Princess Twilight Sparkle's 25th Birthday

Chapters

Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6

Prologue

“Pants, what the hay is going on here?”

Smarty Pants kept her head low in the bush beside her country cousin and motioned for silence. The two girls’ eyes were locked on the four ponies walking down the dirt road adjacent to the shrubbery they were hiding in.

Smarty Pants, the light brown earthpony filly from Farrington with a wavy red mane, was the prized pupil of one Princess Twilight Sparkle, Goddess of Magic. And she was pretty sure she was about to have a bad day. The kind of day that almost made her want to call it quits and head back home to work in mom’s shoe shop. Almost.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She’d seen the Princess do the same thing whenever she need calm and focus, and now Smarty Pants was hoping that it would work for her. The little filly was desperate to figure out just how the hay she and her two friends were where they were and why.

Smarty Pants knew that she was somewhere near Sweet Apple Acres. And she knew she was hiding in a bush next to her farmer cousin, the hotheaded red unicorn with blonde pigtails named Honeycrisp.

They weren't first cousins. Heck, they weren't even second cousins. But they were related, at least in the eyes of the Apple family hierarchy. The rules for being a part of the family were sort of patch-work at best. More of a set of guidelines, really.

But rule number one for the Apple family was Family looks after its own. Smarty Pants couldn't help but grin at the thought. She and Honeycrisp have had their share of differences and physical altercations in the past, but there was nopony else she’d rather have at her side when the going got weird. And this was definitely weird.

Smarty Pants chewed on her lip in silent concern, brow furrowed as she watched the three mares and a filly continue on their merry way down the road. The filly she knew well, a lime green pegasus with a nervous fidget to her wings who went by the name of Sandy. Sandy had been Smarty Pants’ best friend for the last two years.

The two friends had whiled away many an afternoon baking or exploring the castle and its gardens. Their friendship was an easy feat, what with the two of them being the only children living in Canterlot Castle. And what fun they had together.

Before Sandy showed up, living in Canterlot Castle was a bit lonely at times. Smarty Pants didn't have to live there all the time, though. She stayed for three or four months at a stretch, with her own room near the library and everything. But she always got to spend a week back home with Mom and Dad before returning to the Princess.

Sandy was the adopted daughter of the Royal Pastry Chef, so she got to live in a big fancy apartment in the castle with her 'mommy' as she liked to call her. Smarty Pants smiled when she remembered the verbal spat between the Princess and the Pastry Chef when Sandy came along. Princess Twilight wanted Powder Puff to enroll her into the Pegasi Academy in Canterlot, but Powder Puff insisted on homeschooling Sandy.

Holy horseapples, did it throw everything for a loop last week when Powder Puff revealed that she was actually the missing Sun Goddess, Celestia, in disguise! Nothing was ever going to be the same again, she was sure of it.

The sound of hooves on dirt in front of her brought her back into the now, and Smarty Pants scolded herself for losing focus. Here she was daydreaming about Sandy, when the poor girl had inadvertently found herself in an impossible conversation. Impossible because the dead can't speak. But there they were, plain as the Sun in the sky; Applejack, Fluttershy, and Pinkie Pie.

Three of the Elements of Harmony. The Elements of Harmony. As in three of the six greatest mares ever to live in the history of ever!

Smarty Pants wracked her brain trying to come up with a reasonable answer as to why Applejack, Fluttershy, and Pinkie Pie were walking down the dirt road on a crisp Autumn morning with Sandy in tow. The four ponies should have been separated by hundreds of years! This sort of thing should never happen. But clearly it was happening and that meant trouble. Big trouble.

Smarty Pants rubbed a hoof through her red wavy mane in bewilderment. First their reappearance last week in order to save the world, and now this.

Last week. Might as well have been a lifetime ago. Smarty Pants remembered vividly how she and her two friends accidentally awoken a forgotten weapon from a darker era, the construct known as the Beacon of Order. In less than a day, it managed to threaten all of ponykind in a misguided bid to destroy Discord once and...

“Where's Discord?” Smarty Pants asked Honeycrisp under her breath.

The not-so-little red unicorn crouching in the bush beside her shot Smarty Pants a curious look, followed by a low growling answer. "Hay, that's right. He walked us here from the train station in Canterlot, right? I bet this is his fault."

Smarty Pants nodded. There goes any hope of figuring out why we’re here, she thought.They all knew there was no sussing out why the God of Chaos did anything. No reason was just as good as any reason to do anything for that gangly pile of mismatched parts.

A wheel from the cart being pulled by Applejack passed just inches from the edge of the bush that she was hiding in and interrupted Smarty Pants’ train of thought.

“So yer from Canterlot, are ya?” asked the orange-coated farmpony.

“Yes, Ma’am.” answered Sandy in her matter-of-factually way.

Applejack couldn't help but pale a bit at the unintentionally insulting title. “Ma’am? Shoot ya can’t be much younger’n Applebloom. What’er ya’ll about, twelve or so?”

Now it was Sandy’s turn to be chagrined, though she did well to hide the insult’s effect. “Actually, I’m fourteen. I’m just a little... little is all.” She smiled a shell of a smile and stared straight ahead down the road.

A soft voice mumbled something and pulled the pony out of her funk and she looked at the canary yellow pony who was looking back at her expectantly. Sandy’s wings fluttered and fidgeted at her side as she spoke. “I’m sorry, I didn't hear your question.”

Fluttershy repeated her question, though a little louder this time. “Are you and your two friends here for Twilight’s birthday party?”

“Oh! Good guess Fluttershy, I bet that’s it. Is that it?” giggled an inquisitive Pinkie Pie as she bounced in time with a squeaking back wheel of Applejack’s cart.

Sandy perked up at the very familiar name. “Do you mean Princess Twilight?” she said, her face scrunching up as she followed up with another question, “Is it her birthday again already?”

The pink party pony did something that sounded like a giggle but ended with a snort “Yepperooni! I’ll have to check with her to be sure, but I think she likes to have one every year.”

Applejack pushed her hat back up further on her head and wiped the sweat from her brow in one deft motion, enjoying the morning's autumn breeze. “And thank goodness for that. Ponyville’s Princess draws a right humdinger of a crowd around holidays. What with all the caterin’ business we do, I don’t think us Apples could feed ourselves through the winter if’n she had two birthdays.”

Fluttershy nodded her head, and caused her pink mane to shift and slide around. As a result, a rather grumpy looking white bunny groggily rose out of the napping nest he had so carefully burrowed into it.

“Oh yes,” said Fluttershy, ignoring the bunny’s angry chattering and occasional soft kicks against the back of her skull, “and with all the visiting ponies in Ponyville, it looks like this year's celebration will be just as big as her twenty first birthday.”

Pinkie Pie giggled at that, also ignoring the abusive rabbit on her friend’s head. “That was a real doozy of a party! Best party I've ever thrown if I do say so myself. And I do say so myself!”

Smarty Pants was distracted from the conversation momentarily when she heard a soft rustling to her side and turned in time to see Honeycrisp stick her entire face out of the bush.

“Honeycrisp!” she hissed, “What are you doing?”

“I can’t hear them anymore.”

“So! Get your head back in here, you’re going to get us caught!”

“Like fun I wi— HAY! LET GO OF ME!” she shouted absentmindedly as she struggled with her earthpony cousin.

Both girls realized their mistake at almost the exact time and, no longer struggling, pulled each other back deeper into the bush.

“Hello?” called Applejack over her shoulder from the harness of her stopped cart. “Is somepony out there?”

Chancing a peak out of the bush, Smarty Pants saw the four ponies scanning the side of the road behind them, looking for the source of the shout that stopped them.

Temporarily distracted from his assault on the back of Fluttershy’s head, the abusive bunny also looked around nervously. But, unlike the others, his keen bunny eyes absolutely did notice something. And he was looking right at the bush that Smarty Pants and Honeycrisp were hiding in.

The rabbit chirped in lago-euphoric glee as he hurried his way down his owner’s silky mane and onto the dirt road below.

“Angel, you be careful out there!” called an increasingly worried Fluttershy, “There’s no telling what that sound was. It might have been something scary. Like a monster!”

Applejack and Pinkie Pie exchanged knowing looks and the farmpony rolled her eyes. “I’m pretty sure it wasn't a monster, Fluttershy. Sounded more like a filly to me.” she said with a smile.

Smarty Pants watched as the little white rabbit quickly bound the few yards to their bush and then launch himself the final few feet in a single bounce. She could see that there was a hunger in the rabbit’s eyes, and in their pooled reflection, she saw the object of his desire. It was the tip of something red. Something carrot-shaped.

There was no time to think. There was little time to act. The only thing Smarty Pants managed to do before Angel bit down on his prize was hit the deck and bury her head in her hooves.

Half an instant later, Applejack’s smile melted away when the bush Angel had just leapt into erupted into a wall of fire. The conflagration was over in the blink of an eye, leaving a blast crater behind. A crater with two blackened ponies; one earth and one unicorn, and a still smoking ash-grey bunny stopped in mid bite on the unicorn’s red horn.

“Horn.” said the slightly trembling unicorn standing stock still at the center of the blast radius. Her right eye twitched and she opened her mouth to elaborate further. “Horn,” she added helpfully.

Fluttershy was the first of the three older mares to shake herself from the confusion of what just happened. She gambled the few yards over, flapping her wings the whole way, until she came to a skidding stop in front of the unicorn.

“Angel, you let go of that horn right this instant, mister.” she said sternly.

Blearily, he acquiesced and dropped into his owner’s waiting hooves and she hugged him tightly to her chest, nuzzling and cooing her half baked bunny.

“Oh my goodness, I am so so sorry,” she said as she inspected the young unicorn’s horn, “It doesn't looked damaged. Does it hurt? Oh, Angel, you know better. We've talked about this, haven't we? Horns aren't... carrots...”

Smarty Pants looked up from her achy pony pile and saw Fluttershy. The yellow pony was just a few feet away staring at Honeycrisp like she was a copy of a favorite book written in a foreign language. Familiar, and yet completely alien. She watched as Fluttershy’s face flickered with competing emotions.

Smarty Pants understood the feelings that Fluttershy was experiencing, because she experienced those same feeling just a few short moments before when she grabbed her cousin and rolled into the bush. It was the sensation of seeing deep into time, and finding what remains of yourself. Though Fluttershy didn't know it, she was a direct ancestor, hundreds of years removed from both Honeycrisp and Smarty Pants. Princess Twilight's protégé didn't know what was going to happen next if she didn't act, but she knew that she had to do something.

Tearing her eyes away from Fluttershy, she looked down at the ground and willed herself to stand back up, appreciating her earthpony fortitude as she did so. Once more on her hooves, she took in her surroundings, not willing to look another pony in the eyes, for fear of a chain reaction. Fluttershy and Honeycrisp were to her left. Applejack had unhooked herself from the cart and was approaching from the right. Beyond her was a sitting Pinkie Pie and beside her was her target. Her friend.

Smarty Pants ran as best as she could past Applejack, and over to Sandy. Against her better judgement, she caught Pinkie Pie's face out of the corner of her eye and saw a wave of emotions splash across her pink face. Then, without so much as a word, Smarty Pants hoisted her bewildered pegasus friend on to her shoulder and ran off in the opposite direction of the Elements of Harmony.

Sandy waved about frantically, as she was hauled off bouncing along on the other girl’s shoulders. “Smarty! Put me down! Your coat is sooty and you smell like burnt hair!”

Ignoring Sandy’s pleas, she turned her head and shouted as she ran past the still shaken Honeycrisp. “Let’s go!”

“Go on,” said Fluttershy calmly to the red unicorn, “your friends need you.”

Rubbing at her sore horn, the unicorn nodded, but couldn't look away from Fluttershy until she was more than a hooffull of yards away. The unicorn made to trot after her friends, but then she stopped. She stopped and looked over her shoulder at Applejack, who returned the filly’s carefully measured stare. “Can I help you?” the farmpony asked incredulously.

The strange filly shook her head, but smiled all the same before walking off.

“What in tarnation was that all about?”

“I have no idea,” offered Fluttershy as she fussed with Angel’s coat from her seat in the dirt. “Do you think they’ll be okay?”

Applejack heard Pinkie Pie let out a ragged sigh from her spot behind the two of them before gasping. “Oh no! I didn't get their names! That was probably the worstest ‘Welcome to Ponyville’ welcome I've ever given somepony.”

Applejack arched an eyebrow at that as she hooked herself back into her harness. “Probably?”

“Did I ever tell you about the time I met Cranky?”

“Eenope.”

“Yeah,” she said as she rose to her hooves and slumped over to her two friends. “This is probably tied for worstest.”

“Well,” started Applejack throwing a reassuring hoof over Pinkie Pie, ”They can only get better from here, right?”

“Thanks Applejack,” answered Pinkie with a small giggle and an even smaller smile.

“Now, let’s head over to the house so you can help Granny Smith with the bakin’ while Flutters’n I load up the last set of carts.”

“Um, girls... Would it be alright if we stop by my cottage first? I need to get a certain little naughty mister all cleaned up.”

Applejack and Pinkie Pie shared a look before shrugging.

“So long as we don’t take too long, that’s fine by me. Those victuals fer Twilight’s party won’t bake’n deliver themselves. Shoot, maybe we can get Big Mac to help us and we’ll make up for lost time.”

Fluttershy beamed a smile at her apple loving friend. “Oh?! Yes please! I mean. Oh, do you think he’d help us?”

“Smarty Pants?”

“WE’RE IN TROUBLE, WE’RE IN TROUBLE, WE’RE IN TRO—“

“Smarty Pants. Are you—“

“E’RE IN TROUBLE, WE’RE IN—“

Sandy closed her eyes and sighed. Then she flexed and flapped her green wings in that special way that only she seemed able to do, and a tiny twister engulfed her and her kidnapper/best friend. The world spun around and around as the twister pulled Sandy out of the earthpony’s grip.

She stopped flapping her wings and locked them out in their full extension, causing the small though surprisingly vicious dust devil to dissipate into nothingness. Then the pegasus sailed back down to the ground beside her dizzy friend.

“Smarty Pants, why are we in trouble?”

“Because... Because... Actually, I’m not sure. Maybe we’re not?” Smarty Pants asked as she shook the spinning magenta stars from her eyes.

“Maybe we’re not?” Sandy blinked at her with a furrowed brow. “How could can we maybe be in trouble? Either we’re in trouble, or we’re not, right?”

Smarty Pants sat there and played with her wind poofed red mane. When she managed to get it back down to just wavy, she continued. “Well, the way I see it, there’s three options here.”

Sandy nodded, and Smarty Pants began counting out on her forehooves. “Option the first: We’re not in trouble because we are actually dead.”

“Dead?!” squeaked Sandy. “I don’t want to be dead!”

“Who’s dead?” asked Honeycrisp, trotting down from up the road.

“We’re dead,” said Sandy with watery eyes and trembling lips.

This bit of news stopped the red unicorn in her tracks. “We’re dead?”

“Maybe,” said Smarty Pants holding up a foreleg.

Honeycrisp looked at Sandy and saw the I’m ready to sob at a moment’s notice look on her face. Then she looked over at her earthpony cousin with her tenuous-at-best grasp on reality.

Her right eye twitched. “Alright. I’ll bite,” she said with a wince at the unintended use of the word ‘bite.’ Rubbing her horn she asked, “What exactly are we talking about?”

“Smarty Pants told me that we’re in trouble.”

“Or dead!” the aforementioned filly chimed in helpfully. “Look, it’s like this. Those three mares back there? Three of the four dead Elements of Harmony. But they were alive and kicking right? Okay, so. Three options.”

“I knew there was something funny about those mares!” interrupted Honeycrisp, “I felt it inside. Like... There was some sorta connection.”

Smarty Pants nodded, “I felt it too.”

Sandy sat up and rubbed her left foreleg with her right hoof. “I didn’t feel anything specia—”

“Okay, so like I said, Three options.” Continued Smarty Pants. “Option one: We’re dead, so we’re not in trouble, because dead. Option two: we’re alive, and we've done something to bring the dead back to life, in which case, we are definitely in trouble, since Necromancy is crazy illegal. Option thre—”

“Option three,” butted in a new voice. “You've been whisked away on a fantastical journey through both time and space, but mostly time, by everypony’s favorite God of Chaos—“

“Discord!” shouted all three girls at once, as the grinning draconequus swam in lazy circles through the air above them.

Chapter 1

“That’s right, my little fillies, me again. How was the trip?”

“I wanna go home,” pleaded a teary eyed Sandy.

Smarty Pants stomped her hooves in frustration before throwing her own questions right back at him. “What the hay, Discord? Throwing us back in time? What were you thinking?! I thought we were frien—”

“Friends? Pshaw, what do I need with mortal friends? All that heart break over somepony without the common decency to live forever? No, once is enough, thank you very much.”

“But… we can’t—” started the confused earthpony before being interrupted a second time.

“No, what I need is minions! And you three will do nicely,” he flicked her on the noggin and her golden eyes rolled about in her head.

Honeycrisp stood at the ready, with legs apart and her head lowered. “What do you want from us?” she snarled at the one-time nemesis of Harmony.

Discord landed on his mismatched legs with a thump that sent up a small cloud of fallen leaves. Wistfully, he snapped a pair of fuzzy fingers, and all around them the world faded to black.

Smarty Pants sat in the darkness and felt ears pop painfully. The ever-present smells of ripening apples and yellowing leaves left her nostrils on the next breath, and were immediately replaced with the tang of centuries old dust.

Smarty Pants felt oddly tired. Drained. It was all she could do to stay awake.

The three ponies sat in dark silence for a time. But then, a piercing line of color and light appeared in the dark horizon. The strip of light began to grow and fill the otherwise empty space like a sunrise. It was then that Smarty realized that the light came from a curtain being raised. A massively wide curtain in front of a window too large to be real.

As her eyes adjusted to the light, she tried to blink away the onset of exhaustion so she could marvel at the scene on display before her and her two best friends. The ground beyond the window was a chalky white, as if countless centuries of dust had piled up over hills and craters. She watched numbly as the bright ground cover gave way to a midnight blue backdrop filled with tiny spots of light as far as the eye could see.

It was a stunning night’s sky that was for sure, but there was something off the ground and how bright it was versus the night’s darkness. Then, as the curtain finished the last quarter of it’s assent, the moon came into view. It was unusually large, and Smarty Pants wasn’t sure why it was so verdant and green with life.

Then it hit her.

The facts came barreling through her brain and the implications sent shivers down her spine. “That’s no moon.” She heard herself mumble absentmindedly to the other girls.

A spotlight somewhere in the blackness above them sprang into life and shined down upon a familiar figure sitting on an obsidian throne raised on a pedestal and lined in strange blue stone, positioned in the front center of the room. But he wasn’t looking out to appreciate this once-in-a-lifetime view, no. He was facing the girls with his mismatched hands steepled in front of his smug smiling face.

After a moment, the draconequs drew in a breath through his nostrils and let it out with a grin. “Ladies, welcome to the moon.” As he spoke, his voice carried and echoed through the chamber, carrying the full weight of his words.

Smarty Pants turned her head sluggishly to look at her two friends as she heard Honeycrisp swallow audibly. Sandy was shaking like a leaf and she looked a bit greener about the cheeks, hard to do for a lime green pegasus. Smarty Pants herself felt wrong and had ever since her ears popped. But she was beginning to understand why.

Being an earthpony so far from the soil… Seeing the ground so far up in the sky above them... Well there were no words for it other than, disconnected.

The little brown earthpony never really noticed the hum of life beneath her hooves until now, when it was gone and sorely missed. Even last weekend, in Cloudsdale, the clouds felt of rain and life. This dead rock, this moon... The lack of life was an ache in her hooves as much as in her heart. Her tongue felt heavy and two sizes too big for her mouth and she continued to fight the urge to fall asleep where she stood.

“W-we’re on the moon?” she thought she heard one of her friends ask. Sandy, probably.

“Yes indeed, my dear. Luna’s little home away from home. Nice, isn’t it?” his smile faltered, “Well, truth be told, this throne room was last used by a different mare with a bit more flare for the dramatic. Or was it a bit less? Regardless,” Discord finished as he dragged a fuzzy finger across the throne’s armrest, “it could use a thorough dusting.”

“You want us to dust the m-moon?!” gasped Sandy.

“What?” asked Discord, immediately shaking his head. “No, no, no, silly filly. I need you three to go on a little treasure hunt for me.”

“On the moon?!” Sandy again.

“No! What is with with... Look, you don’t need to do anything on the moon except listen to what I’m about to say.”

“Then why are we on the moon?” asked a bewildered Honeycrisp.

The God of Chaos leapt out of the throne and down onto the carpet runner below. He threw his hands up into the air and growled, “Moon, moon, moon! What’s with all the moon questions?! You don’t like the moon? Fine.” The tufts of his tail snapped together and the world once again faded to black.

But like the sun breaking through clouds, Smarty Pants felt her whole body fill with warmth and life once more, from the frog of her hooves to the tippy top of her wavy red mane. She smiled and took big lung full of air.

And then she coughed it right back out with a frown.

