The Lies We Tell to Children

by GaPJaxie

Rating: teen
Tags: Princess Celestia, Slice of Life, Alternate Universe, Twilight Sparkle, Princess Luna, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic
Length: 36315

When Twilight is awake, Celestia is her teacher, and she a faithful student. But when Twilight shuts her eyes, another mare approaches, who teaches her a very different lesson.

When Twilight is awake, Celestia is her teacher, and she a faithful student. But when Twilight shuts her eyes, another mare approaches, who teaches her a very different lesson.

An experimental fic, written to play around with alternative perspectives. Be warned, ye who enter here.

Published 2015-03-16 05:30:02 UTC
Last updated 2021-03-28 01:25:32 UTC

Prelude

Once there was a filly named Twilight Sparkle who lived in Canterlot. She was a unicorn, and very gifted in the ways of magic. So great was her talent that when it first expressed itself, her powers ran out of control, and Princess Celestia herself had to intervene. But the Princess bore Twilight no ill will, and on that day, the little filly from Canterlot became Princess Celestia’s faithful student.

That was also the day she earned her cutie mark—a bright star, surrounded by five others. On any other day, Twilight would have been given to obsess about the symbolism and metaphor behind that particular mark, but her worries were washed away in a flood of joy and wonder. It was hours before she had occasion to think about the details of her mark at all, and when she did, she quickly concluded that it was abstract. Stars were sometimes used as a generalized symbol of magic, and so her cutie mark represented her broad interest in the field.

This conclusion was incorrect. At the same time Twilight was considering the matter, Princess Celestia was already preparing for the mentorship of one she knew to be the next bearer of the Element of Magic. The star of the Tree of Harmony had a distinctive shape, one which was now clearly replicated on Twilight. Princess Celestia knew that teaching Twilight well would be important—possibly the most important thing she had done in a very long while. But Celestia was not concerned. She could see Twilight’s destiny after all, written upon her flank.

But this conclusion too was in error, and in exactly the same way. For while Twilight acted in impulsive ignorance and Celestia in patient knowledge, both made the same oversight. They each forgot that symbols can mean multiple things.

If only Twilight and Celestia had qualified their beliefs, they might have avoided this mistake. Twilight was generally interested in magic after all, and she was destined to wield the Element of that same force. It was only their certainty that they had already solved the whole of the puzzle that prevented them from seeing the unused pieces.

But they were certain, and they did not see them, and so neither suspected anything was amiss as Twilight went home that night. A day of joyful celebration had done nothing to dampen her spirits, and she was still full of energy as her parents hustled her upstairs. That she’d eaten two bowls of oat-and-chocolate-chip ice cream and was on a bit of a sugar rush certainly did nothing to help. Eventually though, they got her into bed, told her they were proud of her, kissed her goodnight, and because it was her special day, pretended they couldn’t hear the sounds of her reading under the covers.

They came in about an hour later to find her fast asleep, taking a moment to straighten the blankets and put her book on the nightstand. But by that point, Twilight was somewhere else entirely.

Once, there was a filly named Twilight Sparkle, who lived in Canterlot. She was a unicorn, and very gifted in the ways of magic. So great was her talent that when it first fully expressed itself, she drew the attention of the very heavens, and the Princess of the Night herself bid Twilight appear before her.

The little filly from Canterlot had no recollection of how she came to be in the Silver Palace or why she walked in the hall of one whose seat rules three kingdoms. The royal heraldry of the Moon, the Stars, and the Realm of Dreams hung from the walls in strange and haunting patterns, and there at the end sat the Princess. She was winged and horned, dark and regal, and Twilight bowed before her as her parents had taught.

“Um,” Twilight said. For fear of appearing foolish, she added only, “Hello.”

“Hello, Twilight Sparkle,” said the Princess of Night. “Rise, and be welcome in my home.” From the throne she did descend in a column of smoke, lifting Twilight’s chin from the floor. The touch sent a shock through Twilight, for it was cold and hard upon her skin, and its harsh reality intruded upon her uncertainty. She thus rose quickly, earning a polite nod from the pony before her.

“Um, thank you,” Twilight said, hesitating as she realized she did not know what to call the pony before her. “Are you a princess?”

“Yes,” said the pony. “I am Princess Luna. I have called you here because you are a very talented young filly. You have a great gift, but you must learn to control that gift. I can teach you the magic required to control your powers and to harness them for your own ends.”

It took Twilight a moment to decipher Luna’s words, but when she did, a smile broke out on her face. “Oh! Wow! I can’t believe two princesses came to see me.” Flattery washed away her worry, and her enthusiasm quickly bubbled over. “Princess Celestia said that to me earlier today! She’s going to teach me magic herself. Princess Celestia teaching me magic. Just like when she raises the sun! Can you believe it!?”

“Yes,” Luna said, her face a neutral mask unswayed by the filly’s enthusiasm. “I can believe it. Has she taught you anything yet?”

“Just a little spell to summon light. See?” Scrunching up her face and focusing, she called a little ball of sunlight to her horn. Its yellow rays made the world around her seem pale and unreal, bleaching the color from the palace. But Luna took no notice.

“That is a very good spell,” Luna said. “But there is another version of it.” Luna’s horn glowed, and with the most delicate of touches, she stole Twilight’s spell from her. The enchantment twisted, folded itself inside out, and before Twilight’s eyes, the ball of light became a ball of shadow.

“Whoa!” Twilight exclaimed. “How did you do that!?”

“It is quite easy,” Luna said. “Look closely, and I will show you.”

And so on that night, the little filly from Canterlot became a student of two teachers.

The next morning, Twilight awoke with no recollection of her dreams. Cobwebs hung in her thoughts, and she had a vague feeling that something important had happened. But there was no time for such delays—it was her first full day as Princess Celestia’s student, and she had much to do. She had to prepare; she had to study. Her tutelage had only begun, and she already felt leagues ahead of where she had been yesterday.

She even had an idea for a new spell—a little enchantment to blot out light.

Santa Hooves

Winter had come to Canterlot, and with it came the Hearth’s Warming Eve spirit. Snow, trees, candy canes and lights all festooned the town, while inside, ponies celebrated with family and friends from all across Equestria. It was a quintessentially pony holiday, held in a spirit of love and togetherness. Ponies spent the whole season waiting for that day, when they would gather around the fireplace with their loved ones and bask in that fleeing glow of universal affection.

Of course, the little foals and fillies of Canterlot had their own reasons for looking forward to the holiday.

“—and then Santa Hooves went to the pegasus village up the road, the reins clasped in his teeth. In the back were all the presents the unicorns had made, for all the little colts and fillies in Equestria.” Celestia read aloud from the storybook in front of her, as Twilight eagerly followed along. The two were curled up together in front of the fire, with a blanket draped over Celestia, and Celestia’s wing wrapped around Twilight. There, warm and toasty, they whiled the evening away.

“He knocked on the doors of every pegasus in town asking for help, but all turned him away, until he came to the public house. He found eight pegasi in that little run-down building, and their names were Dasher, Dancer, Prancer, and Vixen, Comet, Cupid, Donner, and Blitzen.” Celestia spoke at a slow pace, savoring the warmth of the story, while Twilight raced ahead as she read along. The effect was that Twilight often finished first, left eager in anticipation as she waited for Celestia to turn the page, her little hooves eagerly shifting in place.

It was a bit unusual, for Twilight to spend Hearth’s Warming Eve with somepony other than her family. She was only seven, after all, and had barely been Princess Celestia’s student for six months. Her family didn’t ask, and Celestia didn’t offer, knowing that Twilight’s parents thought they saw far too little of her as it was. But as children sometimes do, Twilight invited herself, and under the weight of her repeated insistence, her elders gave. Twilight, it was agreed, could spend the holiday with Celestia, and Celestia would give her the following week off to spend with her family.

Twilight’s family was less than happy with this arrangement. In truth, Princess Celestia herself was a little embarrassed. But if Twilight was aware of such concerns at all, they had no power over her at that moment, tucked in under Celestia’s wing.

“And Santa Hooves said to them, ‘Won’t you help me pull my sleigh? It is full of toys for all the little colts and fillies of Equestria to celebrate Hearth’s Warming Eve. But the holiday is almost over, and I cannot deliver them all in time.’” The page before them was well illustrated, showing a rustic old inn and the eight rough-coated pegasi mares and stallions there. Twilight eagerly soaked up every bit of the story—words and pictures all.

“And when the pegasi asked him where he got so many toys, Santa Hooves answered that the unicorns had made them. The pegasi didn’t believe him at first—who had ever heard of unicorns laboring for an earth pony?” Celestia turned the page, showing a new illustration. This one depicted a little unicorn filly sticking her head out of a bag full of toys, to the surprise of all the ponies there.

“But then!” Celestia added a little rush of excitement to the words. “Elfie, the littlest helper, popped out of Santa Hooves bag! She had hidden inside to come and help deliver the toys, and the pegasi were so touched that they agreed to pull Santa Hooves’s sleigh.”

One final page turned, showing a sleigh flying over a beautiful snow-covered Equestria. “And so Santa Hooves and the pegasi and his little unicorn helper all flew across Equestria, bringing toys to all the little fillies and colts.”

Celestia turned to Twilight, lowering her head to nuzzle between Twilight’s ears. “And Santa Hooves is still at it to this day. That’s why, every year, we leave the flue open and let the fires burn down all night, so Santa Hooves and his little helper can bring their presents down out of the sky. And in the morning, when you wake up, they’ll be waiting for you right there.” Celestia pointed at the small tree that decorated one corner of her room.

Twilight had, of course, heard the story many times before, but it seemed to take on a new life when Princess Celestia read it, and Twilight found herself peering into the corner like the presents would appear before her eyes. “How does he deliver all the presents in one night?” Twilight asked, turning her head up to Celestia.

“Mmm?” Celesia perked up her ears, and smiled sweetly down at Twilight. “Haven’t you asked your parents that yet?”

“Yeah,” Twilight nodded. “But they just said it was magic and that I’d understand when I was older.”

“That’s because it is magic,” Celestia said, with just a hint of a conspiratorial smile. Twilight sat up at once, perking up her ears in anticipation of receiving some secret. “It’s the magic of Hearth’s Warming Eve. You’re a very bright little filly, Twilight. You know that magic isn’t just spells and wizardry. It’s the love that ponies feel for each other, and every year, that love lets Santa Hooves put presents under the trees of every little foal. Including you, Twilight.”

“I’m not a little foal,” Twilight insisted. “I’m seven.” Celestia laughed, but Twilight didn’t feel embarrassed.

“Seven and a half,” Celestia added. “Which means that in a year and a half, you’ll be nine. And do you know what’s special about nine?”

“That’s when I’ll understand Hearth’s Warming Eve magic?” Twilight asked hopefully.

“That’s when your parents said I had to have you in bed,” Celestia answered, pointing at the clock.

Twilight whirled to look at the clock, then looked back just as quickly. “Do I have to!?” she pleaded. “I mean, um, what if I stayed up? I could meet Santa Hooves and learn all about the magic of Hearth’s Warming Eve! That’s part of my magic studies, right?”

“Santa Hooves has a lot of deliveries to make tonight,” Celestia said, gently lifting her wing. All the hot air that had been trapped against Twilight’s body suddenly escaped, leaving her a little toasty ball of fuzz, shivering with the sudden feeling of cold. “I’m not sure he can stay and chat.” Celestia levitated the blanket off her back, wrapping it around Twilight. “But, I may have already mentioned you when I was talking to him.”

“You did!?” Twilight asked, her little eyes going wide. It suddenly seemed obvious to her that Celestia would know Santa Hooves—she was a princess after all—but it had not occurred until that precise moment just what Celestia might say about her, and her little heart hoped with all its might it was good.

“Of course,” Celestia said. “After all, I had to tell him you’d be here tonight instead of with your parents. We wouldn't want your gift arriving at your family’s house. He even showed me what he’s getting y...” Celestia pulled her head away. “I mean, what he’s getting your brother.”

“You know what I’m getting,” Twilight said, with sudden realization.

“Oh, no. Santa Hooves never tells,” Celestia insisted, but Twilight noticed she’d just discreetly crossed two of her feathers.

“You do know!” she squeaked, rising to her hooves and dragging the blanket along with her. “What is it what is it what is it?”

“Oh, I couldn't possibly,” Celestia demurred, folding her forehooves together, watching as Twilight gave an eager little hop.

“Tell me tell me tell me!” she squeaked, lifting her forehooves to rest them on Celestia’s chest. Though Twilight was standing and Celestia sitting, Twilight barely came to her shoulders. Celestia only smiled in return.

“I’m sorry, Twilight, but I promised Santa Hooves I wouldn't tell,” Celestia said with a note of finality. “The only way you’re going to find out what you got is to go to sleep and see in the morning.”

Twilight let out a long groan, but it was to no avail, and Celestia started to nudge her towards the door. “Come along, Twilight,” Celestia said. “A young filly like you needs her sleep.”

Celestia lead Twilight up the hall to her room, tucked her in, and wished her goodnight. Twilight lay tossing and turning in bed for a time, straining to hear any possible sounds that might indicate Santa Hooves’s arrival. A small crack of light shone from under the door, but it revealed nothing, and the door muffled sound equally well.

Eventually, Twilight reluctantly gave up. She lay back in bed, and conjured a sheet of inky shadows, which rested over her eyes and blocked the light from the door. Darkness helped her sleep, and slowly, gradually, she drifted away.

“—and then I saw Shining sneaking up on one of the other cadets with a huge snowball,” Twilight said, eagerly gesturing as Princess Luna listened. “And I shouted for him to stop, because he doesn’t want to get on the naughty list right before Hearth’s Warming Eve. But I think the other cadet heard me, because he turned around, and he also had a huge snowball. And he threw it!”

Luna watched impassively, listening from her throne as Twilight went on. “But Shining managed to get a shield up just in time, and then suddenly, all the cadets were throwing snowballs at each other!” She mimicked the motion with her hooves. “Swoosh swoosh, splat!” Luna nodded, and Twilight laughed. “Yeah, it was great, and um,” she paused. “Actually...”

Twilight’s gaze slowly circled the space around her. She stood in what seemed to be a vast apple orchard late at night, the stars and moon high overhead. But a strange sort of orchard it was. The grass around her was a pale grey, and the trees grew with their branches in the ground and their roots in the sky. The apples, embedded in the earth, shone a faint greet, and illuminated pathways that ran through the trees. And of course, there was Luna—sitting on an imposing throne made from twisted and jagged farm implements. “Um,” Twilight said. “Actually, where am I?”

“You are in the dream realm,” Luna said.

“Oh,” Twilight said. “How did I get here?”

“You come here every night,” Luna said. “Normally, I teach you magic, but tonight you seemed very eager to talk about your day. You seem very eager about this ‘Hearth’s Warming Eve’ festival.”

Twilight had no recollection of ever having been here before, but something about the place did feel familiar. And something about Luna felt familiar as well, such that Twilight was not afraid, even though she was with a stranger in a strange place. She started to nod, but something in Luna’s words caught her attention.

“Wait,” she asked, “You don’t know about Hearth’s Warming Eve?”

“Several other ponies have mentioned it in their dreams,” Luna said. “But I have been away from Equestria for nearly a thousand years. Many of its customs are strange to me now.”

“But if you’ve been to Equestria,” Twilight said, “you must know about Hearth’s Warming Eve. Santa Hooves was there from the very first year.”

“Who?” Luna asked.

“Santa Hooves,” Twilight repeated.

“I do not know that name,” Luna said. “Who is this mare or stallion?”

