as white as good blotting paper when it's not tinted purple by my magic.

A few more steps and I notice something else: I can barely hear my own hoofsteps. Especially strange on stone, I hear them more as impacts through my body than as vibrations through the air.

Silence. Darkness. Cold, white stone.

Is it...? It is. It must be.

Luna's bedroom is modeled after the dark side of the moon after all! At least whilst she sleeps.

It certainly explains why the changeling invasion didn't wake her up. Sound doesn’t travel in a vacuum.

I fumble with my magic around the doorway behind me, searching for a lightswitch. I finally make purchase and, with a satisfied-sounding little 'click', the lights come on. The fact that I heard it click at all seems to indicate that it turned the magical mute button off, too.

All this has made me slightly less angry, but the whole ordeal was creepy and scary so it's made up for that with a huge adrenaline rush.

Fight or flight response, and the 'fight' outlet is currently... snoring rather bone-rattlingly loud and curled up to what looks like an otherwise-impossible degree of comfort on a cozy-looking, intricately-carved redwood four-poster bed. Princess sized, of course. She looks so peaceful, and the snoring is kind of adorable in its own way.

It makes it really hard to stay mad at her, but I'm honestly doing my best to cultivate it here. How about... yes, she's sleeping through a national crisis! There.

“Princess Luna, wake up! We need to talk.”

Her eyelids flicker but remain closed. She rolls onto her back with her face scrunched up in an interesting combination of surprised and annoyed, and she paws at the air with her hooves a little.

“Princess Luna, please, this is just getting embarrassing for the both of us.”

She noisily smacks her lips, but firmly and stubbornly remains asleep. I question the need for the silence spell in the first place.

After a bit more pleading of increasing volume, I resort to just nudging her gently in the ribs with my magic. Then, after that doesn't work, actually walking up to her bedside and nudging her in the side with my horn. It's a fairly simple target, since her legs are still wiggling about in the air above her.

He eyes flutter open with another loud smack of the lips. She sees me. She recognizes me. Her expression turns rapidly from confusion to consternation to cordial delight.

“Ah! Twilight Sparkle. I did not expect your presence in our bed chambers. Unexpected, but certainly not unwelcome. Please, do sit, let it not be said that I do not try my utmost to be an accommodating host.”

“Aren't you, uh, grumpy that I woke you up?”

“Hrrm? Oh, no, we are only grumpy when we oversleep. That is to say, I feel delightfully clear-headed and refreshed at this moment.”

“But the guards-” I stammer as I jump up onto the end corner of the bed closest to myself, taking a seat. I'm too stunned to even think of arguing.

“Bah and feh! If they made the effort to wake me sooner, they need not fear waking me at all.”

“Oh.”

Why, Universe? Why is it that, when I do my utter best to remain calm, you throw endless trials and tribulations at me but now, now when I'm trying to not be calm and collected, you throw all this sanity and reasonableness my way. It's almost downright infuriating.

Fortunately, dwelling on it is actually infuriating. Crisis averted.

“Luna, we need to do something about the demesnes crisis. You need to do something about the demesnes crisis!”

Luna sits up, a big plush scarlet satin pillow clutched between her forelegs and squeezed so it stretches up so that, when she leans down, she's able to rest her chin on it. Makes us seem more like two girls talking at a slumber party, really, than two quasi-immortal rulers of Equestria.

“Crisis? I had not realized it had become a crisis, I thought it was merely an incredibly large, obnoxious inconvenience. An insufferably political and legal one, at that.”

“Well, it's become more than that. Equestria is on the brink of a full-scale civil war.”

Luna's eyes widened in what I first thought was horror until I saw the corners of her mouth tug inescapably upward. “Oh, it truly is like the days of my youth. How delightful!”

I stare at her as I process the words. Then I process them again, because that couldn't possibly have been right.

Double checking is required.

“I'm sorry, I'm sure I misheard you, and misread your smile, but it sounds like, and looks like, you're actually excited by this.”

Luna's smile changes gear into a guilty grin. “I must admit, as horrible as war is, it is rather exciting, would you not agree?”

“No, I would not. I mean, wouldn't!” Not archaic ponies use contractions, Twilight. Careful, it might be contagious.

“Oh, come now, young Princess Doctor-”

“Doctor Princess.”

“- you fought the changelings alongside your friends where the Guard could not, or so I have heard. Wasn't that bit of daring do just the slightest bit thrilling? Did it not set fire in your veins?”

“That's called adrenaline. I can also get it from keeping my library books overdue, without the need for risking the loss of Equestria if I fail.”

Luna's grin turns to thoughtful frown, eyebrows raised. “I must question this. Overdue library books? Are you not the librarian of the books you borrow?”

Great, now she sounds like Spike. It's the principle of the thing.

“I think that's beside the point,” I chide.

“True,” Luna agrees, frown receding once more into a wistful smile, “but you did state that you were risking Equestria, or at least it was what you stood to lose should you fail. That means even then you knew what was at stake. Did that not instill within you great pride and a sense of honour? What could possibly be more noble?”

“Not getting into that situation in the first place!” I snarl.

“Are you saying that it would have been a greater feeling of pride if Equestria hadn't been so woefully underprepared, then?

“Yes. Of course.”

“Then you of all ponies should support the brewing struggles.”

I stare at her in stunned silence. My mouth opens to retort, but no words come. It's like she's actually stuck a wrench into the fine intermeshing cogs of my lucid thought. Every time I try to come up with a reply, I just jam myself up against that horrible leap of logic.

“Equestria has gone without its small internal conflict for so long its fangs have worn down to bloodied gums. Even the Guard could not stop the changelings, relying instead on a single pony to cast the crucial defensive spell they required, your brother, and believing in my sister's strength should that fail. What happened? Your brother was incapacitated. A host of bugs stormed Canterlot, and soundly defeated Celestia with almost embarrassing ease. Though I use ‘almost’ quite generously, for she is my sister.”

I growl at the truth of this. “What's your point?”

“Equestria needs some hooves-on combat experience. Even my much-vaunted night guard can only learn so much from drills. Iron can only be shaped when it is held to the hot coals.”

Oh, there's the thing I wanted to say from the start. It's right here, coming out of my mouth right now.

“Are you mad?! You would ruin hundreds of years of Equestrian peace, barring a few admittedly notable incidents.” Besides the changelings, there was the Diamond Dog incursion three hundred and fifty seven years ago, the dragon migration through Equestrian settlements that ended with conflict a few decades later, a few border skirmishes with the griffins about eighty years ago, when they had sought to test just how weak we had gotten...

Still, even then, we resolved the griffin conflict with economic and political maneuvers.

Luna frowns, small and tight at me, sinking her head further into the pillow. “Perhaps you are right, Twilight Sparkle. Perhaps it is me. However, that is irrelevant. Do you know why?”

I raise an eyebrow, but otherwise say nothing.

“It is because, regardless of which of us two is the speaker of truth, I am utterly powerless to change the current situation. That power lies firmly in the hooves of Canterlot's lawyers, who are diligently poring over the task set before them. Would you have me personally police one hundred and twenty one demesnes, simultaneously, until they are done?”

“Well-”

“I can not be in one hundred and twenty one locations at once. Nor is the threat of me personally visiting truly sufficient when – and I can not stress this enough, Twilight Sparkle – what the nobles are doing is, under the current laws, perfectly legal. To intervene directly would be to encourage open revolution against the perceived threat of the diarchy.

“Well, why couldn't you step in and prevent a situation from escalating?”

“Be you deaf? They outweigh us in numbers so astronomically that what little power we hold over them is that of a figurehead, and not much more. In olden times it were not so, but in olden times the Royal Demesne comprised a third of the nation, meaning it could hold sway over any who dared threaten it. Now it is but a single city, not even the size of Manehattan. My sister and I might stand off an army, singular, but we would not have that luxury against a monolithic foe. To those supporters back in our territory, as well, what if our foes cut off our citizens’ food lines? What of a battle of attrition? What then?”

I opened my mouth. It shuts uselessly as words formed and swirled and pooled in my brain and met the brick wall of Luna's cold-iron logic. Luna doesn't seem to notice my frustration, and rolls out of bed cheerfully.

“Speaking of attrition, I believe it is now time for breakfast. I know it is not time for your breakfast as such, Doctor Princess, but there is a degree of truth in the notion that the enjoyment of waffles is not limited to that of time. Freshly cut strawberries and blueberries still dripping with dew from the fields this morning, does the thought not make your mouth water?”

The taut-cables holding my anger high and aloft snap under the tension. She used my correct title, snap! The offer of waffles! Snap, snap! Really good waffles! Snap!

“But you can't just do nothing!” I insist, desperately clutching on to a little white-hot ember still smouldering at the core of my mind.

Luna stares at me in confusion, then it appears recognition dawns on her.

No, no it doesn't, it's not allowed to. It must be something else.

"Twilight, you appear to be discontent in much the same way as my sister is. Does the assistant I sent displease you? I was sure to send one that most complimented your personality. In the many missives we have shared, she has yet to note any displeasure you have with her, so I sincerely doubt that is the issue."

I flinch. Luna notices, because of course she does. Now she can be perceptive.

"Ah," she smiles impishly, "I see. Twilight Sparkle, if you had wished merely for a companion to bed with, you merely had to ask. I'm certain my sister merely swept the laws regarding concubines under the rug, too. I would have to check with the lawyers first, but--"

"What? No! Don’t you even consider for a single moment!"

Luna plows on ahead thoughtfully. Or perhaps thoughtlessly. Some combination thereof. "Though truly, if you were to put much thought into it, doesn't being smitten with the assistant I sent mayhaps seem mildly narcissistic? She is unerringly similar to you in many regards..."

I try to mentally rally myself. Bitter and confused thoughts conspire against me though. "I think we're being distracted from... from the main issues here."

"Oh, and what were the main issues again?"

My mouth flaps open and shut uselessly as my mouth desperately waits for my brain to kick into gear, but it appears to have stalled. What issues are left that she hasn't already shot down with cold logic? Think, think, think, think, think-

"I see," Luna nods, as if what I'm doing was a completely legitimate response and not just a few moments of stunned and introspective, read silly, silence. "Was there anything else you wanted to talk with me about?"

"I... you... but... Gah!" I have the desperate urge to drop another piano on her. Maybe a harpsichord, if they're heavier. That's not my anger reserves though; those have heartily evaporated. This is all pure embarrassment and startled frustration, far more short lived, far less potent, and infinitely harder to channel constructively.

"Delightful," Luna smiles. "Well, then, I wish to you the best of luck in your future endeavours, though I trust you shan't be in need of it. My offer of waffles is still extended most heartily. Otherwise, I am most peckish.”

“I already ate.” I mumble, thinking back to the snacks at the park what must now be hours ago.

“Are you sure? You do look quite peckish as well.”

“No thanks. I really think I should be going now... Ponyville probably needs me right now.” Besides, I've just eaten a vast quantity of my own words and then stuck my hoof in my mouth for dessert, I don't have the appetite left for waffles.

“Very well, then. More waffles for me, so to the dining room I shall abscond,” Luna declared cheerfully, prancing towards the door with me trailing behind her in a good sulk. She stopped at the threshold, peering to either side of it.

“Twilight, why are there guards posted outside my door?”

“I thought this would turn into a conversation of grave importance,” I sigh, “and it seemed like a wonderful idea at the time. Everything seemed like such a good idea an hour ago.”

“Oh. I see. Well, they have done their jobs most admirably, I feel. Would they perchance like to be our Royal taste testers this evening?”

Anvil nodded before Hammer could stop him. Quite a lot of nodding. In fact he was still nodding.

“Oh? And why is that? Thou dost realize there could be poisoning most foul involved, particularly in these troubled time?” Luna teased.

Yes, troubled times you sort of started.

“Anvil!” Hammer scolded. “I'm sorry, Princess, he just gets really excited about waffles for some reason.”

My eyebrows shoot up. Luna's gaze favours him for the moment.

“Ah, did I mention waffles? I recollect no such thing. Twilight, did I, in fact, inform these fine stallions what I would be dining on this eve?”

Anvil's turned incredibly pale, somehow. I didn't know that was possible for a pony that shade of white. Hammer blinks slowly, and you can practically hear the gears in his head come to a grinding halt.

This won't end well. I don't appreciate being used as a prop for this, though. Really, I'd much rather yell at them myself. Luna's warm cheeriness is far more disturbing. “Only to me. In confidence.”

Luna's expression loses all warmth. The room loses all warmth. It's like her very soul has turned to ice, sucking all the happiness and light and frosting it over into a frozen glint of playfulness in the corners of her eyes. Kind of like a cat eyeing down a mouse it had mortally wounded, preparing for the long and entertaining evening spent watching it struggle beneath the paw pinning it down.

It was rather fitting, then, that Hammer rather looked like a pinned mouse.

“So, it would indeed appear that you were eavesdropping on a royal conversation of utmost importance. Your knowledge would constitute a breach of security of the highest levels.”

Anvil stared on. Hammer jumped at the liferaft with the viciousness of a drowning pony.

“I was just trying to stop Private Anvil, your majesty, when-”

He never finishes that sentence. Instead, he feels my own gaze boring into the side of his head. His mouth slams shut and his head turns until my gaze is now boring into his eyes, instead.

“That is to say, it's all my fault and Private Anvil had nothing to do with it. I just told him about the waffles, 'cause I know how much he, uh, likes them.”
.
“You learn quickly, Private Hammer,” I intone evenly, “but you're still not a very good liar.”

Hammer and Anvil gulp, loudly. Neither has moved from their post at the door, instead having turned only their heads to face us. Now their eyes point directly forward.

That doesn't stop Anvil's from wandering back over to Luna's unamused expression, catching only a fleeting look that told him far more than he needed, and pointing directly forward again.

“I suppose punishment is in order. In the old days, I would have ordered thine heads on pikes. That was a thousand years ago, however. These days I am forced to be far more cruel.”

My eyebrows shoot up. I'm about to object when I see that playful glint in Luna's eye. Of course they didn't put heads on pikes a thousand years ago, she's just saying that to scare them.

… right?

It looks like the guards are decidedly less certain than I am. Remarkably pale, even for white stallions.

“I will be dining upon waffles. You shall bear witness to this, and you will not be allowed to partake. In fact, We find it prudent that you witness us dine the rest of this week hence, during which time you will be condemned from eating before Us. We shall use this time to discuss the nature of what, exactly, you have just overheard in excruciating detail. Are We understood?”

“Where did Sergeant Commonsense go? He was supposed to be keeping an eye on you two.”

There was the very sudden, very loud exclamation of... certain expletives. I flush reflexively, but Luna looks... mildly approving.

“I was gone for five minutes to alert the others that we had unexpectedly vacated our positions, and to inform them that it wasn't an attack on the palace. What happened?”

Oh. Oops.

“These two were caught eavesdropping,” Luna informs him gravely, shooting me an aside look. I grin sheepishly. “There is no need for further alarm, I assure you, their punishment has been meted out.”

“But not by their commanding sergeant,” Commonsense growled, stalking up to us with every muscle in his withers tensed, “and last I checked, these two were in neither Intelligence nor in Communications, having neither intelligence nor communication skills, so they had absolutely no right, rhyme, nor reason to be overhearing matters relevant to national security.”

“I assure you, good Sergeant, there is no need for further reprimand.”

“Princess, I must politely and with all due respect disagree. These ponies were acting under my command, and their disrespectful and unprofessional actions reflect poorly on me and on the Guard as a result. Also, I suspect I'm far less concerned with my soldiers liking me than you are.”

Luna flinches almost imperceptibly. I wouldn't have noticed if I hadn't been standing right next to her. “I once more assure you, Sergeant, that there is no need for such an assumption.”

Commonsense glares at Princess Luna. “Princess, your recent desire for the affection and admiration of those under you has been rather endearing, but is rather undermining your ability to give out punishments. What did you do? Take away their desserts for a week?”

I'm watching Luna carefully now, so I don't miss that wince, that slight turning of her head.

“They may still have it, but only after watching me eat mine.”

Commonsense looks at her blankly a moment. “Is that it, Princess?”

Luna's frown cuts deep into her face, her eyes darken, like storm clouds have passed behind them. “What gives you the right to question my punishment of these troops?”

“Two things, Princess,” one of his brown wings snaps into a sharp salute. “The first being chain of command. They still answer to me, first and foremost. The second is that Doctor Princess Twilight Sparkle has given me permission to speak freely, Princess.”

I did do that, didn't I? Like so much of today, it seemed like such a good idea at the time.

“You dare invalidate my chosen reprimand?”

“No, Princess, I do not. However, I insist that Privates Hammer and Anvil also read all personal correspondence at morning formation for a month. If they cannot respect another's privacy, then their privacy shall not be respected, either. This will be in addition to whatever punishment you have chosen for them.”

That's... what a clever punishment. He's right, that does beat Luna's.

Luna glares at him now, openly. “You have Princess Twilight's permission to speak freely, Sergeant, but not mine. I will abide your additional punishment, providing you escort her from the palace. Privates Hammer and Anvil will be joining me for breakfast, now, though the rest of your squad is returned to normal duties.”

The sergeant snaps off another smart-looking salute at Luna as he gives me a look weighed down with meaning, turning sharply and trotting off. I skip a bit to catch up, then fall in beside him, feeling more than noticing Luna's gaze burning into the back of our heads. I wait for us to turn a corner before I dare comment.

“How did you do that?”

The tight, taut muscles sag, and his whole frame suddenly heaves a few inches lower. “I was exceptionally angry. I doubt I could have said any of that, otherwise.”

“I tried that! I still wasn't able to have your same charisma that you had with Luna. She just ended up making me not angry, and then I was helpless. You just...”

He smiles a little, but those eyes look more weary and bloodshot than ever. “You misunderstand. I wasn't angry at her. I was angry at-” oh, that's a word I won't repeat, “-ing Privates Hammer and Anvil. Princess Luna just happened to be standing between us, as it were, when all I wanted to do was stand there and yell at my privates.”

“So-”

“Which was really, really stupid of me. Really-” oh my, “-ing stupid.”

“You weren't swearing quite like this before, Sergeant.”

That smile again, a bit more, and those weary eyes get a twinkle of mischief. “You didn't give me permission to speak freely before, Doctor Princess.”