“Ugh!” protested Honeycrisp with a wave of her hoof in front of her muzzle. “What’s that smell?”

“Bat guano,” said Discord in a manner so chipper that Smarty Pants could feel the grin on him.

It was still pitch black, and Smarty Pants was starting to wonder if Discord had low light vision. For the most part it was silent, save for the occasional rush of wind against a mane or the sporadic dripping of water somewhere in the distance. Above them, a new spotlight sprang into life, enveloping the draconequus before them in a cone of pure light.

“Ladies, welcome to...” Discord stopped speaking and stared out into the darkness. Then with a flick of will, he aimed his spotlight at something beyond the three fillies. “HOLY SOLAR FLARES, WHAT IN TARTARUS IS—”

A roar filled the air behind her, and Smarty Pants felt her coat become slathered in a foul smelling substance. When the roar subsided, she turned around to see what Discord was pointing at and Smarty Pants let out a roar of her own. One of pure, unadulterated pony terror.

The purple translucent creature looming over the four of them was like a bear, in the same way that an adult dragon was like a gecko. Its body was filled with stars, not unlike those they just witnessed from the moon. Hanging out of its mouth were two tower sized teeth, dripping with more of the foul smelling substance, that Smarty Pants, ever the eager student, quickly identified as ‘super icky giant bear monster saliva’.

The creature’s huge claws raked the cave floor, shattering stone and shaking the earth in a very real and very threatening way.

Curiously, a much smaller -though still larger than most houses- bear monster cub was huddled beneath the larger one, looking at the four of them as if they were the terrifying monsters. At that moment, the larger bear wiggled its massive rear and lunged at the completely and utterly boned quartette. Thinking she was going to die in this forgotten hole deep within the world, she squeezed her eyes shut and felt her friends huddle in around her.

If she had to go, at least she’d go in good company.

A second passed, and then another. More came and went, and she realized that she had not yet been eaten by a colossal momma bear. She peaked open an eye and let out the breath she didn’t know she was holding.

The unfortunately unforgetable smell of guano was gone for the most part, but not entirely as a shake of her head let her relive the ‘joy’ of the fragrant fumes that had coiled their way into her mane. Super, she thought to herself, could today get any weirder?

Opening both eyes, she was greeted with the sight of a curled up Discord, rocking back and forth as he held his knees in front of him. How he did this while floating in the air, was beyond her.

“W-where are we now?” asked Sandy.

Discord looked over and saw the three girls. Realizing that they were witnesses to his little break down, he straightened out and tried to be as nonchalant as possible. Which was rather difficult for a god who had narrowly avoided being devoured by one of the forty two Elder Things.

He cleared his voice and smiled his cocky-yet-oddly-reassuring grin. “We’re completely safe now. This is my own little dimension. A pocket of reality, if you will.” On a whim, he summoned four bean bags into existence and organized them on the floor such that nopony in his little audience would miss a second of what he had to say.

“So! Treasure hunt. You three. Gonna be fun!” he said, nodding enthusiastically. “Are you interested?”

Honeycrisp walked forward and plopped down in the beanbag in front of her and arched an eyebrow. “What if we’re not?”

“Oh, I see,” pouted Discord. “I save you three from a boring night of sitting around in a treehouse painting hooves and brushing each other’s manes, and this is the thanks I get?”

Honeycrisp grumbled and rubbed the aching spot on her forehead, just below the horn, “Discord... That’s not what—”

“No no, say no more. I know when I’m not wanted. I’ll just go ahead and see myself out.” He poofed out of existence, but not before sniffling back crocodile tears. Moments passed in silence as the three girls tried to piece together what the heck was going on.

Then it hit Smarty Pants just as she was thinking about getting up to leave.

“Oh horseapples,” cursed Smarty Pants from her beanbag. “Discord, come back!”

A second poof, and he appeared again in a ratty pink bathrobe and a bucket of ice cream tucked gingerly under his left arm. “Yes?” he asked as he spooned a scoop of the frozen dessert into his goateed maw.

“We’re stuck here until you let us leave, aren’t we?”

“Maybe.”

“And you’re not going to let us leave until we’ve agreed to your treasure hunt, are you?”

“Definitely.”

“WE’LL DO IT!” Shouted Sandy from the beanbag to Smarty Pants’ left. Her eyes were clamped closed and her face was scrunched up with determination.

Smarty smiled a good natured smile at her cowardly friend. Maybe Sandy was braver than the earthpony gave her credit for.

“I wanna go home and see my mommy,” muttered Sandy into a fidgeting wing.

Then again, maybe not. Thought Smarty Pants with a roll of the eyes.

She glanced over at her cousin who gave her a shrug and a nod before turning back to the draconequus. “Yeah,” Smarty sighed, “we’re in.”

“Splendid!” shouted the God of Chaos as three lists materialized into the pocket dimension. They danced through the still air before coming to a stop. One in front of each of the three girls.

Smarty Pants looked at the list and was a bit confused. There was no order, no real structure. She had two items written on her piece of paper. One of them vertically, the other with reversed letters and written backwards. One had a bullet point, and the other had a check box! At the wrong end! She blanched at the affront to checklists and found herself gritting her teeth in disgust.

She looked over at her two friends, but they seemed oblivious to the sacrilege that was apparent to her.

“A-a rubber chicken?”

“What the hay is a ‘breezy blossom’?”

Swallowing her pride for the moment, Smarty asked “So... Would any old spool of thread do, or—”

Discord shushed Smarty Pants with the tap of a fuzzy finger. “Oh, you’ll know it when you see it.”

“But how?”

As if to answer her question, there was a bright flash. A six sided box appeared. It was shaped like a perfectly carved gem.

It appeared in brilliant existence in the empty spot between the four assembled beanbags. The box shimmered prismatically as light from unseen sources danced across its gleaming metallic surface in rainbow waves.

For just a moment, she could swear that she saw the rainbow reflect again, but this time in the blue and pink eyes of her two friends sitting on bean bags next to her. Odd. She shook her head, and all three reflections were gone.

“Did that just happen?” she asked aloud.

“Did what just happen?” questioned Sandy as she draped her friend’s back with a lime green wing in comfort.

“...Nevermind.” Smarty Pants had never seen anything like that before. Or the box, for that matter. But she knew that whatever was in this box was important. Super important.

“So, uh. What is it?” asked Honeycrisp.

“It’s a box,” said Discord plainly, “More importantly it’s a locked box. And it needs six keys to open. If you’d be so kind to look at your lists, you’ll see that each of you needs to find two keys that are hidden here.”

Sandy looked around curiously. “Here? In your pocket detention?”

Discord chuckled despite himself, “No, not here here. Here,” he said as a window appeared above the locked rainbow box. The rainbow revealed a panning panorama of a small town with a surprising amount of hustle and bustle. “in Ponyville!” he said with grand flourish and a kazoo accompaniment.

Smarty Pants was ready to refute his claim, when the familiar outline of a certain library passed into view. Since when did Ponyville have dirt roads? she wondered to herself.

“Psh! Nice try, Discord, but that’s not Ponyville.” crowed Honeycrisp with a smirk.

“Oh firebug, how you wound me,” pouted Discord. “Of course it is. Or rather, of course it was.”

“Was?” asked Honeycrisp with her ears flattened to the back of her head as she nervously kneaded away at her beanbag.

“Was,” he nodded, “because the keys don’t exist in your time. Today, rather this today in the past, seems to be the last day in history that all six keys are accounted for.”

“Where did you get it?” asked Smarty Pants

“Get what?” asked Discord as he glanced this way and that about the little pocket dimension, “This?” he asked as he lifted the window to Ponyville up in his hands and inspected it from different angles.

“The box, Discord. The box.” sighed Smarty Pants while she rubbed her temples.

“Oh!” he exclaimed as the window faded into mist, “I’ve had this for ages. You know, it’s a funny story. Would you like to hear it?”

“No,” stated Honeycrisp plainly.

“Not really…” trailed off Sandy.

“Yes, please.” asked Smarty Pants as nicely as possible from behind the forehooves pressed against her eyes to stave off what was sure to be a headache.

“Right. So, there I was, minding my own business in Fluttershy’s bathroom, right? When all of a sudden, I felt something. Something that filled me with rage!”

“Uh...” started Smarty Pants, entirelysure she did not want to know what he felt in her really-great grandma’s bathroom.

“What was it?” asked Sandy, oblivious to or inspite of the implications.

Discord looked at the green filly and his expression soured at the memory of it. “It was an impostor!”

“An imposter?” asked an unbelieving Honeycrisp. “You mean like, another Discord?”

Smarty sat up straight and her red wavy tail tingled.

“Yes,” huffed Discord, "and he had the audacity to use my chaos magic!”

“Wait,” said Smarty Pants trying to interrupt, as her left shoulder began to twitch.

However Discord did not wait. “I had an awful time tracking him down at first. He was all over the place! Deep underground, way up in the sky beyond the clouds, but eventually he cornered himself in my pocket dimension!”

“Oh no, then what happened?” asked Sandy.

“Wait! You—” tried Smarty Pants again, as her ears flapped against her skull arhythmically.

But Discord was off to the races again with yet more exposition. “Well, I told Fluttershy, and she brought a few of her little friends along to face the impostor.” He smiled wistfully at the memory.

“Oh, you should have seen it. We fought for hours. And all over the globe, too! We even managed to knock loose a seal or two on some frosty prison holding those Wangdangers or whatever they’re called,” he said with a dismissive flick of the wrist.

Discord let out a nostalgic sigh as he finished his tale. “But, in the end, the impostor got away. For the life of me, I still have no idea how he did it.”

“Did you ever find him again?” asked Sandy hopefully.

“You know, I thought I did! Last week, in fact! But it was just me from the future. I was so sure he was bluffing again and I was about to take him, but the Beacon of Order really did a number on me,” he said with a disapproving shake of the head.

Smarty Pants found herself gritting her teeth as the tremors throughout her body intensified.

“But... What about the box?” asked Honeycrisp. “Did the impostor take it with him?”

“Oh no, child, no. The handsome devil left it behind. But it’s mine now. To the victors go the spoils, finder keepers, etcetera etcetera.”

He waved off another interruption from Smarty Pants. "Long story short,” he cooed as he pulled out a small felt bag with a drawstring from behind his back, “it’s taken me until just the other day when I finally had a free moment to give that wonderful new time walking spell from Celestia a spin…” He reached into the bag and pulled out a clawful of tiles. “To discover that the keys were somewhere... in...” with a flourish he cast the tiles onto the ground around the locked box.

“Ponyville!” he shouted triumphantly.

The tiles each had letters on their faces. There were seven of them.

“Cazique?” read aloud a befuddled Honeycrisp.

There was silence as the draconequus floated smugly in the still air, buffing his talons against his chest.

Then there was the sound of an unusually fidgety Smarty Pants clearing her throat. “D-Discord?” she finally got to ask, “When you say ‘ages’, are we t-talking hundreds of years or thousands of years-s?”

Discord stroked his chin with a leathery wing. “Oh, hundreds, definitely.”

“M-mhmm, and w-was there anything curious about this impostor? L-like did he look exactly like y-you and did he say say, oh I d-don’t know, that he was from the f-future or s-something?”

Discord stared at the tweaking filly and began to nod slowly. “Yes... How did you—”

“Okay, last q-question. W-was the imposter alone when you found him in your p-pocket dimension? P-perhaps some fillies were with him? Say, th-three fillies? Maybe they looked l-like us?”

Behind the three girls, Discord gasped. Then, in front of the three girls, Discord looked up and gasped at his gasping counterpart.

“Impostor!” yelled the new Discord.

Future Impostor Discord’s eyes became little red pin-pricks and he crossed his arms defensively in front of his face. “Wait, no! I’m from the future!” he pleaded.

“Lies!” spat the other, as he jumped through the air and collided into his doppelganger. They both tumbled off into the immeasurable ether beyond the walls of the pocket dimension in a flurry of teeth, claws, pancakes, golf clubs, and rubber duckies carefully labeled ‘TNT’ in big bright letters.

Squeak! went one such rubber ducky as it came to rest a few feet in front of the filly trio. It’s beady red eyes began to blink and a hissing sound filled the air.

Without meaning to, Smarty Pants found herself at the bottom of a rather sudden pony pile, with Sandy on top of her and Honeycrisp on top of Sandy. A red magical aura flickered and flashed around the three fillies on a single beanbag as the deadly bathtime toy exploded. The resulting inferno tried its best to eat through Honeycrisp’s barrier.

Her unicorn cousin grunted with effort, but in the end, the spell was maintained long enough for the fire to burn itself out. She felt the weight of one of her friends leave her back. Then the weight of the other.

Soon it was just Smarty Pants on the last remaining bean bag. She wondered, for the second time that morning, if it would be safer to call off this whole ‘Princess’s Pupil’ thing and head home to work her mom’s shoe store in Farrington.

Safer? Yes. But not nearly as much fun, she decided with a curt nod.

Somepony tapped Smarty Pants on her no longer twitching shoulder and she looked over to see Honeycrisp staring beyond the light brown earthpony’s flank. She turned around and saw an open door that stood alone in the emptiness.

It lead into a modest looking cottage and the tickling breeze from beyond smelled of autumn in the woods and brewing tea.

Though she had already pieced together what came next, Smarty Pants couldn’t help but wince when she saw the forms of three confused mares standing aghast on the other side. On one of the faces beyond the door, the quizzical look of uncomfortable concern melted away into the broad grin of unfettered excitement.

“You’re from the FUTURE?!” shouted a positively perky Pinkie Pie.

Chapter 2

So it was that Smarty Pants and her two friends found themselves sitting on a timeworn sofa in a small and cozy cottage.

A quick glance out the open window by the front door revealed a yard full of happy critters and a stone bridge that crossed the shallow brook just beyond. Smarty Pants closed her eyes and let the sensations of this peaceful corner of the universe envelop her.

The air smelled of an amalgam of dry pet food, fallen leaves, and recently washed linen. Outside, the brook babbled merrily to itself. Her ears twitched for a moment and she heard the wind pick up and whistle through the trees that lined Fluttershy’s idyllic property. And just on the edge of her senses, she heard the sounds of three mares softly murmuring to each other in the kitchen.

She frowned at that. Not because she was unhappy that they were there, just that it was so confusing. Smarty Pants knew in her heart of hearts that she was a descendant of those three mares. A distant descendant. As in roughly five hundred years, distant.

It was a curious sensation, knowing that your long dead ancestors were standing in the other room, separated from you by a curtain of colorful beads. Smarty Pants’ mind wandered tantalizingly about the many things she could learn from them. The things they could teach her.

Things I can never ask, she realized with a pout. After all, there was no knowledge was worth changing the fate of the world over. At least, as far as she knew.

She opened her eyes again, and watched a wind chime made of seashells and hollow reeds beyond the open window sing on the breeze. When the same wind reached her through the open window, Smarty Pants couldn’t help but shiver as the autumn air danced through her wavy red mane. She wrapped her hooves around herself and rubbed her forelegs.

“Oh, you poor dears, this room is positively drafty,” came a voice from the threshold of the kitchen.

Smarty Pants turned her head and smiled at the yellow pegasus walking through the bead curtain. On her back she carried a simple wooden tray with an unusually elaborate serving set for tea. Fluttershy shook her head with a furrowed brow and mumbled to herself as she trotted over to the small coffee table that sat before the sofa.

“I’m so sorry,” she said as she focused on the delicate task of setting the tea tray down for the three time-stranded fillies. “I forgot to close the window after dusting this morning. Why, one of you could catch a cold. Or all three of you! What kind of hostess lets her house guests sit in a drafty house? Oh my, oh no, this won’t do at all.”

As she spoke she quickly set about the service of tea with well-practiced precision. She poured three porcelain cups on hoof-painted saucers to the halfway point before looking up at her guests. Then she looked up and locked eyes with Honeycrisp.

Honeycrisp regarded her and her three cups cagily as she played with her blond pigtails. Fluttershy nodded and, although no words were spoken between the two of them, the pegasus filled her cup the remainder of the way and passed it to the red unicorn.

Then Fluttershy studied Sandy’s face who regarded the pretty older pegasus with a genuine smile, thankful to be done with Discord’s recent antics. Fluttershy smiled back before tending to Sandy’s cup; three sugar cubes and a dollop of heavy cream for the green pegasus. A small silver spoon was added and the cup with its saucer was offered to Sandy. She took it eagerly and her wings fidgeted with inhibited glee.

Finally it was Smarty Pants’ turn. Smarty Pants returned Fluttershy’s stare as best she could, wearing a mask of practiced indifference. Something she picked up from spending the last five years as Princess Twilight’s prized pupil. But try as she might to hide whatever it was the Element of Kindness was looking for, Fluttershy read her face like an open book.

Smarty Pants watched as her hostess got up and left the living room for but a moment, only to return just as quickly with a corked ceramic jug. Placing the jug on the table, she pulled the cork out with her teeth and added a just splash of it's syrupy contents into her cup before topping it off with a second splash tea.

“Wha... But... How did you know I like molasses in my tea?” she asked with wide eyes as she took the offered cup and saucer.

Fluttershy smiled proudly, “It’s my special talent, hearing what’s said without words. It’s how I communicate with all my animal friends. Now, let’s see to that draft,” she said as she rose up from her knees and walked over to the open window.

A dainty sipping sound to Smarty’s right caught her attention. “Ooooh, this tea is so good!” declared Sandy cheerfully, “Thank you!”

Fluttershy shut the window with a wing and grinned back at the young pegasus before heading over to the empty fireplace on the adjoining wall. The three girls watched as she pulled down a bowl full of what had to be old food waste from off the mantle and set it on the raised hearth before the fire box.

With a twist of the torso she turned to pull out a small pile of tinder she had stacked in the adjacent nook. Setting the tinder in place, she opened a small box of matches and grumbled at its apparent emptiness. Fluttershy stood up to head off into the kitchen to get another box, when the fireplace burst into warm light, startling her into dropping the box with an “Eep.”

“Gotcha covered” said Honeycrisp, with a wink as the faint glow of her red horn evaporated.

Fluttershy grinned broadly as she turned her attention back to the bowl on the hearth. She scooped up a few hooffulls of dried apple peels and used cinnamon sticks out of the bowl and tossed them onto the fire. Before Smarty Pants could ask what she was doing, the combined scents hit her across the muzzle, and she sighed in delight.

The word cozy came to mind once more, only now with the window closed, the warmth and fragrance of the fireplace, and the perfect cup of tea she was nursing in her hooves... Well, this was a whole different kind of cozy. It reminded her of lazy summer Sunday afternoons spent at her Gram Gram Crazy Pants’ house in the countryside.

Fluttershy turned around after putting the bowl back up on the mantle and looped a curtain of her vibrant pink mane behind her ear. She started to trot back towards the kitchen, when she asked “Is there anything else I can get you? A snack perhaps?”

Before Smarty Pants could answer, her two friends chimed in for her. “Yes, please,” sing-songed Honeycrisp and Sandy in happy unison. Fluttershy looked at Smarty Pants and she just nodded along blankly with the group.

“I know just the thing. My mom used to make them for me every day after school.” As she walked through her bead curtain and back into her kitchen, Fluttershy let out a contented sigh from the warmth that filled her chest. It felt wonderful. It felt like home.

Washing her hooves in the faded green basin of her apron kitchen sink, Fluttershy fought the urge to burst into song. But that didn’t stop her from humming a merry tune along with a few of the season’s last warblers.

“So, did you find out who they are?”

“Or why they’re here?”

Fluttershy frowned as she turned away from the sink and leaned against the counter to dry her forehooves with a dish rag. “Oh, silly me,” she said chiddingly. “I knew I forgot something.”

She smiled at her poofy maned friend. “I guess I got distracted. You know, I take one look at Sandy’s little friends out there and it just tugs at my heartstrings. Like... They’re my own foals!” she huffed and slapped the rag down on the counter.

Quiet filled the kitchen, and the three friends could hear the edges of the conversation being had by the fillies in the other room. There was a sudden gasp, followed by the sound of breaking glass.

“Sorry!” came a rather pathetic apology from beyond the bead curtain.

Fluttershy just brushed a lock of her mane out from in front of her face and back behind her ear before continuing. “I know it must sound crazy to you, because it sounds crazy to me. I mean, I don’t even have a special somepony. How in the world would I have foals?”

"Well," mused Applejack, "They did say they were from the fu-"

“Yeah, I know what you mean, Fluttershy,” said an unusually calm Pinkie Pie sitting in a nest of assorted paper products on top of the fridge. “I get that same feeling like... I’m a momma. But just for the little earth pony.” After a moment of awkward silence, she nodded. “It’s kinda nice.”

Applejack looked up from her spot at the kitchen table and leaned back in her chair. “Shoot, I don’t know ‘bout no motherly feelin’. I mean, sure I feel like I should know them from somewhere. And I see it in their faces plain as day that they know who we are.”

“What if it’s some kinda new changeling magic?!” gasped Pinkie Pie, grasping at a box of drinking straws that Fluttershy had stacked up there, “and and and they’re trying to trick us to eat our delicious emotions!”