“He’s the pony who brings toys to all the little colts and fillies of Equestria,” Twilight explained eagerly. “Ever since the first year of Equestria, when he brought toys to all the ponies who didn’t have any because they’d just made the long migration.”

“I was present for Equestria’s first year of settlement,” Luna stated, “and I do not recall these events.”

“You must have missed him,” Twilight insisted. “Everypony knows about Santa Hooves. He drops presents down everypony’s chimneys every Hearth’s Warming Eve. Last year, he got me a book of puzzles and an entire stocking full of candy.”

“And he does this for everypony in Equestria?” Luna asked, her voice still even.

“Well... yeah,” Twilight said. “He gets Shining and Cadence and my school friends something every year too.”

“It was my impression that Equestria’s population had grown quite large in my absence,” Luna said. “Well beyond hundreds of thousands. That seems like a considerable number of toys for one stallion to deliver in the course of a single festival. Unless I have misunderstood, and the festival lasts for many months?”

“No, he delivers them all in one night,” Twilight said. “But he uses magic.”

“Oh?” Luna asked. “What sort?”

“The magic of Hearth’s Warming Eve!” Twilight said, with a proud little kick. She learned something from Celestia tonight, and she was eager to show it off.

“I see,” Luna said. “Does this magic manufacture the presents and teleport them into ponies’ homes directly?”

“Um, no,” Twilight said, her eagerness faltering. “Unicorn helpers make the presents.”

“So the magic only teleports them?” Luna asked.

“No,” Twilight said again. “Santa Hooves delivers them. I told you that.”

“So, how does the magic assist?” Luna asked.

“It um...” Twilight paused. “It makes his pegasus team faster.” Thinking quickly, she remembered something her parents had told her once. “And it helps Elfie float all those presents down narrow chimneys! She’s his unicorn helper.”

“But he still delivers the presents one at a time?” Luna pressed. “Presenting them to his assistant individually for levitation down chimneys?

“Well, maybe it makes them faster at handing out presents too!” Twilight insisted, her tone turning a touch defensive. “You don’t know!”

“Very well,” Luna said, tapping her chin. “So the magic of Hearth’s Warming Eve bestows supernatural quickness upon a team of pegasi, superlative dexterity upon Santa Hooves, and shrinking and levitation abilities upon ‘Elfie,’ letting them fly all across Equestria and hand out presents with otherwise impossible speed. Is that correct?”

“Yes!” Twilight said firmly, giving a sharp nod. She didn’t like this conversation, and she was pleased it was finally over with.

Luna thought about that for a moment. “Do they ever leave ashes on the rug?”

“What?” Twilight asked.

“Ashes,” Luna repeated herself. “From the chimney. Do the presents ever leave ashes on the rug or the floor?”

“What?” Twilight asked again. “No! I mean, yes. I mean, maybe.” She squirmed in place, turning her gaze off and to the side. “I don’t know. I don’t clean the rug.” After a moment she snorted and lashed her tail, finding a second wind to raise her head and glare at Luna. “I don’t know anyway. I’m a filly. Only big ponies can understand the magic of Hearth’s Warming Eve. Princess Celestia and my parents told me!” For reasons Twilight did not fully understand, she stomped a hoof. “So there!”

“Ah,” Luna said. “Why didn’t you just say so in the first place?” Then her horn shone.

Snap went the chains across Twilight’s sides, pulling her yoke taut, digging the wood and metal into her flesh, steel links rolling like waves and then shaking like violin strings with their tension. The evening wind wailed around her, piercing through barding and coat and muscle and bone. Leather straps made from the enemies of the pegasus race went taught around her rear legs, pulling into her flesh and cutting off her circulation, until her hinds felt nothing but motion. Across her front was no leather, but straps of a weaker Equestrian cord, made in an era without enemies. Already, they were fraying under the repeated wear of her yoke.

Despite the cold, her coat was soaked with sweat, and her muscles burned as she lowered her head into the driving wind. Push screamed her body, wings and legs and shoulders all. Pull bellowed her chains, as every muscle worked. Legs ran in the empty air and wings beat into the storm, guiding the rest of the team, pulling ever forward.

Strange thoughts ran in Twilight’s head, but they were the thoughts of a mare. Adult thoughts. Deep and focused, driven to the distant lights of Canterlot before her, she thought only of the motion. She did not know why a pegasi had to move their hooves in the air to pull a cart. She did not know what magic let her feel the weight sleigh hovering so far behind her. But she did have to move her hooves, and she felt the strain of the load, and she knew that if that strain exceeded her strength, and her hooves failed to move, the sleigh would fall.

And then nopony in Canterlot would get their presents.

She had the forward left. The dominant driving position. The place of honor. Usually Dasher’s place—now hers. She drove the team, she set the pace, and it was she who felt the telltale twisting of the chains that warned the sled was out of alignment. In theory, Dancer was there beside her to take the load and to catch her if she missed something. But no good pegasus flies on their safety net.

“Delivery!” called the voice from the sled. That old, wise earth pony voice. “Sharp descent!”

A sharp descent? No, Twilight thought, that was all wrong. They weren't even at the edge of Canterlot yet. She wasn’t thinking of starting a shallow descent for at least another half mile. But again, the order came, and she descended, twisting the team through the wailing snow. Out of the gloom of ice and fog came the side of the mountain, and the train tracks, and there by the side of the rails, a tiny cabin. With a chimney.

Of course.

“Heel!” she called, and the team came to a sharp stop, hovering just above the roof. The source of that old, wise voice pulled a gift from his giant bag, and then Twilight heard the gentle whistle of magic. There was nothing to do then but wait for Elfie to finish. On a bigger roof, the team would take the chance to rest, but here they had no such luxury. The mountain slope produced brutal crosswinds, and the sleight and team twisted in place as their wings beat in place, trying to hold station over the little roof.

Twilight felt the twist in the chains. Twenty degrees, perhaps. The sleigh, bottom heavy, could get well past forty-five before it was in serious danger of tipping. But when she looked at her team, particularly Dancer, she saw too much exhaustion there. It would tip further if this kept up.

But then, the whistling stopped. “Onward!” the old voice called. Twilight repeated the direction a moment later, and the team took off. She hoped to head straight to Canterlot then, but it was not to be. Too many houses dotted the edge. Railponies, game wardens, pegasi who favored mountain homes. Each one had to be visited, and each one left them in the brutal crosswinds just a few minutes longer.

It was a longhouse that offered them the first chance to rest for the night. The team touched down, coming to a halt as their hooves slid on the ice. Twilights wing’s burned so much it hurt to fold them, but beside her, Dancer simply collapsed, falling to the roof as he heaved for breath.

“Get up!” Twilight snarled, twisting through her chains to grab him, wrapping her leg about him and heaving him to his hooves. His body was soaked, and she could feel the heat radiating off him, carrying with it a pungent scent of sweat and musk. “Come on, we’re almost there. We just need to get into Canterlot and then it’s all gentle winds and big roofs.”

Dancer struggled to his feet, but no sooner had Twilight released him than the sweat he left on her body started to freeze. The wind affected more than just their stability, and when she twisted her neck, she could see some of the others starting to shake.

“Onward!” went the cry from the rear, and Twilight again spurred into motion. No. It would be okay. They could do it. Canterlot was just ahead. That would give them a chance to rest. Already, they were climbing the mountain slopes. Just Canterlot. Then, once they recovered, Manehatten. And then Fillydelphia. They could do it.

Then the team crested the mountain, and in the blizzard, Twilight could see Canterlot, with its thousands and thousands of glittering lights, and icicles hanging from its waterfalls. It was close now. It was so close.

“Sharp descent!” called the voice in the rear, pointing to a shack on the edge of the approaching trail, a little column of smoke twisting out of its chimney. Twilight saw the line of houses leading up to the city. Hundreds before they even hit the walls. She felt a lump forming in her throat.

In that moment, she knew her task to be madness.

And then Twilight started to cry.

Her barrel shook, she lowered her head, and finally, her eyes watered. She didn’t know where she was. She didn’t know if she was a unicorn or a peagsus or a mare or a filly. She didn’t know what she was doing there, or what she was supposed to be doing. A feeble whine escaped her, and hot tears ran down her cheeks.

“Enough of that,” Luna commanded, and Twilight’s head jerked up at the sharp command. Through the blur of tears, she could see she was back in the orchard, but now it was different. Glass monoliths covered in strange designs stuck out of the ground at random, bizarre angles, and Luna sat before her on a throne that resembled the skeleton of a barn. From that throne Luna descended, approaching Twilight and taking her by the shoulder.

“Now,” she asked, looking Twilight in the eye. “Why are you crying?”

“B-because,” Twilight blubbered. “It’s not true! None of it’s true! I was a mare and I didn’t understand the magic of Hearth’s Warming Eve at all! It’s impossible!”

“Calm thyself, Twilight Sparkle,” Luna commanded. Her horn glowed, and a gentle force reached up to wipe Twilight’s eyes free of tears. “Nothing in this world is impossible, and you have never been a mare.”

“W-what?” Twilight asked, tilting her head up as Luna pressed under her chin. Though she still sniffled, her tears slowed. “Yes, I was! I was pulling Santa Hooves’s sleigh! I was a pegasus!”

“You were a unicorn filly,” said Luna, “dreaming she was a pegasus mare.”

“W-what?” Twilight asked, and Luna quietly sighed.

“Consider,” Luna said gently, “in your dream, did you have unnaturally swift flight? Did Santa Hooves have the power to whisk a gift down a chimney in a fraction of a second?” It only occurred to Twilight when Luna asked that neither thing had been the case. In fact, while being a mare had given her many strange feelings, she’d seemed to be an ordinary pegasus.

“What you saw,” Luna said, “was an illusion. An image of things that never occurred. There is great and ancient magic in this world, and so I do not know if Santa Hooves is real. Perhaps there truly is a stallion who gives presents to the little colts and fillies of the world once a year.”

“Then why did you show me that!?” Twilight shouted, her voice wrenching.

“Because you do not know if Santa Hooves is real either,” Luna answered.

“My parents wouldn't lie to me!” Twilight shouted. “Princess Celestia wouldn't lie to me!”

“Do you honestly believe that is true?” Luna asked.

“Yes!” screamed Twilight. Luna said nothing, and continued to stare. “Yes!” Twilight repeated. “Yes I do yes I do yes I do!” Still, Luna said nothing. “Stop it!” she screamed.

Into the silence, Twilight spoke with a shaky voice. “There’s no reason they’d do that.”

“Perhaps Celestia wanted to give you a gift herself,” Luna suggested. “And was worried you wouldn’t like it.”

“That’s stupid,” Twilight insisted, folding her ears back. “You’re stupid. I hate dreaming!”

“It was not my intention to hurt you,” Luna said, only to earn a defiant glare from Twilight. “Merely to teach you something very important.”

“Well I didn’t learn anything and it was awful!” Twilight huffed, turning sharply away from Luna. Luna nodded and fell quiet.

Then, a little while later, she asked: “How did you find being a mare?”

“It was... weird,” Twilight said. “I felt really big, and strong, and I just knew all this stuff. It made my thoughts really deep. And work felt funny. Like, not exciting, but good in a way I can’t explain?” She tapped her hoof on the ground. “Is that how it’ll feel when I grow up?”

“Partially,” Luna said, stepping up to Twilight’s side. “There were things I excluded from the dream—emotions you’re not ready for—but I tried to make it as true as possible. Adults thoughts are very different from those of children.”

“Yeah, there were slower, but like, really quick at the same time?” she said, looking for the words. “Like there was this big catalog of thoughts I’d already thought so I didn’t have to think them again and it made thinking easier. And I knew all this stuff about flying but I can’t remember it now.”

“True knowledge takes careful study,” Luna said. “Wisdom granted by magic is always temporary.”

“Really?” Twilight asked. She started to look at Luna curiously, and then sharply looked aside. “I mean. I didn’t know that.”

“It is a rule of magic known as Starswirl’s Fifth Principle,” Luna explained. “I can show you if you’d like. It’s actually very easy to prove.”

From the ground nearby, Luna procured a stick, and began to sketch lines in the dirt, speaking as she drew. Twilight looked sharply away, a set jaw and upturned muzzle snubbing the crude illustrations.

But as time passed, the stick turned to chalk and the dirt to rock. The orchard became a palace, and the throne of wood a flowering tree of knowledge. The dream world, mutable and unstable, shifted wildly at its master’s will, but Twilight and Luna remained unchanged, fixed in their distance from each other. Luna never changed from her dispassionate cadence, and never drew closer to Twilight.

So, eventually, Twilight drew closer to her, and came to rest by her side. There she remained, until the sun rose.

The next morning, Twilight awoke with no recollection of her dreams, and less care for them. She shot out of bed, racing up the hall to Princess Celestia’s room. The door was already open, and there under the tree, Twilight found two boxes waiting for her. With eager hooves she ripped the first box open, and inside, found a new magical tome. It was an old book, the sort usually kept behind glass,more a thing of magic than just about magic. Twilight knew it was a precious thing to give to a child and she actually squealed with delight, hugging it to her chest as Princess Celestia smiled and watched on.

But then, a strange mood overtook Twilight, and for some reason she did not understand, she suddenly felt melancholy. With slower movements, she looked under the tree, and found the second box. This one was labeled for Smarty Pants, and inside, Twilight found a little quill and notebook.

“Is something wrong, Twilight?” Celestia asked, noticing the sudden change in her student’s disposition. Twilight paused before answering.

“No,” she said. “I just like the little quill Santa Hooves got me.” She paused, and then added, “And I really like the book you got me.”

Celestia paused a moment.

“Happy Hearth’s Warming Day, Twilight,” she said, and the two embraced.

Grades Matter

Princess Celestia had a particular weakness for fall weather. Summer was her favorite season, but fall had a wistful sort of charm to it. It had a sweet sort of melancholy that the Princess of the Sun found difficult to describe—an ending that was sad, yet still welcome. Though she rarely expressed this view, the servants of the castle quickly deduced it from her tendency to sit in the castle garden when the fall came, tending to her duties among the swirling dead leaves.

Normally, the Princess’s duties were dry matters of state, which she bore patiently. But on that particular fall day, she was seeing to a more welcome task. It was the second fall since Twilight Sparkle had become her student, marking her sixteenth month of tutelage, and Princess Celestia could not have been more pleased with her progress so far. She was brilliant, ravenously curious, hard working, and perhaps most important of all, virtuous to her very center. Princess Celestia was certain that, one day, she would make a worthy bearer of the Element of Magic.

But for the moment, she was only a foal, and with that came the practical concerns of raising and educating a young pony. Thus it was that Princess Celestia picked up her marking pen. Holding the essay flat so it wouldn't rustle in the breeze, she lifted the pen to the paper’s corner, and there inscribed a red “B.”

After a moment, she circled it.

“Oh,” Twilight said several hours later, when the marked up paper was levitated into her grasp. She unrolled the scroll the rest of the way, taking in the detailed correction marks that filled the margins. After a moment, she looked back up at Princess Celestia. “But I did okay, right?”

“A ‘B’ isn’t the worst grade in the world,” Princess Celestia answered gently. “But I think you could have done better if you’d applied yourself just a little more.”

“Yeah...” Twilight said, looking back down at the scroll. She bit her lip. “But I did okay, right?”

As Twilight repeated her question, so Celestia repeated her answer, though with a slightly firmer tone. “It’s not the worst grade, Twilight,” she said, “but you could have done better.”

“I know,” Twilight said, her eyes going back to the scroll even though she wasn’t reading. A momentary silence overcame Princess Celestia’s study as Twilight’s ears folded back. “But...” she said, with a tightness in her throat. “Shining Armor came by last week, and-and it was our first chance to some time together for awhile. And he’s my BBBFF. And-and you said we could! You did!” Twilight’s voice picked up rapidly: volume, pitch, and tempo all rising together. “And I thought I wouldn’t have enough time to work on it but you said it was okay—”

“Twilight,” Princess Celestia spoke.