“You're certainly taking a liberal definition of 'free', Sergeant,” I chastise, but the hint of nervous giggling in my voice kind of undermines my authority here. Nopony really cusses around me, it's almost novel. Of course, whilst I'd very much like to keep it that way, the almost casual use of profanity is so rare for me it's hard to not be enraptured by it, like a forbidden fruit.

Could you imagine me saying a word like... oh, dear. Or perhaps... oh, my, what would my mother think?

“Thank you, for that, though,” he sounds thoroughly exhausted. Have I pushed him too hard?

“I'm sorry for scaring your soldiers like that.”

He grunts. “Yes, well, I'm sure they had it coming. Probably.”

There's something he's not saying though. He keeps looking at my horn whilst doing his very best to make sure I don't notice.

“Surely you've seen a horn before? Or is mine just that special?” I grin, “It's the pointiness, isn't it?”

He chokes on nothing in particular, stumbling. “Sorry, I was just thinking.”

“Isn't that a little dangerous for a sergeant? Something you better leave to the officers?”

That eeks another little smile out of him. I've learned enough guardspony humour from my brother, it seems. “I'm sure they'd love to hear you say that, too, Princess. No, I was just thinking... Could you really pull a pony apart like you said?”

I think about it. “Why would I ever do that?”

He says another word that I should not repeat, ever, because it makes my ears burn like Celestia's own solar plasma, “I am very glad you're on our side, Doctor Princess.”

I give up on trying to understand this. The way he's said it, though, is worth drawing attention to.

“There's a side, now? I thought that side was just Equestria, Sergeant.”

I may not be, ah, familiar with profanities, but I'm not quite that naïve. So I’m led to follow... well, there's just a very accurate adage in the scientific community; sometimes the fastest way to get the right answer is to say the wrong one.

He snorts, and the smile disappears completely. He looks so old in that moment, what must be thirty going on three-hundred, and I could swear I see a few brown fur follicles turn grey right before my very eyes. “That's not quite a side anymore, Doctor Princess. It's- sorry, that title is getting a bit much to keep saying, do you have anything shorter?”

“Just Twilight should be fine for now, Sergeant.”

“Uh... I was meaning one or the other, just Twilight is a bit personal, isn't it?”

“You've been speaking more freely than I expected for a little while now, Commonsense. Let's enjoy the privilege in the short time we have left together.”

He nods slightly. “Alright. Well, anyway, it's not one side anymore, it's several dozen.”

“A hundred and twenty one, right?”

He shakes his head. “We got confirmation this morning. First demesne to be surrendered, subsumed. It's a-” language, “-ing shame, too. Fancy Pants is too good a pony to deserve that.”

My heart turns to cold, icy lead. Looks like there wasn't anything in that book for him after all.

“Any news on what happened to him?”

Commonsense shakes his weary head. “It was non-violent, but he's probably going to be stripped of his titles. Land. Bits. Good thing the stallion doesn't normally wear pants, or he'd probably be stripped of those, too.”

There was so much more I could have done in Canterlot... but now? “I need to get back to Ponyville right away.”

“I'd imagine so,” Commonsense nods. “It was an honour to serve under your brother, by the way,” there's a hesitant pause, and he moves his mouth like it's gummed with treacle, “Twilight. He’s a good pony. One of the best. Spoke very highly of his brilliant little sister, you know.”

I blush.

“He never said how scary you were, though. Intense.”

“Turns out that doesn't work for me how I want it to,” I admit. “Would you mind being my official Luna translator next time?”

“No offense, Doctor Princess, but there aren't enough bits in the world.”

I can't help but smile as we step out into the dying light of the Canterlot sunset. It's beautiful. The throngs of ponies disappearing into their homes after a long day of- wait, is that...?

Coiffed black mane on pale blue fur, tweed jacket with shiny faux-leather shoulder patches, vaguely twitchy but otherwise almost regal in a self-assured way.

“Fine Mane?”

He gallops up to the pair of us at the gates. Unfortunately, this being the palace, there's quite a long flight of stairs between us, and he's left panting by the time he reaches us. There's a dark, pointed raise of an eyebrow, though, as he catches his breath. “Really now? Consorting with the guards, I see, Twilight?”

I chuckle. “Consorting? That's a three syllable word, Professor Fine Mane. I'm impressed.”

“Ah, yes, about that. I just got sacked.”

“What?!”

Commonsense looks back and forth between us. Finally he settles on; “I'll just leave you two alone, then, right? Right.”

Then he disappears back into the palace. He doesn't look back, not even for a moment.

“Yes, well, some students of mine mentioned the job offer to the uppers, and, uh, well, they heard I was getting other job offers. Because they told them I was, you see. So they decided to fire me before I could, mm, quit. As soon as my contract runs its course in six months, I'll be out on my arse, as it were.”

I smile. I realize I am smiling. I cannot help it. It's a rather large smile, so Fine Mane notices it, and sighs appropriately.

“Yes, yes, this means I'm afraid I'm going to have to accept your appointment after all, Doctor Princess. You best have the building ready for me by then, right? And students?”

“Right,” I nod, still smiling like a doofus, “it'll be an honour-”

He grimaces at that. “I don't have any choice in the matter, so please don't rub salt in the wound.”

“Oh, er, right.”

“I shall be in touch, then. I will most likely see you in six months, Princess. I just spoke with your rather unfortunately named assistant when I saw her waiting at the, uh, train station for you. I expected you to be leaving rather soon.”

“She's waiting for me? I insisted she meet me back at Ponyville.”

“Well, she did say that, but she also said something about having a good book to pass the time with, and something about your company.”

She said that?

Why'd she have to say that?

“But, uh, yes. That's why I ran here. She said this is probably where I would, yes, find you. So I did. Find you, that is.”

“That's rather apparent, yes.”

Fine Mane stares at me a long moment. I stare back.

He blinks, bewildered. “I've just realized I have nothing more to say.”

“That's rather a first, then.”

He chortles. “This coming from the mare who once lectured an entire lecture theatre comatose-”

“Yes.”

“- whilst speaking on the values of -”

“Yes, I get it.”

“- loam-raised fungi vs excrement-raised fungi as -”

“Please stop reminding me, this is painfully embarrassing.”

“ - a valuable source of alternative nutrition in in an eternal-night apocalypse scenario.”

“How do you remember this?”

“I won the pool on how long it would take for at least third of the classroom to fall asleep. Made quite a few bits.”

“Remind me why I'm hiring you, again?”

“Because, Twilight, I can keep you humble. Besides, may I point out that I won that pool?”

“You may not.”

“I'm going to anyway, because I just did. Right then.”

“I'm aware. You may stop at any time.”

“It was eighteen minutes and forty three seconds.”

Curiosity overrides my desire to not hear this painful reminder of my own past. It often does. “How did you know-”

“The exact time?” Fine Mane interrupts me, and I make an expression like I've bit into something unexpectedly sour, “Because you practiced your speech on me, and that was the exact moment you said 'But what's really fascinating about mycotoxins is-'.”

Now that's just not fair! “But there are so many different effects produced by mould on just corn alone, and whilst fusarium and citrinin might seem similar at first-”

“I completely agree. Which is why I was able to sit through the whole thing.”

“Well, alright then.”

“Then again, I was also testing whether my grass would grow faster than my paint would dry, and that was absolutely riveting.”

“Oh. So which won?”

“Pardon?”

“The grass, or the paint? And how did you comparatively quantify two different metrics?”

Fine Mane stares at me, unblinking. I still have no idea why ponies keep doing this to me today.

“Well, you accounted for all the variables at least, right?”

Fine Mane continues to stare at me, unmoving. I'm not even sure he's breathing. After about six seconds – if you don't think that's a long time for someone to be staring silently at you, count it aloud, right now – he finally blinked and shook his head, muttering to himself.

“What?”

He just muttered something under his breath and turned, storming off, frustration visible with every jerking hoofstep.

“Fired!” he curses the heavens with a manic laugh, “for this!”

He recedes into the crowds, stomping his way back to the lower sections of the city.

He doesn't hear me, obviously, when I call after him whether the grass did, in fact, grow faster than the paint dried. Mustn't have heard me. Him kicking a rubbish bin shortly after was probably purely coincidental.

“Well!” I declare cheerily to myself, “at least that went well, I think.”

The train ride back is eternal. It stretches to the very borders of my existence. Has there ever been a time when I wasn't in this traincar, making small-talk with Golden? The very smallest quantifiable measurement of talk expands to fill the largest quantifiable measurement of time.

I swear we already passed that mountain. Didn't we? Am I doomed to endlessly repeat this journey, never arriving, cursed to have pleasant conversation with a pony I am crushing on like Spike's jaws on a gemstone, only in this simile the gemstone doesn't crack, because it's waiting for much stronger, sexier, athletic jaws to close around it.

Great, now I'm picturing Golden making out with Dash with a mouthful of dragon teeth.

My cheeks flush. My cheeks flush? I like that? What is wrong with me?!

Is this why Golden would rather be with Dash? Am I too weird for her? Too distant – wait she said something funny laugh, laugh as you introspect! – or perhaps too unattainable?

Too unattainable? Who am I kidding, I'm just plain old regular Twilight Sparkle, bookworm, egghead, recluse. Anypony who's been around me for more than a few seconds should know that. There's not that much special about me.

Well, beside the fact that I have a town full of slaves, an un-princessly amount of gold sitting in coffers guarded by my own adoptive-brother dragon, and wings and a horn.

But all that was recent. That doesn't change who I am.

And what I am is a boring old bookworm.

When you hold me up against Dash – wait Golden said something sad stop smiling – who is passionate, athletic, dedicated, determined, brash, bold, honest, energetic... It's no wonder I come up short.

I mean, I'm taller than Dash now, but-

I really need to stop over-analyzing my own expressions.

I watch forlornly out the window. Darn it, it's that same mountain again, I'm sure of it.

I tear my eyes away from the window and look at Golden again. She's smiling nervously at me, great big golden eyes shimmering like effervescent orbs of champagne.

“Do you really think Rainbow Dash would say 'yes', Doctor Princess? Truly?”

“For a mare like you, Golden?” I say, my own voice sounding hollow to my own ears, as flat and dead as whatever unfortunate critter fell onto the tracks beneath this train, “I'm absolutely sure she would.”

The 'I would' goes unsaid.

“I won't let it interfere with my duties, of course,” Golden nods rapidly, anxiously, “work comes before personal life, always. We still need to zone for the universities, but that's going to be relatively simple with the proper planning we've put in prior. Then we need to organize for students, so we'll need to advertise across Equestria. I'll have the forms for radio and print media advertisement application forms on your desk by tomorrow morning, with data on where the best value for your bits lies, of course. I should be able to find that. All I have to do is work out the media platform's audience in ratio to its potential untapped student demographic, for every media platform within trainline distance of Ponyville. Easy!”

When she puts it like that it does not sound easy, but she looks so proud – she's seated still in her seat, but her ridiculously wide smile is infectious to an alarming degree and her head bobbles with every word like her spine is a spring and every syllable a tap from a giant invisible finger.

“With the potential student workforce, we'll also need to rezone for denser industry – with Filthy Rich's help of course – but before that we'll need to source labour and construction materials – but again I suppose Filthy Rich might be our best ally here – and map out the new infrastructure Ponyville will need to support the population influx...”

She goes on for a bit, and I desperately try to focus on what she's saying – really, I do, Pinkie swear – but as I look out at that clear blue sky outside our train's window, I can't help but picture Golden with a certain pegasus of approximately the same hue and-

Is it?

It is.

It's that same Celestia-darned mountain.

“Though we might have to account for the increased wealth gap, with captains of industry side-by-side with students, I think-”

“Sorry, Golden, but there's something I have to do. I'll be right back, just... stay right here.”

Golden looks left, down the train carriage. Golden looks right, also down the train carriage.

“I don't know how I'll contain myself, seeing as I'm surrounded with such tantalizing alternatives.”

It would hurt to smile at that. But I do, and it does.

Pew

Bang!

Wind whips around my ears now that I don't have the walls of the carriage to protect me from it. I have an unobstructed view of the landscape passing around the train, below it, beside it.

I am briefly contemplating bringing a deck chair up onto the roof of the carriage the next time I pop up here when a bug smacks into my teeth.

Ptew, ptui, ptoo.

At least when you're flying, you can fly high enough to avoid most flying insects. The train kind of scoops them up with the force of the air it ploughs in front of it, which is then sucked across its roof and slammed into your face at a distressing velocity.

Which is to say; Ptew, ptui, ptoo. I think I got most of them out of my mouth. I have more important things to think about than that, though.

I turn around and stare at the accursed mountain we'd passed what has to have been several times now, a look filled with accusation and hatred.

I start channeling a spell. I really want to make a molehill out of that mountain, but that would be making a mountain out of a molehill.

Instead I blast it with much less, much more controlled force, carving a chunk out of it. A few chips of rock fall out of it, just visible from the train as my cutie mark.

I'm not narcissistic, I just have practice making that shape, okay? It's not like I could focus on making a new shape with all these bugs in my teeth.

Anyway.

So now, when – if – we pass that same infuriating mountain again, I'll have proof. Nopony could confuse that for a natural formation.

Pew!

Bang!

I smile reassuringly at Golden when I reappear in the carriage. She stares at me in some mixture of disgust and horror, probably at about a two to one ratio. Her dainty golden spectacles slide down her nose, and she doesn't think to push them up.

Think, think think think. Why would she-

I catch a look at what my smile looks like in a bit of polished brass.

I wipe the last of the veritable swarm of bugs from my teeth off on my foreleg. It comes away green and ichorous, covered in various fractured limbs and broken wings.

Ew. I really need to wash my leg. And brush my teeth.

My eyes widen. I really need to brush my teeth, like, right now. Ew, ew, ew, ew, ew, ew, ew, ew-

Pew!

Bang!

Train bathroom. Not the best of facilities, but I brought my own toiletries with me.

Scrub, scrub, scrub, scrub – not enough. I double the force, double the speed, until the sound of the soft bristles on my teeth is as constant and deafening as the crash of waves grinding on coarse sand.

Scrub, scrub, scrub.

I floss until the thin white string comes away tinged with red stains on top of the black and green.

Rinse, spit. Rinse again, spit again. Not enough. Still not enough.

Rinse again, gargle, rinse harder, strain the water over and between teeth, spit.

Okay, better. Good.

I can't believe I had that in my mouth. I can't believe Golden saw.

Golden! Right!

Pew!

Bang!

Okay, trying to teleport this much on a moving train and compensating for its velocity is starting to be a strain. I would dub it train strain, but that would sound like I was exerted from training.

Still, that makes it hard to recompose myself enough to thoroughly convince Golden I'm alright now when I finally pop back.

“Alright, Doctor Princess, spit it out,” her eyes widen briefly, eyebrows shooting up, and quickly she starts waving a hoof in a frantically dismissive gesture, “really bad choice of words. Appalling, even.”

“I don't think even Colgate's been as passionate about a mouth scrub as I just was, so there's no need to worry about that.”

“I can assure you, Doctor Princess, that no matter how true that may be, that smile is going to give me nightmares for weeks. Completely not your fault, can't change that, so let's move on to what you were thinking when you blasted your cutie mark into that mountain.”

“Oh, you saw that, did you?”

“No, I didn't see the gigantic flash of purple light from the train's roof, or hear the thundercrack of stone being carved out of a cliff face, or feel the train rattle from what could only have been the recoil of whatever you did.”

“I tried to give you a reassuring smile about it!”

“I said we are moving on from that smile, Doctor Princess. Please respect my decision on that matter.”

“Sorry,” I mutter, hanging my head.

“Right. Now, that still begs the pressing issue of why you felt the need to reassure me at all. If you felt the need to be reassuring, then some part of you must realize that you did something other ponies might find...”

“Crazy?” I offer, fully appreciating the detailed construction of the carriage's floor.

“Your word, not mine,” Golden grumbles, “personally I would have said 'inexplicable', or 'unsettling'. I don't think you're crazy, I just want to know why you did whatever you just did.”

“Well, uh, I was convinced we'd just passed the same mountain three times now, and I just wanted to mark it so I could make sure, next time, to prove I wasn't just imagining it.”

“And you thought it would be more sane to carve what must be a five meter tall incision into a mountainside than to simply ask me?”

“I didn't want to bother you.”

The rest of the trip back to Ponyville is spent in an incredulous, incredibly uncomfortable silence.

But at least we don't pass that same darned mountain again.

Author's Note

The views of Princess Luna are not necessarily those shared by the author.

Before you comment on just how wrong Luna is about one point or another; Yes. I know. Believe me, I do.

Chapter Ten: Where What Will be Reaped is Sown

So.

How did a train ride that was only meant to last a few hours start to feel like it's taken a full year?

Right. The smile that would give Golden nightmares for weeks. The fact that I may have done some hopelessly inadvisable sculpting of a mountainside. The knowledge that Fancy Pants… Let's move on from that until we know more.

That was more than enough to give a pony pause.

I'm still just feeling a bit unstable.

When I get back to Ponyville… I've got a ballot to count.

A vote. An election.

Not to oust me, no. I'd already won the popular vote on that—somehow—but instead to see if the town had accepted my new ideas, or wanted to stay in relative stasis and happiness.

It was a gamble. I was willing to risk everything that Ponyville was for a chance to make it everything it could be. I wasn't willing to make that decision alone, though, no matter how much power and money and power and so much money was given to me. Not when I wasn't the only pony who'd be affected by it.

Golden looked up at me every now and again, eyes shimmering with what I hoped was worry, and feared was fear. I don't think it was fear, but… Projecting. I'm just projecting. I'm scared of what I could do, so I'm putting that mindset onto the ponies around me. It's basic psychology.

Right. Just keep believing that.

Maybe I'm projecting more than that.

Maybe Golden doesn't like me because I don't like me.

…Wow, where did that come from? I like me just fine. I've just been under a lot of stress lately. Just really burned out. That'd mess with anypony.

I never did finish that book on the train ride here. I should probably do that. It might help. It really was a good book.

It's amazing how much and how little can change in such a short time. Ponyville still looked exactly the same. A still photograph would show no difference, certainly. But there was something in the air, something tense and electric. It affected how ponies moved, how they went about the mundane.

There was an air that it might be the last time they did things the same way. They were bracing for the push.

There was excitement, certainly, fear, possibly, but mostly just a sense of wonder.

It had all been done democratically, that much was certain.

All this I observed through the window. But it was certainly not enough for Golden to see what I did. She hadn't lived in Ponyville quite so long.