Fluttershy’s sudden movement and the sound of her dismissively clicking her tongue against her teeth drew the attention of her two friends. “That’s right, I was going to get the girls a snack. Applejack, will you get a box of crackers out of the pantry? Pinkie Pie, I need the swiss cheese and pickles from the fridge please.”

Applejack scooted out of her chair and walked over to the pantry. “I don’t reckon they’re changelings. I ain’t heard none of that hissin’ they tend to do. But I do think we need to keep an eye on ‘em. We ain’t exactly had the best record with time travel.”

Both girls nodded absentmindedly at her comment as they went about their different tasks.

“I don’t see the swiss,” said Pinkie Pie with a jar full of pickles in hoof as she hung from the top of the open refrigerator like a big pink possum.

“Third drawer from the bottom,” answered Fluttershy as she pulled out a decorative cutting board, a cheese knife, and a stack of flower patterned napkins.

“Got it,” said Pinkie Pie as she grabbed the off-white wedge out of the drawer and flipped away from the fridge with a powerful swat of her poofy tail, shutting the door in the process.

Applejack sauntered back into the kitchen with a box of salt-kissed shredded wheat crackers balanced carefully on her muzzle. She bobbed her head, tossing the box over to Fluttershy who had just opened the jar of pickles. “So what’s the plan? We got a heap a work to do before the party tonight, and we’re runnin’ outta time.”

Fluttershy nodded, more to herself than to what Applejack was saying, as she assembled a dozen little cracker snacks. Each one had a slice of swiss cheese, a dill pickle, and a squirt of mustard on top.

Applejack watched her friend work in silence, a puzzled look on her face. "Did either of y'all hear me?"

“What are those, Fluttershy?” asked Pinkie Pie as she reached out to take one.

Fluttershy softly slapped the pink hoof away with a wing. “These? Oh, my mom made them for me on occasion. Especially if I'd had a rough day,” she said as she lifted the cutting board onto her back with her wings, “I don’t know if they have a name, but they’re the perfect snack for a growing filly.”

Applejack rolled her eyes and muttered something unkind under her breath. Something about being baby-crazy, but Fluttershy just ignored it.

"Oh wow, I bet they taste super good!" said Pinkie Pie as she walked out after Fluttershy.

Applejack couldn’t fight the curl of her lip as she followed her two friends out of the kitchen. “If’n you say so. If it’s all the same to you, I’d rather have an apple.”

For a time after Fluttershy left to make the girls a snack, the room was quiet. It was warm and lovely and super cozy. Smarty Pants watched as Honeycrisp stared at her cup and traced the filigree with a hoof.

"What's up, Honeycrisp?" she asked.

“You know,” said the red farmpony, “My mom and pop have a cup just like this one. But it’s all dusty and old. They keep it on the shelf with the keepsakes.”

“Do you think it is one of these cups?” asked Smarty Pants, seeing the homesickness in her cousin’s features.

“Maybe. The one we have is missing it’s handle. And it’s chipped, sort of like-”

Smarty Pants was caught unawares by a sudden blur of white that hopped next to her and she felt whatever it was land on the couch with a squishy thud.

“Eep!” squeaked Sandy, as the slightly damp white blur snuggled up between her and her light brown friend.

Half a heartbeat later, the empty cup Sandy was once holding in her lime green hooves went crashing to the wood floor below, breaking a sizeable chip from it’s wide brim and snapping the handle clean off.

“Sorry!” came Sandy’s rather pathetic apology.

Honeycrisp stared away at the cup as if it were history in the making. “Yeah. Sorta exactly like that.”

Smarty Pants patted her cousin on the shoulder and then turned her attention to the wet white blur. It was that damnable rabbit. The one that started all of this when he bit Honeycrisp’s horn thinking it was a carrot. She couldn’t recall his name, but he had a certain surly smugness about him that she didn’t care for.

He had his ears wrapped up in a pink towel, and his hindquarters wrapped in a powder blue towel. They were more like washcloths than towels, really. Still, he sat there squished between the two fillies, shoving and chittering away at Sandy.

“What’s his problem?” asked Honeycrisp.

“I think Sandy’s in his spot.” said Smarty Pants, trying her best to read the rabbit’s pantomime as he furiously pointed at his chest, and then again at the cushion that Sandy was sitting on.

Sandy apologized to the rabbit, fluttered up into the air, and coasted down on to a wicker rocking chair closer to the crackling fire along the adjacent wall. The rabbit in turn wore a smirk as he happily hopped into his spot to finish drying himself off with his two towels.

On the mantle next to the bowl of dried apples and used cinnamon sticks, a small clocked chimed a quarter till 11. Smarty Pants stared at the clock absentmindedly until its bells finished their short refrain.

“We gotta get out of here,” she said to the two girls as she rose to her hooves.

Honeycrisp arched an eyebrow at her over the brim of her cup as she swigged back the last of her tea.

“What? Why?” asked a suddenly panicked Sandy. “They’re nice adults, and Fluttershy said she’s making us a snack.”

“They’re fine, Sandy. It’s just that we’re not from here. From this time. I just watched you break that cup.”

“I said I was sorry,” sniffled the lime green pegasus from behind her wings.

“No, it’s not that! It’s... Look, that cup that gets passed down through generations until it becomes Honeycrisp’s family heirloom. Don’t you see! We’ve just interfered with the past to make the future.”

“Wait,” said Honeycrisp rising to her hooves as well, “are you saying that if Discord never sent us back in time, then that cup would never have been broken?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying!” huffed Smarty Pants with a stomp of her hoof. “Who knows what else we could end up breaking if we’re not careful! And that’s why we need to leave. If we sit around and talk to the ponies of the past, we may end up influencing their decisions. We could even change history as we know it!”

“But the cup is broken in our time, right? Doesn’t that mean we were always meant to come back here and break it?” offered Sandy.

Smarty Pants sat back down on the couch with her head in her hooves. “I didn’t think of that,” she said as her shoulders sagged with an unseen but obviously heavy weight.

“Think of what?” asked a soft voice as Fluttershy’s head poked out from the kitchen as beads parted around her.

"N-nothing." said Smarty Pants.

"Oh, come on," said Fluttershy smiling softly, "There's no reason to keep secrets now, is there?"

“We accidentally broke one of your cups.” said Sandy sheepishly.

Fluttershy frowned at the admission, but it was a short lived thing. She placed the cutting board and its goodies onto the coffee table in front of the couch. “Well, nevermind about that. Go ahead and have your snack, okay?”

She walked around the coffee table and started to collect the broken pieces off of the floor, sweeping them up with a small dustpan and wingbroom. Once she had the pieces in a pan, she glanced at the proudly beaming ball of fluff sitting where Sandy had been before she left the room.

“Oh Angel, you’re all clean again, and I only had to ask you to bathe twice. You’re such a good bunny,” she cooed with a delightful pat of his head. “Go on into the kitchen and get yourself a carrot little mister. You’ve earned it.”

The bunny exploded in a tiny triumph of glee, sending rabbit sized towels in two different directions, one smacking Smarty Pants in the face, the other hitting the floor off by the foot of the staircase. Happily, he bounced his way through Pinkie Pie and Applejack as they left the kitchen.

Smarty Pants tossed one of the stacked cracker treats into her mouth and smiled at the soft tingle in her cheeks. A delightful crunching sound that filled her ears as she watched Fluttershy walked her dust pan over to a small bin by the stairs.

Honeycrisp walked into her field of vision and sauntered on up to Fluttershy, a cracker wrapped in a red aura was floating in the air beside her head. Smarty Pants watched as the two ponies started discussing something, pointing at the bin and the broken cup. But for the life of her, she couldn’t hear them over the sound of her own chewing.

She popped a second treat into her mouth. Who would have thought that a dill pickle, a dash of mustard, and a slice of swiss could make a cracker taste so good? The conversation between Honeycrisp and Fluttershy seemed to reach a head, as the confused looking latter hoofed the smiling former the broken handle and the chip before putting the cup on a nearby shelf instead of in the garbage.

Honeycrisp trotted back over happily to her spot by Smarty Pants, and the earth pony watched as her cousin slipped the two treasures into one of her saddlebag pockets before popping her own treat into her mouth. Smarty Pants swallowed, and heard the tail end of something that Applejack asked.

“I’m sorry?” asked Smarty Pants.

Applejack sat on her rump in front of the beaded kitchen entrance, “I said, not to be rude er anythin’ but, who are you, and what are y’all after?”

“Oh,” laughed Smarty Pants nervously. “Getting right into it, are we? Well... I suppose now's as good a time as any.”

She stood up and motioned for Sandy to do the same. The three girls moved to stand together, facing the three Elements of Harmony. “This is Honeycrisp.”

“Hiya,” she said with a casual wave and a small spray of crumbs from her mouth.

“And this is Sandy.”

“Hello again!” cheered Sandy with buzz of her wings that lifted her a few inches off her rocker.

“And I’m Smarty Pants,” she said with a little bow. “We’re from the future. The, uh... Far future.”

Pinkie Pie gasped, “You’re from the FUTURE?!”

Applejack elbowed her partycentric friend. “Pinkie, we already knew that.”

“Oh yeah,” she giggled, “I forgot.”

Applejack looked at the little light brown earth pony and furrowed her brow in thought. “Smarty Pants... Smarty Pants... Where have I heard that name before?”

“How ‘far’ is the ‘far future?’” asked Pinkie Pie. “Are we talking like two weeks? A month? Three months? Oh! It's three months, isn't it? Do I get any super amazing presents for Hearth’s Warming?”

“Presents? I dunno about all that. But we’re from much later than a few months from now. Actually, if it’s all the same to you I’d rather not talk about it.”

“Oh,” said a pouting Pinkie Pie, “okay.”

Steering the conversation back on track, Applejack interjected, “And y’all are here because...”

“Discord,” said Honeycrisp flatly as she reached for another cracker. “We’re looking for six keys for this stupid rainbow box of his. He said we can’t leave till we find them all in town.”

The three Elements of Harmony shared a quizzical look.

“I ain’t heard of no rainbow box. But if anypony around here knows what yer lookin’ fer, it’s probably Twilight.”

“No!” shouted Smarty Pants suddenly. “I mean, no uh… We already know what the keys look like! Discord gave us checklists on what we need, see?” She said as she pulled hers out of her saddlebag on the floor.

Fluttershy took the offered piece of paper and frowned at it. “A spool of thread? I think I have one of those in my sewing kit, but if not, Rarity should have one.”

Pinkie Pie looked over Fluttershy’s shoulder and smiled. “A Wonderbolt Badge, huh? I bet I know just the right pony for that one.” she finished with a giggle.

Two more pieces of paper were pulled out of two more saddlebags, and the six ponies huddled around them.

“One bit? Well shoot, here, y’all can have one a mine.” said Applejack as she pulled a bit out of the small purse she kept in her hat and tossed it to Honeycrisp.

“Cool,” she said with a grin as she took the offered coin.

“Oh, I know a stallion that can get you a rubber chicken, too!” said Pinkie Pie.

“Really? Oh wow, this is way easier than I thought it would be,” said Smarty Pants with her first genuine laugh this morning.

Fluttershy gasped softly. “A breezy blossom? I have a few of those left over from their last migration.”

“Yeah I-”

At that moment, the clock on the mantle chimed again, this time ushering in eleven o’clock in the morning.

“Horsefeathers,” cursed Applejack as she set her hat back on her blonde locks. “Now we’re late for sure. I dunno how we’re gonna get all the work on the farm done in time fer Twilight’s party tonight, what with just the three of us.”

“Hay!” chimed in Honeycrisp suddenly, “What if we help?”

Smarty Pants’ ears pinned themselves back, “Whoa there, Honeycrisp, I don’t think-”

“Oh, that’s a lovely idea, Honeycrisp. Can they, Applejack?”

“Yeah, can we Ms. Applejack?” asked Sandy.

“Oh, heck. I dunno...” she mused as she rubbed her fuzzy chin.

“Pleaaase?” begged four of the six ponies present.

“Aw, hay. Why not.” she said as she walked over to the front door opened it with a buck. “More hooves make lighter loads after all. Come girls, let’s get 'er done!” she called out over her shoulder as she galloped out into the crisp autumn air. A happy cavalcade of hooffalls and whoops followed after her, leaving behind a trail of dust and a concerned looking earth pony.

“Then again,” muttered Smarty Pants as she turned to look over at the broken cup resting on the shelf, "Maybe this won’t be so easy.”

Then she ran out the door after her two friends.

Author's Note

Next time I want to do a time travel story, go back in time and kill me.

Chapter 3

Big Mac sat up with a grunt, and wiped the sweat from his brow with a greasy foreleg. He’d been out here in the mid morning sun trying to repair the front axle on the Apple family’s largest cart for hours. It was a weary, laborious work that required dexterity, strength, and patience. It was his favorite kind of work.

He arched his back to try and work out the kink in his shoulder, smiling all the while. The cool fall breeze ruffled through his mane, sending his unkempt, sweat-dappled locks to dance about. He’d been looking forward to this chore all week, and he was going to spend as much time as it took to get it done right.

Like any properly made investment, the amount of time it took to do a job well would always pay off in the end. Whether it was raising a barn, plowing a field, or harvesting apples. He had cleared off his schedule long in advance of this task some weeks ago because getting this right was going to take time.

Most folks wouldn’t look forward to such a task, in fact most of the ponies he knew would pay somepony else to repair a broken axle. Or barring that, get a unicorn to give it a quick patch up with that magic of theirs, before hauling it down to the dealer for a trade in. But not Big Mac. He wasn’t most ponies, and this wasn’t most carts.

He pulled his workshop rag out of his rusty old tool box and and wiped down before giving the inverted cart bed a loving pat. Gently, he traced a hoof over the old outline of a carved heart and the two sets of initials within. His parent’s initials.

Typically the initials were covered by the cart’s bolster, where the front axle was secured to the cart, but he used the custom made ratchet set grandfather Apple made long ago to remove the non-standard bolts and get at the planks. Protected as they were beneath the bolster, the old carving had withheld the march of time and near constant wear on the old cart, a timeless testament to the love his parents shared for each other, even before they were married.

He chuckled to himself, remembering the tale Granny told them about the day when Pa carved that heart into the old cart. About how grandfather Apple was so mad that he couldn’t form sentences, resorting instead to screaming gibberish at his lovestruck son. About how Pa couldn’t sit down for a week after what Granny called The Whoopin’ of The Ages.

His smile slid back into his neutral profile as he turned away from cart bed and towards the broken bolster. It was made of three parts. The first was an inch thick square metal plate, about a foot long on each side, with four threaded holes in the corners for the bolts that connected it to the cart bed. The second was the rotating doughnut shaped disk, also made of metal which had two parallel heavy gage rings welded to it for the cart’s axle to slide through. The third was the custom made bearing that mated the other two parts together. It was what let the disk slide to the left or to the right when Big Mac pulled the cart.

He held the bolster and gave the disk a half turn, frowning when it ground to a halt midway through the action. That it refused to budge for him, even with his raw strength, was a bad sign. Getting a replacement bearing built in time for the big party in town tonight would set him back a pretty bit.

He set it down on the inverted cart bed and turned to his tool box to fish out the last tool his Pa made. The one that would separate the disk from the bolster’s base. Pa was always great at making tools for use around the farm. And he always named his inventions. ‘The Churnatron.’ ‘The Huskomatic.’ ‘The Brick-A-Buck.’ He had quite the imagination. Though he… He passed before he could name this one.

One by one he pulled them out and set them down on his portable work bench, a fine and sturdy thing that Apple Bloom made for him as a gift last Hearth’s Warming Eve. It’s construction was solid and it’s surface was always level, no matter the incline it sat on.

Big Mac had no idea how that worked.

That girl was some kinda wizard, but for gadgets and gizmos. A tinkerer through and through. Pa would have been proud. He tried so hard to listen to Apple Bloom’s explanation when she surprised him with it. Something to do with gyrosprings or magnetic pulleys, but it all went over his head. Her rapid fire delivery didn’t help him much, but he was content to smile and nod all the same.

Workbench. Always level. Gift from his all-but grown up baby sister. Got it.

Finally he came to the small cloth pouch at the bottom of the tool box that held the unnamed tool for the job. With a soft tap of a hoof on the brake, he locked his portable workbench in place and pulled the bizarre looking tool out of it’s pouch. It looked like a metal crab claw on the end of a whisk.

Big Mac set the crazy tool on the cart bed next to the bolster and just stared at the two of them as he absentmindedly hoofed his other tools back into the toolbox. Soon there was just the crab claw whisk and the doughnut disk.

He had absolutely no idea how the two went together. Did the claw pull the disk off the bearing in some way? What the hay was the whisk part for? Was it a handle? It was probably the most comically incompatible pairing of parts he’d ever seen.

Until Princess Twilight appeared next to him in a puff of purple smoke.

Twilight Sparkle was not a happy pony. She was anxious. Nervous. And she was out of time.

It was her birthday, and she was supposed to be relaxing. But instead, here she was, conscious and out of the library at the crack of eleven. Which, in her royal opinion, was way too early on a Friday morning. And for what? To win a bet? Since when did she care about bets?

She frowned at her shadow, and shook her head before looking up and around to take in her surroundings. Sweet Apple Acres. Okay, good, so even though she was dangerously under-caffeinated and strangely uncomfortable in her favorite sundress, she still had excellent control over her teleportation spell.

Twilight wiped a hoof across her face vigorously, trying to rub the mascara out of her right eye. She hated the stuff. Never used it. But after reading through the twelve volume set of Courting for the Modern Mare, there was no getting around it. If she was going to win this stupid bet, she needed to-

“Ms. Twilight?”

The voice was strong and concerned, and although she’d heard him speak many times over the few years of their friendship, butterflies appeared in her stomach nonetheless.

“Oh, ha ha. Big Mac. Funny seeing you here. At home. Where you live.” She winced at her rambling start, “Having a good day?”

Big Mac looked at her, and she at him. At length, he decided. “Eeyup.”

Twilight smiled broadly and turned to face him fully, answering “Great!”

He nodded, and then turned away from her, much to her dismay, and picked up a metal thing that looked like the unholy union of a pair of pruning shears and a whisk.

She watched him work in silence, observing the thing from all angles. Pulling here, twisting there. She had no idea what in the wide wide world of Equestria he was doing. And judging by the look of utter concentration on his face, she was pretty certain that he didn’t know what he was doing either.

“What’s that?”

“A tool.”

“Huh. What’s it called?”

“I don’t know.”

“Oh.”

Silence reigned over them once more, and Twilight watched as he set down the unknown tool, and picked up something a bit more familiar to her. A cart bolster, if her Cropular Mechanic’s manual was worth its salt. An old one too; cast iron by the looks of it. She watched as he turned with his other forehoof until it suddenly locked up with a grinding noise that rattled her teeth.

She wrapped it up in a purple aura and took it out of his hooves, inspecting it as it floated in front of her. With a small burst of will, she removed the doughnut shaped bearing guard, and inspected the bearing.

“Well there’s your problem,” she said with a quick glance at Big Mac’s dower expression, “The bearing’s rusted.”

She pumped a bit of magic into the old bearing, summoning up a simple Fit It spell, to undo the damage from the rust. “There,” she said cheerfully, floating the reassembled piece over to Big Mac, who stared at it… longingly? Weird.

She watched as he squirted mineral oil into the bolster’s cracks and crevices before gently placing it over an old carving that she couldn’t make out in time. Slowly, painstakingly, she watched him ratchet a bolt back in place, sundering the otherwise placid stillness of the morning air with it’s awful ratchety noises.

C-C-C-CRICK

When he finished the first, she sighed with relief, happy the awful sound was gone. Then he started working on the next one. She fought to keep the smile on her face as he worked through the bolt. Grunting with effort, the bolt was secured tightly on the last turn.

C-C-C-CRICK

It was when he began to prep the third bolt, that she realized that she had to get him to stop, or she wouldn’t be held accountable for her actions.

“So,” she said breaking the silent armistice between them, “Big Mac. There’s uh… Something I wanted to ask you…”

He looked at her with a blank expression, as he continued to ratchet the third bolt.

C-C-C-CRICK

“You know, we’ve known each other for years and I-”

C-C-C-CRICK

“ell it’s my birthday today, and I was hoping that w-”

C-C-C-CRICK

Twilight let out a sudden scream. Sudden for Big Mac, but for the poor princess, it had been building up for far too long. Her horn glowed white. In the blink of an eye the upturned cart and the unattended axle blinked out of existence. Leaving a very startled looking Big Mac holding an empty ratchet.

A heartbeat later, and the cart -the largest and oldest working cart in the Apple family’s possession- reappeared, upright and fully assembled ten feet away and in line with the other carts sitting in front of the barn.

Twilight was grinning maniacally. And frothing a bit at the mouth. She was triumphant, finally free of the audible tyranny of Big Mac’s… Where was Big Mac?

She looked around, and eventually spotted him out of the corner of her puffy right eye. Was he hiding behind his work bench? Was her bloodcurdling scream and burst of magic a bit too much? She laughed nervously, brushing a clump of unbrushed mane out from in front of her muzzle before planting her rump on the ground.