“—and I’m sorry, I tried to do as good a job as I could.” Twilight sniffled loudly. “I did it the way the book did it which I thought was okay and I didn’t mean to mess it up—”

“Twilight,” Princess Celestia spoke again, raising her voice slightly, to no more effect than the first time.

“And.” Twilight forced herself on as her voice started to crack. “And I know the graphs on page two were out of place, but they’re right! I was just low on paper and it was so late and I didn’t want to rewrite the whole thing from scratch and—”

“Twilight!” Princess Celestia said for the third time, reaching out to touch Twilight’s shoulder with a hoof. “It’s okay. You—”

“I’m sorry Princess I’ll do better I promise please don’t stop teaching me!” Twilight cried out, staring up at Celestia. Her expression was absolutely wretched, mouth drawn down, face tight, eyes wide and filled with tears. She actually shook slightly, hanging on the Princess’s every motion and drawing up against her hoof.

After a moment of consideration, Princess Celestia sighed, and drew Twilight into a hug. “Of course I’m not going to stop teaching you,” she said, soothingly. The hug was warm but brief, and when it was over, Princess Celestia pulled back and smiled at Twilight. Her hoof shifted from Twilight’s shoulder to under her chin, and with a gentle pressure, she nudged Twilight’s head upwards. She lowered her head at the same moment, so the two were eye to eye, and face to face. “You’re my student, remember?” she asked, her voice gentle and warm.

“But I messed up!” Twilight squeaked, trying to force the tears away and succeeding only in driving them down her face. “You took all the time just to teach me and I was lazy and dumb and didn’t do a good job and—”

“Twilight Sparkle!” Princess Celestia said sharply, and Twilight instantly fell silent. “You are not lazy, and you are not a bad student. You are my faithful student,” she emphasized the words by gently laying a hoof across Twilight’s chest. “Do you understand how important that is?”

“I’m your fai...” Twilight started to repeat the words, but then quickly fell silent. She sat up straighter, trying to wipe the tears away with the back of a leg. “I mean, yes. I know how important that is. Of course I know.” She swallowed, trying to force her voice back to normal.

“That’s right,” Princess Celestia said, moderating her tone from a sharp to merely firm. “And I know the faithful student of the Princess of the Sun would never be lazy or stupid. It’s important that you spend time with your family, including your brother. I’m not angry.”

“But...” Twilight sniffled, though this time she tried to hide it. “If you know I didn’t mess up, why did you give me a bad grade?”

“Because grades are very important, Twilight,” Princess Celestia said, moderating her tone still further to a soothing calm. “I know that you’re smart and hard working, but grades are how you prove it. I can’t just give you an ‘A’ every time because I like you.” She smiled gently. “You wouldn’t want to get a score you didn’t earn, would you?”

“No!” Twilight blurted out at once, the force of her outburst freezing the smile on Celestia’s face. “I mean, no. Of course not. I can... I can prove that I’m a good student.” Again, she reached up to her face, wiping the last of her tears away. Though her voice still gently wavered, it was with a calmer tone that she added: “I’m sorry for crying.”

“You don’t have to be sorry, Twilight,” Princess Celestia said. “Little fillies are allowed to cry and get hugs from their elders.”

“I’m not a little filly,” Twilight said.

But she took another hug anyway.

“—equal to the sum of the square of the two remaining sides,” Twilight spoke with confidence, her eyes squeezed shut in concentration. When a response was not immediately forthcoming however, that confidence wavered, and she dared to gradually peek open an eye.

“Correct,” rumbled the pipes around her, in a low drone.

“Oh, good,” Twilight said, sagging with relief. It was only then that it occurred to her to look around, and to ask a question that was, perhaps, slightly more important than her geometry problems. “Uh... Actually, where am I?”

“You are in the dream realm,” hissed the pipes around her, in a voice made of escaping steam and gurgling fluid.

“Oh,” said Twilight. It was an odd answer, but perhaps odder still was that she felt wholly comfortable with it. There was a familiarity about this place, and a sense of safety. “Have I been here before?”

“You come here every night,” the pipes said. The sound they made was strangely beautiful, though Twilight could not quite say how. Each individual sound was rough and industrial: steam hissing, fluid bubbling, gears grinding. Yet somehow, all together, they made clear patterns, or even words. Like a pipe organ made of industrial equipment. “I am your teacher.”

“That’s... right,” Twilight said slowly. “You’re... you teach me magic. You’re... Llll. Starts with L. Lllll...”

“Princess Luna,” the pipes said.

“Luna!” Twilight exclaimed. “That’s right. Princess Luna. Now I remember you. Sorry, it’s really fuzzy...” Twilight rose to her hooves, looking around the room again. “Where are you, though? I remember...” Twilight realized she didn’t actually remember a thing, but still, Luna’s absence felt wrong. “Aren’t you usually around?”

“Go to the window,” said the pipes. Obediently, Twilight moved across the metal flooring, climbing up the outwardly curved walls and up to the little window. Sticking her head outside, she found herself looking out at a slowly moving landscape far below. She was high above it all, inside the barrel of a great clockwork creature that lumbered across the landscape—a mechanical pony the size of a town, with legs of steel and wings of silver and a gut filled with boilers and cogs. Slowly, its head turned, revealing eyes made from observatory telescopes and a horn hewn out of a massive redwood.

And Luna looked back at Twilight.

“Oh, wow!” Twilight exclaimed. “You’re huge! How does that work?”

“We are in a dream,” Luna said. “It works however I say it works. And tonight it amused me for it to work this way.” Slowly, she turned her head forward to watch where she was going. She hardly needed to look at Twilight to speak to her, after all; the rumblings of steam in her barrel carried her voice clearly. “Would you like to experience it for yourself? It would be a wonderfully enjoyable lesson on basic mechanical principles.”

“Yeah, I...” Twilight paused, lowered herself from the window, and looked back into the pipe room. Though the room had been empty a moment ago, now it contained a table, and several geometry textbooks. “I mean, no. I need to study. Thanks though.”

“I do not believe additional study on this topic is necessary,” Luna replied, her words making the room gently shake around Twilight. “Your understanding of the basic principles of geometry is very strong.”

“No it isn’t,” Twilight said. “I still haven’t finished memorizing the essential properties of the twelve geometric shapes most often used for spell targeting.”

“And what matter is that?” Luna asked, a jet of steam ruffling the papers on the table. Twilight gradually became aware of the room’s gradual swaying with Luna’s steps, and reached out to hold her books down before they slid away. “You understand the applications of pi, and radians as a unit. You can apply the pi and pi over two rules. You know how to use sine, cosine, and tangent tables. You could calculate the essential properties of any geometric shape, given time.”

“But I don’t know them off the top of my head,” Twilight insisted.

“Knowing them by rote is only useful if you are applying a spell in combat, or in another situation where time is of the essence,” Luna replied. “At this early stage of your education, memorizing tables of facts is likely to do more harm than good. You must focus on the underlying principles. There will be time to hone your technique later.”

“But working them out takes time.” The room leveled out as Luna moved into the swing of her next step, and Twilight opened her books once they were stable. Her eyes went to the page, though she found it hard to focus on the words. “What if I’m taking a test?”

“Then work out as many as you can,” Luna said.

“No! That’s not good enough!” Twilight said, letting out a growl of frustration. “What if I can’t work out enough in time? What if I fail?”

“I highly doubt you will fail one of my exams,” Luna replied. Outside, her hoof crashed through an old growth forest, a distant snapping audible to Twilight as it crushed trees and animals alike with its passage. “But if you do, I will simply take it as an indication that we need to go back and review the material.”

“Yeah, but what about Princess Celestia’s exams?” Twilight pointed out. Again, she tried to focus on the page, and again she failed.

“Will Celestia not review the material with you?” Luna asked.

“Of course she will!” Twilight snapped, slamming the book shut. The outburst caught her off guard as much as it did Luna, and for a time, the only sound in the little room was the deep thud of hooves and the snapping of distant trees. “But I’ll still have a bad grade,” Twilight said. “And grades are important.”

Luna gave no answer to Twilight at first, but gradually, the snapping sound below her stopped. Then, the deep thud of her hooves fell silent. As the great mechanical pony came to a standstill, Twilight could hear the steam pressure escaping from her joints. Luna gradually came to rest in the standing positions, her knees and elbows locked. She was still as a statue, only the quiet gurgling in the pipes marking any animation left in the great pony. In the quiet, Twilight tucked her tail up around herself, and felt very alone.

“Luna?” she asked quietly.

“Do you know what important means, Twilight?” whispered the pipes, the lack of steam pressure greatly reducing their volume.

“It means... uh,” Twilight frowned. “A big deal?”

“A task is important,” Luna answered, “if something very bad will happen if that task is not handled properly. Eating is important because if you do not, you will starve. Sleeping is important, because if you do not, you will be tired and sick. Good grades are important, because without them...” Luna trailed off, and the room again sunk into silence.

“Without them, what?” Twilight asked.

“I was hoping you could tell me,” Luna answered.

“Well, because...” Twilight struggled for words. “Grades help you get into good schools!” The words game suddenly, with a new surge of energy. “My good grades got me into my entrance exam.”

“That is a reason grades were useful to you before. I asked why they are useful to you now. Are you not already in the most prestigious school in the entire world?” Luna said. “Are you not already Celestia’s student?”

“I’m her faithful student,” Twilight growled defensively.

“Then, finish the sentence,” Luna commanded. “Good grades are important, because without them...”

“Without them, I won’t be able to show how much I know,” Twilight answered. “What if I want to...” She didn’t actually know how grades were related to jobs, but she vaguely recalled her parents telling her to study hard or she’d end up a janitor. “What if I”—she made a vague gesture “—want to be a wizard and I need to prove I’m any good?”

“You’ve met wizards before,” Luna replied. “How did they prove they were ‘any good?’”

“They... cast spells,” Twilight answered, but her voice fell in anticipation of the reply she knew was coming.

“Really? You didn’t need to ask about their foalhood geometry exams?” Luna’s voice never shifted, never changed, never showed the slightest trace of sarcasm or doubt. Twilight flinched anyway.

“Grades are how I let my parents know I’m working hard,” Twilight whispered, looking at her hooves.

“Celestia doesn’t tell them as much?” Luna asked, still without ever shifting from her flat intonations.

“Fine!” Twilight shouted, sharply lifting her head. “Fine, I get it, okay!? La-dee-da, fine! Grades aren’t important. You win. Just leave me alone!”

“I do not want to ‘win,’” Luna answered. “I merely want you to think. If you really believe that grades matter, I will not stand in the way of that. You can decide for yourself.”

“Fine, I will!” Twilight yelled at the pipes, angrily flicking her tail.

“Very well,” Luna said. And then the pipes were silent.

“Yeah!” Twilight shouted. “I will decide for myself, and uh...” Twilight stammered for words, but as she did, she became aware of another sound in the little room. There was another pony, sniffing loudly, and when Twilight turned, she saw her. It was a little purple unicorn filly, with a star on her flank. Twilight felt she knew this foal. The little filly was familiar somehow, and yet, when Twilight tried to identify her, her head went fuzzy.

“Here you go,” the little foal whispered, using her nose to nudge something Twilight’s way. It was a little rough bound stack of papers, the title Introduction to Magic Book Reports carefully written at the top in blocky letters. “Did I do okay?”

Twilight levitated the report off the table, and carefully read through it. It was a good book report, but the little foal had made a few mistakes. They were nothing severe, just some common misunderstandings, but they changed a few of the key lessons of the book.

“Well,” Twilight said, “you got it mostly right. Here, let me show you want you did wrong.” She turned to the table, and suddenly found a red pen in easy reach, levitating it up with her magic. “Don’t worry,” Twilight told the little foal. “I can tell you’re good at this. You just need a little bit of help.”

Had Twilight been in the waking world, she would have been struck by the absurdity of this turn of events. But in the dream world, it wasn’t absurd at all, for dreams worked the way Princess Luna wished them to work.

And on that night, it amused her for them to work that way.

The next morning, Twilight awoke with no recollection of her dreams. She hardly had time to waste dreaming anyway, for a busy day was ahead of her. First, she had a morning review with Professor Chalk Pants, then spellcasting practice in the mid-morning, then a test with Professor Weed Out, and then Princess Celestia was going to take her back to her family for the weekend. That meant that her test was at noon instead of at the end of the day, giving her only half the time to complete her final day-of test review studying checklist.

She’d planned to spend breakfast reviewing, but as she climbed out of bed and checked the color-coded schedule on the wall, something struck her. Precisely what, she couldn't say, but when she reached up to the shelf for a book, she hesitated. Gradually, the glow of her magic faded from around the geometry textbook without it having moved an inch.

Twilight started at the book for some time, lost in a daze. She wasn’t sure why she was hesitating to take it. She wasn’t sure why taking it had seemed so vitally important last night. Seconds seemed to stretch on forever as she weighed the decision.

Finally, her horn came alight, and her copy of Daring Do and the Sorcerer’s Saddle flew down beside her. Regardless of her confusion, it wouldn't do to spend all of breakfast doing something as trivial as eating, and she was eager to see how the book ended.

It was that afternoon that Twilight rushed out onto the castle grounds, her little saddlebags stuffed with all the books she couldn't bear to be parted from until Monday. Princess Celestia was already waiting there, along with her chariot.

“Hello, Princess Celestia!” Twilight called, quickly pulling herself up onto the chariot. “I’m sorry I’m late. Professor Weed Out’s assistant lost the test and we were late getting started.”

“Yes, he let me know,” Princess Celestia said warmly, scooting aside to make room for Twilight on the chariot. “So how did the exam go?”

Twilight froze to the spot.

“It went fine,” she finally said, her voice rigid. “I got all the questions right, but didn’t finish the last one.” She swallowed. “So I got a B.” She forced herself to breathe, though her barrel felt tight as a vice. “And Professor Weed Out gave me some practice problems.”

“Weed Out is a tough teacher,” Celestia said, “But he’s very eager to see you learn. Do you feel ready to start spell practice next week?”

After a long moment, Twilight answered, “Yeah.” After a moment she added, “Yeah, I feel good about it.”

And for the rest of the ride home, she did.

Be Yourself

Though she was Celestia’s personal student, not all of the time Twilight devoted to her education was spent with the Princess. Even putting aside individual study time, the simple fact of the matter was that Celestia had all of Equestria to rule, and could not spare the hours required to personally tutor Twilight on every subject. Though she made a point of personally instructing Twilight at least twice a week and regularly worked with her other instructors, Celestia mostly left Twilight in the care of the faculty of her School for Gifted Unicorns. That was what they were there for, after all.

Celestia’s faith in her faculty was not misplaced, and they did an excellent job instructing Twilight. Though she never viewed any of them as her teacher in quite the same way she was Celestia’s student, Twilight got to like most of her instructors, and they were rather fond of her in turn. This fact of Twilight’s education had several implications, most of which were very positive. Twilight got to see more of the castle, she got to go outside more often, and she was exposed to multiple perspectives on her studies.

It also meant she got to spend more time with foals her own age.

“Hello, Princess Celestia,” Twilight said, shuffling her way into Celestia’s personal study. It was their regular Tuesday check in, which according to the schedule meant a review of Twilight’s progress from the last week and followed by an hour of personal tutoring to catch up on any gaps or weaknesses. In practice though, Celestia had almost always finished reviewing Twilight’s progress before she arrived, and the tutoring regularly ran overtime. Every time it did, Celestia would tisk and chide herself and swear within Twilight’s hearing that next time they only had an hour. And yet, the very next week, they’d stay all the way to dinner. It was one of Twilight’s favorite parts of the week.