And what had been a huge marble slab at the edge of town when I had left was now a building of white marble and fluted columns about—let's just do the maths here—sixteen ponies tall. Maybe fourteen Big Macintoshes, or ten Celestia-heights. Nine if you counted from horn tip.

Big, then. Very, very big.

The dimensions strike me as mathematically beautiful. Did Pinkie insist on using the golden ratio wherever she could? It seemed so. The front of the building, conveniently facing the train as much as it did the town, was capped by a triangular roof… thing. What do you call it when the roof is slanted like that, level at the center but with a flat triangular face? Classical Pegasus? It looked Classical. From the height-to width ratio of it, though, it seemed to have fit a formula designed specifically to look as pleasing as possible.

Had Pinkie really designed so elegant and formal a structure? With Discord?

I have to give the slimy conniver credit where it's due. If given the chance to earn my trust and respect, and if given a suitably creative outlet and supervision, he definitely seemed to have done me proud.

I was, too. I was proud of him.

Huh.

Would he ever let me live it down if she told him that, though? He was already so insufferably smug…

Great. Now I’m thinking about Rainbow Dash. All I have to do is not think of her and everything will be fine. Hold my temper. Keep it steady. Deep breaths, in and out—

“Oh, look, Doctor Princess Sparkle,” Golden smiled, tilting her head against the window just-so, “our friends are waiting for us at the station.” A beat. Let her pick up on that in three… two… Golden flinched, recoiling against herself. “I mean, your friends. I don't mean to sound presumptuous, they're… oh dear. Did presumptuous sound too pretentious? It did, didn't it?”

Things would be so much easier if Golden would stop being so… herself, too.

But still. I twist in my own seat to watch the station approach. The great thing about ponies as a species is how distinct we are; you can immediately tell from a distance who's who. Griffons and yaks? Not so much. The vibrating pink blob is Pinkie Pie. The white one whose coat caught the sun just right was Rarity. Five will get you ten she chose where to stand based on how much she'd sparkle. Fluttershy's yellow emphasized by the blue sky behind her—why was she flying?—and… where were Applejack and Rainbow Dash?

Oh. There was Applejack. She wasn't quite as vibrant as the others, sort of blended into the background a bit. Was that a mean thought? Don't ask Golden—lie to yourself and everything will be fine.

So, was Rainbow just harder to see against blue sky? Or hiding in a cloud like the last time we’d seen her?

The train pulls ever-slower into the station. I know it's because of how negative acceleration works as a concept, but it does make pulling into the station an exercise in pulling teeth. Slower and slower still as it gets closer and closer.

I get more anxious.

Yes. Apparently this was possible. I'm as surprised as anyone, honestly.

They all look so expectant outside the train window. We move to the doors to get off.

I still didn't see Rainbow Dash, though. We didn't exactly part on the best of terms last time, but I don't… hate her for it or anything. It would have been nice for her to see me arrive, I mean. With Golden.

Okay, when she saw us off, she might have snapped at Golden and got super apologetic, but she didn't know Golden was harbouring a crush on her. Wait, why was Golden still harbouring a crush on a pony that snapped at her and got angry? That didn't make sense. Did Golden like mean girls? Was that healthy? Should I be meaner to her? Was that conclusion healthy?

The grey little thing looks out so hopefully and anxiously. She clutches at herself, wanting to reassure herself with the feel of the red dress Rarity made for her, grabbing only at her own fur instead. Her dress is in her suitcase, because it needs a wash real bad. She just keeps forgetting that.

No. I don't think I could be mean to her if I tried. If I wasn't trying, I might be all too good at it…

“They look excited to see us,” Golden whispers, twirling a hoof around the clump of fur she'd gripped.

“It feels nice to be wanted, doesn't it?”

She nods. Hesitates. “I don't see Rainbow, though. You don't think that's because of me, do you?”

“I really don't know. Probably not. She's… It's really not like her to not show up. I doubt it's because she overslept. Someone else would have kicked her out of bed—or cloud or tree— on the way here otherwise.”

Golden doesn't look reassured. I wasn't really being reassuring, though.

The train finally stops. Applejack, Rarity and Fluttershy wait outside the door with patient and excited smiles. I lug my suitcase out behind me and through the train doors.

“Hi, girls. Where did Pinkie go—”

WHOMPF

“We missed you so much! And Discord and I got so much done! All the ground floor is done, and now we're just putting job fliers out for clerks and stuff! And Spike wishes he could be here, but he's still napping with his hoard right now. I didn't want to wake him up. He gets a real grump.”

I don't say anything, so Pinkie continues.

“So we're going to throw you a 'Welcome Back!' party, and a 'Mission Accomplished!' party, and a 'Counting the Vote!' party, I was going to call it a political party but Rarity said—”

I hear Rarity outside the periphery of pink. “Ms. Pie, I think Twilight needs to breathe.”

“What? That's not what you said. You said a political party was already a different thing!”

“Ah think she means you need to stop huggin' Twi so hard, Pinks.”

I continue not saying anything, because that requires precious oxygen.

Pinkie looks at me apologetically and lets go. There’s a ‘popping’ noise when she does.

Gasp. Wheeze. Splutter.

“It's—” choke “—lovely to see you, too, Pinkie. It's only been a few days, though.”

“Well, yeah,” Pinkie rolls her eyes, “but it's felt like ever, ever, ever, ever. Count it, that's four evers.”

Fluttershy nods emphatically at that.

Rarity pitches in; “Quite a lot happened while you were gone, at that. I have a feeling things have developed in your absence.”

What even was that sentence?

Applejack gives Rarity a stern look and nudges her in the ribs. Rarity sticks her tongue out at her. So… it meant something, I guess?

Fluttershy looked at Golden seriously. “Things have gotten tense.”

Somehow, Golden looks more happy about being addressed directly, as an equal, than she seems worried about what was being addressed.

“Everyone still voted, though, right?” she asks, switching back from fiddling with her fur to pushing her spectacles up her nose. “So long as everyone knows this is going to be a fair and democratic process, we shouldn't have too much trouble on our hooves.”

Applejack nods. “Eeyup. So long as everypony thinks this is all above water and fair's fair, shouldn't be too much a hassle.”

Fluttershy nods again. “But I know how much this will be stressing you, Twilight, so you're invited to tea and cucumber sandwiches later. Discord will be there, but he's really very excited to talk to you about all the good work he's done. I think you'll be rather proud of him.”

You know, it's weird. I kind of am a little proud of him. Ever since he admitted he wanted to be here, to stay here, I've had a little more… tenuous respect for him. That's a weird thought.

Well. I should go do that. Later.

“Well. I guess this is like pulling teeth then, I guess. It's just going to be hanging over my head until it gets counted. It would be in everyone's best interest if I go do that now, I suppose.”

Rarity and Applejack share another look. A heavy one. Rarity hisses some air through her teeth.

“Perhaps not. As much as we trust you—”

“Completely, sugarcube.”

“—yes, thank you, if you count the votes, it might seem like the outcome was...”

“Tampered. Manipulated. That sort of thing,” Applejack finishes for her. “Like I said, whole thing's gotta look like it's above water, else there'll be problems.”

“I'll do it, then,” Golden states confidently, before collapsing under the weight of the sudden attention thrust on her again. “Well… I mean, that is literally my job, right? In the correct usage of the word 'literal'?”

“Ooh!” Pinkie squeals in delight, throwing a pink leg around her shoulders and walking towards the treehouse, Golden more or less willingly following behind her. “I'll show you how I set the ballot up, then. There are two boxes right, and we set them up in the book return slots, because nopony ever borrows books anyway. I don't think anypony remembers it's not just Twilight's personal bookshelf.”

No, that's back in secure storage underneath Canterlot, occupying H.S.A.M.L.S vaults fourteen through seventeen.

Wait.

What?

Fluttershy clears her throat. “Uh, sorry, Twilight. I'll go start making tea, okay? You be there soon, when you're done catching up.”

“It is Fluttershy’s job to keep you calm through all this, Twilight.” Rarity draws the attention back to herself and Applejack, the only two left of our little welcoming party. Applejack takes my suitcase before I can protest.

“I thought it was your job to handle the liaisons in Canterlot, though, Eques Rarity.”

“Yes, well.” Rarity coughs into a hoof daintily enough. “They were academics. Not in my wheelhouse, as it were.”

Applejack snorts at that as she starts following after Golden and Pinkie Pie. “Reckon your house looks more like a merry-go-round than a wheel, Rares. Anyway, Twi, I'm going to go deliver your bags to your room, you go catch up on things. We'll meet back up later.”

I'm left alone on the platform with just Rarity now.

“She does realise Carousel is just a fancy word for—”

“I honestly don't know. It's a coin toss whether she has genuinely been that ignorant for, oh, the duration of my career, or whether she knows and is just messing with us. Her pranks are far more subtle than Pinkie's, I fear.”

“Ah.”

“Now, go see Spike.” Rarity smiles. “He has rather missed you.”

The bank looms ahead. I had a long time to admire the view as I approached. Ponies seemed to be milling around it, keeping their distance, as if it might eat them if they got too close. It was intimidating, certainly, but it's not like—

Discord helped make it, right. All their fears were completely legitimate.

“Now, now, someone's thinking accusing thoughts,” a zephyr whispers in my ear, “but it is a sight, isn't it?”

Discord? I think, loudly, I didn't know you could read minds. That's… disconcerting.

“Oh, I can't,” the zephyr breezes again, “You're just incredibly predictable. Interest you in a tour later?”

“Please,” I say, out loud, still walking towards the big three-storey-high doors. “Though, if you could point me to how to get to the vault, now? Last time I entered, there was just a hole in the floor to duck down. There seems to be a building in the way, now.”

“That there is! An extravagantly magnificent one at that, too. Pinkie really outdid herself, don't you think? Simply marvellous!”

“That's unusually modest, Discord. I'd have thought you'd be trying to glompf as much of the credit for yourself as possible.”

“Glompf? My, my, your cynicism hurts me, dear Sparkle, but not as much as your word choice amuses me. Pray tell, do I find you in a bad mood?”

“Just stressed. Rainbow Dash is supposed to be my hype-pony, but she's apparently off sulking somewhere for reasons nopony will tell me. Fluttershy is hoping to fix it somewhat with cucumber sandwiches with you, actually. Said I was going to be very proud of you.”

“She did?” Discord asks, and he sounds genuinely confused. “Come, come inside, we apparently have much to discuss.”

The doors open for me ominously, like the entry to a great alien spaceship – from the planet Compound Interest – and of course I step inside. Discord always was one for dramatics.

Downstairs was all marble, reinforced with bands of wrought iron up and around the walls about two thirds of the way up, and feeling incredibly like a bank should. Upstairs is a deep red carpet, deep both in colour and texture. The walls were panelled with expensive woods—mahogany!—and stretched high to the vaulted ceiling above. Sunlight filtered down from steel-and-leaded glass skylights to brighten and illuminate the building as much as possible. The centre was filled with the strawberry milk fountain, of course, because every bank needs a central fountain.

There were discrete offices built into the walls, and past a barricade of teller-booths were plush chairs and sensible tables to hold consultations over. A cursory flick of my horn confirmed my suspicions that security was subtle but ever-present.

“Not the décor I had in mind, admittedly,” Discord spins around on a large, green-upholstered armchair that was clearly not designed with swivelling in mind, “but I must admit, Pinkie made a salient argument. People do like being old-fashioned with their money. The whole old-stallion's club aesthetic does seem to instil some sort of, how would Rarara put it? Je-ne-sais-quois? That the higher-ups know how to be sensible with silly amounts of money.” Here he raised an eyebrow at me, puffing on a bubblepipe. “The question is, Ms Sparkle, is the atmosphere a truth or a bluff?”

“Is that an accusation?” I ask levelly.

Discord laughs at that, warmly. “Come, now, dear, it's all a matter of perspective. You consider the potential bluff an accusation? Me? I consider it a game. Wonderful fun.”

“The kind of game where someone always loses.”

“All the best ones are. For a pony so inclined to chess, I had thought you'd grok that vibe.”

I shake my head, smiling a little myself. “I prefer it when it ends in a draw, I must admit. When both players are so equally matched, the game continues until the very bitter end. I should introduce you to One Stone, actually.” Be interesting to see how those two would get along. One Stone's such a fan of chaos theory…

“I cede the point. It never occurred to me to match myself with an equal. They're so very hard to come by.” Discord scritches his chin, smiling. “I think you were right to suggest I might have one in Pinkie Pie. She asked me a very interesting question, you know?” Before I can even politely ask, he surges forward, “Why not just make the universe a blinking flash of random geometry?”

“… what?”

“Chaos is just disorder, after all. A truly random everything, forever, would therefore be the pinnacle of chaos. Or so I had thought.” He puffs on his bubblepipe wistfully, gesturing to a seat across from him. I hesitate before walking towards it. I might as well be comfortable. “You see, it'd certainly be in my power to do so. Oh, now, don't look so shocked, it'd take me millennia, but time isn't really a concern for us, is it? So then, again, she asked me why not?”

“The destruction of all sentient life?”

“Exactly!” Discord nods, leaping out of his chair a little, before sinking back into it thoughtfully. “Well, not quite. And certainly not for the reasons you expect. You see, life is a funny little thing. It's the most chaotic chemical reaction I've ever seen, and I've seen fulminated mercury hourglasses. No, life is something… spectacular. Who ever thought a complex hydrocarbon would emerge with thoughts and feelings?”

“Well, the Red Princess hypothesis—”

“Don't get your boring all over my philosophy, yet, my Well-Read Princess, I'm waxing poetic.” Indeed, Discord chewed on a big gob of something, pulling from his maw what looked like a wad of gum caught with dental floss. A quick, revolting flick of it snapped it into the shape of a candle —the floss revealed to be its wick—engraved with prose. “No, she got it into my head that the most interesting, the most entertaining, form of chaos is that which derives from order. From a situation trying its best to change and evolve. Quite frankly, if everything were completely random all the time, it'd be random in the exact same way, and thus a rather boring kind of order with more snap and crackle to it. A lot more effort, too.”

“There ought to be a point to this, Discord. Not that I don’t appreciateall you've done, lately,” I say, gesturing around, “but you must understand: I get a little squeamish whenever anybody tells me the only reason they haven't reduced the universe to pure entropy is because it's less interesting.”

“Oh, yes, of course. How uncouth of me. I do seem to forget that you live here. All your stuff is here, and ponies do get ever-so-personal about their stuff.” A cup of tea appears in his hand and he leans forward dreadfully seriously. “I have a competing job offer from an old… acquaintance, by the name of Tirek. And his offer is very good.” And now Discord's wearing a white-collar shirt with a blue tie, and holding a mug that says “I hate days ending in Y”. I should ask for one, myself… “But I feel I have too much loyalty to my old employer, boss, to not propose a counteroffer first.”

“Oh?” I try to keep the panic out of my voice. If Celestia had gone straight to Discord rather than the Elements… “What was his offer, then?

“Friendship with an equal, and complete power. Nopony holding me back. The chance to let chaos reign free! And it was very tempting, I must admit, had Pinkie Pie's conundrum not still been rattling about between my ears at this point.” Here all the props are gone. The chairs and the table between us are all that remain. And Discord leans forward and says very seriously:

“You've been very kind to me, Sparkle. Shown trust in me that I would only consider from a fool… but you're no fool, are you, Doctor Princess?” He drawls. “You've obviously been trying to eke some kind of friendship out of me so I'm less likely to betray you, and I'm growing to realize Tirek is probably angling to do the exact same thing. Only you're far less likely to slot a knife in my own back, are you, you goody-four-shoes stalwart knight of Friendship?”

I feel offended for some reason. And flattered. Kind of? Probably. “So you're giving me a counteroffer, because I'm the one less likely to stab you in the back, when all's said and done?”

“Exactly!” Discord claps his hands together eagerly. “Honestly? Not something I had considered before having this conversation. It's genuinely amazing how getting thoughts out of your head —” here Discord gets out of his green-upholstered chair, reaching into an ear and pulling a string of 'thought bubbles' from his head, “—puts things into perspective, isn't it? But I knew I had to talk to you first, just in case, before I made any rash, world-ending decisions. My counteroffer is thus; I want to play a prank on you. It will be a large one, and you won't see it coming, oh no, because you think too linearly. You're predictable. Even now, you're just taking this simple statement as a personal challenge, aren't you?”

Who wouldn't? Who couldn't?

“Not you, my dear, not you. That's it. That's my request. You allow me this one prank, and I spare the world from not one, but two Big Bad Evil Guys this week. Otherwise…”

“Sure.” I shrug. “It's a deal.”

Discord snaps around. Or, at least, his head does. The rest of his body continues pacing away from me, as if having not quite got the message. “Excuse me?”

“If you're still up for cucumber sandwiches and tea later? I won't even tell Fluttershy about all the implied blackmail. You've got a deal.”

“What? Really? You're making it that simple?”

I get up out of my own chair, now, stretching. Letting a few things pop. Seriously, to Tartarus with long train rides. “Sure? Unless you were, I don't know, planning on using this conversation to justify to yourself betraying the few ponies who offered you redemption, and who—even now — are working out ways to keep you happy and allow you to express yourself, rather than bored and repressed? Absolutely. I have zero, repeat, zero problems, as long as nopony gets hurt. Then it's not a prank, it's a felony.”

Discord smiles wickedly. “Ah. So long as nopony gets hurt then?”

“Preferably nothing with self-awareness, thank you. That includes furniture you grant self-awareness for the purposes of the prank.”

“Now, that's an interesting loophole. I'll have to remember that one, Celestia's not half so clever at seeing through my shenanigans. She's all stern glares and self-righteous yelling.” He gags, rolling his eyes. “I'll see you later, Twilight. Perhaps I'll indulge a game of chess. Usually far too ordered for my liking, but I might be able to talk you into a game of Liar's Dice afterwards, I think. For now? I have a supervillain to thwart, for entirely selfless reasons, I assure you.” With an excited clap of his paws, and a little half-skip. “Oh, boy, it's fun being on the other side of it.”

“Wait! Before you go, where's the… vault entrance… thingy?”

Discord waves a disinterested hoof off towards an out-of-place rug sitting haphazardly in the center of the room. “Vault's under there. The lizard missed you.”

Bemused. I am bemused. “You mean Spike?”