“Big Mac, can we talk?”

At first he neither moved, nor spoke. But then, slowly and carefully, he pulled himself out of his portable hiding place. Then he nodded.

This is it! she thought, as the butterflies in her stomach resurfaced. She took a deep breath before continuing. “Big Mac. We’ve known each other for a long time. And for many years I’ve considered you a wonderful friend.”

Big Mac nodded again, “The feeling’s mutual, yer highness.”

She nodded this time, reciting the speech she had memorized and written out ahead of time “You’re a tall, strapping stallion, who’s an excellent provider for those he cares about. And according to my metrics… I… uh…”

Her voice faltered, and her words trembled in her throat as Big Mac locked eyes with her. Those… big green pools that she could just fall into. Her own eyes traced down the imposing stallion standing before her, as she continued to marble her words together, until she reached his hooves. Those… massive hooves that could squash her like a bug… “T-think we should move b-beyond friendsh-ship, and…”

Oh Celestia, what am I doing?

“I… Can help you with your taxes?” she asked him as much as she asked herself.

The mask of ignorance lifted off of Big Mac’s features and he smiled. His broad shoulders sagged in what looked like relief before he rebounded. “Well shoot, Princess, that’s right neighborly of you! I’ve been worried ‘bout the upcomin’ audit somethin’ fierce, ever since we got the notice in the mail.”

“Wait, audit?” asked a now worried Twilight.

He walked past the perplexed purple pony and headed towards the farmhouse. “Come on in and grab a cider before we start.”

Twilight blinked as her head followed the earth pony stallion, humming merrily to himself as he pranced up the porch stairs and into his home.

She sat there on the hard packed dirt, blinking. Those were the most words, in a row, that Big Mac had ever said to her, ever. She let out a defeated lungful of air, and slumped after him.

She failed to get a special somepony, again! That was the fifth stallion in as many days! And instead of getting a date for her birthday party, she’s out here doing taxes!

Oh well, she figured with a sigh, at least I’m mostly familiar with the Equestrian Tax code.

As far as silver linings go, that one didn’t make up for gloomy cloud that hung over her head. She was grumpy for waking up so early. She felt guilty for putting Big Mac in an awkward situation. Her sundress was still uncomfortable. And she was miffed that she was on track to lose one hundred bits.

-One Week Earlier-

“I’m telling you, he was checking me out!” insisted Rainbow Dash.

Three mares sat around a small wrought iron table with marble finishing and an opaque glass top in the sunroom of Ponyville’s fanciest local café, Le Seau de Foin. It was Rarity’s suggestion.

“Oh please, Rainbow Dash,” said Rarity with a dainty roll of the eyes. “You think that all the stallions are ‘checking you out.’ Also, please eat over your plate. Otherwise you’ll get powdered sugar all over your freshly pressed uniform.”

“No I won’t,” mumbled Rainbow Dash through a mouthful of beignet, before swallowing. Then, as deftly as she could, brushed the sugar off the gilded lapel of her dress uniform.

“Also,” she added, “they are too checking me out.”

“Mmm? What about the cashier at the theatre this morning?”

“You two were there,” the young wonderbolt insisted. “You saw it!”

“While he was taking your order from the concession stand? Really?” asked Rarity flatly.

“Really!” she insisted, gesturing with her forehooves rapidly. “I’m like some kinda magnet, but for stallions, instead of whatever magnets are attracted to.”

“Ferrous metals,” offered Twilight who chewed loudly, while floating another forkful of salad into her mouth.

“Twilight? Do be a dear and try to show some decorum? You are a Princess after all,” chided the fashionista.

Twilight finished chewing in silence with her mouth closed, but shot a glare at her overly fussy friend. Then she dabbed her muzzle with a lacy napkin before opening her mouth to speak again. “Well, excuse me for trying to multitask.”

“One needn’t multitask at brunch. It is intended to be a leisurely repast, perfect for idle conversation and,” she added with a dismissive glance at the almost empty plate sitting before Twilight. “Small bites.”

Rainbow Dash looked at her own bare plate with a little frown. Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted the concierge standing at his little podium on the other side of the restaurant. “Hay, can I get a little more repast up in here?” she shouted, holding up her plate and pointing at it repeatedly.

Rarity pulled her friend’s hoof down with her own, catching the plate in a pillow her light blue magic. Nervously, she laughed and waved away the flustered concierge. “Oh, Rainbow you are such a kidder. Ah. Ha ha... Ha.”

The Wonderbolt Lieutenant yanked her hoof out of Rarity’s grasp and huffed as she settled down into her seat. “Why do we come here? They hate us here, and they never bring enough food.”

“I have some extra rolls, if you want them,” said Twilight as she floated the basket over to her forlorn friend.

Rainbow Dash took the basket in hoof and threw a roll down her maw, chewing noisily. At the same time, she tore open a second roll and liberally slathered it in butter. Rarity said nothing but her disapproval was apparent as she swigged back the remainder of her rosette.

A stallion in a cummerbund and matching bow tie approached the table and filled Twilight’s water glass. She smiled at him and he nodded before trotting over to the other side of the table.

As he poured water into Rainbow Dash’s empty cup, she threw an elbow over her chair, leaned back, and looked up at him.

“Hay,” she said.

He offered a sheepish grin. “Uh, hi,” he said with a gravely pop to his voice.

“How’s it goin’?” she asked him with a wink.

He stopped pouring her water and took a step back. “Fine, thanks,” he answered with a polite nod before trotting off to fill glasses at another table. A table all the way on the other side of the restaurant.

“See?!” said Rainbow Dash to her two friends, pointing at the rapidly retreating figure.

“See what?” asked Twilight.

“He was totally checking me out the whole time he was filling my water glass!”

“He was?” she asked, sharing a look with the equally puzzled Rarity.

“Totally. What did I tell you? Stallion Magnet,” crowed Rainbow Dash proudly.

“Or maybe,” Twilight pondered, “He’s never seen a Wonderbolt up close before. I don’t think you wore your uniform the last time we were here.”

“Nah, that’s not it. I’ve seen that look before. He wants the D,” she said, puffing out her chest and stretching out her wings like a peacock.

“The D?” asked Twilight disgustedly.

“Dash,” she said pointing at herself in earnest. “The ‘D’ stands for Dash.” Then, smacking her dry, breadcrumb covered lips together, she reached down and grabbed her glass of water.

“Oh, please,” muttered Rarity into her empty wine glass. “Like you’re even interested in stallions.”

Rainbow Dash coughed and sputtered, spitting water everywhere. Rarity clearly anticipated the response, as she already had a protective magical bubble up and ready. Twilight had no such precaution ready and instead pouted, with measurable sadness, at the spit upon remains of her half eaten salad.

“Of course I like stallions! Who said otherwise?” she demanded to know, peering around the room. “Was it Applejack? It was Applejack, wasn’t it?”

“No, darling. I’ve known you for years now. A lady can just tell.”

“What, so because I haven’t had time for a relationship, suddenly I’m not interested in stallions? Well what about you? When’s the last time you went on a date with a guy? Or are you not interested in stallions?

Rarity stomped a hoof and practically shouted under her breath at the smug mare across the table from her. “Of course I’m interested in stallions, and they’re interested in me.” Regaining her level-headedness, she continued, “Why I’ll have you know I had a gentlecolt caller come courting just yesterday.”

“Didn’t Spike visit you yesterday to help you with your garbage disposal?” asked Twilight absentmindedly, as she tried to flag down a waiter for a dessert menu.

Rainbow Dash flashed Rarity a predatory grin, and the other mare tried her best to pointedly ignore it. “Gentlecolt caller, eh?”

“Spike counts!” Rarity said with a huffy whine. “Though, I did hear through the grapevine that Fancy Pants is back on the market, as it were. How Fleur could leave him, I’ll never know. Perhaps I should invite him to your party next week, Twilight.”

Twilight, having given up on any of the wait staff visiting their abandoned little corner of service industry purgatory ever again, nodded helpfully.

“Why bother?” asked Rainbow. “We’ve all know how it’s gonna go down. First you’ll invite him, then you’ll make yourself crazy trying to make everything perfect, and finally it’ll all end in song and dance before you two agree to ‘just be friends’ for what, the third time now?”

“That’s quite enough, Rainbow Dash,” cautioned the unicorn through grit teeth.

“At least have the self respect to stop barking up the wrong fish in the sea.”

Twilight shook her head at her technicolored friend, “I think you’re mixing your metaph—”

“A contest then,” egged on Rarity. “First mare to introduce the other to her new beau wins?”

“Oh yeah, you’re on! If I win, you gotta wear a burlap sack for a whole week!” jeered Rainbow Dash, leaning on the table across from her new rival.

“And if I win, you have to get a hooficure!” roared back Rarity, who also rose to the occasion, butting heads with the Wonderbolt.

“And if I win, then I get to pick the next place we go to brunch!” shouted Twilight, standing up like all the cool kids at the table.

Rarity and Rainbow Dash stared back at their royal friend in awkward silence. An awkward silence that lingered a bit, before shattering into a dozen raucous pieces, as Rainbow Dash doubled over laughing.

Rarity frowned at her pegasus counterpart before looking back with growing concern. “Twilight, love. Do you even… That is to say, can… Well what I mean is… Rainbow Dash, darling, get ahold of yourself and help me explain to Twilight here what I’m trying to say.”

Rainbow dropped back into her seat, still giggling, waving her hooves to try and pull herself together. She was failing miserably.

Twilight slumped into her seat. “What?” she asked with a pout, “I bet any stallion would be dying to date m—”

Rainbow Dash fell out of her chair and rolled around on the floor, laughing hysterically. “Stop! Haha, stop! You’re killing me!”

Twilight sat at the table wearing a rather significant glower as she waited for her friend to get her wits about her. Rarity, who wasn’t willing to let Rainbow Dash ruin her reputation in this establishment any further, kicked her. Repeatedly. Not too hard. Just hard enough to get the point across.

“Ha ha h-OOF!”

Okay, so she kicked her harder than all that.

Slowly, the Wonderbolt climbed back into her chair, rubbing her ribs. “Twilight,” she started, “You’re a Princess! You’re like, the definition of untouchable. Who could be good enough for you? I mean, you don’t see guys lining up for Celestia or Luna.”

“But Cadence and Shining Armo—”

“Eh, they don’t count,” waved away Rainbow Dash dismissively, “and you know it.”

“Bu—”

“Twilight, I’d like to ask you something and I don’t want you to take it the wrong way,” said Rarity as she gave her royal friend a reassuring pat of her hoof. “Are you even interested in dating and what that… Entails?”

Twilight blushed, “I’ve read about… that.”

“And?” encouraged Rarity.

“And, I think so?” asked Twilight.

Rainbow Dash, having regained her composure, cocked her head at that. “You think so? Like you’re not sure? What’s there not to be sure of? Wait, wait, wait, are you interested in stallions or mares?”

“Maybe?” asked Twilight again.

Rainbow Dash sat there and nodded, “Okay. Okay, cool.” Then she turned to look at Rarity. “If she’s in I wanna put money down on this.”

“Wait, why would my being in on this make you want to bet mon—”

“One hundred bits?” asked Rarity, offering her hoof across the table.

Rainbow took it gladly, “One hundred bits.”

Both mares stopped short of shaking, and turned to look at the flustered Princess. She stared back. Finally, Twilight nodded in determination and stretched out her hoof to meet the others.

“One hundred bits,” she said uneasily.

“No!” declared the young princess, slamming her hoof down on the Apple family dining room table. Twilight would not lose this bet! This was not just about the money. This was about personal pride.

A visibly shaken Big Mac, sitting across from her at the table, looked up from his paperwork. His face fixed in a look of pitiable confusion. The sort of look a dog might give their owner whenever there was a holiday involving fireworks. A look that said, I think I can trust you, but just to be safe I must ask you not to kill me, please.

“Uh…” he started, “Y’all right there, Princess?”

Twilight flipped her hair back and looked at Big Mac with her red puffy eyes. “Yes, Big Mac, I’m fine, why do you ask?”

For a short eternity, he simply stared back at her, unblinking. “You uh… ya just shouted ‘no’ and hit mah table.”

“Did I? Weird,” she said, looking down at the hoof shaped divot in the otherwise immaculate table.

He smiled nervously at her, and she smiled right back at him.

This is it, she thought to herself as she felt the sudden onset of butterflies in her stomach, time to turn book smarts into applied success. She leaned forward, and batted her eyes, suggestively.

Big Mac leaned back. “Somethin’ a matter with yer eyes ma’am?” he asked nervously, “Ain’t contagious, is it?” his throat ached from all this talking. “I can’t rightly afford ta get sick, what with the last harvest coming u—“

Twilight rolled her eyes with a groan and turned away from the great red palooka and scratched at the spot on her flank where her dress was the itchiest. This is going to be harder than I thought, isn’t it?

She took another deep, calming breath, and frowned when it didn’t banish the queasy feeling in her stomach. Twilight shook her head in silent self-admonition. She knew she was going about this all wrong. In the last week she’s read over dozen books on the subject of romance (while taking studious notes) ranging from the tepid to the tawdry.

She knew the top ten things that the modern stallion was looking for in an an ideal mate. She’d also done the math to know what she was looking for in a stallion. Really, there couldn’t be much more too this whole ‘getting a date thing’ than running numbers, right?

He had to be tall. That was thing number one. She wasn’t sure how tall she was going to get, but if the other Princesses were any indication, she could count on not needing to use her step ladder again any time soon.

Secondly, he had to appreciate learning new things. Things she could teach him. Smart was a nice-to-have, but nopony likes a know it all.

Third, he had to be gentle. Kind. None of that ‘secretly a villain’ nonsense, thank you very much.

Fourth and finally, he’d have to appreciate magic. Specifically her magic. That was pretty much mandatory since she was the Princess of Magic now.

Yes, Twilight Sparkle knew what she was looking for in a mate. And she knew that she was well above the baseline for the average stallion according to the numerous quizzes she had taken on the subject. Quizzes published in several, reputable, periodicals dedicated to the subject. Periodicals that also came with perfume samples.

But if there was anything that her failures over the last four days had taught her, it was that the trick to this whole ‘dating’ thing was getting the other party to see things her way.

Big Mac shook his head and looked back at the daunting pile of paperwork, thick as his leg and twice as tall, laying in front of him. Bands of his recently rinsed and half-dried blonde mane settled on his cheek. He moved to brush them off and adjust the yoke around his neck.

But it wasn’t there.

He frowned, remembering when Princess Twilight removed it after he stepped out of the wash room, banishing it to parts unknown. Parts that were probably mystical and entirely unreachable by an earth pony such as himself. Then she made him brush his mane.

At the time, she was rambling about the importance of being comfortable when a pony does their taxes. How it makes the math flow better. So long as it flowed at all, he was willing to put up with just about anything.

Just about.

He decided then, as he still felt now, that not arguing with a demigod and/or a licensed tax attorney was probably his safest bet. So instead, he just bore the weight of not having the familiar weight to bear around his neck. It was unnatural and it left him feeling odd. Naked. Well, more so than usual.

He considered the Princess for a moment, in her pretty yellow sun dress, and he wondered if she knew that she was wearing it inside out.

It was pretty clear to him that she was ill. What with her red teary eyes, her itchy flank, and the way her whole face turns candy apple red at a moment’s notice. Still, if she were up for helping with the taxes, he wasn’t going to complain.

The Apples have a rotating system of who does the taxes, and this year it was technically Apple Bloom’s turn to do ‘em, but she wasn’t here. She was out traveling the world, as young ponies tend to do before settling down.

Applejack took to traveling when she was a young’n, too. Went out to Manehatten it was, to find herself. To find her destiny. Which turned out to be back here in Ponyville, so that suited him just fine.

If Apple Bloom’s latest postcard was any indication, she and her friends were off in some distant town on the northern frontier, griffon watching with the locals. She and the other fillies formerly known as the Cutie Mark Crusaders.

They never did come up with a different club name after they finally got them. It just didn’t seem to matter all that much. Poor Apple Bloom was the last to get hers.

Big Mac shook his head in grim remembrance of those two months. Thought it was the end of the world, she did. But in the end her cutie mark appeared, like he always knew it would. And when it did, he was right proud of her. Every Apple was.

Faintly, he heard what sounded like singing from out beyond the open window. He looked up and out to the West, towards the old carrot residence. The one that he had just purchased from their long time neighbor. He was gonna miss the stubborn mare who lived there.

She was a right fine lady with her head on straight and her hooves in the dirt. Pity she was a carrot farmer, but nopony’s perfect. He blinked again and his gaze fell on the tower of paper between him and the frantically writing Princess Twilight. Floating around her head was a cloud of Moon-hexed tax sheets and the deed to the old carrot farm.

He knew that buying the land was the right thing to do. Ms. Harvest, or rather Mrs. Harvest had married and moved to Trottingham last year. It was just sitting there becoming more fallower by the year.

Fallower? Was that a word?

At any rate, he and Granny Smith talked about the land at length. They knew they needed to buy it up before somepony else did. Especially if they didn’t want to have the constant buzzing of bees on both sides of Sweet Apple Acres.

Once they cleared the old fields, he could grow some jonagold apples. Applejack just got a mess of seeds from Aunt Orange up in manehatten and-

“What are you thinking about?” interrupted Twilight, as she floated a number of filled out forms into a much smaller stack next to the tower of remaining forms, receipts, and balance sheets in the center of the table.

He blinked once. Then a second time, and turned his towering head to look at the blushing Princess. Poor gal’s mystery illness must be getting worse.

“Apples,” he said plainly, before he picked up his quill and went back to filling out the form he left half finished.

Chapter 4

Honeycrisp, deliberate stick-in-the-mud and budding back-sasser, was all smiles. She didn’t bother to think about why she was in such a good mood, or what it meant, she just knew that she was having a blast. She looked up at Applejack with a smile on her face, and the older farm pony smiled right back with a curt tip of the hat.

The two country mares shared a small laugh, and Honeycrisp turned her attention back towards the path, trotting a few yards ahead to lead the way. Sure she was hundreds of years in the past, but she knew that she could find her way to Sweet Apple Acres no matter where, or when, she was. It’s location in the world was just as much a part her as her horn was.

Honeycrisp listened to the clipped and awkward conversation of the five mares behind her. It all started when Pinkie Pie asked what the future was like for the billionth time. Sandy, bless her naïve heart, tried to answer her. But Pants shot her down along with any other questions about the future without so much as an apology.

Eventually, they settled on safe topics and the pace of conversation normalized. Favorite colors, popular songs, tasty foods, that sort of thing. Honeycrisp lead them along the rightmost path when the road forked, and caught the tail end of a question about colts.

Honeycrisp’s ears twitched when she heard Sandy mention Smarty Pants’ obvious interest in pegasus stallions. Especially the ones that pull the Royal Chariots. The not-so-little red unicorn glanced over her shoulder in time to see the blush burn across her cousin’s cheeks as she stammered out a half-hearted denial.

Honeycrisp stopped for a moment, opting instead to stand and watch her cousin hem and haw her way through an explanation of sorts, involving ‘thermals’ and ‘aerodynamics’ and other probably made up words. Mercifully, Fluttershy stepped in and offered that the topic be dropped in favor of favorite season instead.

Once again losing interest in the conversation at hoof, Honeycrisp turned back to the last straight away on the path home and started walking again. Minutes later, the pointless conversation died off and they rounded what Honeycrisp knew was the last corner on the path. She was about to announce their arrival when she stopped dead in her tracks.

Sweet Apple Acres was no where to be seen. Instead she was looking at a seemingly never-ending field of wild flowers. The sight before her was totally alien and she hated it.

She knew that turning that corner would bring her home. But today that was not the case. She felt numb. Like she was half there. For the first time in her short life, Honeycrisp knew what it was like to come home and have home not be there.

Gone was Mrs. Edgewood’s property. The yard that held a singular heretical plum tree that once ate Honeycrisp’s kite. She hated that tree, and yet, in this moment she’d give anything to see it again.

Gone was the row of houses that lined both sides of the path to the Homestead. She closed her eyes and listened intently for the familiar drawl of her kin. For the sound of hammers on benches. For the farm songs sung by the laborers in the fields. But the only thing she heard was the rhythmic squeaking of Applejack’s cart as it pulled up alongside her.

“Where’s Sweet Apple Acres?” Honeycrisp asked with a noticeable waver in her voice.

Applejack walked past her with the cart as she answered back with a casual smile, “It’s just on up ahead, Sugarcube. This here’s Burt’s Apiary. Fella makes the best honey in all’a Ponyville. But he’s a bit of a grump.”

“Just a bit though,” came an unexpected reply from behind their convoy of six.

Honeycrisp glanced over her shoulder in time to catch a startled Sandy gallop away from her spot at the end of the pack. She flapped her wings, eeping and squeaking as she went, until she came to a shivering stop perched safely atop Smarty Pants. Who seemed completely oblivious to the extra weight as she too turned to look back at the stranger.