“I’m ready to get started,” she said, putting down her saddlebags and quietly pulling the books out one at a time.

“Twilight,” Princess Celestia said. Pausing briefly, she glanced out the window and inspected the weather. It was a beautiful summers day without a cloud in the sky, and the sun shone down brightly over the streets of Canterlot. That done, she turned back to Twilight, and cleared her throat. “May I ask why you are wearing earmuffs?”

Twilight paused.

“No I’m not,” she said, tucking her tail in beneath her.

“Twilight,” Princess Celestia repeated, with just a hint of reproach. It would have been hard to miss the fluffy pink band that adorned Twilight’s head, or the giant insulated ear protectors that covered both sides of her head. But even if Celestia had been struck with a very particular sort of blindness, she could hear that something was wrong just as well. Twilight did not shuffle into their review sessions, she bounded into them. And yet, here she was, unpacking her books one at a time, scrunched up like she was hoping not to be noticed.

“My ears were cold,” Twilight said, turning her gaze down to the floor.

“Twilight, it is a perfectly warm—”

“I’d really like it if we could just study now, Princess.” Twilight’s voice was so quiet she was almost whispering, and her tail was tucked up so tight under her it brushed her belly. “If that’s okay.”

For a few long seconds, Celestia said nothing. And when she did speak, it was in a tone of firm, unquestionable command: “Twilight, come here.”

Twilight shivered as she stepped up to Princess Celestia. Her gaze remained fixed on the ground, and when she stood at the Princess’s hooves, she squeezed her eyes shut. She was as a prisoner awaiting their executioner, and she flinched when she felt Princess Celestia take hold of the earmuffs. The Princess pulled the muffs aside, and lifted them off Twilight’s head.

Red stained the inside of the fluffy pink covers, and covered Twilight’s coat with a sticky sheen. Thick wads of bandages were stuffed into both of her ears, but they too were long since soggy with blood. Twilight’s eyes remained shut, and she attempted to fold her ears back in shame, but a squeak of pain escaped her when she did, and they quickly came forward again.

Celestia, ageless and a veteran of a darker time, said nothing. Instead, she reached out and rang the bell to summon the servant, who appeared at her door at once. “Tell the guards up the hall to bring me their first aid kit, please,” she instructed.

While she waited, Celestia carefully removed both bundles of soggy bandages, and inspected Twilight’s ears. Twilight started to sniffle, and tears formed in the corners of her eyes, but Celestia only brushed her side with a hoof, and shushed her gently.

The guards were not long in coming, and Celestia quickly took their kit from them. Alcohol-soaked gauze cleaned Twilight’s coat and the outside of her ears, and then an alcohol swab gently cleaned the inside. Twilight would sometimes flinch or whimper, but when she did, Celestia would gently shush her and tell her to hold still.

It took several minutes for Twilight’s ears to be clean enough that Celestia was sure she had seen the extent of the wound, and that Twilight was in no real danger. Though she felt great relief, she did not show it. Instead, she patiently finished disinfecting the area, bound Twilight’s ears up in gauze properly, and carefully applied four bandaids to the affected area; one on the inside and outside of each ear.

Then, she sat down next to Twilight, and asked her a question: “Did you try to pierce your ears with a nail gun?”

Twilight shivered, and shook her head.

“Twilight,” Celestia continued, still in that calm tone. “What did you try to pierce your ears with?”

“A drill press,” she whispered. “From the enchanters practice room.” A feeble whine escaped her, and she rubbed a tear from her eye, letting it roll down her face. “Am I going to be ugly?”

“No,” Celestia said, reaching down to rub Twilight’s shoulders with a hoof. “It is a very clean hole. The only reason it bled so much is it wasn’t treated properly. In a few months, you won’t even be able to see it.”

“Oh,” Twilight said. Princess Celestia watched her shiver on the floor, and then scooter closer. With one gentle movement, she came up flush with Twilight’s side, until the two were pressed together. Twilight was tiny in comparison—barely the size of Celestia’s barrel—but that made her just the right size for Celestia to wrap an entire wing around her, bundling her up inside. Twilight tucked her head into the Princess’s shoulder, and sniffled loudly, the occasional tear running down her face.

“It’s okay to cry,” Princess Celestia cooed.

“No. I’m a big pony.” Twilight shook her head. “Big ponies don’t cry.”

Princess Celestia said nothing to that. She didn’t have to say anything. She just held Twilight, and cooed and made comforting sounds, and in time Twilight did cry. She cried into Celestia’s shoulder, and hugged her leg, and snuggled up into her wing. Crying didn’t make her feel any better, but the feelings pent up inside her had to go somewhere, and she knew no other way to express them. Princess Celestia was there all the while, holding and comforting her student.

When the crying was over, it was Princess Celestia who spoke. “Is that why you wanted to pierce your ears?” she asked. “Because you’re a big pony?”

“I’m nine,” Twilight insisted, with a defensiveness to her words that couldn't hide their uncertain waiver, or just how hot her eyes still were.

“Twilight,” Celestia said. “Who told you to pierce your ears using the drill press?”

“You have to promise not to punish them,” Twilight answered, an instance to her words. Her pace increased as well, her words coming faster as she raised her voice. “They weren’t bullying me. Everypony else did it too. It was just my fault that I moved at the wrong time.”

“Do you trust me, Twilight?” Celestia asked, lowering her head down to Twilight’s level. “Do you know that I’ll always do the right thing, and never, ever hurt you?”

“Y-yes,” Twilight said. After a moment, she nodded more firmly. “Yes, of course I do. I’m your faithful student.”

“What are the names of the ponies who told you to pierce your ears using the drill press?” Celestia asked, her nose almost touching Twilight’s.

Twilight hesitated, but only for a moment. “Rowan Wood, Thorn Brush, Lucky Charm and Dazzler.” She swallowed. “But Princess, they really didn’t make me. We all pierced our ears. I wanted to. I wanted to fit in.” She looked down. “Make friends.”

“A true friend wouldn’t have insisted you put your life in danger just to be a part of the group,” Celestia said, emphasizing her words with a firm squeezing of her wing around Twilight. “Friendship isn’t about fitting in. Real friends appreciate you for who you are.”

“But what if they don’t like me?” Twilight asked. “What if they think I’m boring or... an egghead.”

“You can pretend to be somepony you’re not, Twilight, but in the end...” Celestia brushed one of Twilight’s ears with a hoof, even that slight motion electing a wince of pain. “You’ll always get hurt. True friends don’t make you hide who you really are.”

“But what if I can’t find any true friends?” she squeaked.

“You will, Twilight. I promise.” Celestia twisted her head down, and with the utmost care, nuzzled Twilight between the ears, careful not to bump either of her wounds. “And until you do, you’ll always have your parents, and your brother, and me.” She pulled back, and smiled. “I like you just the way you are.”

“Y-you do?” Twilight asked, slowly lifting her head. Gently, a smiled creeped at the corners of her own mouth.

“I do,” Celestia said warmly. “Now, repeat after me: Be yourself.”

“Be yourself,” Twilight answered.

“Be yourself,” Celestia repeated, this time with more energy and verve.

“Be yourself!” Twilight called back, seeing Celestia’s new enthusiasm and doubling it.

“Be yourself!” Celestia grinned.

“Be yourself!” Twilight called out, ending the cadence with a giggle, her usual color and cheer restored. “Oh, thank you, Princess!”

“Of course, Twilight,” Princess Celestia cooed, practically beaming as she lifted her wing and folded it back against her side. “Resisting peer pressure is never easy. You learned a valuable lesson today.”

“Uh... does that mean I’m not in trouble?” Twilight asked hopefully.

“Of course,” Princess Celestia said. “In fact, I promise I will not punish you.”

Celestia indeed keep her word, and did not punish Twilight. She did however take Twilight right home, and Twilight’s mother had made no such promises.

“I will never stick any part of my body into a machine,” Twilight said. Her tone was dull and the words came slowly, but she spoke them clearly and well. She did not know how her words triggered the mechanism, but it would not go until the spoke, and if she did not speak clearly, she would have to speak again.

Somewhere to her left, a loud click signaled the mechanisms acceptance, and in front of her, another mellon rolled into the drill press.

Then, the drill came alive. A hiss of air escaped from its motors, the bit whirling in as it spun up. The operators wheels turned themselves, and abruptly, the drill slammed downwards, plunging into the mellon below it. So great was the force of the impact that the bit smashed through the top of the mellon in an instant, puncturing instead of drilling. Bits of melon rind scattered in all directions, and the mellon itself thrashed violently, caught between the torque of the spinning bit and the downward force holding it in place. Twilight in her restraints, tried to look away, but she couldn’t. She had to watch.

Once inside, the drill bit spun without resistance, not so much drilling through the melon flesh as liquefying it, producing that horrible sound. It was the sound of hooves when she pulled them from thick mud, the squeal of hot gears, and the crunch of an insect dying when somepony crushed it. It was a sound Twilight never wanted to hear, and it just kept coming.

Until the drill was done. Until it retracted. Then, the chute that had delivered the mellon let it go, and its gutted remains rolled forward, to splatter against Twilight and drip down her front.

“Ninety-five,” said the voice to her right. A mare’s voice. “Again.”

“I will never stick any part of my body into a machine,” Twilight said. And then it all began again.

Twilight could not see where she was, she could feel very little. She was lying flat against hard stone, her legs strapped to the wall behind her. It was an unnatural pose for any quadruped, and Twilight could feel the strain all up and down her shoulders. Muscles and tendon were stretched to the point of pain, while her flesh was bunched and pinched against the stone. What felt like a metal clamp held her head in place, forcing her to look ahead, while blinkers cut off her peripheral vision. The drill press was was her world. It’s shape, and it’s sounds, and the sticky fluid that covered her.

The fluid was only fruit juice though. It was only fruit juice.

“Ninety-six,” said the voice to her right, as another mellon rind splattered against Twilight’s exposed underside. A older mare’s voice that was very familiar, though Twilight did not know where she had heard it before. “Again.”

“I will never stick any part of my body into a machine,” Twilight said.

Ninety-seven. “Again.”

“I will never stick any part of my body into a machine.”

Ninety-eight. “Again.”

“I will never stick any part of my body into a machine.”

Ninety-nine. “Again.”

“I will never stick any part of my body into a machine.”

One hundred. Twilight tensed in anticipation of the command.

“That’s enough,” said the voice to her right. “Let her go.”

Abruptly, the restraints holding Twilight undid themselves, and Twilight slid to the floor. Her rear impacted first, sending a sharp pain up through her tailbone, and she rolled to her side as she squeaked. Her pain was quickly forgotten however, as she watched the drill press, the chains, the blinders, the braces, and the stone wall itself rise up on tiny legs, bow to her, and then retreat off into the distance. They soon faded, lost to sight, and Twilight found herself surrounded by a darkness that seemed to go on forever in all directions. She was alone, enveloped in silence.

Until the mare cleared her throat.

Twilight’s breath caught, when she turned to see the strange mare who was the source of the voice. She was like Princess Celestia, but her mane was a field of stars, and her coat was a mix of blues and blacks. The black matched her crown and choker, while her boots were a sparkling silver. “I... I know you. You’re... you’re...”

“Princess Luna,” the mare answered.

“What...” Twilight said. She tried to push herself to her hooves, but her legs shook too hard, and she couldn’t find the strength. With a trembling voice, she asked: “What is this place?”

“This is the dream realm,” Luna answered.

“Why did you bring me here?” Twilight shouted, though there was more fear than anger in her voice, and her words quickly became strained. “Why are you doing this?”

“Because I am your teacher,” Luna said. “And tonight, you had to learn a very important lesson.”

“What lesson is that?” Twilight demanded. “How to stand there and have mellons thrown at me!?” Her voice cracked as she shouted, her little body shaking on the floor.

Luna said nothing, watching with dispassionate eyes as Twilight started to sniffle, her tail tucked up around herself. “You’re awful!” she finally shouted.

“The pain will fade with your memory.” Luna finally spoke. “A nightmare such as this leaves no scars upon the soul. You will recall the lesson, but in the end, this is only a dream.” Twilight had nothing to say to that, and so Luna continued, “There is more I would like to teach you tonight, but I can see you are not...” She paused for a longer period. “Ready.”

As Twilight watched on with wide and tearful eyes, Luna simply stood there and stared back. “If you are not ready to learn,” the Princess of the Night said after some time, “I suppose you may as well enjoy your dreams.” She tilted her head. “Shut your eyes and take a step forward.”

Twilight hesitated, but under the weight of Luna’s stare, she slowly shut her eyes, extending a trembling hoof forward to crawl along the ground. She expected to find only the hard stone, but instead, her hoof plunged down into hot water. Her eyes flew open in shock, and she leapt backwards, only to find her tail and rear pressing up against smooth bath title, and the world in front of her full of steam and light.

She was in a bathhouse the size of an ocean. Before her stretched a vast field of pools, hot baths, walkways and showers, going to the horizon in every direction. Pools in the shape of squares, and circles, and triangles. Pools that made maps of Equestria, or the shapes of ponies’ heads. Pools that stretched up into the air and became one with the blue of the sky. Soaps that cleaned coats, soaps that changed race, soaps that made ponies shrink or grow to the size of titans. There were steam rooms that erased memory or made fantasies come true, and scattered all about were attendants—ponies with bat wings and grey coats and big fluffy ears.

And little towels. The bat ponies had those little towels too.

“This is better, yes? Ponies enjoy this sort of thing?” Princess Luna said, her voice reminding Twilight that she was not alone. Twilight snapped out of her shock, and turned her head in time to see Princess Luna giving her and uncertain look. It was the first time that Twilight could remember her showing any expression at all.

But then again, Twilight didn’t remember her very well. So she just mumbled, and nodded.

“Good. Then step inside. Your coat is filthy.” Luna slid into the water ahead of Twilight. Tall as she was, it only came up to just above her knees, and she had to settle down in the tisle to get it to rise up to her back. Her ethereal tail and mane spread out in the water, dispersing through the currents until it seemed the whole of the bath was reflecting starlight.

At the edge, Twilight hesitated. She looked left and right, for anywhere to go other than after the horrible pony in front of her. But where was there? There was nothing except the baths and those bat-monsters. And so, with shaking legs, she crawled down into the water.

The water was clean, and clear, and it was hot. Just the temperature Twilight preferred. Exactly the temperature she preferred, in fact. She wasn’t sure what to think of that. But it did feel nice.

“Just relax,” Princess Luna said, signaling one of the bat creatures. Soon, Twilight felt a cloth softly rub against her backside, working the fruit juice away. The juice had started to dry, and had turned sticky in places, but Luna was steady and gentle. Twilight’s coat was soaped with foam, cleaned, and brushed free of half-stuck hairs, until it was as shiny as it had ever been, and Twilight was left to soak in the hot water. “There,” Luna said. “Is that not good as new?”

“Thank you,” Twilight remembered to say, staring at the water.

Silence hung over the two for a time.

“The pain will pass in the morning, Twilight,” Luna said. “All will be forgotten.”

Twilight sniffled quietly, “Well I remember it now and it hurts.”

“It was a very important you learn not to put yourself in danger,” Luna answered. “I had to be absolutely sure it would sink in.”

“Well you know.” Twilight looked away, and swallowed, taking a second to find her breath. “Princess Celestia is my teacher too, and she manages to teach me without tying me up and throwing melons at me!” Twilight’s voice suddenly picked up, coming on hot, though her gaze remained fixed on the ground. “So maybe I don’t need two teachers after all. Maybe you can go away and let me dream in peace!”