“No, Spike was a little purple footrest who, at best, was a competent Rainbow Dash. The lizard can beat me in an armwrestle if I don't cheat. So, he can't, but it's repulsive to my ego that he gets close. Speaking of, I've a threat to national security to incarcerate.” He waves a paw over himself, and reappears as Super Discord in Tights apparently. Hardly flattering ones, either.

Then he's off in a bright puff of garishly-hued latex. I cough and splutter—he's left a cloud of talcum powder in his wake.

Well.

I guess I might as well check under the rug.

The door's still open. I guess so Spike could keep having company. It's relatively easy to be closed and opened from the inside—one of my personal nightmares is being locked in a bank vault over a bank holiday, anyway—and it's not like anypony's going to be fighting him for it anytime soon.

Dragons are notable for not giving hoards over easily. It's kind of their whole thing.

“Hey, big g—”

Snore!

Oh.

He's uh.

He's still napping.

I get a little closer to the vault entrance, climbing down a winding staircase from above, into the depths of the marble-and-iron. Spike sits on a throne of gold bars. He's apparently used his fire-breath to melt it into a cohesive whole—probably makes it a lot more structurally sound like that. He's even made an effort to shape it so it's not just a flat surface to sit on, it curves a little for his, uh, tooshie.

For the moment, though, he's piled a bunch of gold coins up like a beanbag, and is snoring happily on them, his huge bulk and sharp sharp sharp sharp sharp sharp—

Stuck in a loop there.

— sharp teeth are bared with every little snore. Looks more like a big kitten than anything else, especially all curled up like that. Also scary. Like a really big, scary kitten.

But he's still Spike, right?

He snores again, scratching his ear with a hind leg in his sleep. “Why, yes, Rarity,” he murmurs, “I do think this silk shirt you made for me is quite fetching. How could I ever make it up to you?”

Okay, yeah, no, definitely still Spike.

I go back out of the vault and teleport really quickly to the library, then right back to the vault. I'm not in any rush, so I can take my time with the spell and really focus on channeling it properly, so I'm not nearly as tired by it as I might otherwise be.

Let's see… Oh, Rainbow's flying away from the library. Would have been nice if I could have gotten here a few seconds earlier, then, and given her a piece of my mind. Instead, I get a piece for my mind.

A book. I'm getting a book.

Ooh, I've been meaning to get this one for a while now. “On the Intricacies of Clockwork and Watchmaking: A Beginner's Guide.” I've recently been on a little bit of a mechanics kick, and gears and clockwork is so interesting. It's interesting that, no matter how much power you put into the spring, it's regulated in such a way as to precisely measure it out for the lifespan of the wind, rather than slowing down as it gets weaker, like those wind-up foal's toys.

I've always wanted to know how they did that.

And now I will!

I focus on teleporting back to the vault.

BANG.

POP.

Oh yeah, I missed that. Wasn't paying attention last time, forgot to appreciate it. Darn.

Back into the vault I go, and Spike's still murmuring in his sleep. I sidle up next to him and kind of just whumpf, collapse against his side. It's nice to feel the familiarity. The warmth. Even after all this, after so long away, it's nice to come back to family sometimes. Family is—

“Why yes, my muscles have gotten bigger, Rarara… lemme just… flex...”

He twitches in his sleep.

Okay, yeah, family is mortifying, but you're stuck with 'em.

I crack open my book and start to read, resting against his side. It's really nice to just… have a good book, not a care in the world, and be able to just catch up on more intricate mechanical components of complex systems. You can do so much with the right combination of parts! I wonder if anypony has tried making a clockwork abacus before…

This is when I'm poked in the ribs with a claw and jump, like, three pony-heights in the air in surprise.

“YARGH!”

“Oh, hey. Whatcha readin' there?” He looks at the book and snorts. “Dork. Oh, man, you are the biggest nerd, you know that?”

“Bold words for a dragon who talks in his sleep.”

He at least has the common decency to blush.

I grin, and nudge him in the side too. My hoof bounces right off his muscles. “So, what have I missed?”

“Honestly couldn't tell you much,” Spike shrugs, “Fluttershy thought it'd be best if I stayed out of the public eye for a bit, because I'm kinda uh...” he rubs the back of his neck with a claw, and it makes a sound like flint on sandpaper, “terrifying?” He grins though, “Rarity thinks I'm handsome though.”

I grin. “I'm sure she does.”

Spike's eyes open wide, and his face falls. There's almost-panic in his voice. “No, wait, really, check it out.” He stands up to his full height, unfolding himself. He's still got that upside-down pyramid shape, but it's not that he's got stubby legs or anything. He's just got shoulders like… like he has a Big Mac on either half. He flexes a little, grinning like Pinkie on a sugar high, and thick cords of reptilian sinew slide under his scaley bicep. “Pretty cool, right? But I gotta do, like, hella pushups and weights to keep it up. Good thing gold's so heavy, right?”

I stare. “Okay, yeah, I really hate to say this, but I can kind of see where Rarity's coming from.” Really not my type, and not just because it's Spike, but I can see Rarity swooning over a big strong intelligent dragon like this. As long as he promised not to bite.

“Yeah, she brings it up every time she comes down here with more gems for me. Been promising to make some new clothes for me, now that I have a bigger frame for it. I'd probably need to rip the sail off a boat to have enough fabric for a toga, though, right?”

He says it as a joke, but… I mean, standing up like this, he's about a Celestia-and-a-half in height, and he's not exactly slim, either.

“Best thing I got was the Eye of Azuthris though.”

“The Eye of Azuthris?” I balk, “Spike, that's an incredibly rare magical artefact! Its power could be immeasurable! Who let you eat it?”

“Rainbow Dash gave it to me.” He shrugs. “Honestly, she's been super weird for some reason. I'd have thought she'd be excited about Daring Do coming to her personally for help.”

…

What?

“Oh, yeah, so that happened.” Spike chuckles self-consciously. “Probably should have mentioned it straight up, huh? But, seriously, Daring came here super panicked, said she needed a safe place to put it, and wanted Rainbow to fly as far and as fast as she could to where it'd be safe. Then Dash apparently just took her here and pointed at the vault. And Daring was like 'This isn't safe enough, you don't know how powerful the Eye is!' and Dash was all like; 'What? Oh. Yeah, no' and just threw it into my mouth. Then she just shrugged and said “Problem solved” and wandered off. Daring looked so mad, and Rainbow just didn't care.”

“Okay that's… not something I ever expected to happen. On so many levels. I mean, I know Rainbow can be irresponsible, but I've never seen her thrown so hard when it comes to a chance to hero-worship.”

“Like how you get for Starswirl the Bearded?”

I heft a gold bar in my magic and thump him in the shoulder with it. I smirk triumphantly when he flinches hard enough to have to rub it after. Take that! Big sister powers!

He pouts at me, this big mean dragon with too-much teeth, like a little kid again, and I giggle. Celestia help me, I giggle. Then it causes him to chuckle, and everything is perfect.

Then everything gets heavy again.

“Do you think everything's going to be okay?” I ask.

“In Ponyville you mean? I mean, if it isn't, that's why you're holding a vote, right? I'm sure everyone can't get too mad.”

I nod, pause, shake my head. In that order. Like my head's going through a traffic light—Green, yellow, red. “Demesnes can declare war on each other. Winner takes all.”

Spike opens his mouth. Closes it a bit. “O-oh. Well, this is just a temporary thing, right? Short-term? Celestia will get it fixed before too long. I mean… before anypony gets hurt right?”

I shrug, kicking at a gold brick Spike's wadded up into a ball for himself. My hoof clanks off it. I try not to flinch visibly. “Fancy Pants' lost his demesne, but he surrendered peacefully. I don't know where he is now. It's not good.” I frown, hard set lines cut into my face. “I don't know what would happen if anypony attacked Ponyville.”

Spike snorts and walks over to his throne. “What? Seriously?” He says, sitting down, picking up a sceptre he's made for himself out of melted and muddled gold bricks and coins. I need to tell him at some point that the treasury is not a toy, but as long as he doesn't get too bored.

“I really don't.”

“Twilight… you'd fight. Hands and hooves down, every time. And you'd win.” He grins, now, waving his sceptre triumphantly. “I'd make for one heck of a bodyguard, too, right? I mean, look at me.”

I'm about to laugh at the offer when I, again, look at him. I seriously need to start thinking of him like he is now, and not what he was before I left.

And what he is now is big and scary.

I hesitate.

You know what?

That actually makes me feel safer.

I will never admit this out loud, though.

“And Applejack and Rarity and Pinkie and Discord… I mean, we got Discord on our side right?” Spike shrugs again, tapping my head gently with his sceptre to emphasise the point.

“Good question. I think so? Honestly, Discord's on his own side. It's downright dangerous to think of him doing anything more than—”

“Twilight!” A cultured, refined and elegant voice shouts from the stairs back up, filled with panic and emergency. It's… not a good juxtaposition, I admit. “Oh, and Spike, too, of course.” The voice grows a lot more relaxed. “Hello again, dear, I do hope I've been bringing enough gems for our big, strong, handsome growing boy here?”

“Yes, Rarity.” Spike smiles drunkenly. “Thank you, Rarity.”

“Oh, it’s no bother at all, dear. But I’m afraid I must steal Twilight away from you again, yes? I’m so sorry to break up this little reunion of yours.”

“Why?” I ask, plodding cautiously out of the vault, away from a conflicted-looking Spike. “What's wrong?”

“Oh, nothing much, nothing much.” Rarity lies with a voice like syrup—she's laying it on too thick. Verbal baklava. “We may just have tallied the votes is all. Just need you to have a look over it, maybe announce the results? Shouldn't take but a moment.”

Oh.

Uh…

Oh.

Spike snorts. “Yeah, sounds about right. I'll see you soon, okay, Twilight? Be sure to visit me, okay? And bring some comics next time. Not fair to bring a book for you and nothing for me, right?” He's laughing as he says it, but the laughter doesn't reach his eyes. Poor thing's probably bored out of his mind. Explains most of the warped metal furniture he's made, obviously. I'll need to get him something to do…

“How about I bring you back some scrolls too,” I call over my shoulder as I march down the long marble corridor, “That way you can message me anytime you need something.”

“Personal Princess butler at my beck and call? Schnazzy.” Spike grins.

“Don't push your luck, mister.”

Rarity drags me off before I can hear Spike's 'witty' retort.

“So. Who… how'd it… What’s the vote?”

“Oh, I don't know.” Rarity waves my question off with a hoof. The town is weirdly quiet, but for a few shutters and blinds. Is this how Zecora felt? It's not a good feeling.

What are they all so worried about?

Silly question.

Rarity ploughs forward, both in conversation and down the empty streets. A store sign swings forlornly in the slight breeze. “There are far more important things to talk about, however. I have wonderful news!”

I furrow my brow. Furrow is a weird word, isn’t it? Almost as weird as my face feels furrowed. Furrow. “What news could possibly be more important?“

“Your unrequited crush situation seems to have... resolved itself somewhat.” She says with all the delicacy of a war crime.

We pass a vacant fruit stand. I can smell the pears and plums most clearly. Fruits that bruise easily. “Yes. She rejected me.”

That stops Rarity in her tracks for a moment. I keep walking while she stands stunned, then trots after me to catch up. “But I’ve been discussing with Rainbow Dash...? This doesn’t make any sense. Maybe it was a pride thing? She certainly has far too much of it. But—”

“Wait, Rainbow? I was talking about Golden. What does Rainbow have to do with anything?” I mean, besides Golden— But she said unrequited— Does Rainbow like Golden back? I hadn’t seen it.

Rarity is processing this too, it seems. “You had a crush on Golden?”

“Yes!” I shout, far too weary and exasperated, glad that while I’m in the center of Ponyville right now, we’re still rather alone. I don’t need an audience for this revelation. “You’re the one who pointed it out to me in the first place, remember?”

“Oh. So I did. It was Golden, now, wasn’t it?” Rarity murmurs. Now she starts galloping ahead, not even looking back. “Excuse me, darling, I need to go undo quite possibly the worst mistake I have ever made. Don’t worry yourself unduly, dear,” she’s now an ever-more-distant dust cloud with a voice that rises higher and faster, like a guitar string stretched to snapping, “try to forget this conversation ever happened, yes? Excellent! Ta-ta!”

Okay, I stop. Not to smell the roses, even though I am at Roseluck’s stall now. She’s not here, either. Nothing stopping me. No, I’m stopped because of what just happened?

Did Rarity essentially tell me Rainbow likes Golden...? That would be the situation resolving itself. And it would explain the mistake, if she got it the wrong way around. End result is the same though.

Oh well. They’d make for a cute couple. I guess. Be happy for them. I mean, Dash is... what does she have that I don’t? Besides athleticism, boldness, a larger than life feel to her and charisma?

“Oh, uh, hey Twilight” a scratchy voice says right in my ear and I jump like three feet. “What’s up?”

Speak of the devil!

“Rainbow!” I... scold? Scold. “Where have you been? Why have you been! I’ve been so worried about you!” And confused, annoyed, irritated, but let’s not say those things out loud, for the sake of diplomacy. She’s still hovering, twitchy, ready to take off at a moment’s notice. Let’s not scare her off just yet.

She at least has the decency to rub the back of her neck and look away, Dash-language for ‘yeah my bad’. “Yeah, sorry about that. I’ve been kind of...” Shoulder shrug, still looking away. Dash-speak for ‘you know?’.

I don’t know.

“Since the stuff with the train and everything... Aw geeze. I—one sec.” She flies off at incredible speed, even by her standards, to stop in front of a cloud about seventy, eighty meters away as the pegasus flies. She appears to have an intense pep talk to herself. It ends with her punching the cloud into nothingness. Good talk, apparently. Whoosh back. “Okay, so, have you ever made a decision to do something, but then you were doing it and it felt really stupid, but you were already doing it so you couldn’t back out?”

I feel my eyes glaze over as much as anything else. “You have just summarized my week perfectly, yes.”

“Right.”

“Did you know I yelled at Princess Luna after facing down the Royal Guard?”

Rainbow Dash stops hovering tensely and places herself back on earth, solid dirt beneath her hooves. Wings pressed tight to her sides. Weird expression scrunched on her face. “Nope.”

“Because I did. It was a bad idea, but I was mad, and I went ahead and did it, and then she was all calm and logical at me and she said a whole bunch of things which, in hindsight, were probably completely wrong in every conceivable way someone can be wrong! But I was too mad! And then I shot lasers at a mountain!”

“You—”

I pre-empt her. “I was very stressed!”

Rainbow looks like a puppy I’ve beaten around the head with a newspaper. “Is that my fault? Did I mess something up?”

I realize I’ve been yelling at her. I should have felt it sooner, it’s hard work on my vocal cords. And now Rainbow thinks I’ve been yelling at her. Maybe I kind of was. It’s not her fault that I think it’s her fault.

“No, Rainbow. You did nothing wrong. I’ve heard you’re going to make a certain eggheaded bookworm a very happy pony indeed.” I force the softest smile I can muster. I’ve watched Fluttershy long enough to figure out the knack to it by now. “I saw you at the library earlier. Did you finally work up the courage to ask? It would be a huge weight off my shoulders.” I don’t want to think about this anymore. Ponyville needs me too much right now. I can’t be distracted, and this will clear my mind of the matter entirely. I can move on.

Rainbow’s scrunched up expression, though, explodes into a whole mix of other different ones. Relief, confusion, determination, more confusion, excitement, and then right back again. Mostly in her eyes, because the rest of her face didn’t quite have the agility to keep up with the sheer rush of those few seconds. “Yeah. Yeah, I think I did.” She looks around a moment, finds nopony at the stall, and grabs a bouquet of flowers and kind of awkwardly thrusts it at me.

I take it so she can free her mouth to explain.

“So I’ll pick you up at seven, okay? Is a picnic okay for a first date? I mean, I know the fancy restaurant is the thing you’re supposed to do, but I don’t think that’s very us, you know?”

What?

I don’t drop the flowers, but the telekinesis definitely fluctuates for a moment when my concentration takes a big hit.

Rainbow notices, and looks crestfallen. “Or, uh, I mean, fancy restaurant could work?” So, notices and misinterprets, then.

Shake my head.

“No, I was just... surprised.” The next few moments stop making sense to me. “A picnic sounds perfect.” And then I smile, and I don’t know why...

Rainbow smiles too, way too wide. Almost manic. The ‘almost’ is charitable. “Okay? Okay. Okay! Yeah. So it’s totally a date! I uh, gotta go get ready. I’ll see you at seven, okay?”

“Absolutely.”

Then she flies off leaving me alone to wonder what just happened.

To wonder why I just said yes.

Am I... is this just because I want what Golden wants, because I can’t have her? Is that what I am doing? Is it because I just couldn’t say no? Was I just surprised?

How am I going to tell Rainbow this was a bad decision I made, that this was a misunderstanding, that I thought she was asking Golden out?

Am I going to? Going by how nervous she was just now, and excited, I might crush her like Golden crushed me. I couldn’t do that to her! I shouldn’t have done this to her...

Oh.

Uh.

Wasn’t I going to the library?

Right. I was doing something wasn’t I? Something important.

I should... I should go do that. At least until I work out just how badly I just screwed up. I feel like I just got kicked in the gut by a snowman.

I’m still a bit shell-shocked as I enter the library. All my luggage has been taken upstairs by a very helpful Applejack, I take it, because there’s a very neat path from the door to the stairs that is the only part of the floor not covered in ballot slips right now.

“What in the wide world of Equestria is this?”

“It was close!” Pinkie laughs, rolling around in a pile of votes. Wait, is that… is that a federal crime? I mean they're already counted, and she's not damaging them, but… I've got to look into that.

Golden shakes her head from her great heavy wooden desk in the corner, flanked on either side by books on Equestrian laws and guidelines as thick as my forearm, tapping the rim of her spectacles against her desk. “Not quite, Pinkie. Even though they're only twenty percent different when viewed as a whole, it's… well. Six against four. It means half again. Elections have been won or lost on far smaller margins and still been called 'decisive'.”

“Right.” I say, massaging the bridge of my nose. “And there was no tampering?”

“None that we can detect. In any case, it's in your favour. Why would you rig an election when you had the power to just do it anyway?”

Pinkie just looks up from her papery pile, having collected them like a bed of leaves in autumn, and the serious look is kind of lost to the fact that she's still upside down. “Wow, Golden, you are a naive one. It's a common tactic employed by dicatorships to give the public a false reassurance that they still have agency within their system of governance, duh!”