He was a lanky brown stallion with a beehive for a cutie mark, and he was pulling a small cart of his own.

“Hiya, Burt!” exclaimed Pinkie Pie. “Whatcha doin’ out here?”

The stallion answered back with a polite nod as he passed to the left of the stopped mares. “Well, I just finished my deliveries and I’m heading home.”

“Are you coming to the party tonight?”

Burt stopped at that and looked over his shoulder at the pink party pony. “Pinkie Pie, you’ve given everypony in town at least one invitation to Twilight’s party every day for the last two weeks!”

“So… You’ll be there?” asked Pinkie Pie nodding slyly.

Burt sighed, and offered the Element of Laughter a tired, defeated smile. “Yes Pinkie. I’ll be at the party.”

“Are yo—”

“No, I’m not bringing a ‘plus one’. Now if you ladies will excuse me,” he said with some finality. The poofy haired stallion walked on and turned down a fork in the road towards his bee farm.

When the stallion was out of earshot, Pinkie Pie sighed with a giggle as she and her friends, both old and new, continued on their way down to Sweet Apple Acres. “Yeah, he’s a little bit of a grump.”

Honeycrisp lead the way again, now eager to find anything resembling the home she knew. Nopony spoke, content to bask in the the late morning tranquility of autumn. The air around them was mostly silent, save for the occasional odd noise. At first it was just the chirping of songbirds gathering sticks and other treasures for their winter nests.

Then there came the timely rap-a-tap-taps of ambitious woodpeckers. The springy sproing of Angel’s hopping along at Fluttershy’ side followed apace. Finally, keeping time with it all, was the squeaking back wheel of Applejack’s empty cart.

It was at that moment that Honeycrisp realized the horror that was about to unfold. There was about to be a song. And a song meant singing.

Already she could feel her head bobbing and her tail swishing as the thing formed and blossomed in her chest. Somewhere, on the edge of her hearing, as if it were still trying to sneak up on her, she heard instruments begin to play.

There was an accordion squeezing out a melody; a fiddle noodling its way around the unwritten sheet music; the rhythmic scraping of a washboard; and an oboe. Star’s garters, there was an oboe.

She looked to Smarty Pants for support. Surely the two of them could squash this thing before it started, since she was being such a worrywart recently, what with the time travel and all. But a quick glance her way was all it took for Honeycrisp to see that was on her own. Smarty Pants had a glimmer in her eye. The same glimmer the other mares had.

Honeycrisp opened her mouth to say something, anything, to stop this song from happening. But to her horror, she discovered that the first word out of her mouth, “We,” was instantly harmonized by the lime green pegasus that just landed on her back.

Well there was no stopping it. They were singing. This was a thing that was happening now.

Terrific.

Of course, Honeycrisp sang along too. She had to. Who wouldn’t sing along with such a catchy tune? But she refused to dance along with Smarty Pants and Pinkie Pie. Okay, so she danced a little with Applejack, but that was different.

Sensing the big finish was on its way, the last vestiges of Honeycrisp’s resistance fell away, and she finally decided to give in and have a little fun. She sauntered and swayed with Sandy and Smarty Pants as they hopped along with Angel in the lead like a tiny parade marshal, and the trio of Elements behind them marching in time with the squeaky wheel and the invisible washboard.

And here it was, the big finish, right at the actual threshold of Sweet Apple Acres. Robbed of her voice at the site, like a pilgrim reaching the end of a long trip to some far off holy land, her two friends ended the song around her and collapsed into a giggling pile of pony performers.

Behind them, Fluttershy sat on her yellow rump and politely clapped her forehooves together while Pinkie Pie was busy stashing the churro burro that she used in the third verse behind a nearby apple tree.

“Thanks Churro!” said Pinkie Pie.

“De nada,” he replied with a tip of his oversized sombrero.

“Alright gals, giddy up now,” said Applejack as she walked on. “We’ve got a heap a chores to finish if’n we’re gonna be ready for Twilight’s shindig.”

“What can we help with?” asked Smarty Pants.

“Well, fer starters, Granny Smith is on her own with the bakin’. She could probably use a hoof er two.”

“I’ll help!” volunteered Sandy, “My mommy’s a royal baker!”

Honeycrisp watched with a wry smile as Smarty Pants paled at Sandy’s words.

“Uh… girls,” said Smarty Pants addressing her two friends, “can I get a quick word?”

Honeycrisp nodded. So did Sandy. The three fillies stepped off to the side, just out of earshot of the three mares and Smarty Pants started her little lecture.

“Okay girls here’s the thing. We need to be very careful about what we say to the ponies we meet here in the past.”

“What do you mean?” asked Sandy.

“Remember the broken cup?”

Honeycrisp patted the pocket on her saddlebag where she slipped the broken handle and chip. “Sure do.”

“Okay, so if we say the wrong thing to the wrong pony, we might end up breaking somepony, instead of something. Sandy,” she said as she pointed a light brown hoof at her friend. “Your mommy is a Princess in this time. She and Princess Luna rule all of Equestria.”

“Really?” asked a wide eyed Sandy.

“Really. So I think the less said about the Celestia you know to the ponies of this time, the better.”

“Okay.” Said a fidgety green pegasus with a tiny pout.

“Is there anything else we shouldn’t talk about?” asked Honeycrisp.

“Yeah. Family and family history are both off limits,” said Smarty Pants turning her gaze to her cousin. “It’s probably best to err on the side of caution here. If you think you shouldn’t talk about it, don’t.”

The two other fillies nodded, and the three girls broke their little huddle.

Trotting back up to the three mares, Sandy broke the silence. “I’m happy to help with the baking. Because reasons,” she said with a wink to Smarty Pants.

Honeycrisp rolled her eyes.

“Great,” Applejack said pointing to an old farm house, “Why don’t you’n Pinkie head on up t—”

Applejack’s instructions were cut off as an eerily familiar voice screamed out in frustration. It was coming from inside the Apple family home and out of an open window. “Ah! I… I can’t take it any more! I have to get out of this dress!”

A moment later, a yellow sun dress wrapped in a purple aura went flying out the window and smacked Fluttershy right in the face. All was silent for a hare’s breath, Angel’s specifically, and then the voice, calmer and even more familiar now, spoke again after sighing happily, “Okay Big Mac, where were we?”

Ripping the garment off of her, a red faced Fluttershy shrieked “I’ll help with the baking!”

Grabbing Sandy by the hoof, the determined looking pink maned mare gave her wings a mighty flap, flying low and fast towards the house. Sandy, for her part, managed to keep any and all screaming on the inside, saving many an ear drum from harm that crisp morning.

“Well. Okay then,” said Applejack with a puzzled look on her face, as she watched the two pegasi hurdle towards her house. She heard a low chuckle coming from Pinkie Pie, and she turned to look at her poofy maned distant cousin, who wore a sly smile.

“I learned a thiiiiing,” she said as she rocked back and forth on her pink tail, pleased with her completely awesome deductive reasoning skills.

Applejack looked down at Smarty Pants, for some new insight, but the girl was too busy staring at the open window like it was some sorta gateway to Tartarus. Then she looked over at Honeycrisp. The young unicorn just shrugged back at her, and Applejack decided to drop the subject and focus on the chores.

The older earth pony cleared her throat and continued. “Next is the cider. We keep it in the barn cellar, and we need forty some-odd barrels of the stuff so Big Mac can pull’em inta town fer the party.”

Smarty Pants tore her eyes away from the window, reluctantly, and looked up at Applejack, processing what she just said. Cider. Cellar. Probably little chance of bumping into any familiar ponies down there. “I can help with that.”

“Terrific,” said Applejack with a smile. “Apple Bloom worked out some sorta contraption fer getting cider in’n out without having ta push’m up the stairs. Pinkie, you’ve used it before, can you lend her a hoof?”

Her pink friend nodded and bounced into the lead position, guiding Smarty Pants off towards the cellar doors on the near side of the barn. “Don’t you worry Smarty Pants, Auntie Pinkie Pie is… Here to…” she stopped and considered her words with a furrowed brow and a twitch of her tail. “No. It’s not Auntie Pinkie,” she turned and considered the filly with a raised eyebrow, “Is it?”

Smarty Pants laughed nervously, “Hay, how about that cider? I hear it’s some super good stuff!” she exclaimed nervously as they walked out of earshot of Applejack.

At last, Applejack turned to look down at Honeycrisp, who wore a grin a mile wide.

“So I guess it’s just you an’ me, huh?” she asked adjusting her hat.

“I guess so!” Honeycrisp blurted out with an anxious laugh. Little did Applejack know, but Honeycrisp had been looking forward to this moment ever since she ever said the word ‘chores’ earlier this morning.

This was it, thought Honeycrisp. I’m going to do farm work with Applejack! She was so nervous. She was so excited. She wished she knew a better word for the feeling she was feeling.

“So!” the filly exclaimed, “What’re we gonna do?” Feed the pigs? Chop some wood? Paint a barn?” Honeycrisp let out a squeal of excitement at the different possibilities.

Applejack turned back towards the barn with the cart in tow, and started off at a moderately paced trot with a smile on her face. “Nope.”

Honeycrisp gasped. “Are we gonna raise a barn?! Just the two of us?!”

Applejack stopped in place and threw Honeycrisp a wink. “Even better.”

Honeycrisp was practically vibrating with the excitement of it all. Better than raising a barn? What could be better than raising a barn?! “Well, what are we waitin’ for?”

Applejack laughed at the filly’s anxiousness, “Hold yer horses, filly. I gotta get outta this harness first.”

The little red filly bounced up and down in uncharacteristic glee, sticking right by the orange mare’s side. They came to a stop in front of the open barn, and Applejack pulled her cart around in line with three others. Two were as large as the one she was pulling, but the third was at least twice again as large.

“So… I’ve got a question for ya.” said Applejack, pulling herself free of her harness.

The young unicorn froze in place, hanging in the air mid-bounce for just a moment too long before coming back down to earth. She kept her eyes planted firmly on her forehooves before . “I…”

“Ain’t gotta answer if’n ya don’t wanna.”

Slowly, she turned in place and met the eyes of the Element of Honesty. Those eyes that seemed like they could see through any lie. Looking into those eyes, the filly from the future realized just how hard Pants’ request would be.

“S-sure, what is it?”

Applejack circled the filly, appraising her like a cart full of produce at the market. After coming back around to face the unicorn, Applejack nodded in approval.

“Yer an Apple, ain’tcha?”

“I… How did you know?” she asked the older mare in awe.

Applejack ruffled a hoof through the top of the filly’s pigtailed mane. “Y'all didn’t think it was a secret, did ya? What with the way you led the six of us here. Also, them hooves look like they’ve seen a fair share of work,” she said with a wink.

Applejack looked down at her own dusty, well-worn hooves and chuckled before continuing. “Plus, yer name is ‘Honeycrisp’, most folks named after apples these days tend to be Apples. Don’t reckon I know how they do it in the future, but it can’t be all that different, right?”

Honeycrisp stood up a bit straighter, as if a small weight had been lifted off of her shoulders. “Right!” she chirped back. “But uh, I’m not supposed ta talk about the future. So… No more questions about it?”

“Alright, I suppose I can do that. Well, I think we’ve wasted enough time. Ready fer some chores, Sugarcube?”

“I sure am!” exclaimed Honeycrisp, once more bouncing around in unrestrained glee. “What’re we gonna do?!”

“Why, the greatest chore there is.”

“Yeah?!”

“Eeyup. We’re gonna do us some applebuckin’!” she said as she cantered off into the barn to collect their supplies.

Honeycrisp, standing alone in front of the barn stared after the mare in utter disbelief. She could feel sweat beginning to bead on her forehead, and her stomach started to tighten.

She was terrible at applebucking. And soon, Applejack, Appleist of Apples, was going to know just how bad at it she was.

“Y-yeah,” she muttered under her breath, “Applebucking. Woo.”

Chapter 5

Fluttershy smashed through the Apple family screen door with such force that the various stacks of tax documentation sitting on the dining room table exploded into a flurry of parchment.

For a short eternity the yellow pegasus stood there panting, teeth barred, staring menacingly at the grandfather clock that commanded the small foyer ahead of her. Stare as she might, that old fellow kept ticking away without a care in the world. Time was fickle like that.

Fluttershy’s forelegs began to tremble, and her heavy panting slowed to irregular breaths. The door frame around her neck slid down a bit, as did the torn scraps of screen that still hung from it. The ruined screen door, much to its credit, was taking its new role in life as a necklace quite well.

“Fluttershy?” came the concerned voice of her traitorous Alicorn friend from the adjacent dining room.

Slowly, imperceptibly at first, Fluttershy turned her head to the right towards the dining room. Her wide, all-seeing eyes grazed past the vaguely Big Mac-shaped pile of paper that sat across from the target of her desperate charge: Twilight Sparkle.

Both mares stared into each others’ eyes, each wondering what the other was doing. Only one of them was vaguely contemplating where to hide the body.

“What the hay was all that about?” asked a fidgeting Twilight, who felt a terribly compelling force press against her will the longer she held Fluttershy’s gaze. A force that urged her to leave as soon as possible.

Fluttershy answered with a question of her own. A very quiet question that rose in pitch as she continued. “Oh, hello Twilight. What are you...” was all that she managed to squeak out before trailing off.

Twilight looked around the dining room for a brief moment, weighing her options carefully.

“Taxes?” she replied.

“Pinkie Pie?” came an elderly voice from the kitchen to Fluttershy’s left. “Is that you makin’ all that racket in there? Git on in here girl’n give me a hoof fer cryin’ out loud. These pies ain’t bakin’ themselves.”

“Oh, it’s me, Fluttershy,” said the pegasus as she continued to bore her eyes into Twilight’s. Then she lifted her left forehoof and gestured to her eyes in earnest. Then with the same hoof she pointed at Twilight who flinched in response.

Finally, Fluttershy turned with a smile and a shimmy to free herself from the broken screen door before trotting off into the kitchen.

“Pinkie Pie is helping with the cider,” she added cheerily.

“I don’t rightly care which’a you gals is gonna help with the baking so long as it ain’t—”

“Où se trouvent les toilettes?” interrupted a stallion’s voice from beyond the kitchen threshold.

“Oh say truvent lay toilets?” parroted Granny Smith.

Twilight watched in dumbfounded silence as her seemingly bi-polar friend pranced into the kitchen. It was an odd sight, what with the shattered screen door that was now left in the center of the Apple foyer. And it was made odder still by the unknown and unconscious green filly dangling from the back of Fluttershy’s head.

Two ponies trekked up a dusty trail, lined as it was with apple trees on both sides. It was a road of generations for the pair of ponies, who were joined by common bonds; the bond of home, and the bond of family.

Unfortunately for Honeycrisp, that didn’t make it any easier for her to keep up with Applejack’s intense pace. The in-her-prime earth pony looked about as happy as a pig in mud, keeping a steady jog through the neat rows of apple trees, both uphill and down, with no trouble whatsoever. It was all Honeycrisp could do to keep from wheezing too audibly.

She wore a grimace of a smile that did little to mask her exhaustion, both physical and emotional. Really, right now, she wanted to be anywhere else. Well, okay, if she was being honest with herself, she wanted to be home. Home home. Not this everything-is-sorta-different home in the distant past.

“So I told her, just as I'ma tellin' you now, Honeycrisp,” Applejack said, continuing whatever story she was in the middle of recalling, “‘Be that as it may, Sugarcube, y’all can’t go’n marry the first stallion who throws you a line.’”

Honeycrisp nodded at the half-heard tale, drowned out by her heart pounding away in her ears as they rounded the top of a third hill. Or was it the fourth? It was hard for her to keep count at this point. Numbers were never really her thing. Doubly so when she was out of breath.

Honeycrisp was an Apple though. Hard work was its own reward. But running? Running sucked. Who even likes running? she silently asked the universe. It’s terrible. Maybe it was because she was a unicorn. Maybe it was because it wasn’t her special talent. Whatever the case may be, she knew that running sucked and that it was terrible.

Applejack continued. “And boy-howdy, if that didn’t set her off. Why, I’ll never forget the sight'a how she went and ran off, draggin’ that fool stallion off by the scruff of his neck.” Applejack snorted a blast of hot air from her nostrils. “Served the varmint right, I guess. Once he was free he quit his little charade and high-tailed it for Dodge City to meet up with his good-fer-nothin’ uncles.”

With a jerk, she stopped at the top of the hill and turned her head to flash a broad grin at her impossibly distant relative. “And Apple Bloom followed the whole way, kickin’ and nippin’ at the little cuss.”

Honeycrisp nodded again, but out of the base sort of social instinct that all conscious ponies have when they’re on the verge of losing said consciousness due to physical exertion.

Smile faltering, Applejack’s ears flicked forward in concern. “Uh, Honeycrisp? You doin’ okay?”

“Eeyup,” Honeycrisp said between gasps for air.

Feeling herself list, she revised her previous statement to a resounding “Eenope,” before collapsing left and landing on a carpet of crisp dry leaves that blanketed the cool grass atop the hill.

Breathe. Breathing is good. Honeycrisp couldn’t hear if the now seated orange blob said anything over the sound of her heart pounding away to process all of this important air. But she did feel a hoof as it brushed her undone mane and bangs from her sweat soaked brow. And again. And a third time. And more times after that, but she wasn’t keeping count past the third.

What with the numbers and the breathing and all.

Honeycrisp closed her rose-colored eyes and focused on breathing. In and out. In. And out. A cool autumn wind traced along her exposed side and the bottom of her tired hooves.

Time passed, and a pleasant stillness returned.

The scent of late apples ripening on branches did its best to mask others, like the smell of fallen leaves or the pleasant odor of packed earth from the dusty trail. But they mingled into a unique bouquet. The unbottle-able essence of Sweet Apple Acres. It was a smell both known and ordinary for the young farm pony. To both smell it and miss it at the same time left the poor girl reeling.

Just when it was about to get the best of her; just as she could feel herself losing her handle on the situation... she heard the sound of relaxed breathing. In through the nose with a nigh-audible whistle and out again. In. And out. Honeycrisp opened her eyes, seeing the smiling mare who sat next to her, brushing a hoof through her mane in silence.

“Landsakes, girl. You need to tell me when Ah’m pushin’ ya too hard.”

Honeycrisp frowned and closed her eyes again. Then, slowly, she pulled herself up to a sitting position. “I’m fine,” she grunted. “I don’t need anypony’s pity.”

She felt a pair of hooves grab at her undone mane to straighten it out. “Oh, yer feisty!” said Applejack with a chuckle as she began to braid. “Definitely an Apple.”

Honeycrisp nodded curtly. “To the core.”

The two ponies sat in silence while Applejack finished braiding the filly’s undone pigtail. She took her time doing it and then some, by Honeycrisp’s guess. When the braiding wrapped up, Honeycrisp felt like her old self again.

She looked up at Applejack and nodded her silent thanks. Applejack returned the gesture with a tip of her hat before rising to her hooves and looking up and around. “I suppose here’s as good as anywhere to start applebucking,” she said, walking off the trail and towards a nearby wood shed piled high with empty baskets.

“Suppose so,” said Honeycrisp, as bravely as she could muster, but not rising to her hooves.

Applejack strapped a trio of baskets into the saddle-like harness she wore and smiled softly to herself. “I’m sorry, Honeycrisp.”

“Sorry?” asked the filly. “What for?”

“It’s become right plain to me that you don’t care for applebucking. I shoulda asked before figurin’ tha—”

Honeycrisp hopped up to her hooves, laughing nervously. “W-what do you mean? I love applebucking!”

Applejack rolled her lower jaw and leveled her gaze on Honeycrisp. “Lyin’ ain’t all that becomin’ of a young filly.”

“No, see? I love it!” she insisted, frantically gambling over to the closest apple tree and bucking it over and over again with all of her might.

The red and yellow boughs above her swayed but that had more to do with the wind than Honeycrisp’s efforts.

“Uh Huh,” said Applejack.

Fueled by the shame burning hot through her cheeks, Honeycrisp kicked and kicked and kicked. She grunted with each attack, ignoring the sting in her hooves as they slapped ineffectually like wet noodles against… Well, against a tree. The onslaught continued, unabated for several seconds until once more, Honeycrisp felt her stamina begin to flag.

With one final kick, she let out a howl of frustration.

“Okay, I’m up, I’m up!” came a scratchy plea from above.

The rustling and clip of hooves against branches pulled the panting Honeycrisp out of her foul mood long enough for her curiosity to get the better of her.

A few heartbeats later, and a blue pegasus with a mop of a rainbow for a mane pulled herself into the air above the tree. She wore a scowl along with a white and gold jumpsuit that probably looked cool when it was all zipped up and not covered in sticks and leaves.

“What’s a girl gotta do to get a nap around here?” she groused, scratching at her wingpits with her forehooves.

“Rainbow Dash, as I live and breath. When did you drift into town?” asked Applejack, offering little more than a shrug by way of apology.

“Too early to get a good nap before the party, apparently,” she said with a yawn. Honeycrisp watched as the drowsy pegasus looked down at her. Appraising her.

“Who’s the squirt?”