Water lapped at the two ponies’ sides for a time. Twilight’s shout echoed among the infinite baths, quieter and quieter with every iteration. Then Luna spoke.

“Celestia is...” Luna paused. “A better teacher than me, yes. I often find other ponies difficult to understand. Particularly foals. I would greatly prefer it if I could simply leave you to her instruction. But she won’t teach you the right lessons.” Again, Luna paused. “She taught you wrong today. She taught you the wrong lessons.”

“No, you’re the one teaching me stupid lessons.” Twilight insisted. “She taught me to believe in myself, and to not let bad ponies who are only pretending to be my friends pressure me into doing stupid things. She taught me that real friends like me for who I am!”

“And I am sure she taught the lesson very well,” Luna replied, her ears drooping faintly. “But it is not true. All Celestia taught you today was another lie.”

“Oh, sure, who am I going to believe?” Twilight demanded. “The nice, gentle Princess of Light who always takes care of me and make me feel good about myself, or the cruel, nasty, Princess of Darkness who ties me up and throws melons at me!?” Her breath ran out, and she had to draw another to add, “Huh!?”

“I don’t want you to believe either of us,” Luna said, with a small shake of her head. “I want you to think for yourself. Recall these events, and use your own mind. Do you truly believe that Rowan Wood, Thorn Brush, Lucky Charm and Dazzler were cynically pretending to be your friends?”

“No!” Twilight answered, with an indignant snort at the pony in front of her. Luna only stared at her, until the contradiction struck her. “I mean...” Twilight quickly backtracked. “They’re not mean or anything. But they aren’t real friends.”

“And what is a real friend?” Luna asked.

“Real friends don’t make you change yourself to keep being their friend. They like you for you,” Twilight said, a firmness coming to her words.

Luna showed no reaction at first, considering Twilight carefully. Then with a clear voice, she asked, “Is Princess Celestia a real friend?”

“Y-yes,” Twilight said, but the firmness from a moment ago had vanished as suddenly as it came.

“So if you ignored her lessons, and refused to change yourself, and kept being who you were, she wouldn’t mind?” Luna asked, not breaking from her even tone or neutral expression.

“That’s different,” Twilight insisted, pulling away from Luna in the water. “Princess Celestia is my teacher. I’m here to learn from her.”

“And you have nothing to learn from your true friends?” Luna asked smoothly. “Your brother is your friend, did he never teach you anything? What about your studying companions in class?”

“That’s different!” Twilight tried to stop her hoof, but succeeded only in swirling the water around her. With a sound between a snarl and a whimper, she turned away, wading away from Luna and back to the edge of the pool. “Shut up. I hate you!” Twilight scrambled up to the edge of the pool, but couldn’t find the strength to pull herself out, and after a few frustrating moments settled back into the water. “I hate you. Princess Celestia is my friend.”

“Yes, Twilight, She is,” Luna spoke slowly. “She is your friend because when she tries to change you, it’s because she wants to help you.”

Luna paused to take a breath, and when she continued, it was was with a softer voice, and a more gradual cadence. “Friends often demand that you change who you are. They will demand you abandon destructive habits. They will demand that you stop doing things that irritate them. They will demand that you show consideration even when you think their complaints are foolish. They will grow, and become new ponies, and they will demand you grow with them. And if you do not, they will stop being your friends.”

“But that’s wrong!” Twilight insisted.

“That is life, Twilight Sparkle,” Luna replied. “You are changed by the ponies around you, whether you like it or not, and you will change them.” Luna’s horn glowed, and she reached out with her magic, gently pushing Twilight’s wet bangs out of her eyes.

“Friendship,” she said, “isn’t finding ponies who like you just the way you are. It’s finding ponies who are worth changing for, and who will change you in ways you wish to be changed.”

“And what if I wanted the ponies from today to change me?” Twilight turned her head, shaking off the effects of Luna’s magic.

“Rowan Wood, Thorn Brush, Lucky Charm and Dazzler were and are thundering idiots who nearly got you killed.” Luna’s tone turned firm. “And I think you would be much better off if you didn’t associate with them. But...” She drew her mouth into a line. “If that’s really the sort of pony you want to be. You can make friends with whomever you want.”

Twilight said nothing, looking at the edge of the pool.

“Is that the sort of pony you want to be?” Luna pressed.

“No,” Twilight said. “But it doesn’t feel right. I don’t want to judge if another pony is worth being friends with. I don’t want to have to decide how they’re going to change me.”

“Refusing to decide is a decision all its own. Celestia will change you. I will change you. Your friends will change you.” She shook her head. “If you do not decide which of these winds you wish to catch, you will find yourself at the mercy of all of them.”

“Well can I choose for you to go away?” Twilight asked, turning her head away and folding her ears back.

“For tonight at least, yes.” Luna rose and pulled herself from the water, shaking out her wings as her ethereal mane and tail reformed behind her. “Good night, Twilight Sparkle, and sweet dreams.”

And for the rest of the night, it was as Luna commanded.

Twilight awoke with a hazy memory of strange places. Usually she couldn't remember her dreams at all, but on that particular morning, bits and pieces surfaced. There was something about a bath and ponies with fuzzy ears, and what fleeting images she could recall seemed quite pleasant. And yet, for some reason, whenever she thought about the dream, she started to feel helpless and angry. It was enough to put her in a bad mood for the whole morning.

The feeling passed by lunch though. It was only a dream after all.

Twilight’s Wednesday afternoons were taken up by her Magical Item Theory class. The room was abuzz with chatter when Twilight walked in, and she quickly realized students were looking at her and pointing at the bandages around her ears. With burning cheeks, she hurried to her seat at the end of the row, settling down next to Jump Cut.

“Oh my gosh,” Jump Cut said, when Twilight settled down next to her. She was a year older than Twilight, and one of the few students to get their cutie mark after being accepted. Her illusion magic always strong, but it was only at Celestia’s academy that she found her love of film special effects. “It’s true!” Quickly, she leaned down. “Did you really...?”

“Yeah,” Twilight nodded, trying to focus on her little multicolored class notes. “Does everypony already know?”

“You didn’t hear?” Jump Cut asked, dropping her voice to a stage whisper. “Rowan Wood, Thorn Brush, Lucky Charm and Dazzler were all expelled last night. You’re the only one who didn’t get thrown out of the school!”

“Oh.” Twilight looked down at her books. After a pause, she added, “My parents just grounded me for a thousand years.”

“You’re lucky you got grounded—you could have been killed!” Jump Cut started to shake her head, but paused when the professor walked in, signaling that class was about to start. “You have a free period after this, right? You’ve got to come hang out with me and tell me all the details. Some of the girls and I were going to go paint our hooves.”

“I don’t like painting my hooves. But thanks anyway,” Twilight said, finding her place in her class notes and silently reviewing. Jump Cut took that as her dismissal, and turned away, but after a moment, Twilight lifted her head.

Jump Cut was nice. She was smart. She didn’t go do dangerous things in the machine shop. And Twilight couldn't help but notice her class notes were very well organized. Even color coded with highlighters

“Actually,” Twilight said, “I’ve never really painted my hooves before, but maybe you should show me how?”

Hesitantly, she smiled.

History

“Uh,” Twilight looked up at the chalkboard, a smile tugging at the edges of her mouth. “Well, I would solve for the mass of the object being teleported by solving for R, since that’s the thaumic resistance of the object, which is primarily determined by mass. But I can’t solve for R with the equation you’ve written there, because…” Twilight’s horn glowed, and she picked up the chalk, reaching up to the little board. With two smooth motions, she turned a minus into a plus, and an I into a T.

“You intentionally wrote it wrong,” Twilight lifted her head and perked up her ears, adding a merry little. “Princess.”

“Very good!” Celestia nodded, reaching up with a cloth to erase the board. The two of them were outside, on Celestia’s balcony, enjoying a day of cool air and warm sunlight. It was far too pleasant an afternoon to spend cooped up indoors, and the palace weather team had ensured the breeze that flowed around them was just strong enough to be soothing without carrying away Twilight’s papers. “Now, if I wanted you to say, practice teleportation over this next week, what objects would you use?”

“I would use flowers,” Twilight said, “Since I want objects with both a small mass, M, and a low coefficient of thaumic resistance, Cq. Living things have the lowest Cq of any common object, so I want to use a living—but mindless in case of harm—target. And!” She lifted a hoof, “the reason I’m using flowers instead of grass is because flower's distinctive coloration and pattern will make it easier to detect errors.”

“You studied particularly hard last night, didn’t you?” Celestia asked, lifting an eyebrow just so. Twilight blushed and looked down, and Celestia raised a hoof to hide her giggle. “Don’t be embarrassed, Twilight. We all want to impress our teachers from time to time. And even I’m surprised by how quickly you’re coming along. I didn’t think we’d even be starting on teleportation until you were much older.”

“I’m… not that good,” Twilight let out an embarrassed little laugh, rubbing the back of her head. “The other students help me a lot in my other subjects. Like Jump Cut with illusion spells. And sleeping on things helps a lot.” She frowned for a moment, and her brow furrowed, as she tried to remember something that seemed just out of reach. “The material is really hard at first, but if I study all evening and then get some rest, it’s usually a lot clearer in the morning.”

“That’s good, Twilight. Too many young unicorns develop unhealthy study habits, staying up all night and trying to cram though spells half asleep. It’s important to take your time.” Celestia smiled and shut the books, packing them up and putting them away. “And that goes double this week. Teleportation is very physically taxing until you get used to it. If I hear that you passed out from exhaustion trying to do too many of the exercises in a row, your mother and I will be having words. Is that clear?”

“Awww,” Twilight grumbled, though her complaint had less to do with the instruction and more to do with the time, a glance at the sun confirming that her and Celestia’s hour was up. “Yes, Princess. That’s clear.”

“Good.” Celestia leaned over, nuzzling the top of Twilight’s head. “I’m sorry to hurry you on your way, but I have a cabinet meeting and I can’t keep making them wait.”

“It’s okay, Princess,” Twilight rose, her little tail flicking. “Um… before I go. There was one other thing.”

“Mmmm?” Celestia glanced back Twilight’s way. “Go on.”

“It’s about my Equestrian history class,” Twilight said. “It takes up a lot of time during the day, and I could really use a free study period to practice magic. Can I just take the final exam now?”

Celestia didn’t answer right away, but instead paused, twitching an ear as she considered Twilight carefully. “Do you think you would pass?”

“Yes! I mean, yeah.” Twilight looked down, and rubbed one hoof over the opposite leg. “The tests are all about stuff in the textbook, and I’ve read the whole thing. I know all the dates of Equestrian settlement and all twelve generations of pre-monarchy leaders for all three tribes. And, um. All that stuff about trade and weather control at the end. I read all the appendices. The class itself is kind of a waste of time at this point.”

“Very thorough, as always.” Celestia pondered that for a moment, then sat back down and folded her legs. “So tell me, Twilight. If you’d been born into a unicorn family in, say, 55 A.F., what do you think you’d be worried about right now?”

Twilight furrowed her brow, taking Celestia’s cue and sitting back down on the stones of the balcony. “Um…” It took her a moment to speak. “Learning… magic? It’s still my special talent.”

“It is,” Celestia agreed. “But, you’re eleven now. That means it’s not too many years until you’ll be a young mare. And wouldn’t a young unicorn mare in that time period have a little bit to worry about?”

“N… no?” Twilight tucked in her tail under her, her eyes darting over the floor as she wracked her brain. “While the three tribes technically remained separate, the years 0 to 100 A.F. were characterized by nearly entirely peaceful relations between them. It’s part of the period known as the magnus vincens, or ‘the great conquest’, where the Equestrian frontier was still largely open to new settlement and—”

Celestia lifted a hoof, and Twilight fell silent. Once a sufficient period had passed, Celestia asked: “Where do you get your food? There are no big cities at this point, certainly not much of a market economy. You can’t just walk down to a store. Where do you get it?”

Twilight hesitated again, and Celestia lowered her head a half-inch. “Where did your parents get it when they were young?”

“Earth ponies gave it to them,” Twilight answered, after a moment. “As part of the traditional tithing system collectively known as ancien regime, under which the three tribes—”

Celestia again lifted her hoof—this time just a few degrees—and Twilight instantly fell silent. “So, earth ponies came to your parent’s castle, or tower, or glade. And gave them food. Just for being unicorns. They had other responsibilities, like lifting the sun, or tending to the magical creatures, or building fine crafts, but that wasn’t a trade. The earth ponies just showed up with the food in baskets. Is that correct?”

“Y… yes,” Twilight nodded slowly. “Yes, that’s right.”

“And, how did your grandparents get food?”

“Earth ponies gave it to them,” Twilight said.

“And, your great grandparents?” Celestia leaned down low, with a little smile on her face. “And your great great grandparents? And your great great great grandparents?”

“Earth ponies gave it to them.” Twilight’s tail flicked, and she stared resolutely at Celestia’s hooves.

“So what question am I about to ask?” Celestia said, and as she said it, she reached out with a hoof. “Head up, Twilight,” she said firmly. “Because, you are going to be a young mare soon, and a mare never looks at her hooves just because she doesn’t know the answer. You look me in the eye. Can you do that for me?”

Twilight swallowed, then lifted her head and straightened her back. “Yes, Princess,” she said, taking a deep breath. “You’re about to ask me, ‘and where do you get your food’? Because the ancien regime was formally abolished in 5 A.F. And the answer is…” Twilight scrunched up her muzzle, then she spoke with conviction: “I buy it.”

“Do you?” Celestia asked, lifting an eyebrow.

“Yes! Because—” Twilight’s pace picked up “—agricultural relations between the three tribes underwent a reformation during the magnus vincens, moving from a traditional tithing system to a mercantile system largely characterized by small trades between individual family units. Chapter 7, Section 3, Introduction to Equestrian History Standard Textbook.” Her tail gave a little wiggle. “So I buy food from the earth pony family up the way.”

“Very good,” Celestia said, and Twilight beamed. After the faintest of pauses, Celestia added, almost as an afterthought. “So where do you get the money?”

Twilight’s face fell. “I… uh…” She started to lower her head.

“Twilight,” Celestia’s tone turned firm, and Twilight’s head snapped back up. “Very good. Now, no mumbling or looking away. What is your best, honest answer to my question?”

“I… I have no idea.” Twilight swallowed, her expression gone stiff. “Princess.”

Celestia gave a small nod. “That’s okay, Twilight. It’s okay for two reasons. The first is because you should never be afraid to admit when you don’t know something. But you know what the other reason is?” A little smile softened Twilight’s expression, and Celestia leaned in so close she could whisper. “Nopony back then knew either.”

Before Twilight could fully process what she’d just heard, Celestia tucked a wing around her, pulling the two of them tight together. “I want you to picture it, Twilight. Really shut your eyes and picture it. Go ahead now.” Twilight shut her eyes tight, and in a conspiratorial whisper, Celestia went on.

“For your whole life,” she went on, in a breathy voice, “earth ponies just brought you things. You needed food? It shows up in baskets. You needed your windows fixed? The glassmaker comes along. You wanted a toy, the carpenter would give you one because you were the little master. And all you had to do was what you do now. Study magic. Be a wizard. It’s your cutie mark and your special talent and all you’ve ever wanted. Are you picturing it?”

Twilight suppressed a giggle, and scrunched her tail up around herself, tucking her hooves in around her body so she could snuggle into Celestia’s wing. “Yes. I’m picturing a little tower like the sort in the book. Probably two or three unicorn families and an old master arcanist.”