She then proceeds to do a cannonball, sending the votes flying everywhere.

Golden looks as upset as she does confused. Having Pinkie outbrain you does that. “O-oh. Right.”

Pinkie surfaces from the pile again with a ballot stuck out of her mane. She tilts her head at me.

I pluck it out and read it. It’s an anonymous vote, but I immediately know whose this is.

The vote’s for change, but then scrawled in neat, fluid cursive on the back of it; “Can I at least have my chair back? I brought it from home.”

Darn it, Mayor Mare.

“Don’t worry, Applejack already went and sorted that one out.” Pinkie nods sagely. “Just thought you’d wanna know. Hey, even she voted for change though, so... hooray?”

Yeah.

Hooray.

Golden clears her throat. “Well, you’ve done everything you can to make it look impartial, Dr Princess. I guess all that’s left is the formal announcement to make everything official.”

Pinkie does the backstroke up to me, bumping her head against my shins, looking up at me from the floor. “So, get Rainbow Dash, Public Relations Extraordinaire, to round everyone up then?”

“She’s... busy right now, Pinkie. You think you can handle this one?”

She shrugs. “Okie dokie loki, I guess. When do you want to do this, then, oh cap’n my cap’n?”

Good question. Fantastic question, even.

Public announcement of large social upheaval first, or nervous breakdown and tea at Fluttershy’s first?

I need coffee.

Chapter One: Where There's the Presence of Presents

It was a beautiful day in Ponyville, the weather team having excelled in their duties without a hitch, and the sun shone brightly on my local branch library’s, err, branches. The birds chirped and trilled loud and melodically enough to brighten the spirits but not so loud as to prevent, say, a hungover Berry Punch from rolling over and going back to sleep.

Essentially it was a perfect day in Ponyville where absolutely nothing seemed like it could possibly go wrong.

Twilight Sparkle – which is to say, I – scowled out my bedroom window and waited for the bit to drop.

Ponyville is a wonderful place to live, certainly, and its denizens make up the majority of my best friends and treasured acquaintances. I want to make absolutely clear that that's on the record, first, because otherwise you'd think that I think this town is nothing but a maliciously-cursed festering pile of ponyfeathers intent on systematically messing with me and driving me into more of a neurotic mess than my friends suspect I am.

Because it is. It really, absolutely is, which is why when a day goes absolutely, spectacularly well I just know something really, really bad is about to happen to compensate for it.

One time, one time, I let my guard down and allow myself to think maybe, maybe, this town doesn't have it in for me after all. That maybe it's all in my head. Bam! My friends have their destinies scrambled and I transcend mortality itself.

Or, as Rainbow Dash aptly put it, I "set a whole new record for popping a wingie".

I'm still not entirely sure how to respond to that. Or how, exactly, I didn't feel entirely new bone, muscle and feather erupt out of my spinal column.

Call me cynical but I suspect the next time I let my guard down so easily on a day where Ponyville is so evidently baiting me won't be quite so painless.

"Wonderful day today, isn't it Spike?"

Spike rolls over in his basket and blinks at the warm sunlight gently pressing itself into the room, yawning amiably.

"Morning already? Can't I just sleep for five... more..." He trails off. I turn around, expecting to see the little guy back asleep in his basket.

Instead he's staring at me with the same gnawing anxiety I'm feeling.

"Twilight... I don't feel like going back to sleep." He mutters. "That's not right."

I feel the pit of my stomach fall to the icy depths, only to be brought back up by the oppressive wonderfulness of the morning. "Why don't you take a nap? Take the morning off?"

"I... Twilight I feel chipper." His eyes widen in shock, "like I'm ready to get up and take just about anything the world could throw at me. It's like today's too good to just waste. So why does that give me a really bad feeling?"

I feel a warm, glowing sense of pride. "I've trained you well, number one assistant. Either that or we have a Pavlovian fear response to really nice days in Ponyville. On a scale of one to bliss how do you feel?"

"Deep satisfaction with a lingering sense of eager perkiness."

"I'm feeling existential fulfillment with overtones of cheery optimism. Well, I was, before I realized it."

"Maybe we're just thinking about this too hard. Maybe... maybe it's just a nice day and that's all it is?"

"I wish I could believe that Spike, I really do, but the last time I felt like this-"

"-You became Alicorn Princess Sparkle and Applejack tried to make dresses. Also, watching Pinkie Pie try to buck apples was actually physically painful. Like, I'm pretty sure even for Pinkie, legs should not bend like that."

I wince sympathetically. Even for a vocabulary as large as mine - I'm not bragging, I just read a lot of books - all I could think of was 'ow'. A lot of times, really. Ow, ow ow ow, ow, and an 'owch' for good measure.

"Agreed. Think, what were we doing when we got the invitation that dragged us into a Changeling invasion?"

"You girls were having a picnic and talking about what a great day it was and I'd just found some awesome old comic books hiding behind some shelves in the library." Spike gulps. "Ones that we hadn't even seen on library reshelving day."

"Spike, please tell me that something terrible isn't going to happen just because today seems to be, for lack of a better term, absolutely perfect?"

"Today is going to be just fine, Twilight."

My eyes widen. He realizes, what, exactly, he's just said, and promptly rams a fist into his mouth and bites down on it.

"It's even worse than I thought..."

"Oh come on, Twilight," he's trying to convince himself just as much as me, I can hear it in his desperate, pleading voice, "Maybe it is just the Pavlovian thing. What would we have to do if it's that one?"

I gulp, hard. The consequences of that train of thought are just too much to bear...

"Seek immediate psychiatric attention, Spike." Wincing, I look away in shame, "Probably have to see Ms. Softheart again, and I don't think I could face her without Ms Smartypants."

Spike relaxes visibly, unfurling himself from his makeshift bed, and plods over to me in that hypnotic, bipedal way of his, wrapping around my left foreleg in a hug. I nuzzle the top of his big, scaly head.

"Hey, we can do that, right? We just need to go get her off Big Mac."

"I don't know if I could do that to him! I mean, he... I..." My cheeks flush, "It's complicated. He wouldn't want to give her back, so I can't just ask Applejack, I'd have to go and talk to him. On purpose. "

"Yeah, and, what's complicated about that?"

"Stuff! Things!" I not-at-all hastily but totally nonchalantly and smoothly answer. Spike looks at me and totally buys it, I think. Probably.

He doesn't follow up on it, so I'm calling that a win, darn it!

"Okay then..." my adorable, trusting assistant moves on, "so, therapy. Oh, man, Rarity would never let me live that one down, it's so uncool." Note to self: Stop letting Rainbow Dash be any influence on Spike at all for the foreseeable future.

"What about me, then, huh?"

"Oh, Rarity already tried to get me to recommend you to a specialist she knows, but I didn't think you'd take it well." I grit my teeth. Rarity, you and I are going to be having a little talk about... how you only care about me and want what's best for me and my well being and health and okay, okay, Twilight, she meant well. "Rainbow Dash just said you only need to get laid."

Darn it, I thought I'd gotten that eye tic under control. Apparently not.

"I mean," Spike continues, looking up at the ceiling and counting on his claws, oblivious to my impressive death-staring, "I asked Pinkie Pie what that meant, because I thought it was, like, an egg or something. So Pinkie Pie just said she still had that chicken costume so if you needed to get laid she was sure that she could help. Then Rainbow just laughed even harder." Spike glanced up and saw in my expression... well, I must have looked how I felt, judging by his reaction, "I don't think Pinkie Pie understood either, if that helps..." Spike trailed off, nervously scratching the back of his head with a claw in what appeared to be thought.

"Spike, you are forbidden to ask anypony else what those words mean or why Rainbow Dash thought that was funny."

"Aww."

"Furthermore," I grit my teeth hard enough to crush diamonds, "you are to hide from me all magical spellbooks that may potentially be used for evil until I no longer wish to eradicate Rainbow Dash from existence."

"I... How long is that going to take?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, you look really mad, so I'm sort of wondering do you want me to spend extra time finding a good hiding space or just get to it immediately. What's the priority here?"

I couldn't help but imagine Pinkie Pie wiggling at me in that stupid, tight Nightmare Night costume of hers. Great, I'd probably be dreaming about that, later, through no fault of my own. It's sort of like when somepony tells you that elephant penises are prehensile so you can't help but imagine how that works and then you find the textbooks with the pictures but Celestia walks in on you to see how your studies are going and-

Darn it, I really, really hate this eye tic.

"Hey Twilight..."

"What?" I shake my head, clearing out the mental cobwebs.

"Today doesn't seem so great after all huh? Maybe this was the bad thing. Therapy and dealing with, err, gossip right?"

I blink.

I blink again.

I crack the biggest, broadest, toothiest, dumbest smile and scoop Spike up in a big hug.

"Spike, you're a genius! Now I don't have to spend the rest of this lovely day wondering just what bad thing is going to happen! It's already come and gone!"

"Gurk!"

"Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you!"

"Blurgh?"

"Unless..." I drop Spike, who immediately starts panting. Wow, if that's all it takes to tucker him out, maybe he should get more exercise... he is a growing dragon, after all.

"Unless?" He gasps.

"Unless that was merely a distraction to get my guard down! The real disaster is yet to come but because I was prepared for it, it threw out some smaller stuff to make me feel like I'm fine, and then bam!" I smack my hooves together, "Out come the big guns. Celestia drops me as a student. Some eldritch abomination returns and we can't defeat it with the Elements of Harmony. Somepony," eugh, I grip my head and feel physically ill, "somepony breaks my horn and I can... I can... never do magic again."

"Okay, now you're just being paranoid, and ridiculous, and... and...."

He's making gagging gestures at me. Of all the rude, inconsiderate...

"And what, Spike? Come on, spit it out already!"

He does. In a charred eruption of green flame and the familiar smell of charcoal and sulphur out pops a familiar piece of dragon mail. Spike breaks the seal and starts reading, eyebrows raised.

"Urgent meeting in Canterlot with Princess Luna, immediate summons. A chariot will arrive any second."

He pauses. I pause. The library is as silent as a library should be, but it's still unnerving.

"Huh." Spike coughs politely into a balled claw, "Sorry I doubted you, I guess."

I sink my face into my hooves and moan deeply because, really, what else can I do? "I really hate this town, sometimes, Spike."

"You gotta admit though, at least today is a lovely day." He’s trying to look reassuring. He’s trying very hard. It’s not working, but at least I give him an A for effort, which apparently makes bad grades hurt less. In theory. Personally I feel like it’s taking an aspirin for a direct hit from a fireball, but hey. Who would throw a fireball at me on such a lovely day?

I sigh and, without looking up from the comfort of my hooves, moan, "Yes it is Spike. Yes, it most certainly is."

It's a short walk to the throne room. I fight to keep my wings down, my head thrown back regally and my posture completely stoic and-

-and in the process stub my hoof on the cobblestones and am sent tail over tea-kettle.

I try to flap my new wings to regain my upright and not-tumbling status but all the stupid feathering feathered things do is push me faster into a roll, barrelling me dizzyingly down the hall in a royally painful somersault.

I feel like Pinkie Pie trying to buck apples, only with my whole body.

Hello, funny lights and colours. Please go away. Blink, blink, blink, begone. Curse you, funny lights and colours, I'm trying to work out where I am.

Unfortunately my eyes have decided to split up to investigate rather than team up.

Let's see... Mmm hmm, I'm very familiar with this part of the castle... I recognize this rug and that portion of ceiling, clearly. Can I go for a wall, or perhaps- no? No, now left eye and right eye appear to want to mutually confirm the other's findings.

Clearly what they lack in the magic of friendship they make up for in the scientific method and inducing nausea. I make a mental note and feel new respect for my mailmare.

Hrrmm... Yes, this tapestry... this mosaic... of course! I'm in the throne room!

"Oh dear, I'm in the throne room."

"It would appear so, my little pony." Luna croons above... forward... oh, I don't even know. She's chuckling, I suspect it's at me.

The world spins and the ringing in my ears hangs up. I jump to my hooves desperately, fluffing my wings, as if nothing had just happened. Because it hadn't. No, no it had not.

Suppressing a wild flurry of emotions as Princess Celestia, my mentor, ruler, icon, hero and living avatar of the sun itself bows her head respectfully at me. A sick sense of undeserved pride and joy and happiness and joy fills me. She's treating me like an equal! Me! Why?! I just know I'm about to disappoint her, I just know I'm about to disappoint her and-

Oh ponyfeathers I just did, didn't I? What the heck was I thinking, tumbling over like that?!

Obviously I wasn't, so now would be a good time to-

"Are you alright, Twilight Sparkle?" Celestia looks concerned... oh no, oh no, maybe she's worked out she's all wrong about me and- "That looked like a rather painful altercation you've had with the ground."

Oh. Or that. Ha! Ha ha! "No, no, I'm fine! Except the bruising, I mean." Like the ones to my ego... "You summoned me, Princesses? What is it this time? Fell beasts from beyond the stars? Bipedal monsters wielding steel wands that spit flame and lead? Somepony breaching the royal cake vaults?" I stand stoic, only sagging a little on my more bruised left side, but I doubt it's very detrimental to the effect. I hope. Oh, geeze...

"Oh good!" Luna's clapping her front hooves in delight, "so you did get that science fiction collection I sent thee- You." She winces a little, and I smile sympathetically at her. Formal settings bring with them a powerful force of habit, I suppose. Anypony who has suffered through Rarity's etiquette classes still cringes a little when they see somepony use a dessert spoon for soup...

"Actually, my once faithful student," Celestia smiles warmly, “ Still faithful, though no longer a student, it seems. Luna and I have been discussing ascension presents in honour of your greatest achievement, and have decided to each grant you a-"

"Most wondrous boon, our newest alicorn sister!" Luna booms, grinning wide, "One most befitting your new title, Princess Sparkle."

I gulp. Warm light filters in through stained glass and grants the room a suitable air for something suitably historic. The effect is awe inspiring, really, and it wouldn't have been possible had it not been such a lovely day.

The Princess- err, Celestia - waves a hoof and the wide doors open once more. Two rather handsome, stern faced guards carry to me what appears to be-

Oh, my.

I tuck my tail a little and fight the urge to drool in front of the princesses.

Oh, my.

It's a leatherbound book, a material coveted for its ludicrous rarity, made from the skin of cows who volunteer themselves to the tanning process. To be done posthumously, of course, I mean. Whilst many cows do so, embracing the opportunity to be immortalized as something beautiful, it's always in short supply. I wonder if Rarity and Applejack-

Wait. Wait.

On the cover is a brass plate, and on that is engraved my name.

This book, positively a tome, begging to become dusty and ancient, has my name on it and a significant number of letters after that.

I look up at Princess Celestia with eyes as wide as saucers. Frankly, it's hurting my eye sockets, but that's the cost of my anatomy not being able to handle the sheers levels of emotion I guess.

"This is the master copy, to be kept in the Royal Archives for, hopefully, centuries to come. Copies are being printed as we speak." She smiles beatifically at me, her voice as soft and gentle and nurturing as I've ever heard it, even when I was a filly! "Your most brilliant, and I do not use that term lightly, papers and letters have all undergone peer review with flying colours, enough to give even your friend Dash pause, I suspect." There's something in her eye, something- Is she sad? That doesn't make any sense! Still, she looks deeply... something. Is she crying? She’s-

Luna is giving her sister a sidelong glance. She looks quite underwhelmed actually. Even a bit miffed? Now, what- Wait. Wait, book? Book!

Book! My book?

"With this publication, Twilight, is a collection of your notes on friendship, magic, the sciences outside of the arcane as well... apparently what is contained in this book is not only about to completely revolutionize everything from mining to medicine but herald entirely new scientific branches, and I do suspect my advisers are being quite modest in their forecast." She smiles that same, strange smile and pauses for a moment. Oh no, she is crying. Oh, she's crying, she is, it's-

"I'm not crying, Twily, it's just liquid pride." My heart stops.

Oh dear, I'm blushing aren't I?

"There is no debate, especially in my own mind, that you have earned this, Doctor Twilight Sparkle. There is no field we could find that you did not meet the qualifications of, but for friendship, for there is truly always more to learn."

There are tears in my own eyes now. Doctor Sparkle? Doctor Twilight? Doctor Twilight Sparkle? All of those sounded wonderful, none of them I deserved. Or did I? There, in print, was supposed evidence of everything I had accomplished... It's more than I could have ever imagined.

"Sister, I am confused? That is it? That is all?"

Wait, what? I glance at the Princess, Celestia, that one, and she seems to be reacting the same way. Surprise. Shock. Indignation. I think she must be hiding it better though, because whilst her face was merely a flicker, a flash of the eyes and a slackening of the jaw, my butt hurts where I just fell flat upon it.

Smooth, Twilight.

"All? Luna-”

"Don't you Luna me, dearest Sister," Luna almost snaps, snaps, right in front of me! "Your most favoured protege in hundreds of years, so you tell me," Really? "The one whose pride and admiration you sing the praises of endless nights?" Really?! "The one who, once the cider and sparkling wine hits, you lament the fact that you could never be with as you wish, as a romantic coupling?"

Really?!

I look at Celestia for the first time since Luna's started ranting and oh ho ho she's redder than Big Mac with a sunburn. I can't tell whether it's out of rage, embarrassment, or both. Then she starts spluttering and I really can't tell.

Time to intervene! Twilight to the rescue! "I-"

Luna holds up a hoof to silence me, still addressing Princess- other princess. The white one.. "Publishing works that you should have long ago? This publication is only required because of the sheer backlog of brilliance dear Twilight has accumulated under your watchful eye. It is of her own merits that this is published, not to be given by you as a gift!"

Princess Celestia’s not hiding her hurt well at all, now. "But-" Hoof raises higher. Luna’s on a roll, it seems.

"And furthermore, dear sister, you realize that the title of doctor is far, far superseded by her status as Princess. Normally the sentimentality of the offering would far outweigh the slight implied by the bequeathing, certainly, but thou honestly thinkst that thou can besmirch our saviour, the pony who did cleanse us of the evil that resided within us, by celebrating her ascension with the granting of a lesser title, as if to say that she is not our equal?"

Celestia and I stare at Luna stunned. I'm not possibly going to believe- I mean, she can't possibly be-

Wait, I just thought of Celestia without her honorific. Oh, horseapples.