Honeycrisp balked at the question, her mind kicking into some new gear, desperate to keep her cover and her promise to Smarty Pants and no—

“Honeycrisp, Rainbow Dash. Rainbow Dash, Honeycrisp,” said Applejack, pointing between the two, before moving on. “Wanna help me out with something right quick?”

Honeycrisp watched that same appraising eye regard the infallible Applejack, and she found herself smiling for no particular reason when the blue pegasus swooped down in a lazy arc to land between the two of them. “I guess. So long as it’s not like, hard or anything.”

Applejack giggled. “Same ol’ reliable Rainbow,” she said with a playful punch to the other mare’s shoulder. “Nah, ain’t nothin’ too hard. Just a demonstration’a sorts for Honeycrisp.”

Honeycrisp ducked as the closer of Rainbow Dash’s two wings swept wide over her red horn before they returned to her side. “Ah yeah, I’m all about demonstrations!”

Honeycrisp found herself staring into the coral eyes of the excited pegasus standing right next to her. “What’ll it be kid? Pinion Press? Razor Dive? Sonic Rainboom?”

“I, uh… Huh?” Honeycrisp asked as she caught sight of Applejack walking past the two of them to place baskets under the hated tree.

“Nevermind all that, Rainbow. Care you demonstrate yer applebuckin’ technique?”

Rainbow Dash broke eye contact with Honeycrisp and turned with a sigh. “Jeez, is that all? Okay, kid. Watch and learn.”

Honeycrisp huffed as Rainbow Dash walked over to Applejack. “I already know how to buck apples!” she protested, “I just—”

Her confession was cut short when Rainbow Dash unexpectedly jumped into the air with a ‘whoop’. She circled the tree, looking it over while she rubbed her chin with a hoof. “What are you—” was all Honeycrisp could ask before Rainbow Dash came to a mid-air stop, silencing her with the same hoof, now outstretched in her direction.

“I said watch and learn,” she insisted. Honeycrisp was taken aback by how her tone and demeanor suddenly took on a more serious, mentor-like quality. The sort of thing that demanded a filly’s attention.

Back again Rainbow went, circling the tree. Looking for some sort of… thing. Well, whatever it was, she apparently found it on the second pass by. “There you are,” she said as she flapped her wings in reverse to fly away from the tree, never taking her eyes off the spot.

Rainbow Dash flew back a dozen or so yards before she once again came to a stop. Honeycrisp gasped when Rainbow suddenly took off at impossible speed, barreling towards the tree with such intensity that she could only imagine splinters and a hospital visit as the possible results.

But that future never came to pass, for the cock-sure pegasus came to an abrupt and equally impossible stop just inches from the first leaf. A stop powered by wrought-iron wings and a will of steel. The carefully calculated force of the summoned wind was unlike anything Honeycrisp had ever experienced before, and she couldn’t help but gasp as the apples fell.

“Good,” offered Applejack, holding her hat tight to her head, “but next time try and get’em in the baskets.”

Rainbow Dash shrugged as she landed. “Eh, close enough.”

“What was that?!” asked Honeycrisp, unable to hide the awe in her voice. A fact that Rainbow Dash clearly caught on to, judging by the way she strutted about the tree and scooped apples into buckets with deft wing work.

“Just some of the greatest apple bucking ever,” she crowed.

“But you didn’t even touch the tree! It was just wind!”

Rainbow Dash raised an eyebrow at that. “Why would I have to touch the tree?” she asked.

Honeycrisp couldn’t hide her scowl, her ears going wide and low. “Well, it’s called applebucking. So, you know… You have to buck the tree! Don’t you?”

Applejack made an ‘ah’ sound that drew the filly’s attention. “I see the issue here,” she said with bright, understanding eyes before throwing a hoof around Honeycrisp’s withers and pulling her into a hug.

“Honeycrisp, you don’t have to use yer hooves.”

“But it’s called—”

“Doesn’t matter what it’s called, Sugercube. What matters is getting the apples outta the tree, and to hungry ponies all over Equestria. Whether you use a hoof, wing, or—”

“Or magic?” asked Honeycrisp, her eyes widening at the sudden insight.

“Or magic,” said the Applejack with a knowing grin.

Honeycrisp leaned into the hug, standing on her two back hooves to hug back. Moments passed before a self-conscious chuckle broke the stillness. “So, uh, I’m gonna get going,” said Rainbow Dash, scratching the back of her head, the apple buckets around the tree now full. “I’ve got a date to get ready for.”

Honeycrisp felt Applejack’s hug falter, but only for a moment. “You? A date?” chided the orange coated marvel of Sweet Apple Acres. “Never thought I’d live to see the day.”

Honeycrisp saw Rainbow Dash bristle at the comment. “Yeah well, what can I say? I’m awesome. Later!” she said, zipping out of view.

Honeycrisp looked up and caught the frown forming on Applejack’s face as the latter watched the pegasus’ rainbow trail.

When Sandy finally became aware of the world around her again, the first thing she smelled was pie. Specifically, freshly baked apple pie.

It was a smell that pulled the rest of her back into consciousness at a rapid pace. Was she back home in Canterlot? Did her mommy bake that amazing smelling pie?

Her gentle swaying and the accompanying creaks at each swing’s apex told Sandy that she was sitting in what must have been the most comfortable wooden rocking chair in the history of comfortable wooden rocking chairs. Somepony must have wrapped her up in a quilt to keep her cozy warm and toasty, and it was working. If it weren’t for the sound of approaching hooves, she’d probably be lulled back to sleep by it all.

Opening her eyes, she began to focus on her surroundings. The first thing the noticed was the gray-green blob that moved slowly through the blurry world around her. Blinking away whatever it was that made ponies tired, it wasn’t long before she realized that the blob was an earth pony.

It was definitely a mare, and a very old one at that. Her saggy coat stood in stark contrast to the bright red tile on the kitchen walls beyond. She was walking slowly, but with great intent, towards the oven nearest to her.

Sandy had found herself in a kitchen. And it was a nice kitchen, at least as far as kitchens go. Homely. Well stocked and full of pies in various states of doneness. But it wasn’t her mommy’s kitchen back in Canterlot, back in the future.

“Je suis une riche veuve,” came a stallion’s voice from a gramophone sitting on a table in the far right corner of the room.

“Joo swee une rich veeyouve,” the old pony said back as she continued toward the stove.

Sandy watched her repeat the words from the safety of her perch. Pulling the quilt around her like a hood, she peeked her head through the patchwork portal to get a better look at the unknown elder.

“Enlever votre chemise et prendre un verre,” purred the voice on the gramophone.

“En lever voter… chemist… Aw, horsefeathers. I don’t know if I’ll ever learn all them fancy talkin’ words before my trip.”

“Y-your trip?” asked Sandy, sliding the hood back with a bit of assistance from the rocking chair’s momentum. Even though the old earth pony reminded Sandy of the horrible headmistress at the orphanage in Cloudsdale, what with the lack of wings and the wrinkly face, she had a good feeling about this pony. Like… Like she could be trusted.

Probably.

Still, just to be safe, Sandy curled the rest of herself into a ball inside of her blanket.

“Plus de vin, monsieur?” asked the gramophone politely.

Sandy put two and two together and her wavering smile brightened. “Are you going to Prance?”

The old mare clicked her teeth as she turned in place to address her. “Sure as Ah’m an Apple!” she crowed, her limbs wibbling and wobbling in a quick two-step. “My granddaughters are’a takin’ me fer Hearth’s Warmin’! Oooh-boy, I ain’t never gone no place so fancy befer!”

Sandy felt her apprehension ebb away. That is, until the elder steadied herself and fixed her wizened gaze upon Sandy. “What’s yer name, young’n?” asked the elder mare.

“S-Sandy, ma’am,” she answered, unable to slow the flutter of her wings.

“Ma’am!” exclaimed the elder mare with the sort of over-exaggeration that made foals giggle. “Oh Sun above, what a polite young lady you are. Come on over here and lemme get a good look atcha.”

Sandy hesitated. The squeak of the oven door tore her attention away from the kind grin on the elder mare’s muzzle and over to Fluttershy, who was wearing a pair of oversized oven mitts on her wings. Deftly, she removed a tray with three pies on it, then brought it to rest on the otherwise crowded stove top before turning to put a new tray with three uncooked pies into the oven.

And somehow, in the midst of all that, Sandy caught Fluttershy’s attention. The older pegasus gave the filly an encouraging nod. A nod that helped Sandy pull one hoof out of her quilt. Then another. Soon she was well on the ground and dangerously within the old mare’s striking distance.

“Ma chambre ou le vôtre?” questioned the gramophone intently.

Sandy noticed a twinkle in the elder pony’s eyes when she came to a stop. She knew that she was being assessed in that uncanny way that only an old soul could. It was the sort of look she was used to getting from her mommy. The mare extended a rickety hoof towards Sandy and smiled a spooky toothful smile.

Until her teeth fell out, clattering to the ground.

Sandy flinched.

The elder mare pulled back her hoof and grumbled as she scooped up her chompers. Dusting off the lint and errant hair, she popped them back in before testing her smile. “Hello child, I’m Granny Smith. What’s your name?”

“Sandy.”

“Sandy you say? Why, that’s a lovely name, Sandy,” said Granny Smith with high praise as she slowly turned to lumber over to a nearby table. “Would you like to help Fluttershy and I make some pies?”

Sandy’s wings fluttered a bit despite her initial misgivings. She always loved helping in the kitchen. Maybe she could help here. Maybe it would be fun. Maybe Granny Smith was a good pony? She looked once more at Fluttershy, but she wasn’t looking back.

She was busy with a mixing bowl and spatula while humming a wordless, meandering tune. Fluttershy stirred and folded the dough in her bowl. Sandy smiled at the older pegasus watching her own reflection in the window in the Apple family kitchen. There was no anxiety in Fluttershy’s eyes. There was no fear in her smile. No trepidation in her delicate movements.

And in that moment, Sandy knew she could be brave.

“Pourriez-vous l'huile de mon dos?” requested the gramophone.

Smarty Pants had followed Pinkie Pie into the cellar some time ago. Whether that was an hour or two, Smarty wasn’t sure. The cellar didn’t have a clock, magical or otherwise. What it did have was cider barrels. Lots and lots of cider barrels.

The two worked quietly for the vast majority of the time, rolling and stacking barrels onto a big rubber belt built by Applejack’s kid sister to get barrels up and out quickly. After every twenty barrels or so, the two of them would then walk back up the stairs, for the hard part. Pull a pallet with twenty barrels loaded, over to the biggest cart Smarty Pants ever did see, and then wait for Pinkie Pie to use some sort of pallet crank elevator thingy to get the pallet in the cart.

It was sweaty, thankless work, and it was done in silence. Not because Smarty Pants didn’t have questions. Stars above, no. This was an amazing opportunity to get primary source history from the horse’s mouth! There likely wouldn’t be another opportunity like it for the rest of her life! But, she couldn’t. She just couldn’t.

What if she did something, or learned something that altered the course of history? What if she screwed something up, and somehow her parents ended up never meeting? Or what if Fluttershy and Big Mac never got together? Most of her favorite ponies, herself included, are part of that particularly bountiful family tree.

“I mean, they’re gonna have twenty three foals!” she exclaimed, releasing the rope and waving her hooves in the air.

“Huh—oof!” said Pinkie Pie. Her end of the rope going taut as she fell over in front of the pallet they were dragging.

Smarty Pants winced and scooped her rope back up. “Sorry,” she said sheepishly.

Pinkie Pie rolled over, popping up with an audible sproing, “S’alright Smarty,” she replied, gathering her rope. “But uh, who’s gonna have twenty three kids?”

“What? Where did you hear about that?” Smarty Pants asked nervously.

Pinkie Pie shrugged as the two started to pull again. “Well,” she grunted, punctuating her words with each yank. “You said — just now — that they are gonna — have twenty three — foals!!”

“I did?” asked Smarty Pants as she started pulling again.

“You did. Who’s ‘they’?”

“Nopony.”

Pinkie Pie blew the sweaty strands of her puffy mane out of her eyes before furrowing her brow at Smarty Pants. “You know what happens to liars, right?”

“They get to go home without accidently breaking time?”

Pinkie looked back at the twenty barrels that the two mares were dragging to the cart and scrunched up her face in thought. After a moment she let out a breath with a shrug. “Yeah, probably.”

Smarty Pants was grateful for the silence that followed. They pulled their crazy load in said silence until they got it in place for the crank elevator to do its thing. Since the contraption to lift the pallet was so loud Smarty Pants couldn’t think straight, let alone carry on a conversation with anypony. Especially a pony as interesting as Pinkie Pie.

Sure, she was an Element of Harmony. Sure, she was one of her very own direct ancestors. Sure, she was one of Princess Twilight’s closest friends... Ever. But, more importantly right now, Pinkie Pie was probably her best bet at getting back to her own time.

Smarty Pants stood stone still, watching Pinkie Pie work the levers and gears necessary to operate the noisy lift. Color bled from the edges of her vision. Pistons and whirligigs slowed to a crawl. The spaces between heartbeats were tiny eternities.

The wedding invitation. The Crystal Heart. Everything. She knew. Pinkie Pie already knew.

Smarty Pants realized what she needed to do before she could go home. And it broke her heart.

With the sound of straining wood and iron, time returned to its normal flow. It was the sound of the palette being lowered on top of an existing stack, five palettes high.

“And that’s the last of them!” said Pinkie Pie with a sigh. She flopped away from the controls to land on her back and stare up at roof of the barn that housed the contraption and the giant cart. Pinkie Pie giggled. “Job well done, Smarty! Sure, it wasn’t as fun as making cakes, and it definitely wasn’t as much fun as eating them, but it’s all done now! Boy, are you as hungry as I am?”

Smarty Pants didn’t say anything when Pinkie Pie looked back at her and winced. “Oh yeah, sorry. I forgot I’m not supposed to ask any questions. Guess I forgot, cause I got all tired, and stuff, you know? But it’s not a bad sorta tired. The productive sort of tired. The kind of tired where my earth pony bones say ‘you did it!’ and then I say ‘I sure did, but I couldn’t have done it without you, bones!’ and then my spleen would ask ‘hey what about me?’ because spleens are needy and—

“Ask me anything you want,” came a quiet, reserved, and not-at-all-like-Smarty Pants reply.

Pinkie Pie sat up like a shot, and the concern written across her face was plain as day. “What do you mean?” she asked.

“Just like that,” Smarty Pants answered, not making eye contact and instead staring at her hooves. “Ask me any questions. At all. About me. About the girls. The future.”

Pinkie Pie gasped. “Are you crying?!”

“Yes,” Smarty Pants found herself answering.

Smarty Pants heard Pinkie Pie rolling to her hooves and trotting over to where Smarty Pants sat. “Why are you crying, Smarty?” the older mare asked.

“Because I figured it out,” Smarty said as she felt herself pulled into a sweaty hug. “In Princess Twilight’s stories, you already knew everything that was gonna happen to you. And your friends. And Rarity. The only way that can happen is if… Is if I tell you!” she blurted out, finally looking Pinkie in the eyes.

“H-hay now,” said Pinkie with a quiver in her voice. “Come on, it c-can’t be all that bad, right? Let’s just reel it in, come on. Atta girl. Okay, we’re gonna hug it out. Yeah? That’s good, yeah? Hugs are nice.”

Smarty Pants nodded, wiping her eyes on Pinkie Pie’s offered shoulder before continuing in starts and fits. “I-I mean, it’s n-not all bad. Th-there’s some g-good in there, for s-sure. A lot of-f it.”

“It’s okay, Smarty Pants,” reassured Pinkie Pie. But it did little to undo the twist in the filly’s guts.

“You don’t have to tell me anything if you don’t want t—”

Pinkie Pie yelped when Smarty Pants abruptly pulled out of the hug. “No! You don’t understand! If I d-don’t tell you, if you don’t know, then it changes history! I might not exist! My friends might not exist! Equestria might not exist!”

Pinkie Pie ears flattened against the top of her head. “H-hey now. That’s pretty serious stuff. I’m sure it’s not all that ba—”

“But it could be!” Smarty Pants insisted. “You’re special, Pinkie Pie. You know. You knew. You will know. You have to, otherwise it changes everything!”

Smarty Pants let Pinkie Pie pull her back into a hug and sat down. She could feel the poor mare’s heart thumping in her chest, belying whatever anxiety truly lie beneath her sugary exterior. Pinkie rocked them both back and forth, making soothing shush noises and nickering softly. “Okay, so... Suppose I do need to know. And suppose you do need to ‘tell me everything’. You don’t have to tell me right this instant, do you?”

“What do you mean?” Smarty asked.

“Well, when I feel like I need to know something, I’ll ask. Okay? Until then, let’s just try to enjoy Twilight’s big day. Yeah?”

“...Yeah.”

“Great,” said Pinkie Pie with a giggle. “Well, let’s get the last of the cider then.”

Smarty Pants tightened her grip in dismay. “I thought you said that was the last of them?”

“Oh, yeah. That’s the last of the regular cider. We just need to get a barrel of Applejack’s Special Reserve for the Princesses. It’s their favorite.”

Smarty Pants groaned as she stood back up, working the knot that was forming in her right shoulder. “Okay,” she grumbled. “Lets get those barrels.”

Pinkie Pie, who had already trotted on ahead, laughed a good natured sort of laugh. “Oh no silly. This one’s easy. It’s the last one.”

“The last one?”

“Yepperoni! It’s the last one there’ll ever be, too. Atleast that’s what Applejack said when the last of her special reserve yeast went and spoiled in a freaky flood. It’s too bad,” she added as she walked down the cellar stairs. “This stuff is good.”

Sandy’s blue eyes sparkled as she smiled up from her spot beside Granny Smith, the most funderful, most kindest old earth pony she’d ever met. Granny Smith smiled back, and took the bowl of mixed wet ingredients from her with a wink. Placing it on the table with a deftness that defied her age, she gripped the handle of her own bowl of dry ingredients for the next batch of pie crust and poured it into Sandy’s bowl.

Then, flitting into the air with a small leap, Sandy came to rest on the pedals of a filly-powered mixer, already whisk down in the mixture. A fresh peal of laughter filled the cinnamon sweetened air as Sandy pedaled. Slow at first, soon she was stirring the concoction at such a speed that Granny Smith had to hold the bowl in place for fear of it taking off.

Like the first one did about an hour ago.

Sandy paddled and pedaled and mixed and meddled the dough until it was a consistent consistency. Something she could feel in her hooves as the chained gear turned and churned beneath her.

“Ready Fluttershy?!” asked Sandy in a hurried squawk.

“Ready.”

“Ready, Granny Smith?”

“You bet yer kester!”

“Three…” said Sandy, as she worked herself near into a tizzy.

“Two… “ said Fluttershy, brandishing a rolling pin in one hoof and a wax-papered baking sheet in the other.

“One!” howled Granny Smith as she yanked the bowl in her grasp to the right.

Sandy flapped her wings and pulled up with the lateral motion, and she started to spin like a giggling pin-wheel. But when she reached the apex of her spin, she flapped against it, flinging her wad of doughy goodness towards Fluttershy who was just as ready to catch this one as she had the last dozen or so.

A small, almost inaudible poof came from the dining room at the exact instant Granny Smith yanked the bowl, and a started yelp pierced the air, startling the three mares in the kitchen..Specifically, one butter yellow pegasus who was previously engaged in catching a high viscosity projectile from one of her newest little friends.

Luckily, her instinct to cover her face with the baking sheet turned out to be a good one, as it protected her from the airborne dough.

“Oh, for the love of pink swirly stars!” came a curse of sorts from Twilight in the dining room along with the sound of an avalanche of paper.

“Heh,” said Fluttershy with a knowing smile before turning back to the counter and placing the baking sheet down.

A familiar voice called out from the dining room, as the sound of hooves galloping off of a table and landing on the hardwood filled the first floor of the Apple family home. “Applejack, you were right!” said the voice, “I did it!”

“Ah knew you could, Honeycrisp!” came a muffled whoop of support from the front yard.

Sandy and Granny Smith watched on in horror as Fluttershy slammed her rolling pin into the helpless lump of dough before her.

“Wha…” started Sandy.

“Love’ll do that to a mare,” whispered Granny Smith. “Makes yer head all screwy.”

“It does?” Sandy whispered back with wide eyes.

Granny Smith nodded. “At least Ah’m hopin’ it’s love. For the bakeware’s sake, if not fer anypony else.”

Slowly, and with great care not to alert Fluttershy to their presence, the two shrugged at each other and started work on another batch of dough.

“Sandy?” asked Granny Smith, “I’m fresh outta eggs. Would ya be a dear an—”

The sound of Applejack stomping up the porch stairs and gasping caught everypony’s attention.

“What in tarnation happened to the screen door?”

“Sandy, where are you? I teleported! Applejack said I could, and I did!” Sandy smiled when she heard the raw excitement in Honeycrisp’s voice as the filly gambled about, no doubt looking for her. “It was like… It was like an explosion, only it was me that blew up!”

“Twilight?" interrupted Applejack, “What’re y’all still doin’ here?”