“That’s right,” Celestia said. “And then there’s this whole unification thing. And you’re all for it! You never had anything against earth ponies or pegasi, did you?”

“No!” Twilight said firmly. “I… know some earth ponies in town, probably. They seem okay. And I’m not a judgemental jerk in any era.”

“I should think not!” Celestia agreed. “You supported Princess Platinum all the way. And now, it’s here! The three tribes are at peace. A new land has been discovered. You’re excited about the news, maybe thinking of visiting, when that nice old earth pony up the way shows up at your door. And you know what he does?”

“He… congratulates us on the good news?” Twilight suggested.

Celestia let out a soft sound, and gently shook her head. “He throws two baskets full of rocks at your door, and shouts that he’s been giving you something for nothing his whole life, and so did his dad, and so did his dad, but he’s going to Equestria and making his own farm where he won’t owe tithes to anypony. And he packs up his whole family and leaves. Then, so does the next farmer. And the next. And the next. Until your family holding is barren. No more earth ponies coming to bring you things. What do you do?”

“I’d… I mean.” Twilight bit her lip. “I’d go to Equestria too.”

“Just like that? On your own?” Celestia gently teased. “A unicorn and a saddlebag?”

“No. I’d…” She took a breath. “I’d find a nice farm pony family that I liked and ask if I can go with them. I could… use spells to make establishing a farm easier. Like burning up weeds or making water flow or clearing land.”

“Why, any farm pony would be a fool to turn that offer down, talented little wizard that you are.” Celestia gave Twilight a squeeze. “But you’ll need one more thing to establish a farm out there. There’s a pony you don’t have yet.”

“We need a pegasus,” Twilight said, brightly. “To make sure the weather over the farm is good. And they’re going to want to bring their family too.”

“Mmmhmm,” Celestia agreed. “And so you leave the old family tower behind. And it’s just you, your parents, and two other families. The earth ponies who used to be your peasants, but have decided they’re just about done taking your orders. And the pegasi who used to threaten to burn down your house if you didn’t pay their tribute, but now are under orders to get along. So what are you, a young mare, worried about?”

“I’d be worried about if they liked me,” Twilight said. “I’d be worried about what happens next. And what’s out there. And… and all sorts of things. There’s timberwolves and dragons and hydras and breezies and all these other things I don’t understand. And, I still need to learn to be a wizard. Did the old master come with us? If not, who else will I learn from?”

“That’s exactly right, Twilight.” Celestia folded her wing back up against her side, and Twilight’s eyes fluttered open. “That’s the story of the Equestrian Frontier. Little families just trying to sort out what ‘all the tribes being together,’ meant. And that’s what history really is. A collection of stories from individual ponies just trying to get through their lives.”

“I think I understand, Princess,” Twilight said. “It… was a lot more interesting the way you taught it. If it’s okay to say that.”

“It is,” Celestia nodded. “And I think that maybe you have outgrown Professor Tome’s particular style of exams. I’ll have a word with him about getting you more one-on-one time. But for now? I’m giving you your next history assignment. I want you to write a story about a young unicorn mare growing up during the first settlements. About what she went through. It must be strictly historically accurate, and the settlement group she’s with must be typical of settlement groups in the, say, 70 A.F. period. Do you think you can do that?”

“Yes, Princess!” Twilight nodded firmly. “I promise I won’t let you down.”

“I know you won’t, Twilight.” Celestia reached out and ruffled her mane. “Now, I’m already late. But before we go, tell me one more time what you learned?”

“That history isn’t just a pile of facts, it’s a collection of stories,” Twilight said, nodding firmly.

“Good, and?”

“That those who don’t learn their history get extra study time with their Princess teachers?” Twilight gave her best smile, tail flicking this way and that.

Celestia’s eyes narrowed, and Twilight’s expression faltered. “That um… er… that it’s important to know the difference between memorizing a pile of information and actually understanding something?” Celestia nodded, but her eyes stayed narrow. Twilight’s eyes started to lower, but she picked herself up, and held her head high. “And that… I should let you go get to your cabinet meeting. Good day, Princess.”

Twilight scurried out, and so quick was her exit, that she didn’t see the hint of a grin that played on Celestia’s face as she left.

“—and, I’m going to name her ‘Free Soil,’ and she’s going to be a unicorn but her special talent is actually plant related because I bet unicorns like that did super well back then. And her parents are super stern traditionalists but she was always into unification even before Princess Platinum so all the pegasi and earth ponies in her group like her.”

“You should give her a black coat and a red mane,” the voice in the distance suggested. “That would be, as the foals say these days, ‘totally rad.’”

“Oh! It would!” Twilight grinned. Her quill was floating just out of her reach—in fact, it seemed like any object she let go of promptly zipped out of range of her telekinesis. But she focused, and let the energy collect in her horn. A loud whine could be heard, and after several seconds of buildup, the power discharged. In a flash, the quill disappeared from its floating station and reappeared in front of Twilight, who quickly grabbed it to make the next note on her scroll. “Red and… black. Ooh. And she can be a secret princess too!”

“Sure,” the voice in the distance agreed. “Why not?”

“Yeah! And she can… uh...” Twilight paused, lifting her head. Directly in front of her, there was a small writing table, holding nothing but her parchment. Around her, numerous objects floated just out of reach. An ink bottle, spare quills, pens, reference and style guides, and more rolls of parchment. Beyond though, she could see only fog. An infinite abyss of dim fog that stretched in every direction, muffling sound and making it impossible to tell where the voice was coming from.

“Uh…” Twilight looked around, seeking the sun, but finding no source for the diffuse light. “Sorry, but.. actually… where am…” She paused again. “Wait, have I asked that question already?”

“You have asked it many times,” the voice said, “for you are in the dream realm.”

“And… I come here every night,” Twilight said slowly. “And you’re… L...u...naaah? Princess Luna.” She swallowed. “You are my teacher.”

“Very good.” From the mist, materialized a figure. A pony, a mare, with the a mane made of stars. With wings and a horn and a blue coat, and a cutie mark of a moon against the darkened sky. But she didn’t draw quite close enough to be easily seen. The fog still partially obscured her, leaving Twilight to squint and wonder.

“Your teleportation practice is going quite well,” she said, matter of factly, showing no indication she was aware of the unusual distance between them. “Though you will have to be careful. Here, in the dream world, I may remove the physical exertion associated with the practice of the skill. I have done so for the moment to allow you to hone your technique, but this is only temporary. We will practice the proper way later, lest you develop bad habits and exhaust yourself.”

Twilight focused her mind, and again, her horn glowed. After several long seconds of buildup, there was another flash, and the narrative style guide appeared in her hooves. At once, her quill zipped out of her grasp and back to its orbital path, expecting to be called again. She frowned a moment. “How long have I been here? How long has it been since I fell asleep, I mean.”

“About fifteen seconds,” Luna replied. “Your eyes have only just shut.”

“No, that can’t be right,” Twilight said. “I’ve been here… at least a few minutes.” She looked down at her parchment, covered in detailed story notes. “Or, hours. We were in the middle of a conversation.”

“Were we?” Luna asked. “Tell me. How did the conversation start?”

“We…” Twilight trailed off. “I… I can’t remember. But I was so sure…”

“This world works how I say it works,” Luna took a step forward, and her form became more solid, more detailed. Her cutie mark had dark spots around it, like ink spots. Her muzzle was long and narrow. She walked with her head high, like Celestia, like Twilight was learning how to do. “And I detest introductions. They are… awkward.” Her hooves shifted for a moment. “I frequently say that we will begin with such things already out of the way.”

“Oh. Oh wow. You can do that?” Twilight looked around her with a new sense of wonder. “That’s fantastic! I also hate introductions. Is there a way to get out of these in real life?”

Luna sighed. “Sadly, no. What I would not give for such an enchantment.”

“Do you ever, like…” Twilight gestured vaguely. “Use that power to get out of things? Or, awkward moments and stuff? Mom says I’m kind of socially awkward.”

“Yes,” Luna answered, her hooves shifting. “I do, sometimes. When our conversations grow unproductive.”

“So you like…” Twilight furrowed her brow as she tried to recall, biting her lip. “Start a new dream?”

After a pause, Luna said, “Yes. When we are done talking here, you will begin a new dream, and you will have no conscious recollection of this conversation. Interpersonal relationships are… easier, when they can be compartmentalized. You will spend most of tonight studying teleportation. In an environment less conducive to…” She let out a breath. “Distractions.”

“Oh.” Twilight looked around. “Um… thanks? I mean, it’s only a dream right? You’re not actually messing with my head.”

“It is only a dream,” Luna affirmed, with a slow nod.

“Neat…” Twilight kicked a hoof, looking around for several awkward seconds. “So… what did you want to talk about then? If you ‘compartmentalized’ us into a conversation.”

Luna’s eyes flicked to her right just for a moment, and Twilight followed them up to her writing desk. “Oh… my history assignment?” She looked back. “You’re not going to…” she frowned, “Argue with Princess Celestia again, are you? I don’t like it when you do that.”

“She taught you wrong,” Luna insisted, putting one hoof forward.

“She taught me to love history!” Twilight shot back, more than a little exasperated. “What’s wrong with that? You’re the one that taught me that understanding the concepts is more important than memorizing a pile of facts. I didn’t know how to apply that lesson to history, but it’s totally the same lesson. What’s wrong with understanding what really happened to the ponies who lived back then?”

Luna stared at Twilight for a few long seconds before she spoke. “Nothing,” she said. “Nothing is wrong with that. And I am… glad my sister is teaching you that way. It is… right. That a student should love to learn. But…” She lowered her head. “The thing about this world, Twilight, is that it is mine. You see only what I want you to see. And if I do not wish you to see something, it does not exist. And the waking world is my sister’s world.”

Her horn glowed. “It always was.”

Free Soil fiddled with her robes, as she made her way up towards the Cobalt farm. It was a stupid little affectation, she knew. It wasn’t as if the mud ponies would notice, much less care, if the collar was done up high enough, or if the twelve sacred bands were tied in the correct order, or if the charcoal-and-red finish was quite the same shade as her coat and mane. But sometimes, tending her appearance wasn’t about the other ponies. Sometimes it was about who she was, and what she was, and what she was was a wizard and wizards were not seen to be anything less than immaculate.

Even if they were glorified gardeners.

The road she was on was little more than a depression in the grass, with two shallow wagon ruts as the only sign anything substantive had ever come this way. It was the untamed country, with huge open fields ahead of her, forests around her, and the twittering of birds and animals to keep her company. The sun shone bright overhead, the wind blew just so, and in the distance, she could even hear a stream gurgling.

It was a bit hot for her formal robes, but that was her fault more than anything, and she smiled at the world around her. Coming here had been the right call, and while it was a bit primitive at the moment, there were already signs of progress. The trees by the side of the road had all been neatly cut at the base by Zero Point’s severing spells, though the trunks were still waiting to be hauled away, as the stumps likewise needed to be pulled up. Eventually, the farmers would get around to it and the road would be wide enough for multiple wagons, but there wasn’t a rush. Good old ZP had done the whole road at once, and it would take a few years yet for it all to be done.

Eventually, the forest thinned out, and the open plains started, and she spotted the Cobalt house in the distance. It was a little thing still, with just one room and an outhouse, but already it was surrounded by fields in all directions: two fields of oats, one of rocks, and one apple orchard that would really be something in a decade or two. And there was Farmer Blue himself, tying an apple sapling to a post.

“Is that Cobalt Blue I see?” Free Soil called, and the farmer looked up from his work. The door of the house opened as well, as his wife and two of the foals poked their heads out. “And good to see you as well, Red.” Free Soil managed to avoid comment on the fact that she was pregnant again, reminding herself that if she couldn't read and had nothing to do all day but her husband, she’d probably have more kids too.

“Wizard,” Red greeted her, conspicuously avoiding the traditional Master. But that was a tradition in of itself these days, one that continued as Cobalt Blue finished his work and approached.

“Hello, Soil!” Cobalt called. “Good to see you again. Please, won’t you come inside and sit down? Red has just finished cooking a few things and we’d love to have you. Perhaps give you a few pies to take home while you’re at it?”

“Oh, I couldn't possibly.” Free Soil lifted a hoof, as the whole song and dance started again. “You’ve already given us so much, I’d feel impossibly guilty. You must accept my invitation to come by next week. We’ve just uncasked some of the wine we brought with us from the old world. It might be the last real Unicornian wine in existence, and I insist you be the first to try it.”

“Nonsense!” Blue waved it away, “I can’t enjoy anything without my wife, and you know she’s expecting. If anything, you’d do us a service by taking our surplus alcohol away. A few casks of fine cider would do you a world of good. And of course, some of our fresh bread to dunk in it.”

And so the conversation went, back and forth and back and forth, until finally Free Soil agreed to sit down for imported coffee and take home a pie, but if—and only if—Red and her delightful children would join them for High Tea tomorrow and let the farrier fit them all with nice new horseshoes. It was almost enough to make a pony long for the days when simply murdering each other was a viable option.

Almost. The coffee was actually pretty good. And Blue made good conversation. And Red’s kids were cute. Free Soil made a mental note to talk to her at tea about getting them an education. Statistically, she knew, most of them would probably never learn to read more than a few words. But Red and Blue both seemed cleverer than the average mud pony. If it ran in the family, one of their kids might be bright enough to be a librarian’s assistant one day. And really, wasn’t it a princess’s obligation to help her lessers? Even if a distant claim to the unicorn royal bloodline didn’t mean much these days.

“So,” Free Soil said, when the formalities had passed. “How may I be of service to you?”

“We’ve had a pest problem the last few weeks,” Blue explained. “A lot of crops trampled in the south field, plus rocks broken open before they’re ripe in the west. At first, we thought it was Skyfall’s kids. You know the two, with the… what are they?”

“Steel-rain battle-saddles. Yeah, those two.” Free Soil rolled her eyes. “Honestly. Their mother gives them too many notions.”

“She does,” Blue agreed. “But they weren’t behind this one. We caught some… critter. Heck if I know what it is. We heard a commotion last night and found it digging a bunch of holes near the well. Ugly thing too. Like a dog, only bigger and nastier. It actually attacked Red!” He scowled. “Can you believe it? A pregnant mare!”

“I can believe it.” Free Soil took another sip of her coffee, and glanced over at Red. “She’s okay though, right?”

“Eeeh,” Blue waved the worry off. “Old habits die hard. When she heard something rustling around the farm, her first thought was pegasus raiders, and pregnant or not, she goes charging out armed with… oh.” He rolled his eyes and turned around to look back at her properly. “What was it honey? A crossbow? A broadsword? Oh, a bomb?”

“Oh, you keep making fun.” Red fixed her husband with a glare. “But that frying pan had three dents in it before last night, and every one is shaped like a pegasus’s skull. Now it’s got four and don’t you forget it.”

Free Soil and Blue both got a chuckle out of that. “I think I might know what you’re dealing with,” Free Soil said, pushing herself up from the table. “But I should check it out just to be sure. Where are you keeping it?”

It was only a short walk back to the spare chicken coop. Peering inside, Free Soil could see a creature there, bound up with spare cord and fencing material. It was definitely a canine of some variety, bipedal, with arms so long that its oversized hands rested somewhere around its knees. It was wearing a headband made of twigs, vine, and uncut quartz crystals, though the crystals were stained brown now, and matted blood covered its temples. It seemed aware of them, and spoke with a heavily slurred voice: “Horkprouko. Lod no ka. Huxo u dunarav.”

“Do you understand it?” Blue asked. Free Soil shook her head and shut the chicken coop door.