Celestia stares at Luna. I stare at Celestia. Luna stares skyward, eyes closed, fuming silently.

"Do you see the truth in my words, Twilight Sparkle?" Luna asks archly. Celestia is just staring at me as if from very, very far away, melancholy.

I think about it. I really, truly do. It hurts me, like an icy papercut to the heart, and I usually like thinking, but I realize that a fundamental part of what Luna is trying to convey is that Celestia doesn't see me as an equal, can't see me as an equal. I don't see myself as an equal, either.

Then again, what was that about wanting to be romantically-

Focus Twilight.

"I think..." I sigh, a sad and little thing, such a small gesture that lands like a mighty slap upon Celestia, "I think that Luna is right, in a way. I love the gesture, truly!" I mean that, too, from the bottom of my hammering heart. Why did they have to put me on the spot like this? "But, I mean, this gift is more for Twilight Sparkle, Celestia's student, not a gift for Princess Twilight Sparkle, Ruler of Equestria. Which, from what you inferred, seemed to be the point, and I don't think I can act in an official capacity, or even feel like I have one, if you don't see me in it." Am I rambling now? I think I'm rambling.

Oh, well, the only way to get out of this is to keep swimming through word soup until I emerge on the other side.

"I mean, sure, it’s not like anypony asked if I wanted this, at any point, or whether I wanted to celebrate it or not, but, since I am, and we are, Luna is right." Celestia and Luna both nod, Celestia out of resignation and Luna out of encouragement. “Even if,” I grumble a bit more quietly, “I’d probably much rather have the book than these dumb wings.”

"Besides," I crack a hopeful grin, "Doctor Princess Sparkle just sounds silly."

That's what I say out loud at least. Inside I'm still dancing around like a little filly about how awesome, thank you Dash, that sounds. Hello, I'm Doctor Princess Twilight Sparkle, but you can just call me Doctor Princess.

Since that's not what I'm allowed to say aloud, Celestia sighs and nods gently. "There is much wisdom in your words, my faithful s-" She pauses, catching herself, "Princess." I watch her turn to Luna, and I see some little bit of light die in her eyes, and another little part of me twists at the sight of it, "What did you plan on gifting our blooming ascendant, sister?" Celestia asks as diplomatically as possible.

"Princess Twilight Sparkle," Luna intones solemnly, causing me to feel compelled to kneel, like I've seen in pictures of knights of yonder and yore, "Ender of the Nightmare, Vanquisher of Discord, Bearer of the Element of Magic, Saviour of Ponyville from Ursa and dam breakage alike and, let it go on record, a most dedicated librarian and maker of daisy sandwiches, let it henceforth be noted that thy boon is yon Ponyville, granted to thee as a boon for services rendered to Equestria and its crown, of which you now represent. Ponyville shall hence forth be the demesne of Twilight Sparkle."

"WHAT?!" Celestia leaps out of her throne, staring at Luna like she would if Nightmare Moon, Discord, Sombra and Chrysalis all were assisted by Pinkie Pie to play a prank on her.

Luna remains passive, if somewhat confused, as I watch in a sick combination of fascination and horror, apparently two great tastes that taste great together, because I couldn’t look away if somepony tried to force me to.

"I sense dubiousness on thy part, sister?" Oh, wow, really? I hadn't noticed, myself. "Has the practice of demesne fallen into disuse? When I filled out all the relevant documentation and miscellanea I was informed that everything was perfectly in order by our legal ponies."

Celestia was turning rather vivid shades of purple and what I guessed to be burgundy. It would be almost hypnotic to watch, were it not so disconcerting. Okay, it’s still pretty hypnotic. I take a step back just in case. I didn't know if Celestia could literally explode, but I suspected now would be the time I would find out.

"Yes! It took centuries of work! Nobles and barons refusing to let the old laws die! I could never repeal them outright! They just had to..." Celestia falls back onto the throne, massaging her temples and sighing. "There are still so many feudal lords around, dearest Luna, that merely don't realize that they are. It's a mockery to democracy."

"Ah." Luna replied simply. Turning to me, she grins a little sheepishly. "I suppose that my sister and I both need to practice the art of gift giving, yes?"

I, meanwhile, had been rifling through my impressively magniloquent lexicon to try and ascertain what, exactly, a demesne was. Based on the context of Celestia's statements...

Oh, horseapples.

"Did you just make me complete overlord and despot of Ponyville?"

"And its surrounding area, yes, falls under your bailiwick." Luna nodded.

"Oh." Well. Huh. That sure is a thing that is happening and has happened. Yes, yes it certainly is.

"Twilight?"

'I'm sorry Celestia, I should really head back to Ponyville and talk to Mayor Mare about this. Please rectify this situation for me, Luna, as soon as equinely possible, as well intentioned as your gift was. I hope you understand that I refuse it humbly, and not out of malice, as being the overlord of your friends tends to be a bit of a faux pas.'

"I need to get the buck back to Ponyville and figure this out before they tar my ponyfeathers and lynch me for this!"

"Twilight!" Celestia gasps, hoof to heart, snapping her attention back to me from Luna.

Wait what- Oh.

"I just said the in-my-head-thing out loud and the out-loud thing in my head, didn't I?"

Celestia's just nodding dumbly. Oh. Huh. Well. Err.

"I... Well. It's still true I suppose."

"I am inclined to agree, though I do wish you had cut back on the vulgarity." Celestia nods gravely. "Knowing my sister, surveyors are already scouting the border of your new domain." I look to Luna, who just nods sheepishly. Oh, horseapples.

My eyes widen and I run out of the room as fast as my new earth pony powered legs can push. It's still not fast enough for me to not catch a little snippet of conversation behind me.

"Admit it, dear sister, hearing such profanities from your sweet, innocent Twilight excited you, did it not?"

I barely heard that. I could easily hear the resulting blast.

Huh.

Turns out I could run even faster...

And that Celestia could literally explode, presumably.

Chapter Five: Where Proffered Prosperity Provides The Perky Purple Percolated Princess Potently Powerful Potential

"Doctor Princess Twilight Sparkle?"

"Coffee, coffee, need more coffee, obviously still dreaming--"

"Doctor Princess?" an annoying figment of my imagination calls behind me.

You know, I'm starting to really acquire a taste for this coffee/chocolate syrup combo. It's intense, that's for sure, but in a good way. Kind of like Pinkie Pie.

"Doctor Princess Sparkle?" the figment tries again, her voice wavering between concern and exasperation. Mostly concern.

"I am definitely awake," I breathe, "and you are probably real and not just a figment of my imagination. Are you? It would explain a lot."

"Well, I hope I'm not," Golden murmurs behind me. I appear to have given her a very justified existential crisis-- When you're around a unicorn as powerful as I am, and they inform you that you're probably just a rogue part of an overly active imagination, you have very good reason to entertain the possibility.

Wait, was that boasting? I hope that wasn't boasting.

"Sorry, Ms. Retriever. You are not a figment of my overactive imagination," I reply in the most formal, self-assured tone of which I'm capable. I surreptitiously pull out a book from my shelf labelled "In Case Of Philosophical Emergency!" (which sees surprisingly frequent use since my move to Ponyville) and levitate it over to her. She sees it and plucks it from the air, clutching it to her chest as if she were drowning in the desert and it were a life preserver made of cool water.

"Solipsism and You: I read therefore I think therefore I am," she reads aloud, then dives in without any further hesitation. Good, let her deal with that whilst I deal with the unprincessly sum of bits resting on my coffee table.

I approach it cautiously, as if any sudden moves might make it disappear. Maybe that's why banks have those huge vaults; they don't want to worry about all their money escaping. It's still there. I poke it tentatively with a hoof. It shifts, just like any other little piece of paper would.

Frankly, the poet in me is a bit miffed that its metaphorical weight doesn't translate into physical weight... but, no, the net value of a very large corporation is resting on a tiny little piece of paper, and that is all it remains.

Maybe I should poke it a bit more?

I do.

Pokity pokey poke poke.

My muzzle is resting on the desk by this point so the offending, but not offensive in the slightest, cheque remains at eye level, where it continues to do nothing.

"I have no idea where I could find a bank that would accept a transaction that large," I admit in defeat.

Golden Retriever glances up from her book curiously. "What about your federal bank of Ponyville?"

"My federal bank? I'm sorry, Ms. Retriever, but I don't have a federal bank."

Golden sits there in silence for a moment before her grin widens to shark like proportions, or like Pinkie Pie's face when she catches Rainbow Dash in hide and seek and Rainbow hasn't realized it. "You do now, Doctor Princess Sparkle."

I return her smile with the smile Dash has when she realizes it's her turn to seek.

"I'm sorry, Discord, but no." I don't know what chaos senses were, but I resented that his were tingling.

"You're letting Pinkie Pie help!" The mad god whines, gesturing at Pinkie Pie hard at work with all her mathematical doohickeys and dongles on the tree stump next to us. "And she's almost as random and chaotic as I am."

"Thanks!" Pinkie grins, her eyes obscured by big, pink fluffy blobs of mane which are being forced down by the big, bright yellow hardhat she's wearing. There's no construction going on yet, but she said she needed to feel 'sufficiently architecturey' and I decided not to question her methods. I just gave her this field near town, got Golden to fill out some forms I'd need (and get a train ticket from Canterlot), and decided to step back and let Pinkie work some of her own, unique, magic.

"Any time, dear." Discord sighs. "So why can't I help, again? I have infinite power and I'm bored!"

"You say that like it's helping your case." I point out. "You're both creative whirling-dervishes of madness and chaos, that much is true. There are two big things that Pinkie Pie has that you don't, though, Discord." I hold one wing up, leaning the other way so the shift in balance doesn't make me fall over -- see, I'm learning! -- "My trust." Discord raises a finger on his paw and opens his mouth, but I don't let him interrupt. I cut him off with my second wing. "And!" I pause dramatically. "A masters in applied engineering."

Discord blinks and stares at Pinkie Pie. "A degree? You?"

"Oh, don't sound so shocked." Pinkie Pie pokes her tongue out. "Party cannons and candy-copters don't grow on trees you know. Unless they're fac-trees!" She giggles at her own pun. Discord and I share a bemused glance. "Oh, and I made this funny little thingamadoohickie for Twilight now that I found all her old chums in Canterlot!" Really, Pinkie? Chums?

Ignoring me, Pinkie Pie pulls a thick cylinder of paper out of her mane, supported through the middle by a metal rod. She spins it. Why would I-- ooh! It's sorted alphabetically!

"It's an index and it twirls! I call it a rollydex, because it's an index and it's rolly. I was going to make one filled with my friends, but I think I just invented the phonebook by mistake."

"What's a phone?" Discord and I ask in perfect synchronicity. We glance at each other and shrug.

"I dunno, but whatever it is I have a book for it." Pinkie beams triumphantly.

"This. This is the pony you are entrusting as your architect?" Discord mutters. "Doesn't this stuff require a lot of boring mathematics and equations and what have you?"

Pinkie Pie bobs her helmeted head in affirmation. "Yep! Just call me Pinkie Pi!"

"We already do," he says dryly.

"No, I mean Pi without the e. No! Wait, e is a totally awesome number too! Call me Pinkie Pi e!"

"That's dreadfully-- Twilight, please stop laughing, I'm trying to tell your friend that wasn't funny, and your laughter is somewhat detrimental to my argument."

Must. Stop laughing. At math jokes. Can't. Breathe.

"She likes graph jokes too." Pinkie Pie nods at the mad god sagely. "And puns. Puns are pretty nifty. So you combine them and you get--" and here Pinkie lifts up her copy of the blueprints so far "--a Pie chart!"

Oh that is so awful so why am I laughing? Discord, stop judging me I can't help it! Okay, fine, judge me a little...

Still, Discord looks annoyed and bored. This is a terrible combination for all involved.

"Pinkie Pie, would you mind terribly if Discord helped?"

"What?!" she shrieks. Discord's looking at me contemplatively, wondering what exactly it is that I'm up to. It sounds like I'm trying to do something nice for him? It's obviously a trap.

Usually he's right, but I'm still going to act indignant about it if he says anything.

"Well, I'm trying to design a thief-proof vault. I want it to be safe against everything, and I mean everything, and the only two beings I know capable of thinking of everything, between them, are you two."

"I think I can handle it without his 'help', though." She glares at me. Well, I think she glares, I can't see her eyes through the mane shunted by the hard hat. Maybe she isn't glaring and I'm just projecting my thoughts of what I'd do if I were in her situation?

"Well, yes, but he'd be your assistant, so he could help exactly as much or as little as you like. Even if it's just to get you drinks." I nudge Discord in the ribs. He glances at me, makes a little 'oh!' noise, and with a snap of his fingers achocolate-fudge cloud raining strawberry milk appears above and beside Pinkie Pie's head.

"A color-swapped twist on an old classic." Discord said brightly, shooting me a surreptitious glance that said, "Okay, now what?"

Just wait, Discord. Let the sugar sway her.

"Hrrm... Well, he could make testing the models a lot faster," Pinkie murmured thoughtfully.

Great. If anypony could keep Discord safely entertained it would be Pinkie Pie. Fluttershy was fantastic, for sure, but she wasn't exactly the life of Discord's perpetual-motion party.

"Great!" I say aloud, delightedly, pushing the pair together a bit. "I need to get to the train station."

Pinkie Pie saluted me as Discord started to contort his body fantastically so he could read over and around Pinkie.

As I trotted away I heard Discord ask; "Are these pie cannons?"

"Banana cream!" She confirmed brightly.

Flying now, away from the blast area, thanking the foresight to bequeath Pinkie Pie an empty field.

"Ready, Applejack?" She did say she'd be in charge of labour.

"Eeyup."

"Ready, Rainbow Dash?" She did volunteer for crowd control.

"Probably." She shrugged, "I still don't know what for."

I didn't volunteer to tell them, though. Part of a benevolent dictatorship is having fun keeping secrets. Celestia knows that.

"Well, I'm sort of trying to keep it a surprise." I grin in spite of myself, "But it's going to be a good one, and I need some very, very strong ponies that I can trust."

Big Mac and, yes, that delightful pegasus who appears to have had bowling balls surgically implanted into his shoulders are hooked up to two carts behind them, Applejack with her brother and Rainbow Dash with Muscles.

The train appeared in the distance. One minute, fourteen seconds until arrival.

"It's looking a mite slower than usual." Applejack mutters. She's right. Recalculating to account for sizeable mass of cargo.

"Twilight." Rainbow stares. "Is whatever you brought us here for heavy enough to slow down the Ponyville Express?"

I just smile. This is going to be good. Recalculating.

"It's from Canterlot, we know that much." Applejack points out.

"It's big. It's big and it's from Canterlot." Rainbow murmurs back.

They both think in silence for a moment. Recalculation finished: Fifty three seconds.

"Is it--"

"Dash, I don't think Luna's heavy enough."

"Darn."

I-- what? Also how did Applejack know what Rainbow was-- Forty four seconds.

"Maybe--"

"Not even if Celestia's with her, sugarcube."

Is friend-based telepathy an actual thing or is Dash just that predictable to AJ? Both? Neither? Thirty eight seconds.

"Maybe it's crystals from the crystal caves Chrysalis uncovered?" Dash buzzes, beginning to hover midair.

"Maybe," Applejack says slowly. "Sounds a bit too much like a Darin' Do book."

Good guess though. Thirty two seconds. The brakes grind and groan against the track, heavy metal on equally unyielding metal.

"Geez, I really hate that sound."

"Ain't nuthin' compared to the sound Mac made when we squeezed him inta Granny's girdle." Applejack shoots back, grinning slyly.

I stare at Big Macintosh, still waiting patiently by the cart. He shrugs and smiles at me amicably. "Lost a bet," is all he says as AJ and Rainbow banter between themselves.

"Ah." First Pinkie Pie in a chicken suit, I really don't need this mental image too. What's Bulk doing? Oh. Bench pressing the cart.

Wait, Big Mac's been here the whole time and I've barely even noticed him? I look back and, no, he's just as hunky-dory as he's always been. Maybe even more so with that cart hooked up to him. I wonder why it's not bothering me at the moment? I'm going to have to ask Golden about that later, she'd probably know.

"Come on, Twilight, just tell us!" Rainbow moans, buzzing around the train station in annoyance. Fortunately nopony else is here for her to irritate; the train's not scheduled to be here today.

"Any second now," I sing-song with saccharine sweetness, just because I know it messes with them.

They bite.

"That ain't fair--"

"Aw, c'mon, really--"

The train stops in front of us. The doors slide open slowly, and there's a blinding flash as the first rays of sunlight glint off the carriage full of gold bullion in front of us.

That frazzles them, let me tell you. Their mouths close, then fall open with an audible 'whump'.

"Twilight."

"Yes, Applejack?" I reply, sweet-as-sugar, as Applejack and Snowflake pull alongside the carriage.

"This carriage is full of gold," she points out.

"Why, it most certainly is."

"I must admit, sugarcube, I am pretty surprised."

Rainbow just stares at me making frustrated gestures and sounds, hovering beside AJ in place for the moment.

"What? Wait, no, no wait, what?!"

Applejack takes her hat off and clutches it to her chest. Then, suddenly, she thrusts it into Rainbow's chest, who grabs it, stunned.

"Come on, pardner, it ain't gonna go liftin' itself whilst you're standing there gawkin'."

"It might." Rainbow muttered. "How do you know if you won't even give it a chance?"

"Twi ain't payin' us for nuthin', Dash."

I grin at Applejack. "Who ever said I was paying you four?"

"Sugarcube, you got a train car full o' money. You better believe you're payin' for this."

I glance inside the carriage and lift two very sizeable piles of bullion with a grunt. If I can lift a flipping water tower I can lift a few dumb gold bricks. The piles are carefully lowered into a cart each, so as not to break the axles. Gold is heavywith literal and metaphorical weight! Much better than a cheque.

"Okay, so... We're not lifting it then?" Rainbow shoots me a sidelong look. "So, what, we're just here to look good?" She pauses to consider that. "Actually, yeah, that's something I'm totally okay with."

"Well, you'll be unloading them," I point out as I magic a tarp over the carts. "But mostly I need you girls to guard the carts. Make sure nopony gets too close. Just, please don't make a big deal out of it, I don't want to draw unnecessary suspicion."