“Not taxes, I’ll tell you that much,” Sandy heard Princess Twilight answer back, along with the sound of papers being shuffled around.

“Eenope,” came the corroborating reply of the sole male in the house.

“Huh,” Applejack said, her hoof-falls coming ever closer to the kitchen. “I figured, what with you havin’ ta pickin’ up yer family at the train station and al—”

Sandy couldn’t place the sound she was hearing, but it sounded an awful lot like a chair falling over and into in a pile of papers.

“Oh my gosh, is it noon already?” came Princess Twilight’s frantic reply.

“It’s twelve-oh-fiiiiive,” Fluttershy answered loudly in a sing-song voice, looking at the clock above the refrigerator.

Sandy turned to look back at the kitchen’s entry way and listened to the muttered half apologies mixed with curses of one sort or another as the young incarnation of the infallible pony she knew ran out the front door. She’d never forget the sound of the Goddess of Magic tripping over her hooves and falling down the front porch’s small staircase before poofing out of existence.

Sandy turned and looked again at Fluttershy, who was singing softly to herself again as she rolled out the dough, staring out the window all the while.

“Maybe it’s not love,” wondered Granny Smith with a wary eye and a rub of her chin.

Before Sandy could speak a familiar voice called out from the kitchen door, “There you are, Sandy. Guess what?! I teleported!”

Sandy turned with a smile that set her wings buzzing. “I heard! That’s amazing, I— Oh, those apples look great! Did you buck them yourself?”

Honeycrisp walked in with two baskets wrapped in golden auras floating above her head, “I sure did!” she beamed proudly. “I bucked them with my magic!”

Sandy giggled at her friend’s puffed out chest and conqueror's strut. “That’s so great,” she said, singing her friend’s praises. “I didn’t know a pony could buck apples with magic.”

Honeycrisp smiled back. “Neither did I ‘til Applejack showed me.”

“I didn’t show you diddly,” said Applejack. “You went and showed me. Now go on’n get those baskets up on the counter over yonder. These babies are goin’ in pies.”

Honeycrisp nodded as she concentrated on floating the baskets over to the counter. “And they’ll be the best tasting pies, ever, cause I picked the apples!”

Sandy puffed out her chest too, feeling a bit cocky herself from all this crowing. “And because I helped bake them!”

“Alright you whippersnappers,” chided Granny Smith with a wry smile, “any more hot air outta the two’a you and we won’t need wood ta burn fer the ovens! Now go out back and get us some more eggs.”

Sandy nodded, pulling herself out of her mixer pedals and floating down beside Honeycrisp before playfully leaning into her on the landing. “Come on, Honeycrisp,” she said, and began leading the way, “I’ll race you to the coop!”

Sandy didn’t see it, but her friend’s smile faltered when she answered back at a slow trot, “Please... no more running.”

Applejack watched as the two girls ran out the door, all giggles and silliness. Well, one ran out the door. The other walked for the most part. A limpy sort of hop. She frowned, wondering if she worked the poor gal too hard out in the east fields.

She was ripped from this thought when she watched Granny Smith unexpectedly waver and slump over. “Granny?!” she found herself calling in alarm.

In a heartbeat, the sound of paper once more going helter-skelter in the dining room filled the air, with heavy hoof falls following soon after.

By the time Applejack closed the few feet of distance between her and the mare that raised her, Fluttershy was already there, supporting Granny’s back and holding her hoof.

“I’m fine, child. I’m fine,” she said, holding a shaking hoof to her chest. “The little red one gave me a start is all. It was like I was lookin’ at yer pa all over again. Like Ah was seein’ my own foal for the first time.”

Applejack nodded and shared a worried glance with Fluttershy. “You’ve had a long day, Granny Smith. How’s about I help you up to your room for a nap?” Fluttershy offered with a caring smile.

“That sounds lovely dear. Big Mac, quit yer gawkin’ and come help Fluttershy. Applejack, you finish the last batch of pies.”

Applejack turned to her side, taking a step back as Big Mac hurried past her. Each taking a side, the two escorted Granny Smith back out of the kitchen and toward the stars.

“Thank you dearies,” Granny said with a sigh as she walked between the two. Applejack couldn’t help but shake her head when she heard Granny Smith continue with “Oh, Fluttershy, don’t you smell nice. Big Mac, doesn’t Fluttershy smell nice?” before the trio reached the stairs.

“Poor, poor Granny,” mused Applejack, “She’s gonna be heartbroken when she finds out Fluttershy already has her heart set on some stallion.”

Applejack took off her hat and set it on the table by the mixer. The room was full of pies in various states of completion, with more cooling in the pantry. Sure, there was a lot of work left to do, but with Honeycrisp and her friend, Applejack was sure that the pies would be done in time to take them to where Rarity was setting up the night’s activities.

She mosied on over to the sink basin to wash her hooves, letting the soap and warm water wash away the dirt and dust, taking a silly and careless dream along with it. The sort of childish notion she should’ve outgrown when she was a filly.

“A date,” she said quietly, staring at the soapy water stream down her hooves. “I’m glad. Good for her.”

The side door opened with a protesting squeak and a cascade of hooves echoed off the tiled walls. “We’re back with the eggs, Granny!” Sandy called.

“Hey, where’d the crazy-old lady go?” asked Honeycrisp.

“She’s not crazy!”

“What? I don’t… No, she’s crazy-old. Like, she’s probably a million years old.”

“How old can ponies get?”

“I dunno, ask your mom.”

Applejack killed the water with a hoof while reaching for the hoof towel with the other. She wiped her hooves dry. She wiped her face dry. Leaning her back against the sink, she cleared her throat and answered the two fillies. “Granny’s as old as the hills, and then some. So she went up to take a nap. Can I count on the two of you to help me finish making these pies?”

Honeycrisp let out a cheer. Sandy let out a whoop. Applejack joined in with a ‘yee-haw’ of her own. “Alright then, girls! Let’s get these pies finished before anything else strange ha—”

“No!” came a frantic cry from the front yard, causing Applejack to spin in place once more and search through the window for the cause.

“Smarty Pants, you wheel that barrel back here right this instant young lady!” admonished a dirt stained Pinkie Pie as she ran across the yard. “We need it for the party!”

“I said no!” shouted Smarty Pants, frantically. “The future depends on it!”

Applejack soon caught sight of Smarty Pants, also covered in dirt and grime. She was running atop the last of the Special Reserve barrels like a log in a river. The barrel in turn bounced and rolled just out of Pinkie Pie’s reach, weaving this way and that before doubling back on itself whenever the former got too close.

“The future depends on it!” the wild-eyed filly reiterated.

Applejack hung her shoulders in a measure of disbelief and frustration. She looked over her shoulder to apologize to Honeycrisp and Sandy, but minus a bunch of pies and a basket of eggs, she was the kitchen’s sole occupant.

“For the future!” came a call like a battlecry from the porch. Applejack’s ear flickered at the pair of voices well before glancing outside again in time to see Honeycrisp hug-tackling Pinkie Pie to the ground.

“Fly, you fillies!” she shouted over her shoulder, back beyond Applejack’s field of vision.

“No! The party!” screamed Pinkie Pie, prone on the ground, holding and exaggerating the final syllable like a balloon letting out the last of its air.

Opening the window, and sticking her head out, Applejack looked beyond the lone oak tree in the yard and spied a barrel shaped blob of eight legs and two buzzing wings running as fast as it could deeper into Sweet Apple Acres. Smarty Pants screamed the whole way about how the future depended on that one barrel of cider.

Applejack shook her head. “Eeyup. No kids fer me, thanks,” she said to herself, pulling back into the kitchen to peel apples.

Chapter 6

Teleportation was easy for Princess Twilight Sparkle. She liked to think she had mastered it before her ascension. Still, she knew that teleporting could be dangerous if the right amount of concentration wasn’t applied. Teleporting half a dozen miles —while tumbling down a flight of stairs— usually had disastrous results, even for the most experienced of magic users.

Luckily, she wasn’t most magic users.

But, then again, there she was, lying on her back and staring up at her hooves, and the wood-planked ceiling of the private concourse of Ponyville’s train station beyond. Even while laid on her back, the Princess could tell that the other, public concourses were bustling with activity.

Excited voices —and the accompanying din of the happy ponies that just arrived on the train from the Crystal Empire— came pouring through the wicker wall dividers that flanked the private concourse. It was the sound of the comings and goings of townies, party guests, and all manner of folk in between. She laid there for a moment, smiling at the thought of all the friends she’d made over the years, and all the ponies she’d see tonight.

“Twilight?” came Princess Cadence’s familiar voice.

She rolled to her left and sprang to her hooves, moving quickly to right herself. And that’s when it hit her. Or rather, that’s when her niece hit her.

“Auntie Twily!” screamed the little bubblegum colored pegasus foal as she hug-tackled the Princess of Magic.

With an “Oof!” the pair went tumbling, and Twilight found herself once more on her back, only this time instead of wooden beams, she was seeing stars. But the giggly filly whose grasp was wrapped around her neck made the experience totally worthwhile.

Cadence called out, chiding her rambunctious child. “Cassie! We talked about this. Let go and greet your Aunt the proper way.”

Twilight smiled as she felt the weight of the filly scramble off of her, laughing a little when her downy wings accidentally tickled her muzzle in the process. With the sound of little happy hooves coming to a stop just a few feet ahead of her, Twilight sat up and looked at the blue-maned filly smiling up at her, hugging her own wings with her fore hooves.

“Wings back, young lady,” reminded her mother with a smile.

The little filly straightened up and her wings shot down to her sides. Then, prim and proper, tiny Cassandra stood up and gave a wobbly curtsy. “Onchanty, Auntie Twily.”

Princess Twilight stood up and offered a sweeping bow of her own. “Onchanty, to you too, Cassandra.”

The filly sat on her rump with a thump, laughing a little melody all her own, like birdsong, and wrapped her wings around her midsection once more as she reached up to her favorite Auntie for a hug.

Behind the two of them, Cadence sighed. Though not before being hugged by her beloved, Shining Armor. “Well, she almost got it right,” he said.

“Yes, but she needs to get it all the way right. It’s enchanté. Not ‘onchanty’,” she said, spitting the last word out as if it was sour.

“But she’s only three and a half years old, love.”

“That’s no excuse for Auntie Twily to encourage her bad habits.”

Shining Armor, his hoof still around his love goddess horsewife, turned to his folks behind him. “Mom, a little help?”

Twilight Velvet shook her head as she stepped off the train with her husband in tow. “Oh no, I’ve already raised my foals.”

“Our foals, dear,” offered Night Light, coming to a stop and resting his chin on the top of his wife’s head.

“That’s exactly what I said. Anyway, you two will have to sort out your own little quibbles. It’s all a part of living in matrimonial bliss.”

Night Light stepped aside to give his wife a sideways glance, letting the Crystal Pony porters pass him with their luggage carts. “Plus, my mother couldn’t leave well enough alone while you two were kids.” Laughing at it now, he added, “She drove you nuts.”

The Sparkle matriarch nodded an affirmative. “That’s right, and I promised that I’d never butt in and tell anypony else that she’s raising her foals wrong. Besides,” she added with a chuckle, “I’m having too much fun spoiling Cassie to care.”

Twilight Velvet smiled and called aloud to her granddaughter, “I wonder who wants a caramel!?” She fished a small candy from her saddlebag and began peeling away the off-white wax paper wrapper.

“I do, I do!” the filly informed the group emphatically.

Cassie pushed herself out of her hug with Auntie Twily and flip-flapped her little wings in a backwards loop-de-loop over the porters, her father, and her mother’s ever-patient smile. Mouth open wide, she gobbled the candy as her grandmother tossed it safely into the air. Night Light, as all good grandfathers do, ‘ooh’ed and ‘ahh’ed, respectively, sitting up to clap at Cassie’s aerial antics.

“Hay, can I have one of those, too?”

Twilight Velvet smiled, and half turned to look at Spike bringing up the rear of their little group. “Of course you can, Spike.” She held out another sweet for the teenaged drake.

Spike reached down and carefully used two long claws to pluck the caramel out of her hoof, tossing it into his toothy maw, wrapper and all. “Mmm, you know,” he said while chewing, “it’s, mmm, the wax paper that really brings out the flavor profile of the caramel.”

A small flappy thump landed on top of the young dragon’s head, between his horns. “Uncle Spiiiike!” demanded Cassie. She closed her eyes, and touched a forehoof to her wing-wrapped chest. “We don’t eat paper. It’s not ladylike.”

Cadence groaned and leaned into Shining Armor as the two of them walked towards the porters. “See?” he said, encouragingly, “she can be taught.”

“Your luggage is ready, Your Highness,” said the porter pony bowing before Princess Cadence.

Cadence’s magic lifted the luggage off of the two gilded carts, floating them into the air and sorting them into a large pile of bags, and a pair of two bags. Settling the large pile back down on one of the two carts and the small day bags on the other, she pointed to them and said, “The big pile should go to the library, and these two go to the Grenouille des Marais.“

“Dibs on the two bags!” shouted the taller of the two porters.

“Di-ah dingle dang,” cursed the other porter.

Twilight’s ears flicked at Cadence’s words and she trotted over to stand next to her sister-in-law. “You’re not staying at the library?”

Cadence shook her head, her perfectly brushed mane flowing along with the motion. “Not tonight. Shining and I are staying at the Grenouille des Marais,” she said with a titter in her voice, clapping her fore hooves together excitedly. “The one in Neigh Orleans is my favorite hotel, and when I heard that the grand opening of the one here in Ponyville was going to coincide with your birthday, ooh, I just couldn’t help myself!”

Twilight frowned, but shook off the disappointment, determined not to let it get her down. Her ears perked up and she looked over at the rest of the party. “Well, more time for stories and visiting for the rest of us then.”

“Stories, stories!” shouted Cassie, appreciably.

“Alright, it’s settled then,” giggled Twilight. She gripped the large sliding doors that lead from the private concourse out into both the main concourse and ticket office. “Stories and snacks for us, boring old grown up time for Cadence and Shining Armor.”

Cadence pouted from the middle of the small herd behind Twilight. “Hay now, that’s not fair. We’re still coming over for the afternoon. It’s just that… well, the guestrooms in the library basement are…”

Twilight paused before opening the glowing doors. “What about them?” she asked, her right eyebrow arched like a coiled viper.

“They’re full of old apples!” cheered Cassie from her new perch atop her grandpa’s head.

Twilight stomped a hoof. “That was just one time! Applejack and her family had a veggi-mole infestation in their root cellar, and-”

“The time before that, it was mice.”

“Fluttershy booked the basement for MeeseCon ‘98, like, two weeks in advance! And you showed up without so much as a letter to tell me you were coming!”

Cadence lowered her chin, and bobbed her head with wide eyes, playing the clueless mare. “And before that it was full of Sweetie Belle’s accidentally enchanted sheet mus-”

“Alright, alright. I get it,” sighed Twilight with an eye roll. “Go to your big dumb fancy hotel, gosh.” Turning her head, she nodded to her folks. “Mom, Dad?”

Night Light shook his head, careful not to dislodge his granddaughter. “I’m good. Those mice really knew how to throw an after party. Honey?”

“If it weren’t for those apples, Daring Do and the Appleville Curse wouldn’t have had its titular curse. I’m in too!”

Everypony turned to look at Spike, who was absentmindedly picking bits of candy and paper from between his fangs. He waved away the concern with his free hand and a casual shrug of his scaly shoulders. “I lived there for years. Mice and Apples ain’t nothing.”

Regaining her momentarily faltered confidence, Princess Twilight grinned from ear to ear. “Great. It’s settled then. We’re off for the library!” she exclaimed as she threw open the still glowing doors to the main concourse.

The world was immediately filled with blinding white flashes. And shouting. Lots of horrible shouting.

“It’s the tabloids!” shouted Twilight Velvet from behind. “Run!” And they did, are quickly as they dared.

“Princess Twilight!” one nasally voice shouted out over the roar of voices and flashbulbs. “Is it true that you're plotting to banish Princess Celestia to the sun and take over Equestria?”

“Gah!” yelled Twilight, trying to break free of the stampede of screaming reporters. “What? How would that even work? What about Luna?”

“Yes!” shouted another, more feminine voice. “What about Princess Luna? Is it true that she's secretly your mother?”

Still blinking away the flashes from her eyes, she answered the rather rude and mostly confusing question. “I think that would be a shock to my actual mother, seeing as how she was there for-”

“Twelve and a half hours of labor it was!” Twilight heard her mother cry out from behind her, somehow raising her voice above the shouts of all the others. “At least that's what my husband tells me. Epidurals are a wondrous—”

“Twilight!”

“Yes?” answered both mother and daughter.

“Er… Twilight the Author,” replied the voice of a spry and funny-smelling stallion who was trotting quickly beside the Sparkle family matriarch to keep up. “Flatty Bookmarks, with the Daily Reader. When can your fans expect the next Daring Do novel?”

“A lady never tells,” she answered haughtily, though with a slight huff from running as best she could to keep up with the family herd.

Her eyes finally clear, Princess Twilight spied the door out into Ponyville proper about fifty or so yards away. A pink and blue swirl, like a downy cloud, whooshed through her mane, travelling on ahead.

“Cassie, stay with us sweetie,” Twilight heard her brother call out in concern. “Don't get lost in the crowd.”

“Shining Armor,” came a demand from the first nasally voice. “Any word on the recent attacks in Tartarus? We've heard rumors that—”

In an instant, Shining Armor’s demeanor changed, leaving behind the careful mask of a military leader. “No comment at this time,” he said brusquely.

“But if you could just say something for the colts at home worried about their gals in that furnace, I'm sure—”

“I am not authorized to discuss ongoing joint guard operations at this time. Please direct your queries to the Joint Chief of Staves' Communications Officer.”

“Spike,” called out a pegasus in a trilby hat flapping alongside the gangly dragon, “is it true that Rarity is secretly a dragon, and has been for years?”

“She’s a wha—?” he repeated with a dumbstruck smile and quivering frills.

“Come on Spike,” said his adopted older sister as she passed through the archway out of the train station and out into the street, “don’t feed the trolls!”

As the Sparkle family approached the archway, Shining Armor lit up his horn, and the domed entrance was filled with a vibrant field of magic. One that let his family through. But the same couldn’t be said for the members of the press, as they slammed against the wobbly wizardly webbing with many an ‘oof’ and a thud.

The rest of the walk from the train station to the library was mostly uneventful. A lot of ponies bowed. Some waved. But every one of them held a song in their heart as they went about their individual tasks for the day.

After all, a birthday for the resident Goddess-in-training only came once a year, and the colorful folk of Ponyville couldn’t help but be caught up in the moment. There was Bon-Bon and her wife, decorating the bright brassy display window in front of the best candy shop in town. The outdoor arcade was in full swing, with free games setup for kids and young at heart alike. And there, marking the halfway point for the street that takes its namesake stood the Golden Oaks Library.

Rebuilt years ago after the devastating fire known colloquially as ‘The Cookie Incident,’ its mighty branches stretched higher and wider than the old library could have ever dreamed… if libraries could dream.

Twilight’s attention was pulled to the pair of stout-looking guard ponies who were standing at attention stoically, flanking the library’s front door.

She smiled as soon as the familiar insignia on the two ponies came into focus.

“Oh!” called Cadence, pointing at the parked sky chariot beside Twilight’s kitchen window. “Auntie Celestia must have gotten into town already.”

“Auntie ‘lestia!” screamed an elated Cassie as she flew through the only open upstairs window, ignoring the call for restraint from her mother.

A startled, strangled cry, unmistakably belonging to Princess Luna, sounded out through the open window, followed by a moment’s silence. And then, dreadfully, followed by the sound of a toilet flushing.

Cadence opened her mouth to say something, until she heard the unmistakable sound of Cassie starting to cry. The sniffling that turned into heavy breaths, followed by… Yes, there was the wailing.

Cadence turned around and started walking away. Her husband, trying to hold his laughter in, pulled on her shoulders to stop her.

“Nope!” she said, pulling away, though putting on only a show of effort. “I’m done Shiny. I’ve failed as a mother and as a niece, and now I’m going to go… I dunno live in the woods, or something. Maybe I can be a matchmaker for the deer.”

Shining Armor finally ‘winning’ the tug of war, and pulled her in for a big hug, laughing all the while as she flailed about this way and that. “Come on now,” he said.

“N-no,” she giggled.

“Come on, reel it in.”

“I dun wanna,” she said, batting at him softly with her wings.

He finally succeeded in wrapping his hooves around his pouty pony, holding her for a moment. Finally in the comforting embrace, Cadence took the time she needed for her better nature to take over. ”I suppose,” she said, looking into her husband’s shining eyes, “we should go collect what’s left of our daughter.”

Shining Armor rolled his eyes, and smirked. “If there’s anything left. She had a good run. We’ll just have to teach the next one the pee time is me time song as early as possible.”

She squinted at him, a tease of a smile on her lips. “Are you implying that there’ll be a next time?”

His ears flattened. “I don’t like how that sounds.”