“Not much to understand. It’s called a ‘Diamond Dog.’ They’re a local subspecies of goblin.” She explained. “I’ve never seen one myself before now, but word’s been getting around. They dig deep underground warrens and come up to steal things. You know…” She glanced up at the sky and gave a small smile. “Kind of like reverse pegasi.”

“Are we in danger?” Blue asked at once, looking to the thing in his chicken coop.

“Not particularly.” Free Soil shook her head “They’re vicious, and they can be dangerous in large packs—there’s even a few accounts of them enslaving ponies—but they’re cowardly by nature. They won’t attack unless they think they have an overwhelming advantage, and they’re not terribly hard to put down. Can you show me the hole it came from?”

It took only a few moments to find the hole out by the shed, and a few minutes more for Free Soil to inspect the opening and to confirm it had a negative airflow. “Okay,” she said. “Now, gasses aren’t my specialty, so I’m going to be improvising a little bit. This spell is really meant for dealing with insects. But really, you know, as long as it gets the job done. Just get something suitably nasty, toss it down the hole, and that’s that.”

Free Soil gestured, and Blue and his family backed away. A sickly green light came to her horn, and she focused all her attention on the hole below. “Winds of horn and not of wing, heralds of the silent spring, I bid you now to heed my call, for with every dawn the night must fall. In your wisdom, swift and fair, before the end, all things struck bare, hear my summons, wipe them clean, and by your power: Phosgene.”

Free Soil held her breath at once as a thick, yellow and green gas flowed out of her horn and down into the hole, a faint scent of musty hay carried along with it. As soon as the spell was done, she hurried away from the hole, and ushered the Cobalt family away as well.

“Okay,” she said, once the danger was passed. “That should send them a pretty clear message, but I doubt I got the whole warren. Airflow just doesn't work that way, sadly. So you’ll want to ask some of the pegasi to look for more holes. Just let me know when you find them and I’ll have Spark Ladder or Hemlock come and smoke out their nest properly.”

“Right,” Blue agreed. “And, the one in the henhouse?”

Free Soil hesitated. “Well… that’s up to you, I guess. I mean, you can train goblins? To perform minor tasks and such. But it’s generally not worth the effort. They’re vicious and lazy.”

“Oh.” Blue frowned. “So, no chance you’d want to buy him then?”

“Um…” Free Soil frowned. “Not me. One of the enchanters, maybe. Mind control solves all problems, you know? But I’d have to ask. And I’m not sure you’d get a good price.”

“Eh, forget it,” Blue shrugged. “I’ll just send him on his way then. Thanks much for the help.”

“Nonsense. Thank you for the coffee.” Free Soil embraced Blue, kissed Red across both cheeks, took her oat-and-cinnamon pie, and went on her way. The walk back to her tower was uneventful, but beautiful, and the nice part about the pie being a gift was that she didn’t have to share it. She penned a few letters, hung out with her sister a bit, and then it was back to business as usual.

She had the whole afternoon free to practice teleportation.

Celestia looked down at Twilight’s paper, then at Twilight, then back down to the paper. The stillness pressed down around them as Celestia scanned through the last few pages, only the ticking of the clock audible. Twilight simply sat there in front of the desk, her tail tucked in between her legs, her cheeks red, and her head up. She looked back at Celestia, until the Princess was done reading.

“Did somepony tell you to write this?” Celestia finally asked.

“No,” Twilight said. “I just… I thought for it to be historically accurate, I should go back to primary sources. And there’s a bunch of settler’s journals preserved in the library archives. So I read them. And the librarian kept bringing me more of them. So I kept reading them. And I didn’t like them.” Her ears trembled. “And I don’t like Free Soil. She’s a bad pony.”

Celestia stared at Twilight for a long time, and Twilight stared back. And finally, Celestia said: “No, Twilight. She isn’t a bad pony. She’s a pony who was raised in a world that was filled with hate. Evil surrounded her, and raised her, and guided her, but it did not control her, and she wanted the world to be a slightly less awful place than it was when she was born. And it was. Because her daughters were better than her, and their daughters were better than them, and eventually…” Celestia sighed. “Eventually you, Twilight.”

“She did things!” Twilight insisted, water coming to the corners of her eyes. “They all did things! To eachother, and Equestria a-and,” she forced herself to swallow. “And unity between all tribes of ponies meant just ponies. Nothing else! And it’s not in the textbook because ponies don’t want to admit their great grandparents were all bad ponies!”

“I know, Twilight.” Celestia’s ears folded back, and she sighed. “I was around then, remember? I saw these things. I saw the ponies who did them. And I felt the way you feel. But… I didn’t have it in me to hate them.” She gave a small shake of her head. “I still don’t. Hate hurts the pony who holds it as much as it hurts any of their enemies. It drains them, it weakens them, or worse, it twists them into something they didn’t want to become.”

Celestia leaned down slowly, looking head on at Twilight. “There are no bad ponies, Twilight. There are no good ponies. There’s just ponies. Given the right environment, we could all do terrible things. But all of us, every one, want to make the world better than it was when we came into it. We all have that spark of friendship and love inside us. And I honestly believe that if Free Soil was born today, she’d be as good a pony as you are.”

“That doesn’t make it okay,” Twilight sniffled, and when she squeezed her eyes shut, a quick river of tears ran down her face.

“No, it doesn’t.” Celestia said. After a moment, she asked, “Why are you standing up so straight?”

“Because I want to look at my hooves,” Twilight answered, blubbering around her tears. “And you told me n-not to. And—”

“Shhh,” Celestia reached out with a hoof and both wings, and pulled Twilight forward into a hug. Twilight rushed into the embrace, wrapping her hooves as far around Celestia as they would go. She buried her head into Celestia’s shoulder, and finally broke down, starting to cry uncontrollably.

“I don’t understand!” Twilight cried, but Celestia only cooed. Legs and hooves and wings and a tall neck conspired to wrap Twilight in a cocoon, holding her close and tight.

Eventually, Twilight’s sobbing slowed, and Celestia was able to whisper to her. “I know it’s not okay, Twilight. But I promise, it will be one day. You’ll make it all better. It’s your destiny. You have to believe that.”

It took Twilight a moment to choke out words. “I believe you.” she said, around her cracking voice. “I love you, Princess.”

Celestia didn’t respond, but just continued to hold Twilight until the crying had stopped. Then, she pulled a cord, and called a servant, and canceled her meetings for the afternoon. She took Twilight home herself, and spoke with her parents, and made sure that her most faithful student would be okay.

Happy Families

Two loud knocks sounded on Twilight’s bedroom door, a shuffling of hooves barely audible on the other side. “Knock knock!” called a stallion’s voice. “Anypony h-”

“Shiny!” Twilight squealed, vanishing from her desk in a flash of purple light. Out in the hall, she appeared above Shining’s back, landing with a thump on top of his cadet uniform. He reared, she laughed, and her forelegs went around his neck for support as he tried -- not terribly hard -- to buck her off, his hooves clapping against the house’s hardwood floors all the way.

“Help! I think a witch got me!” Shining called, eliciting more laughter from the filly on his back. “No, wait. I think I got her! Hooah!” He bucked suddenly, and Twilight swung off his back, pulling around to his front until he could catch her with his magic. “Got you now you-!” He nickered. “Oh hey, Twiley. Where did you come from?”

“Noo, stop it!” Twilight giggled as Shining Armor ruffled her mane with a hoof. “I am not a witch!”

“Oh yeah? You’re just a cute little filly who likes showing off her magic tricks?” Shining asked. His voice cracked a little as he said it, but that had more to do with his age than anything. While his blue cadet uniform made him look mature, or at least disciplined, he hadn’t quite shaken off the awkwardness and acne of his teenage years. Nor did he look like he was fully done with childish things just yet, with his hat askance and a silly little grin on his face.

“Um…” Twilight scuffed the floor with a hoof, unsuccessfully trying to hide her smile, ears tilted back a few degrees. “Maybe.”

“Show me,” he urged. Twilight giggled and stamped her hooves, lifting her horn up to the air.

In a flash, she vanished, reappearing up the hall standing on one forehoof. She pushed off, and flew upwards to the ceiling, landing with a flourish, her hair tumbling upwards to align with gravity’s new direction. Finally, she summoned all her effort, a grunt escaping her as she visibly strained. Darkness coiled around her horn, and before Shining’s eyes, Twilight’s body transformed, boiling away into a cloud of blue mist. The cloud that was Twilight zipped down from the ceiling, whirled around him like a typhoon, and as he laughed, took solid form again in front of him, one leg held high in the air. “Ta-da!”

“No fair, Twiley! My little sister can’t go and become a real wizard before me.” Shining Armor lowered his head to look her right in the eye. “You give me no choice but to get big brother revenge.”

“What’s big broth-” Shining swept Twilight up off the floor, kicking open the door to her room to make way as he swung her through the air. “Aaah! No, stop it!” she laughed, as he whirled round and round with her held high over his shoulder. “Okay, okay! I give up!”

After one more spin for good measure, Shining launched Twilight clear off his shoulder and into the air. She shrieked and covered her eyes, only for him to catch her just as the height of her arc, and carefully lower her back to the floor. She beamed as brightly as she ever had, and hopped up towards him, jumping onto the little bench in front of her desk to gain just a little more height. “So, so. So so so so so, did you get it?”

“As if your big brother could fail you,” Shining pulled off his hat, reached into it, and pulled out the blue star-shaped pin he’d stashed there. Twilight let out a high pitched squeak as he attached it to his uniform, mounting it on the left side, just below the shoulder. “The officer’s academy just posted the acceptance list today. I’ve got leave for the next week, but when I go back…”

“You’re going to be in the royal guard!” The two shared another hug, and another laugh, and a bit more talk about magic and might and those mean old cadets who threw snowballs. Shining learned about what Twilight’s friends had been up to, her new crop of professors, and that Jump Cut’s dorky brother had finally gotten his cutie mark. All was joy and comfort, until a brief lull in the conversation.

“So,” Shining said, to fill the quiet, “What’s this I hear about my LSBFF going off to boarding school?”

Twilight's ears twitched, and she grumbled, the good cheer quickly fading from her expression. “Did Mom ask you to talk to me about this?”

“Maybe Mom mentioned it and I’m just curious,” Shining tried, but Twilight immediately let out a heavy sigh, crossed her hooves, and looked away. “Okay, okay.” He lifted a hoof. “You win. But at least tell me what you and Mom are fighting about?”

“She’s just making a really big deal out of nothing,” Twilight insisted. “Princess Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns has always been a boarding school. Most of the students stay there. Jump Cut’s my best friend and a straight-A student and her family lives in Manehattan.”

“Yeah…” Shining Armor agreed, drawing out the word. “But her family lives in Manehattan. So she has to stay there. Mom and Dad live right here. Doesn’t take half an hour to walk.”

“So I won’t be going far,” Twilight lifted her muzzle and crossed her forehooves, letting out a curt “Himph!” Shining crossed his own forehooves with a more skeptical expression, and a contest of wills ensued, the two staring eachother down for several long seconds. Finally, Twilight gave in, uncrossing her hooves and letting out a little sigh. “All the other students hang out in the dorms in the evening. I’m missing a perfectly good chance to study. Or… make friends and stuff.”

“But wouldn't you also be missing out on a perfectly good chance to spend time with your family?” Shining wheedled, and Twilight rolled her eyes. “Hey, hey.” He raised a hoof. “I left for a boarding school when I was your age, so I promise, I’m not just here to talk you out of it. But it’s hurting mom’s feelings and that’s not like my sweet little sister. So I just want to know what’s up. Is that okay?”

Twilight grumbled a moment, tilting her head from side to side. Finally though, she let out a breath, and looked Shining in the eye. “It’s just… I’ll need to get used to life in the palace eventually, won’t I?” she suggested. “Celestia is clearly grooming me for a role, and I want to do well. And she expects me to make friends, but I need to study and… well. I can’t keep being apart from the other students. She’s somepony worth changing myself for, and I need to be willing to do that.”

“Woah now.” Shining lowered his head a degree and twitched his ears. “What’s this about her grooming you?”

“Oh, come on.” Twilight rolled her eyes. “I’m twelve, Shiny. I’m not a little filly anymore! She took a huge personal interest in my education, she’s made sure I’m known around Canterlot, and she cares that I’m able to make close friendships with the other future wizards and noble children in attendance. That’s what a ruler does to groom an heir, but since Celestia isn’t going anywhere, she’s probably thinking of one of the viceroy positions. Court wizard, a governorship, scholar arcana, something like that.”

“Um…” Shining lifted a hoof to his face and gave a stiff smile. “I think you might be reading a little too much into things, Twiley. It’s not like Princess Celestia has said anything like that, has she?”

“No, of course she hasn’t. I’m twelve.” Twilight gave him a searching look, then relaxed and went on. “You don’t tell somepony they’re being groomed for a job. Then if they don’t get it, they’ll be angry and resentful and plot against the crown. That’s how you get insurrections. You keep two or three good prospects around, and hint to each of them that they might get it, and then let them compete to see which one is best.” Twilight let out a huff and kicked her legs against the side of the bed. Her eyes went down to the floor. “I mean, there’s still plenty of time for me to fail her.”

Shining whinnied, reaching over to rub his sister’s mane between the ears. “Okay. Twiley, where did that come from?” he asked, scooting closer to her. “I do not remember my LSBFF being that cynical when I left.”

“I don’t know,” Twilight said, quietly. “I…” She trailed off, and Shining pulled her close against his side. She leaned against him and, after a moment, went on. “It just happens. The other foals make fun of me for it too.”

“You know,” he urged, “I bet you could stop if you tried.”

“Of course I could!” Twilight snapped. Shining’s ears shot up, and she looked up at him with a worried face. He rubbed her mane again, and she shook her head. “Sorry. Sorry. I only meant… of course, I could. And it would probably make me happier, but that’s like, I could tell you what you want to hear so we can stop talking about this stupid stuff and go play outside. And that would make me happier but I’d still be lying to you because it’s not true.”

She took in a deep breath and let it out. “I wish I didn’t see things that way. Like, always seeing the worst in ponies? But I do. It’s like when I was little and went around telling all the other foals that Santa Hooves wasn’t real. I shouldn't have done that but I couldn’t not. It was the truth. And I just… I had to. And sometimes it’s the truth that ponies aren’t quite what they seem. And that’s not always a bad thing, but it’s…”

She trailed off, and Shining gave her a little nudge. “I believe you, Twiley,” he said, and after a moment, he added, “any other terrible revelations I should know about?”

“History is a lie the powerful perpetuate upon the foolish.”

“No. No.” Shining shook his head. “You are too young to start talking like that. Next you’ll be dying your coat black and changing your name to Heartbreak Futility.”

“No, Shining! I’m serious!” Twilight insisted, but it was hard for her to maintain her grim countenance while being viciously noogied, and soon she laughed. “Okay, okay!” They both shared a moment, and Shining helped her back down to her hooves.

“Twiley?” he said, leaning down to look at her head on. “I’m sorry you’re having some trouble with the other foals. You’re a very strange filly, in a lot of ways, but I wouldn’t change a thing about you. You’re perfect just the way you are.” He nudged her shoulder and gave a little grin. “And if you really want to go to boarding school, I’ll tell Mom I think it’s a good idea. Okay? But I want you to think about it. It would really hurt Mom’s feelings. She doesn’t want to lose you.”

“All parents lose their children in the end.” Twilight forcefully shrugged, looking off into the corner. “Mom should be happy that I’m going to go make something of myself. I know she regrets letting you go to boarding school, but I don’t see how her empty nest syndrome is our problem.”

Shining stared at Twilight for a long moment, his ears folding back a few degrees. “Twilight…” He started, only to trail off. There was a considerable pause before he was able to finish. “I… I want you to think about what you just said. Really think about it. And… think about this too, okay little sis? Even if Celestia is grooming you for something, do you think leaving your family is really what she wants?”