"Twi--"

"Yes, Applejack, I am asking Rainbow Dash not to draw attention to herself. This is the flaw in my plan to have two cartponies lug several tonnes of gold across town and deposit them in a field with Spike and hope nopony touches it based on what is tantamount to the honour system."

Applejack stares at me a long second, then just gives me an amiable shrug. "Alright then, so long as you know what yer doin', Princess."

Glad I'm giving that impression... but, no, I have absolutely no idea what I'm doing.

"So, yes, dump it in the field with Pinkie Pie and Discord, next to Spike, then come back for more."

"We have to do the whole carriage?" was Rainbow's incredulous reply. Wait, wait, she asked that question specifically? Using those words? Ooh, I've been practicing my response all day for this.

"Rainbow Dash, I'm not asking you to unload the carriage." With another spark of my horn the latches on three more freight cars slide away, doors opening to reveal more of that same, beautiful, shimmering shine of gold bullion hitting sunlight. Actually, the last carriage was loaded with sacks of bits, since not a lot of ponies can make change for a gold bar. "I'm asking you to unload the whole train."

Her jaw drops. AJ gingerly pushes it back in place, nice and neighbourly.

"Ain't ponies going to be a mite suspicious--"

"Just have Rainbow Dash draw their attention away if they look too closely. I'll be guarding the station, Spike should be able to handle the other end for now."

"Spike?" Rainbow blurts out. The other three stare at her, then stare at me. Darn it, I was hoping she wouldn't notice that, at least until she was out of earshot.

"It's... complicated. Look, we're safer the fewer ponies know, which is why I needed you four. I have my absolute trust in you not to spill the beans, or bullion, and run off. You can't have the guard involved without somepony getting suspicious, and the ponies that would get suspicious would tell more ponies, so you'd need more guards to protect so much money, which is even more suspicious, until you just flat out have a bank detail in Ponyville."

"So, why don't you?" Big Mac asks me lazily. He can be such a loudmouth when he wants to be. I'll forgive him, of course.

"Because that wouldn't be part of the totally brilliant plan I made that requires secrecy." Translation, I totally forgot that was an option now that I can actually afford it. Shoot. "Now, off you go. I'll be waiting." And waiting. And waiting.

Rainbow Dash pulls out a pair of aviators from behind a wing which, really, isn't that confusing after seeing Pinkie Pie pull heavy artillery from her mane. Cannons make for very effective hair dryers apparently. I can honestly just take it for granted that Rainbow Dash has a pair of shades tucked away in case of emergency.

"Alright, we are the first, last and only line of defense in this mare's army right now!" Rainbow declares, putting on her Wonderbolts’ voice. I mean, the one she used when she was trying to sound professional and authoritative, not the one that she put on when she was talking about the Wonderbolts. That's her fangirl voice, and it is adorable. "This is like, a heck of a lot of money right here." She breaks role for a moment to whisper an aside to me. "I mean, wow, did Celestia just cut you a cheque with a bunch of zeroes on the end or something?"

"Luna."

"Oh. Cool." Right back into professional announcement mode to a rather amused Applejack, stoic Big Mac and Bulk, who... looks almost on the verge of tears. "This is the lifeblood of the new Ponyville order! This is what will found a fledgeling nation! With this we hold the entire future of Twilight's domain, and though it is a heavy burden, it is a burden we shall shoulder gladly, for we are the few, the proud, the wagon-carriers!"

"YEAH!"

"Eeyup."

"That was mighty movin' Dash. Now, try to act inconspicuous-like, we've got a long walk ahead of us."

"Right. Troops! Fall out!" That's just met with confused looks. She massages her temples with a hoof. It appears she's mourning the moment we had all just collectively killed. "It means let's go."

So they did.

Leaving me alone with a huge train of money, all by myself.

Not a problem.

It's not like some ponies could smell money or anything. Gold's pretty inert, doesn't give off much of a scent at all. All I have to do is close the doors, wait for the teams to get back, and nopony's the wiser. This is totally going to go off without a hitch.

It's only five minutes of avidly staring at the train and thinking about what I'm going to do with all that money that I realize I should probably be watching the entrances, too.

Fortunately a pony taps me on the shoulder to remind me, courteously.

"Good day, Princess." A cheerful, almost hungry, voice accompanied the friendly tap.

"Hello, Mr. Rich."

Shoot.

Well, that certainly just happened.

What just happened?

I don't know really what happened, I just know that it, in fact, most certainly did happen.

Let's go over it again, shall we?

Filthy Rich's money senses started tingling. Filthy Rich discovers my plan. Filthy Rich... bargained at me. Hard.

That's where everything starts getting a little hazy.

So he wants to spread out from Barnyard Bargains into real estate. Fine. So Barnyard Bargains has powerful connections in the construction industry, what with supplying a lot of their raw materials and tools. Also fine. So he wants a symbiotic partnership to enable the fast and exponential growth of Ponyville. Totally fine, too.

That all sounded fine. Utterly, reasonably fine.

However, when a businessman starts sounding completely and utterly reasonable on his first offer, particularly when that offer is being made next to a literal trainload of the client's money, you know something has gone terribly, terribly awry.

I feel like the mouse staring at the cheese. The fact that I couldn't see a trap, smell a trap or feel a trap just proved it was a very, very good trap. This must have been how Discord felt earlier.

Celestia, Luna and Cadance above, what in Tartarus had I just agreed to?

I’d have to ask Golden later. And get her something nice.

How do you make it up to a pony who's insulted by the nature of their own name? Who's teased about it--

Oh.

Oh, now that was a very good idea. In fact, it might just work on top of all that.

Okay, so, talk to my new resident scrivener, then talk to Golden, then talk to Filthy Rich again. Preferably with a lawyer. A good one.

Unfortunately, I don't know any good lawyers. I have a Rarity, though. A Rarity might be even better.

Right. Spike, then Golden, then Rarity and then finally Filthy. Which meant first talking to Discord and Pinkie Pie.

But that might require leaving the gold unattended... This really was going to take all day if they still hadn't got back from the first cartload.

No! Wait! Brilliant idea! Or is it incredibly stupid? Are stupid and brilliant even mutually exclusive?

Only one way to find out I suppose.

The big problem with cart loads is that gold is heavy, and there's a lot of it. Makes it hard to carry off the train... but the train did just fine didn't it?

So why not just move the train?

You'd just need tracks. Tracks are made of metal bars. The train is filled with metal bars, albeit soft and very expensive metal. The thing is it wouldn't have to last, it'd just have to work once. It'd be like the spell I used to turn raw boulders into hydroelectric dam wall again, only easier.

A pair of bars levitates off the train, followed by another, and another. A new pair of train tracks starts to form across the old ones, melding seamlessly and taking a sharp bend left from the station, though not sharp enough to derail the train. The new tracks are easily distinguishable from the old ones, quite evident from the fact that they are bright yellow.

Gold, one might even say.

I push the train along the new tracks. The tracks below it warp dangerously but the train slides easily enough along. Eventually the whole train is lying entirely on train tracks that weren't there before.

Now all I have to do is-- Oh. Oh, ha.

Hahaha.

Follow the yellow brick road I'm making for it.

As soon as the surrogate track is long enough for the whole train to fit snugly on it I start lifting the pieces of track it came off, then moving them up to the front, like ancient ponies used to do using logs.

Each piece of track pulls away, then clicks back into its brothers in the front line. Pull, click, pull, click, pull, click.

It's very zen, and definitely lots of fun. I don't usually get to practice magic like this very often. Who would? Pull, click. Pull, click.

I see a familiar earth pony staring at me. "Hello, Time Turner!" I wave cheerfully.

He blinks back at me, then backs away slowly.

What? All I'm doing is driving a train carrying gold on railway tracks made of gold through Main Street.

Wait, Main Street?

Yes, to my left is towards Carousel Boutique and to my right is Sugarcube Corner. Up ahead is the town hall. I... did not think this through.

My despondent staring at the tracks I was so proud of thirty seconds ago is interrupted by Applejack's country twang. "There are many things you are good at, sugarcube, but subtlety just isn't one of 'em, is it?"

Shoot.

I grin hopefully at her. "Well, fancy bumping into you four. I was hoping I would."

"We weren't even going this way." Rainbow trots up to the train, looking it up and down as if she didn't quite trust it to not pull faces at her as soon as she turned her back on it. Which is just silly, because trains don't care if you see them or not. "We just saw the train and figured there was only one explanation. We didn't know what that explanation was, exactly, but we knew it had to involve you."

Hopeful grin warps into sheepish grin. "I thought this would save you guys a lot of work, and we could finish faster."

"Let me guess," Rainbow adds before Applejack could stop her, "you were so in-the-zone about how clever you are and how eggheaded this plan was that you forgot to make sure nopony stole anything. Which is why you hired us in the first place."

Er...

Applejack looks very stern and serious for a moment. Her glare bores holes in the back of my head until I hear that little sound, like a snrkt, and her lip twitches a bit.

Oh, goodness, it's just like Luna all over again, isn't it?

AJ bursts into loud guffaws, and I swear I can see the first few hints of tears in her eyes. Rainbow flies over my shoulder. I glance back at the train and see another earth pony stallion reaching up to touch it, only to have his hoof batted away by a very frustrated-looking pegasus.

"Hey, buddy, look but don't touch."

"Geeze, okay, okay, you didn't have to be so rough."

Rainbow snickers at that. I don't know why, it seems like a mean thing to laugh at a stallion telling you-- Oh. I get it now. Darn it Rainbow, keep it under your feathers.

"What made you think heading this way was a good idea? Why didn't you just, y'know, go around the sides?" Applejack's twang made side sound like sahd, which makes me think for a moment how a pony can have such a radically different accent despite being raised just a few minutes walk away from town. It's only a moment because I have much, much more important things to worry about.

Like answering her question.

Her question why I didn't just sort of go around the side to stay out of notice.

That question.

Yep.

Any second now.

"Ah, Twilight?"

Shoot.

"Because sometimes, Applejack, I not a very clever pony. Not a very clever pony at all."

Big Mac just snorts and smiles a little to himself. "Eeyup."

Hey! Mean!

Applejack glances at Bulk. "Go on, you can say it."

"Really? You don't mind?"

"Nah, go ahead."

"YEAH!"

"There we go."

Rude.

"Twilight, remember all those things you were worried about with us? You just did that to yourself, without payin' attention I might add, and there was a heckuva lot less of you to ambush. You're just lucky you've got, what is that thing you're always sayin', 'refuge in audacity' going for you."

Oooh yeah. That would definitely be what you're thinking of.

I got lucky. I was so stupid that I was brilliant. Doing it in one go like this doesn't give anypony who's caught on a chance to lay an ambush.

Alright. Alright, deep breaths. This hasn't ended as badly as it could have.

"Hey!" Rainbow shouts, "Let me go!"

Oh. Oh shoot, oh shoot.

Applejack's already dashed past me before I can turn around. By the time I do, I see what the issue is. A few opportunistic, and somewhat enterprising, ponies have gathered in a small mob and are, well, mobbing Rainbow Dash. There's only three- no, there's only four of them, but against only one Rainbow Dash.

There's a crunch of snapped cartlidge. I watch in awe as the odds even out dramatically, Applejack having charged up to them and pivoted on her front hoof, transferring all her not-inconsiderable momentum onto the worst offender's muzzle, a mustard-coloured earth pony. Rainbow Dash frees herself. It looks like two earth ponies, a pegasus and a unicorn, one of whom is currently down for the count, crying like a little filly. I'd have thought they'd back off, but no. No, nothing is ever that easy.

Rainbow tries to get some height but the unicorn starts plucking feathers. Not a difficult magical task but very certainly a mean one. It distracts her enough to stop her being of any use, but she has enough presence of mind to fight back the remaining earth pony's advance admirably. That leaves Applejack with the pegasus, who darts and ducks and weaves around her harried kicks, occasionally using his wings to kick up huge clouds of dust and dirt into her eyes.

"Consarnit," she yells, "If Ah had mah rope you'd be hogtied right and pretty right now, slick."

"Yeah, but you don't." His voice is nasally and high pitched. Ergo, really annoying. If a voice were kickable, you'd kick this voice. He flicks forward with a quick kick, which Applejack rolls with. Another one gets through her defenses, and I can hear her yelp in shock. Rainbow Dash isn't faring much better, with the unicorn jumping in physically as well as magically now even Dash's impressive martial arts skills aren’t enough for her to defend herself. Not when there's a trainload of gold on the line for these brutes. It's not a battle Dash and Applejack are likely to win on their own. I turn back and see that Bulk is gawping uselessly at the spectacle and Big Macintosh is having some trouble removing himself from his harness.

I levitate them both up and over to the fight, much to their surprise. The cart falls away from Mac in the process, though, so he bears the 'assistance' with impressive stoicism.

I throw them both like darts, Bulk at the unicorn, Macintosh at the pegasus. Bulk's scrawny little wings power him impressively, guiding him towards the unicorn and correcting my aim. Big Macintosh, however, just arms himself with a steely look and muscles that look like they're made of the same, cannonballing into the jerk who dares pick on his little sister.

Abandon all hope all ye who pick on Mac's family, I can say that much. Especially if he gets a magically assisted ‘push’.

It's like a Eweton's cradle. All the momentum Mac is carrying transfers, sending pegasus boy flying and not in the way he's used to. Mac stands stoic and steady in the pegasus's previous location, snorting like a bull, on the ground where the pegasus previously occupied. I walk a bit closer to the carriage.

There's a smaller crowd gathering, obviously waiting to see how the first skirmish panned out before going for their pickings. I really, really lucked out with my team arriving when they did.

There's a meaty thud and a whistle. I look up and see Bulk has launched unicorn boy up and overhead like a lawn dart, horn first. I glance back at the crowd.

I remember when they used to look scared of me.

I hate that.

I hate that I need this.

I hate that, deep down, I sort of want it a little.

"Enough," I roar in full Princessly glory, power and light crashing out of me in furious waves. "Now unless anypony here wants to catch a train--” I struggle a bit, but the train raises a few inches off its tracks. They get the implicit message. "Then I will be taking my train and leaving." The train is gently lowered back onto the makeshift track as delicately as possible before--

Click. Click. Click.

Back in business.

The mob disperses as Bulk and Mac glare them down, Applejack and Rainbow looking... haggard. I've seen these girls face down armies, Sombra, Discord... but a couple of street thugs who play dirty is different. Applejack can't fight dirty, and Rainbow Dash was just caught off-guard. After that she'd have just lost her confidence, and Rainbow Dash without confidence is just really scary. It's scary in that way that hits you in the stomach rather than with adrenaline.

How must she be feeling right now? Applejack would just get mad, get angry, but Dash?

In a brief moment of social lucidity, helpfully guided by my own selfish introspection, I pause placing tracks down and walk over to the pair.

"Twilight? Why'd we stop?"

"We in trouble again? Cause Bucks and Kicks here are itching for a rematch. Show some no-good varmints what-for in a fair fight this time, see what happens then."

Then I wrap Rainbow up in my big alicorn wings and hug her tight. She's shocked, and resists a little at first, but it's only a second before she hugs back even tighter.

"You could have taken those jerks if they hadn't cheated like that."

"Y-yeah, I know." She says it, but her heart's still not in it. I look up for a moment and nod at Applejack surreptitiously. Her eyes widen in realization for a moment, just a moment, then she nods back and she gallops out of what little sight I'm afforded unblocked by Dash's head. Hopefully we had our own moment of friend-telepathy here, and she’s off to find what I think she’s off to find.

"You're still awesome, Dash."

"Yeah. Right," she mutters half-heartedly, but that's still half a heart more than last time.

"He was totally uncool. You're still the coolest pegasus in Ponyville, alright?"

"Right." A bit more confidence now.

"You know, there was four of them, and just two of you, and you held your own. That makes you at least as cool as two of them, and that's two hundred percent cooler."

"You think?"

"You're asking me, Twilight Sparkle, if I think. All I do is think, Dash. Sometimes I think so much I don’t even think about what I'm thinking about because I'm thinking too hard. It's why you were even in that situation in the first place."

"No!" She pushes me out of the hug. "No, it was totally not your fault. It's not your fault those guys were such jerks, or that they came out of nowhere, or anything like that."

I smile softly at her, which just confuses her. "I promise to remember that if you do."

"Why would I need to remember-- Oh." Dash short-circuits. She's trying to find a way to blame herself that doesn't blame me, first. She can't blame one of her friends for anything -- not for something like this. So she can't blame herself.

It doesn't stop her from trying though.

Fortunately, Applejack and I have a secret weapon in the form of a little orange filly.

"Hey, Rainbow Dash! Applejack told me I could ride up top of the train with you!" Her wings buzz excitedly. "Can I? Can we?"

Rainbow looks down at her nervously, timidly even. "I dunno, kiddo. It's kind of dangerous work."

Scootaloo pouts. "But you'd keep me safe, right? You're, like, the toughest pegasus in Ponyville."

Applejack smirks and rolls her eyes, but it's a friendly smile nonetheless. The kind of smile a foal wears when a beloved grandparent's gesture is a little too affectionate, the hug just a bit too tight.

"I dunno, champ. Applejack's pretty tough too."

"Yeah, and she said we could. So she'd know, right?"

Filly logic. It's impossible to argue with. Not because it's a particularly sound argument, mind, but because they make an argument that sounds too logical to dismiss off-hoof and then hit you with the highbeams. Scootaloo even flutters her eyelashes a little. I seriously suspect Sweetie Belle taught her how to do that.

Once more, Rarity would be proud.

"Alright. Alright, that does kinda, sorta, sound like fun," Dash manages before Scootaloo flings herself on Dash's leg and squeezes hard. Dash tries to look like she minds but fails abysmally.

Rainbow being a big softy is one of the most poorly kept secrets in Ponyville. No one's had the heart to break the news to her, though.

Seconds later the train has two new lookouts riding above the boiler. Fortunately I'm pushing the train as opposed to running it, so it's cool enough that they don't burn anything sensitive on it. Dash is looking all sisterly and pointing out to Scootaloo a bunch of cool places and the best spots to do tricks up top and smiling back down at me every few minutes, Scootaloo is fixated on Dash, and Applejack is trying her best not to let Dash see just how amused she is as she takes her lookout more seriously. Big Macintosh and Bulk are sitting on either side of the last train carriage, the one with all the bits, ready to leap out at a moment's notice from AJ.

And me?

I'm lost in my own little world.

Pull, click. Pull, click. Pull, click.