The front door opened with a burst of dark blue magic. And more crying. Luna’s voice called out from up the stairs, over Cassie’s continued bawling. “Cadence, come collect your little one before she cries herself sick.”

Cadence pointed at her husband, and then to the open door with a sweeping gesture. “You heard the Princess.”

Shining Armor’s ears pinned themselves to the back of his head. “Wait a minute, she said yo—”

“If you want a shot at anymore, Mister Sassy Shoes, you’re gonna have to go up there and rescue the first one.”

He sighed in defeat, walking at a quick clip towards the door, before quickly pecking his wife on the cheek. Cadence nipped at him playfully, intent on missing, and giggling all the while. Then she and the rest of the Sparkle family group followed them into the library.

“Ugh, get a room,” groused Spike from the back of the herd, ducking to fit through the pony-sized door and shutting it behind him.

“So there I was, just holding this pony doll, right?” said Spike, recounting the events of his trip to the Crystal Empire. “And like… a million billion Crystal Ponies were watching me. Chanting for me to eat it.”

“Oh, Spike, you didn’t!” begged a mortified Twilight, putting down her still-too-hot cup of tea on the table they all shared in the dining room.

Cassie looked up, her chin resting on her mom’s left fore leg, as her ears flopped around with each tug of her mother’s brush. “He didn’t,” the filly whispered authoritatively.

“That’s just it! I couldn’t do it. I mean, it looked like a baby pony. I don’t eat babies or ponies or baby ponies!”

“He sure doesn’t,” said Cadence, pulling the brush through another wild wave of tangled blue mane. “He carried it around for two weeks. Everywhere he went, there was the Snackrifice doll.”

“W-well, so what?” protested Spike, brushing the mane on the crystal doll that sat in his lap. “I think it’s cool. I’m gonna keep it.”

“But why did they want you to eat it, Spike?” asked Night Light from the window seat.

Cadence waved a hoof at her father-in-law's question. “It’s a tradition, of a sort, for the Crystal Ponies. Long ago a dragon settled their lands, and a noble maiden sacrificed herself so that the dragon would leave the country peacefully.”

Twilight wrinkled her nose at the idea, but fought to dismiss the uncouth thoughts that filled her head, lest she accidentally insult a culture she didn’t understand. Just because she didn’t understand it didn’t mean that it was wrong. This was a hard learned lesson for the young princess. One of the first in the Diplomacy Journal that Celestia asked her to start keeping last spring.

“So,” started Twilight’s mom, as she stirred the cream into her tea, “they just started making dolls and giving them to visiting dragons in the hopes that they’d eat the dolls… and leave?”

Several expressions played in succession across Cadence’s face until she settled on a look of vague acceptance. “Something like that. But these days, the only dragons that visit the Crystal Empire are city dragons.”

“City dragons?” asked Night Light, watching a caravan of carts full of cider barrels as it travelled down the street and into the heart of town. He recognized some of the ponies as his daughter’s good friends. As the group passed, Pinkie Pie waved at him, and he waved back.

Spike rubbed his scaly palms on his knobby forearms. “Smaller, more civilized dragons. Like the ones in Fillydelphia. They’re pretty cool.”

“I recall these ‘city dragons’ Spike,” said Luna, reading a dog-eared copy of Whinny of the Wind from her spot over by the fireplace, farther from the group, to give the still teary-eyed filly some room. “They were most agreeable. A tribute to your race.”

Spike blinked at her. “Uh...Thank you?”

She nodded, turning the page as she did so.

“So anyway, that’s how my stay in the Crystal Empire went,” offered Spike like it was no big deal to be hailed as a hero and thrown a feast. And to solve a mystery. And hang out with your big bro. Getting a pony doll out of the deal was totally the coolest part of his visit.

Twilight grinned, her ears flat to the side with genuine contentedness. “Well, I’m glad to hear that, Spike. And I’m glad to have you back home. It’s just not been the same with you gone. The library’s so… big and empty when it’s just me.”

A quiet moment passed as tea was sipped, book spines were read, and picture frames politely stared at.

Fortunately, Night Light was never one for subtlety, and having missed everything that was said in the last few minutes due to pony gazing out the windows, turned and asked, “So! How’s my little purple pickle?”

Twilight looked up from her cooling tea and shot him a look. “Daaad! You know I don’t like it when you call me that.”

“You used to like it,” he said, recalling the years passed. “My little purple pickle... I’d come home from the graveyard shift in the archives and you’d be asleep at your desk next to that little Smarmy Pants of yours.”

“Smarty Pants,” she corrected.

Something thumped into the bottom of the windowsill that Night Light sat at, shaking the entire seat, and the sound of muffled curses muttered was instantly followed by a curious quantity of quiet.

Throwing open the latch on the window, Night Light swung his head out, spotting three fillies cowering beneath the window’s overhang. One of them, eyes wide with apparent terror, was rubbing a nasty-looking knot on the top of her head.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“AAAAH!” the light brown pony answered back, before her two companions started screaming too.

“Uh,” he tried again, but the screaming was the most he was going to get out of them as they trailed off into the distance, running into the heart of town.

“Huh,” he said with a shrug, pulling his head in and shutting the window behind him.

“More reporters?” asked his wife.

He shook his head, chancing a glance out the window. “No. Just a few kids. Maybe they were trying to see a bit of candid royalty?”

Princess Twilight took a sip of her tea, smiling at the now perfect temperature. “Wouldn’t be the first time. Did you know the school paper has a weekly column all about me? What restaurants I’ve been to. How many times I’ve lit my mane on fire—”

“How many colts you’ve ask out on dates,” added Cadence.

Twilight Sparkle nodded. “How many colts... I’ve…”

“We have the paper delivered to the Castle,” interjected Princess Luna, not looking up from her place in the book. “Tia sends it off to Cadence after we’ve both looked it over.”

“Wait,” cautioned the youngest alicorn, trying desperately to stop the flood befor—

“Colts!” exclaimed her mother with visible relief. “I knew it, Twilight. Ooooh, I knew it! I knew that you couldn’t stay single forever!”

“No, wait!” she demanded, her wings expanding to their full length, expounding the severity of her demand. “It’s for a bet, mom. A bet with some of the girls, okay? I’m not, that is, I’m not sure if I’m interested a relationship.”

It was too late; her mother was on a holy tear at this point. “Oh, I can’t wait to meet this mystery stallion. I bet he’s tall and polite. Say, whatever happened to that one guard? The one who saved your crown from that thing a few years back, what was that thing, Nighty?”

Night Light looked back from the window briefly at his wife. “Some sort of mirror pony, if I remember correctly.”

Twilight Sparkle tried to take a deep, calming breath, though it was hampered by grinding, clenched teeth. “Mom. We’ve already talked about this,” she said resentfully. “The only reason he ‘saved’ my crown was because he was hiding in my wardrobe when that mare tried to steal it.”

Shining Armor frowned with a snort. “He’s lucky the guard arbitrators opted to put him on ‘administrative leave’ instead of taking my suggestions.”

Twilight Velvet turned daintily in her seat, eyes closed and gripping her cup of tea like a life line. “Well if he was peeping, then he must have liked you.”

“I’m not going to date a pony who goes around hiding in mares’ closets at night, mom!”

“Well... Are there any nice stallions here in Ponyville?”

“Oh sure!” said Spike, happily missing Twilight’s desperate nonverbal cues. “There’s Rarity’s dad. He’s cool, he took me fishing once. Thunderlane and his brother are total nice guys. Oh, there’s Big Mac, too!”

“THANK you, Spike,” managed Twilight, pleadingly. “Let’s just leave it as a work in progress, okay?”

Twilight Velvet reached a hoof across the table and patted her daughter’s clenched own. “It doesn’t need to be a stallion, sweetie.”

Princess Twilight pulled back her hoof, standing up and started heading for the kitchen. Empty cups and their associated saucers floated through the air in a magenta haze behind her. “Look, ignoring whatever it is I want, the bet with Rarity and Rainbow is all about who brings a coltfriend to tonight’s party, first. So it kind of has to be a stallion.”

“If I may ask, what are the stakes in this wager?” questioned Princess Luna, putting her novel down to watch Twilight enter the library’s small kitchen.

“Brunch rights!” Twilight called back. “Oh and two hundred bits.”

“Two hundred bits!” gasped her father.

“Geez Twi, next time you want to throw away a bunch of money, can I have it instead?”

A spread of fruits, dried flowers, and slices from a rustic-looking loaf of bread popped into existence on the table, much to Cassie’s audible delight, as Twilight walked back into the dining room, her hooves freshly washed.

“Oh I’m gonna win, Spike. I can do anything I put my mind to. My friends taught me that.” She sat at her spot by the table while a pear floated over to her waiting hoof.

“Twilight,” started Cadence, her daughter now released and sitting in Shining Armor’s lap as he buttered a slice of bread for her, “I love you like a sister. And I care about you.”

Twilight smiled. “Thank you Cadence, I—”

“But you’re going to lose this bet.”

Twilight sat up and frowned. “What makes you say that?”

Cadence arched an eyebrow. “Really?”

Twilight took a big bite of the pear, looked away from the knowing gaze of her sister-in-law and chewed intently.

Luna walked over and plucked a pear of her own from the bowl. “Twilight, do you remember when that magician’s hat came to life and turned Tia and I into rabbits?”

Princess Twilight nodded, “You two hopped all the way from Canterlot and asked Fluttershy for help!”

Luna nodded, “That’s true, we did. We came to Fluttershy because her talents made her uniquely suited to help us with our problem.”

“Yeah, but..”

“What about when some of my stars got lost in the night sky, and fell all over Equestria?”

Twilight perked up, remembering, “You asked Rarity to help you find them with her gem finding spell!”

Night Light chimed in as well. “And when I needed somepony to break that one bill collector’s knee caps, Shining Armor got a couple of his old school buddies and—”

“What?” demanded Velvet “That never happened!”

“I know,” he said with a shrug, “I just felt left out of the conversation.”

Staring cautiously at Night Light, Luna finished thoughts. “My point, Twilight, is that friends help each other according to their abilities. You are fantastic at saving the world in your own special ways. But so are your friends. Cadence, here,” she said while pointing a hoof at the mare in question, “is the Princess of Love.”

“Wait, is getting a date related to love?” asked Twilight, thinking back to the notes she took on dating and courtship. Love was mentioned sparingly in the articles she read, but nowhere near as frequently as the other elements of courtship. Like buying the right brand of mascara. Or memorizing pickup lines. “I mean, sure, if she’s willing to help me, I could use the help.”

Cadence said nothing as she looked over at Shining Armor, cradling their little one as she made a mess of licking the butter off her bread. Silently, he nodded his head towards the door and threw Cadence a wink.

She blew him a kiss and stood up, walking over to the front door with quick purpose. “Come on Twilight,” she said with grandiose determination.

“Wait, where are we going?” asked Twilight, getting up and following tentatively. “What about the rest of the family? What about the party?”

Cadence looked back, head held high. “We’re going to the spa!”

Smarty Pants rubbed at the knot on top of her head, pouting as she sat on the Town Hall steps with her two best friends sitting beside her. All around them, ponies ran about the otherwise empty marketplace that wrapped around the Town Hall. They set up chairs, hung magenta stars along building facades, and decorated the large outdoor space like mares possessed, whipped into a frenzy by another familiar stranger.

Above the three of them, a big yellow banner with the words Happy Birthday was hoisted into position by a pair of pegasi.

An annoyed voice, evident with hurt in her words, called out. “What are you doing? What is this?” the voice asked, as a slightly shorter and definitely warmer Rarity came trotting to the base of the Town Hall steps.

One of the pegasi shrugged. “We’re just getting the banne—”

“You call that a banner?” asked Rarity. “It looks more like a glorified streamer. Take it back at once, and get a bigger one. Something that… Oh, I don’t know, glitters brightly?”

The two ponies looked at each other, and then back at the overly picky unicorn. “But Rarity, w—”

“Glitters Brightly!” she called out again.

“Yes?” asked a nearby Crystal pony.

Rarity turned with a smile. “Oh, thank heavens, there you are. Can you help me out? This banner needs a little something and I just can’t put my hoof on it.”

Her good friend, and fellow gem aficionado from the Crystal Empire, rubbed her chin in thought. “Hmmm. Oh! Maybe, we can add some crystals!”

Rarity rose up, wheeling her fore hooves in excitement. “Crystals! Oh Glitters, that’s perfect, I never would have thought of that. You two,” she said, pointing at the two pegasi who just stared back at her, flatly, “work with Ms. Brightly here okay? Princess Twilight is counting on all of us to…”

She trailed off, staring in abject horror at what was happening over by the stage in mid-assembly. “ARE YOU USING GREEN!?” she shrieked, before running off at a full gallop towards the offending offenders.

“What’s wrong with green?” Smarty Pants heard Sandy mutter under her breath.

Smarty Pants reached over with a hoof and pulled her friend in close. “Nothing’s wrong with green,” she attested. “Green is a super fun color.”

Movement to her right caught her attention, and Smarty Pants turned to watch Honeycrisp pull off and fish a hoof through her saddlebags. “So, I don’t know about you girls,” she said taking out a small piece of paper, “but I wanna go home.”

Smarty Pants gasped, remembering the whole reason why they were stuck here in the distant past. Discord’s crazy treasure hunt. As soon as they got all the items, Discord said he would take them back to the present.

Sandy flicked off her own set of bags with fidgety dexterity, and produced her list. “I still need both my items. A rubber chicken and Scorpan’s Medallion.”

Honecrisp looked up from the two items in her hoof. “Who’s medallion?”

“Scorpan? I guess?” looking at her red-maned earth pony friend, “What’s a Scorpan?”

Smarty Pants closed her eyes, rubbing still tender spot on her head in thought. “I don’t know. I’ve never heard of a Scorpan before.”

“Wait, you don’t know?” asked Honeycrisp, incredulously. “You, the all-knowing Smarty Pants, don’t know?”

Smarty Pants rolled her eyes, not taking the bait. “Well thanks to Fluttershy, I’ve got this spool of thread. I still need Wonderbolt badge, though.”

“Nice,” said Sandy with a gentle grin. “We’ve got three of our items, so we’re halfway there.”

A playful squeal from across the square caught the three girl’s attentions, and they watched as Pinkie Pie, bounced off towards a new group of ponies carrying more supplies for the party.

Smarty Pants let out a quavering sigh.

A red hoof scuffed Smarty Pants across the shoulder. “Hay, what’s wrong? You’re all quiet and sad ‘n stuff.”

The earth pony looked up at her unicorn cousin, and offered a half-hearted smile before standing up and taking a step back. Her two friends turned to face her, their concern written plainly across their young faces.

“When I was younger, when I was just starting out as Princess Twilight’s personal student, she told me all about my family history.” She gestured with a hoof beyond the two of them and sweeping it wide across the bustling crowd. “All the way back to this time. She told me that Fluttershy and Big Mac would get together and have twenty three kids.”

“Twenty three kids!” shouted Honeycrisp, who quickly covered her mouth with her hooves, before glancing over her shoulder at the nearby ponies who had briefly stopped to stare at her.

“Yeah. Anyway, you and I?” she said, pointing at Honeycrisp, “We’re both descended from the two of them.”

“Oh. Oh! Is that why I feel funny when I first saw Fluttershy?”

Sandy pouted to herself, “I didn’t feel any-”

“I think so,” interjected Smarty Pants. “Though I’m not sure why. I never felt that sort of connection with Gram Gram Crazy Pants.”

“Well, shoot, Pants, that’s great!” cheered Honeycrisp, as loudly as she dared, “But why are you sad about being related to a pair of awesome ponies?”

Smarty Pants’ ears laid flat against her wavy mane, betraying her concern. “Okay, so… It turns out that I’m not just descended from Fluttershy and Big Mac.”

Sandy and Honeycrisp shared a look. “Who else?”

“Pinkie Pie and her husband.”

“Oh, I don’t think I like Pinkie Pie, all that much” admitted Sandy, flapping her wings against her sides.

Smarty Pants frowned, “I like Pinkie Pie.”

“She’s not a bad pony,” Sandy offered as an apology of sorts, waving her forehooves. “It’s just that, she’s so loud and random.”

“She’s not that random,” Smarty Pants refuted in frail argument.

“Okay Pants, so I’m still not seeing what’s got you down here,” said Honeycrisp flatly.

“In all of Princess Twilight’s stories, Pinkie Pie just sort of… knew what was going to happen to her.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well like… Okay, so her husband? She’s just gonna walk up to him one spring day, kiss him full on the lips, and tell him they’re gonna get married while he’s in the middle of throwing a big fancy party in Canterlot.”

“I am?” asked a bubbly voice from behind her.

Smarty Pants nodded, “Mhm, and you remember Empress Rarity’s story from last week… about…”

Smarty Pants, eyes wide, turned slowly on the spot, staring right into Pinkie’s own blue eyes. The older mare’s face was scrunched up in thought. “Rarity’s an Empress?”

Rarity’s haughty voice called out from the middle of the crowd in some frustration. “Pinkie Pie? Has anypony seen Pinkie Pie? She was supposed to help with the party favors.”

Pinkie Pie hopped passed the girls and down the stairs. “Coming, your highness!”.

Sandy, visibly panicked, squeaked and huddled low, covering her head with her shaking wings. “Oh no, we told her something about the future. She k-knows! This is like the tea cup right? Did we break the world?”

Smarty Pants didn’t answer, instead she found herself hiding her face behind her mane. Something she hadn’t done since she was a filly. Huffing at her own childishness, she sat up right to answer her friend. But Honeycrisp beat her to it.

“This is like the tea cup, Sandy,” she said with the dawning of truth on her face. “But the tea cup was supposed to break.” Honeycrisp locked eyes with her cousin. “The tea cup was supposed to break. Pinkie Pie is supposed to know.”

Smarty Pants nodded.

“And we’re supposed to tell her?”

Smarty Pants nodded again. Silence filled the space between them, until Smarty Pants felt her friend returning her earlier hug, in earnest.

Honeycrisp cleared her throat, and the two friends broke their hug. “So, we already told Pinkie Pie about her future just now, right? We can just get the last three items for Discord, and then go home, yeah?”

Smarty Pants smiled. Maybe that was all there was too it. Maybe she didn’t need to tell Pinkie Pie anything else. Maybe all that was left was the three keys and finding Discord. She walked back over to her original spot on the steps between the two best friends a filly could ask for, in this or any time. “Yeah,” she said looking out at the crowd. “Maybe we can.”

The sound of her cousin rooting through her saddlebags caught the earth pony’s attention. She watched as the farm filly pulled out an apple. Honeycrisp noticed her cousin’s attention and offered her the fruit with a smile.

“Ugh. No thanks.”

This answer didn’t sit well with Honeycrisp. “What the hay do you mean ‘no thanks?’”

Smarty Pants rolled her head to the left and then to the right, stretching the sore muscles in her withers. “You try moving a hundred cider barrels in an afternoon. Then tell me all about how much you wanna eat an apple.”

Honeycrisp shrugged, and was about to take a bite, when Sandy spoke up from Smarty’s left side. “I’ll take one, I’m starving.”

Honeycrisp tossed her the apple, and the lime green pegasus caught it. She took a big bite out of the fruit, fidgeting happily. “Oh wow,” she exclaimed. “This apple is so good!”

“Should be, I bucked it out of the tree all by myself. With magic!”

Smarty Pants looked back at her cousin as she pulled another apple out of her bag and took a bite. And okay, yeah. It did look pretty good. Sorta tasty, if you’re into delicious fruit. Honeycrisp took another big, juicy bite, and the crispness of the apple was made apparent in her gleeful chewing.

Smarty Pants felt her tummy rumble and she looked away, back into the crowd with an angry-at-herself scowl. A round something fell into her lap, and she looked down, surprised at the fiery orange-red orb with a brown stem that sat there.

She looked over at Sandy, who grinned wide as she chewed on her apple, giggling impishly. Smarty looked back to her cousin, who was now sitting with her back to the two of them, eating her apple and kicking her hooves against the wooden steps they sat upon. Smarty Pants picked up the apple and took a bite, and the flavor filled her senses like a shock.

Of course she’d eaten an apple before. But this? There was something to this one. It had a warm tingle to the skin, but the inside was crisp, cool, and juicy. And it tasted more like an apple than any apple should taste.

Savoring the sensation as she took another bite, she leaned to her right against her cousin’s back, closing her eyes. “Thanks,” she said.

Honeycrisp turned with a smile. She was about to say something, but Sandy asked a question first. “I thought you said that Pinkie Pie was gonna kiss her future husband at a party in Canterlot.”

Smarty Pants looked to her left and nodded, “that’s what Princess Twilight told me.”

Sandy, still chewing but with a puzzled look on her face, pointed out to the southern edge of the crowd.

Smarty Pants followed the hoof with her eyes, until they came to rest on her really great-great grandmother, wrapped up in the hooves of a tall earth pony stallion with curly brown mane.

“Who loves ya, baby?!” asked the happy stallion, waggling his eyebrows.

Pinkie Pie giggled back in response, “It’s my Squeezy Cheesy!”

And then they kissed.