"Choo, choo!" Pinkie squeals delightedly as the train pulls into the station. Conveniently, foundations of the bank have appeared in a large chunk of field, with the base of marble slab sticking out of the ground at about the height of a train platform. Stairs have yet to be built up to it, but there's definitely a floor stuck in the middle. A big spiral ramp corkscrews underground at the far back corner.

Oh, and Pinkie is wearing soot-and-marble-dust coated overalls with her oversized construction hat now. And sitting on Discord's back.

Discord, for his part, looks almost as delighted as Pinkie Pie, and is wearing a giant labcoat covered in stains of all shades and hues. They must have been busy.

"You brought us a whole train! AJ and Rainbow weren't kidding! They didn't say you'd be bringing it all at once, though," Pinkie gushes, bouncing off Discord's back – he looks a bit disappointed by that, actually, they really must have been having fun.

"Change of plans, Pinkie. This was much more expedient."

"Yeah, and it was quicker, too," Pinkie agrees. "So, can we put it back down in the vaults with Spike yet?"

Discord smiles and nudges Pinkie in the ribs with one of his softer toes. She looks back at him in confusion, to which Discord shrugs and makes a 'go on' gesture with his eagle-arm. Pinkie puzzles this over for a moment before gasping silently and turning back to me like her neck is a spring, head bobbing up and down in a manic, excited nod.

"Oh! Oh, you should see what happens to Spike when we add to his hoard. It's so cool. You're going to love this!"

"It's already enough for the effects to be visible?"

"Well, it's only two wagonloads at the moment, but wait 'til we give him a whole trainload!" Pinkie bounced up and down excitedly, in a sort of pitter-patter pattern with her hooves.

The wagons get lined up next to the train and I start heaping generous portions into them. I'm starting to get a bit of a headache from mana exhaustion. At least moving the chunks of gold isn't as bad as pushing the train full of them across town. After filling the wagons, and rehitching Bulk and Big Macintosh to them, we get ready to say hello to Spike.

There was never any doubt that this plan would work. I'm still worried about whether or not the plan will work for the better. A hoard is like a stable form of a greed spurt. In theory. In practice I don't know nearly as much about dragon physiology as I'd like to admit.

I have no idea what giving such a large hoard to a young dragon will do, but very few dragons are as mentally prepared, or as educated, as my Number One Assistant.

Am I worrying? I'm worrying, aren't I? Spike won't turn into a massive monster again. This is... this will be different.

Unless it isn't.

If it isn't, all is lost and my new demesne is doomed and everypony in it will suffer under the reign of God-King Spike.

So... yeah. No pressure.

I follow Big Mac and Bulk Biceps down the ramp, Applejack behind me. I leave Rainbow Dash and Scootaloo in Discord and Pinkie Pie's capable limbs.

Descending the ramp, the vault seems... Well, Pinkie Pie and Discord have really outdone themselves. Discord's covered the place with an impressive matrix and web of detection spells, motive sensing spells, anti-detection spells and even anti-spell-spells, all in a distinct flavour of chaos magic that would take a far less sane unicorn than myself to dissect and dismantle. Aesthetically it looks like an incredibly bank-y bank. The bankiest bank that ever banked.

Polished white marble floors, marble columns stretching into the ceiling and immaculately carved, each branching to the other with arches like gridwork. The walls appear to be laced with dense wrought-iron bands, accentuated on each side by a frame of black marble.

It looks incredibly sensible.

And sitting behind a lattice of steel bars and an open black, pig-iron rolling vault door is a pile of gold, about two wagons worth, which have been arranged into the shape of a throne, on top of which Spike the Dragon is sitting with one of the biggest grins I've seen on him in a long time. Mostly because I haven't seen him this big in a long time, there's more room on his face to fit it on.

Spike's grown a solid inch and a half, and his gentler curves are ever-so-slightly more angular and reptilian.

"Hey, Twilight. Check out my new digs." Spike grins.

In The Hall Of The Mountain King starts playing gently at the back of my head.

Dun dun dun dun DUN dun dun, DUN dun dun, DUN dun dun. Dun dun dun dun DUN dun dun DUN DUN DUN dun dun DUN.

I couldn't help it. It was just so perfectly suited to the moment.

"They're certainly very exorbitant," I say, nodding. "I've got some more for you."

"I can see. How much more is there, anyway? Applejack and Rainbow Dash didn't tell me."

"They must have wanted it to be a surprise. Well, all I'm going to tell you, Spike, is that there's more. You're just going to have to wait and see."

Spike fidgets, like the idea is itchy to him, but acquiesces. "Okay, well... cool. Let's do this thing."

I levitate the gold out of the wagons and through the open door into Spike's own personal little domain. He starts pushing it all together like they're building blocks, making a little platform for his opulent throne to rest on. The spines on his back flex, and the little pudgy, almost teardrop shape, he is stretches, converting more into height. Nothing too serious, but there's so much more gold left it's got me a little concerned.

Not that I don't trust Spike! I mean, he's--

DUN DUN DUN DUN DUN DUN.

Stop it, subconscious, you aren't helping at all.

Big Mac and Bulk start up the ramp to the surface whilst I take the stairs, wondering how this will all play out.

After three more trips, or ten full wagon loads, we've nearly emptied the first train car's worth and Spike is looking decidedly serpentine on his ever-expanding throne. It's a full two gold bars higher now to compensate for his growth. I don't think he's quite noticed it himself, yet. He's looking almost like he did before we took him to the doctor, and the vet. Slender, long, but with a bit more substance to him than he did then. Whereas then was an immature growth spurt, a sudden spark of one that would have burned out the second he acquired what he deemed an 'acceptable' hoard, here he's just being given the hoard straight-out, on the condition that he's mature about it.

Maybe that's it. Maybe it's just as I hoped. His greed-spurt urges are linking his newfound responsibility to the acquiring of a larger hoard.

Maybe he's actually hoarding maturity with the gold?

Neither Mac or Bulk have started to tire yet. Fortunately they're taking heavy things down and an empty cart back, rather than the other way around.

Applejack and Rainbow Dash greet me from their post when we load up for the next trip.

"So." Applejack grins slyly. "How's our special little guy lookin'?"

"Still special, but definitely not so little." I smile back weakly. "You can check him out when we're done. Honestly I should be taking pictures or something."

"No need!" Pinkie says, bursting out of a pile of bits wearing a reporter's hat and suspenders, "I already hooked up the bank's security camera. I'm going to make a flipbook!"

"Awesome," Rainbow Dash and Scootaloo both say at the same time.

By the end of the next carriage we get a good halfway point indicator. Spike's still growing, and now about as tall as Celestia, but what's really fascinating is how he's bulking up. The teardrop shape has not only stretched, now, but flipped, giving Spike a nice, broad, thick chest attached to arms that Rainbow Dash will inevitably call "a killer gunshow" when she gets a hoof on Pinkie Pie's flipbook. The throne arranging has continued but now, instead of adding more lavish decorations to the almost-simplistic chair, Spike has taken to sorting the bars and piling the gold neatly into cubes.

He's not demanding more. He's not even bragging about how 'wicked sick' he looks. The only two questions he's asked on this trip have been "How can I help," and "Why is my back so itchy?"

It's nearly ninety minutes since we started and silently I'm realizing just how much more gold was in the train than I had thought. If I had just left it at the station we'd only just be finishing the first carriageload.

It's at the end of the third carriage that everyone is thoroughly exhausted. Mac is holding up better than Bulk, who was built for lifting much larger weight for much shorter periods of time, but even Mac makes a point of taking a breather at the end of each load when I do the magic stuff. Even I've started getting a bit of a headache, so much so that I just used the phrase "when I do the magic stuff". Fortunately Dash and Scootaloo went off back to town to grab us some lunch, besides the tank of strawberry milk that Discord provided for us.

He's mostly been doing backstroke in the last carriage whilst Pinkie continues to do all the boring, but necessary, planning.

It's at the end of the third carriage that we find out why Spike's back was so itchy, too. He's come upstairs with us briefly whilst we wait for food to show off.

"Guys!" The upside-down-pyramid of draconic muscle that is Spike smiles so wide it looks like the top half of his head might simply slide off backwards, "I got wings! I've never had wings before."

He did. He did, in fact, grow wings.

"Oh, man, I'm so thirsty. Do you guys mind if I...?" He pointed at the small dam of strawberry milk.

Oh, right, I forgot to mention that. Discord and Pinkie Pie teamwork. They seemed to have figured out the best way to catch rain is with a dam, so to catch strawberry milk rain they'd need a pink dam. As such a fudge cloud loomed over what appeared to be a pink, concrete foal's-pool with a sluice and an outlet at the bottom, into which was plugged a small pump. The pump was connected via aquarium tubing back into the fudge raincloud. The whole contraption ended up creating what had to be the most bizarre possible form of perpetual motion known to ponykind.

All banks need to have a fountain, I guess, and I suppose this is the one piece of architecture that can irrefutably prove that Pinkie Pie and Discord had their sticky little hooves and paws on it. A fountain which simultaneously defied the laws of nature, physics and common sense.

Well, Spike had just pointed to it and said he was thirsty. So, I shrugged and said yes. Discord was still swimming laps, having switched to breastroke, and Pinkie Pie's eyes widened in excitement at the thought of a dragon giving it a proper test run, so he got the go-ahead from her, too.

Spike promptly walked over to it, knelt down facing away from it, then fell backwards head-first into it, submerging his whole head.

He then drained about half the kiddy pool with a few loud, chugging gulps.

I gawped. I guess maturity spurts really do take a lot out of a growing dragon.

Spike sat back up, facing us, pink rivulets trickling down his slick, waterproof scales. "Sorry, did anybody else want some?"

I suppressed a grin and shook my head. Applejack settled for a quiet, "Ew," before adding, louder, "No thanks, Spike."

"Oh, don't be such a baby. There's a filter in that pump to keep it all clean."

Then the raincloud started chugging along harder and the pool started filling up to its previous volume, albeit slower than Spike had, and again was, draining it.

"I thought the pump was what was filling the raincloud. How's it producing more?" Headache amplifying...

"Chaos magic, duh!" Pinkie explained, wrapping a hoof chummily around my shoulders. "The pump is just to tell it how full the pool is. You see, the equation for how much power the dam produces is flow multiplied by density times height, and so it produces less power as a direct ratio of its volume. Then, the less milk goes back into the cloud as a result, the more it makes itself pick up the slack!"

"That is the most brilliant stupid thing I've ever heard."

"Thanks. I try." Pinkie blushes modestly, though it's hard to tell under all the already-pink.

"Hey, you guys take a break," Spike breathes as his head once more re-emerges from the strawberry depths. "I need to burn off some of this sugar."

And so he does. He walks over to the last carriage, past a very amused Applejack, and grabs the wagon that Bulk had been pulling, pushing it up to the side of the last carriage. The one filled with bits. He starts throwing bags of gold into the back of the wagon effortlessly. Then, as if that weren't enough, my scrivener decides that walking just won't cut it so, pushing the cart in front of him, he jogs down the corkscrewing ramp, disappearing into the vaults for only a few seconds before reappearing at the top, cart empty, rushing over to the train and filling it up again.

Just watching him is exhausting.

He's managing to empty the cart by himself in about the same amount of time it would have taken the three of us.

And yet somehow I get the impression he doesn't quite get that he's changed yet, even as he throws huge weights around with the ease of... well, of a dragon. More amusing yet is that each load makes his wings that much more defined, makes his spines that much sharper still, makes his jawline just a bit more defined. I'm sure Rarity would describe him as a strapping young lad. Fluttershy would probably call him... um... nice. Rainbow and Scootaloo settle for awesome, once they get back with a veritable buffet of protein-and-carb rich burgers and fries.Which, for the record, is bliss.

Finally he comes up and ducks into the carriage. His head pokes around the side at me and he looks disappointed. "Aww, is that it? I've still got all this energy to burn off."

"Spike, look at you, built like a brick outhouse," Applejack coos. "Woo-ee, looks like a hoard's done you a heck of good."

Spike blinks. "What?"

I smile and lead him over to the fountain of milk. "You realize you're taller than me, right?" I point out as he follows.

"No, you're just-- huh?" He stumbles a bit, realizing that he can well and truly see over my head.

I cast a simple enchantment on the milk, making it as reflective as the surface of a good mirror. He gets a good look at himself.

"So, the wings...?"

"We kind of thought you'd have noticed by then," I whisper. His draconic ears twitch.

Spike grinned goofusly. Not goofishly, that's far less dorky. No, it was definitely goofus grinning.

"Rarity's gonna think I look so cool," he breathed, touching parts of his face and watching the reflected image do the same.

"Before we unleash the beast that is the new Spike on Rarity, though," I interject, "I'm going to need my scrivener to organize a very special set of forms for me. Think you can handle it, big guy?" I try to nudge him playfully in the ribs but my hoof sort of just... bounces right off. Oof.

"Oh, yeah?" He smiles even wider. "I can do that. I can definitely, probably, do that."

"Great. I'll get the forms from the library on the way, whilst I take the train back."

"Ah... how, exactly?"

I... Hrrm.

That's a very good question.

I turn around and yell out to my partners in crime-prevention. "Okay, can I borrow Applejack and Big Macintosh again, then?"

Applejack shoots Dash and Scootaloo a Look. I have no idea what it means, it just seems significant. I check, too-- They seem really happy, actually. It's nice.

"Shoot, Ah think Mac and Ah are up for another round. Whatta ya say, big brother?"

Big Mac stretches and cricks his neck a little to either side. "Eeyup."

"Alright, whaddaya need?"

"Okay, so the plan is that I'm going to clicky-clack, technical words there, the train back to the station, then turn the tracks back into gold bars. I just need you two to do one last wagonload of gold when I'm done."

"Can--"

"You can keep one of the bars as a 'thank you', yes."

Applejack and Big Mac share a glance, then turn back with a nod in perfect sibling synchronicity. "Sounds good, let's go."

Pull. Click. Pull. Click.

Eugh, I remember when this used to be fun. Pull. Now I've got a throbbing headache. Click. It's all going to be worth it, though.

I sneak into the library on the way back. I feel momentarily guilty when I realize why Golden doesn't notice me; she's buried deep in a book titled "Persistence of Self; Or Why You May Already Be Dead!". So making everything up to you, Golden.

I steal a bunch of the forms I'd need from my room and sneak back out again.

When I get back to the vaults, well, Spike's napping. The top of the sun is kissing the horizon, the bottom half long since embraced it, as Celestia and Luna trade vigil. Spike must have burned off all that growth energy after all. Pinkie Pie and Discord are making small-scale models outside that hurt my head just to look at and are indescribable. No, really, they confound logic so thoroughly that all attempts at analogy are an exercise in futility. Rainbow Dash and Scootaloo are long gone, too.

Spike looks so adorable napping in his golden throne, at least.

I nudge him in the side with my horn. His arms flail about a little bit as he jerks awake with some very undignified dragon sounds.

"Is this what I think it is?"

"Well, it's written there in plain legaleze."

He shares in a conspiratorial grin. "This is a license for Golden to--"

"Yep."

"For anyone that--"

"It most certainly is."

Spike fills out the form with a flourish, a stamp he appears to have acquired, several signatures and a puff of dragon's fire. "There. All done. She's going to love it, and a lot of people are going to hate you for this."

"Wonderful, isn't it?" I agree giddily. There's a long pause, and then--

"Can I see see Rarity now?"

"I'm sorry, Spike, I need you to guard your new hoard until we know if there are any side effects and, well, so you can stop anyone from breaking in."

"Oh." Spike says in drippingly obvious disappointment. "I suppose I can't nap, either, if I have to stand guard..."

That's just-- Hrrm.

Idea! Two, actually!

"Well, I need to see Rarity myself--" Spike groans, since he thinks I'm rubbing salt in the wounds, so I carry on quickly "--so I can see if she can visit you. As for the napping..." I run upstairs and grab a spare plank of wood and some rope, making it into a makeshift sign. I run back downstairs and tie it to the bars in plain sight of anyone who would come down here.

Then, blasting it with a bit of magic writing, I engrave the sign in big, black, block letters:

WARNING: LAST PONY WHO SNUCK UP ON SLEEPING DRAGON

"Spike? Could you just blast the floor here?"

He takes a deep breath. I squeal and skitter back a few steps. "I meant after I got out of the way!"

He exhales a big, green ball of liquid flames which splashes against the marble, melting a crater into it and casting a cloud of soot and ash over the surrounding floor. He shoots me a smirk. "You got out of the way, didn't you?"

Mean.

"Here, read this."

Spike slinks through the open vault door -- I'll have to close it when I leave and ask Pinkie Pie for the combination, or key, or whatever this thing has -- and reads the sign.

He laughs and holds out a balled fist.

I bump it with a hoof. Somewhere, somehow, I know Rainbow Dash approves of this course of action.

I get back to the library, thoroughly exhausted. The door opens before me with a slam but here I stand, triumphant, with a lovely present for Golden, who is--

No longer reading philosophy textbooks and looking at me very, very sternly.

Oh, dear. Oh, bother.

"Doctor Princess Sparkle, I just got in contact with Filthy Rich. What the heck did you just agree to?"

"I don't know," I admit gleefully. "I was hoping you could tell me! Also I got you a present!"

"You don't-- but--" she stammers. "What could possibly be more important than sorting out that?"

"Well, getting you and Rarity to help me out. I think you two would be a lot better at this than me," I admit. "So in an effort to prove my trust, and gain your loyalty, Golden Retriever, I hereby decree that, as a civil servant of the highest order, you have been deemed worthy of a license to kick the flank of anypony who teases you about your name within the bounds of this demesne."

She stares at me, stunned.

I levitate, with some of the last of my magic for the day, the little laminated license. Again, weightless paper that is weighted only with metaphorical significance. Unlike a gold bar it fits rather snugly into a wallet.

She looks down at it, then back at me, then back at it. Finally she puts it down on her beautiful desk and salutes me sharply, and I notice a hint of a tear trailing down the corner of an eye, behind the rim of her spectacles.

"It is my honour to serve the one true Doctor Princess Sparkle."

My heart does a little fluttery thing. I should probably see Nurse Redheart about it.

"It'll be good to have a new friend on my side. Now, what's this about Filthy Rich and just how badly I've messed up?"

Author's Note

I have a debate with some jerk in the comments. It's probably worth checking out the oldest comment on this story just to see how it goes.