Twilight hesitated. Her ears twitched. “I mean, no, but…” She paused. “Princess Celestia… cares about me.”

Shining stared at Twilight for a long moment. She scuffed both her hooves together, and quickly said: “Come on! Let’s go play outside.”

She trotted out and down the steps without waiting for his reply.

Charity

When most ponies thought of Canterlot, they thought of the mountainside, with its snow-white towers and beautiful river glades. They thought of ever-fresh mountain air, of chill winds and warm sun, and of a view so grand they could see all of Equestria. The mountainside was where the first unicorn immigrants to Equestria made their home, and over the many centuries, they and their descendents slowly modeled it into what they saw as the ideal city. It became a place of magic and of refinement, admired the world over.

But there was another part of Canterlot. It was the place that those unicorns from so long ago put their earth pony laborers when they were not needed to cut stone or till earth. It was the city beneath the city: the mountain core.

Twilight stuck tight to Celestia’s side as they walked through the dim tunnel, so close she had to momentarily scramble not to trip her teacher. The street was packed with earth ponies: laborers, tunnel rats, merchants, runners, and those in the shadows who watched Twilight as she passed. Where the air was not stale, it was rank, laden with the smell of burst pipes or excessively spiced cooking. The street shook with hoofbeats.

“Twilight,” Celestia said, her tone firm. “What have I taught you?”

“I’m… just nervous, Princess. I’ve never been here before and—”

“Twilight,” Celestia repeated, her tone just ever so slightly short.

For half a moment, Twilight froze. Then she took a quick half-step away from Celestia. She straightened her back, and lifted her head, and walked like a princess. She walked like Celestia walked.

Nopony seemed to pay either of them much mind. The crowd cleared in front of them, but no more so than it would have for any other pony of Celestia’s size. Celestia neither demanded special treatment nor received any, but pushed through the throng like every other pony there. A runner darted past them going the other way, brushing into Twilight as he passed. She shivered, but she didn’t flinch away.

Celestia looked back at her. She brushed Twilight with a wing. “That’s very good, Twilight. I want you to remember that you’re fourteen now. Your teenage years are very important. A young mare is often afraid, but she doesn’t let her fear control her.”

“Yes, Princess,” Twilight said, trying to conceal the tightness in her throat. She turned her head and forced herself to ignore the crowd, and instead studied the tunnel around them as they walked.

It was an ant hive. Beneath the city, there was no such thing as land area, only cubic volume. And when creating more volume required moving tons of stone, it was a precious thing indeed. Homes and businesses crammed together in the available space, one stacked on top of another. Not a cubic inch of space was wasted, and though the tunnel was vast, they walked past some of the smallest stores Twilight had ever seen. They were all painted so brightly, in a thousand colors ranging from peeling reds to green highlights full of bubbles and blisters.

“Princess,” Twilight finally managed to ask. She kept her voice level. “Why are we here?”

“It is a part of your lessons.” Above them, a pair of pegasi flew past, achieving dangerous speeds in the gap between ponies heads and the ceiling above.

“Yes, Princess.” Twilight nodded. “May I ask what I am here to learn?”

Celestia slightly turned in her course, angling across the road for a particular pile of structured. Half built into the tunnel wall, half balanced on ricky supports, it contained a diner, a store selling lottery tickets, and a hooffull of small apartments. The whole assemblage was so ramshackle, that it seemed to Twilight a strong sneeze could knock the place down.

It was only after they were on this new course that Celestia finally answered Twilight’s question. “How would you describe this part of town?”

“It’s uh…” Twilight cleared her throat. “Kind of a dump. Princess.”

“So, the street you grew up on is nicer?” Celestia kept an even, civil tone, even as she applied her shoulder to get through a particularly thick part of the crowd. It seemed to be the way of things.

“Uh, I… oop!” Twilight wove her way through the mass with considerably less grace, the little filly darting past larger ponies or ducking past them. “Yes, I mean. Yes. Obviously.”

“So why is it that you were able to grow up in a nice neighborhood, while these ponies grew up here?”

“My dad worked very hard when I was young,” Twilight looked closely at Celestia’s face, but found no answers in her impassive mask. “Mom always said that when I was one and two, he was around so little she was worried I’d grow up without seeing my father. But, that’s because he was building his career as a writer. So when I got older, he could be around a lot more and we could live in a nice place.”

“So, you were able to grow up in a nice neighborhood because your father worked very hard. Is that correct?” Celestia angled for the run-down apartments.

Twilight swallowed. She nodded. Ahead of them, Celestia angled for the apartments. “Yes. That’s right.”

“Then, do ponies who live here work less hard?”

Twilight looked around. Her eyes traveled over the flickering tunnel lights, the peeling paint, and the ponies hawking cheap goods on street corners. She eyed roadway laborers leaning on their tools, and sharp-shouldered types pushing their way ahead of others in the throng.

“I mean, I’m sure some of them do,” she said after a moment. “Or maybe they aren’t as smart as my dad. Or their skills just aren’t very valuable, like knitting or something.”

Celestia didn’t answer as they walked the few remaining steps to one of the apartment doors. She lifted a hoof, and knocked three times. She hit hard, and the even in the packed tunnel, the sound reverberated through the air.

“Coming!” a young mare’s voice called out. The handle turned. The door swung open. “What is-”

Twilight gaped and stared. Jump Cut stared back, frozen to the spot like she’d been turned to stone. Twilight managed to break the silence first: “Jump Cut!?” she asked, breathless. “What are you doing here?”

“I, uh…” Jump Cut stammered incoherently. Then, she slammed the door in Twilight and Celestia’s face.

“Jump Cut,” Celestia said, raising her voice to be heard through the thick wood. Twilight’s head turned on a swivel, looking sharply back and forth between the door and Celestia.

“Nopony’s home! Go away!” she shouted back, strain showing in her voice.

“I’m going to count to three, Jump Cut,” Celestia’s voice was firm. “One…” She lifted a hoof. “Two!”

The door unlatched itself, but did not open. Celestia pushed on it with a hoof, and the doorway swung in. On the other side was a dim living room, lit only by a single firefly lamp on a peg. Jump Cut stood in front of the door, so tense she shivered where she stood.

“Hello, Jump Cut,” Celestia said, stepping in through the door. Twilight hurriedly followed. “Is your mother home?”

“She’s in the bedroom,” Jump Cut’s eyes were on the floor, and she gestured vaguely somewhere behind them. “She broke her leg. She can’t get up right now.”

“Yes, I know,” Celestia said gently. “I have spoken with Mr. Steel Shaving. He has decided that your mother will continue to receive her regular pay while she recuperates, with a small bonus to pay for somepony to help take care of the house. Her job will be waiting for her when she is well again. I have also decided to give you a modest living stipend so long as you remain at my school. I wouldn’t want your mother to worry.”

“Princess, I can’t…” Jump Cut fell silent as Celestia’s stare intensified. Her hooves scrunched together.

“I expect you to be back in your dorm by Sunday evening lights-out. Is that understood?” Celestia asked. Jump Cut nodded. “Very good. I am going to go speak with your mother. Twilight, please remain here.”

Celestia walked past them both, pushing open the door to the back of the house. Twilight caught a brief glimpse of a mare lying back in a bed, and then the door shut behind her. She and Jump Cut were left alone together. So they stared at each other, and at the floor.

Again, Twilight spoke first: “You uh…” she managed. “You told me your family lived in Manehatten.”

“Yup.” Jump Cut’s voice was tight. “I did tell you that.”

Twilight nodded. She lapsed into silence. The pause hung for some time, until Jump Cut mumbled: “Sorry.”

The front door did little to muffle the sounds of the street, and for a time, Twilight could clearly hear somepony shouting. One of the tunnel lights had blown out, and a few of the sparks had landed on him. It was quite the stream of profanity. “I didn’t know your mom was an earth pony.”

Jump Cut’s head snapped up. Her wide eyes instantly hardened into a glare. “Why would you need to know that?”

“I don’t. Need to know that.” Twilight rubbed one hoof over the other. “I just… you never mentioned it.”

“Why would I mention it!?” her voice rose.

“You wouldn’t! I mean, there’s no reason to. There’s no reason not too! It just never came up. So, you know. Ha ha. I didn’t…” Twilight trailed off. “Know.”

A weak half-laugh escaped Jump Cut. She looked away. “Bite me, Twilight.” Her voice cracked. “I thought you were my best friend.”

“I…” Twilight’s own voice started to peak. But before it could crack, she stopped. She glanced at the shut bedroom door.

She forced herself to take a breath. She swallowed, and forced her throat to relax. As best she could, she sat up straight.

“I’m trying to be, Jump Cut,” she finally said. “Maybe I haven’t been as good a friend as I thought I was. But I don’t understand. Celestia didn’t tell me anything. I didn’t know why were were here until you answered the door.” She leaned around to catch Jump Cut’s eyes. “Tell me what happened?”

“I already told you what happened. Mom tripped on a staircase and broke her leg.” Jump Cut forcefully shrugged, and her tone turned harsh. “And you can’t exactly work in a steel mill with a cast, so, since having food is kind of nice, I had to come home. My dad hasn’t been around for awhile, and my sisters are all too young to work. So I was going to drop out of school.”

Twilight gasped. “But that would be throwing away your entire future! You’re a straight-A student!”

Jump Cut snorted and rolled her eyes. “Wow, what insight. You really are a genius. I can see why Celestia picked you as her personal protege.”

Twilight’s ears folded back. “No, I… that’s not what I meant. Why can’t your mom just get an advance while she heals?”

“Think, Twilight. I know you can do math.” Jump Cut tapped the side of her head. “Even if her boss agreed to that, what happens? She gets two month’s pay in advance. She spends it to keep the family alive, meaning that none of it is left when she’s healed. She goes to work. And then…” Jump Cut spreads her hooves.

“What about friends? Extended family?”

“They’re how we paid for her to see a doctor for the leg and kept the lights on the last week. But they’re just as poor as we are. They can’t support my whole family and pay for my education for two months.”

“What do you mean, ‘pay for your education?’” Twilight scrunched her muzzle. “Celestia’s school is free.”

“Are textbooks free? Are ink and parchment? Are trips to visit the film studios I might want to work for some day? Are hoof polish and train tickets and eating out and all those other things you girls keep pulling me into?”

“You could say no!”

“You’re right.” She snapped. “‘I’m sorry, Twilight. I’d love to hang out with you and the girls this evening. But I’ll just have to watch you paint your hooves. Polish is a bit rich for my blood.’”

“Well there’s got to be some way out of this!” Twilight stomped a hoof. “You work hard and you’re really smart and you actually treat your library books with respect and don’t fold down the pages. You deserve to be up there.” She let out a sharp breath. “Ponies don’t have their whole futures ruined just because somepony tripped.”

Jump Cut stared at Twilight. She didn’t say a word, and eventually a blush appeared in Twilight cheeks. She looked at the floor. “I’m your friend,” she spoke softly. “Why didn’t you ask me for help?”

“Maybe because I didn’t want you to decide what my family deserved,” she shot back, and her words came hot and sharp. “I don’t need your pity.”

Twilight jaw opened and shut without a sound. She stared hard at the ground. “Is it really just because of bad luck?”

“Bad luck and ponies like you, yes.” Jump Cut snorted. “I like you, Twilight. I really like you. But it’s a good thing your special talent was magic, because the next-best thing you’re good at is ‘well meaning’ racism.”

Twilight smiled at that. It was just a little, and the gesture was strained, but she couldn’t stop a hint of it from appearing on her face. She lifted her eyes to Jump Cut. “What would that cutie mark look like?”

“Just a picture of your head and a speach bubble saying, ‘I have lots of earth pony friends!’”

“Heh.” Twilight scuffed the floor with a hoof. “If I apologize for being a huge jerk. And for… and for not being there when you needed me. Or, for making you feel like you can’t trust me. Or, for actually not being trustworthy, because you were right about how I’d react. If I apologize for everything. Maybe… we could try still being friends?”

“I…” Jump Cut hesitated, her tail tucking up behind her. “I guess.”

Silence hung between them. But this silence was not as long as the others, and Twilight cleared her throat. “I notice you said, ‘your sisters.’ What about your brother?”

“Ah… heh.” Her horn glowed, and the brother Twilight had occasionally seen pick her up for the train to Manehatten appeared beside her, smiling and staring blankly into space. “Fictional characters generally can’t hold down jobs.”

“Oh my gosh.” Twilight stared. “You invented a brother?”

“I’m an illusionist!” Jump Cut rubbed the back of her head as the image vanished, and a small blush appeared in her cheeks. “Besides, you didn’t mention that Shining Armor existed for the first two years we knew each other.”

“Those are fundamentally not equivalent levels of deception.” Twilight laughed, rubbing her face with a hoof. “Jeeze. Anything else I should know about?”

“No. That’s it.” Jump Cut’s voice was quiet.

Twilight nodded. She thought for a moment. “You want to, like, go get something to eat? Lunch or something? I’d kind of like to see more of the mountain core. I’ve never been down here.”

“The princess told us to wait.”

Twilight looked at Jump Cut. She looked at the door. She squared her shoulders, and marched across the room in two quick steps. She lifted her hoof, and knocked in the door with two quick beats. “Princess Celestia? I’m sorry to interrupt, but may Jump Cut and I go out?”

“Yes, Twilight,” Celestia said, “I’ll make sure somepony is here to care for Jump Cut’s mother. You may both take the day.”

Twilight thanked her, and they did. They walked through the crowded streets. They found a diner and Twilight got to try rock soup. They visited the central cavern, whose ceiling was ten stories high and which featured the second-biggest market in Canterlot. They met some of Jump Cut’s childhood friends, and tagged along to a party. Twilight tried her hand at dancing, and was informed she danced like a unicorn. Later, she was informed that that was not a compliment. She enjoyed it anyway.

That evening, when Twilight returned to the city above, she did not go to Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns. Instead, she proceeded directly to the Palace main gates and up the steps to the Princess's quarters. The guards all knew her, and let her past. She knocked, and Celestia allowed her inside.

“I’m sorry, Princess.”

Celestia turned from what she was doing, looking back at the purple mare staring straight-backed before her. “For what?” she asked.

“For not treating my friends right. For being less than your faithful student should be.” She swallowed. “I’m sorry you had to take me down there.”

Celestia put down the quill she had been using, and turned away from her desk entirely. She faced Twilight head on, and smiled. “Twilight, why did you leave with Jump Cut?”

“I… had to learn more about her. And the city.” She cleared her throat. “I had to prove to her I meant what I said. That I was actually sorry, not just asking her to forgive me.”

“I didn’t tell you what you did wrong.” Celestia said, gently. “I didn’t tell you how to fix it. Why did you decide your lesson was over? Why didn’t you wait for me?”

“I…” The word stuck in Twilight’s throat. “I don’t know, Princess.”

“Then I’ll tell you why.” Celestia’s smile brightened, just enough that Twilight noticed. “Because you’re not a child anymore, Twilight. You’re well on your way to become an adult, and adults have to make their own decisions. I won’t always be there to tell you what’s right and what’s wrong, and nopony, not even me, is perfect. You will make mistakes. Sometimes you will make very severe mistakes, and realize that in some ways, you are not as good a pony as you thought. It is up to you to realize your errors, and to correct them, and to become better than you were.”

She reached out a wing, and with the tips of her feathers, brushed Twilight’s shoulder. “As you did today. I’m proud of you, Twilight.”

Twilight’s jaw opened and shut. “Thank you, Princess.” She struggled for words. Finally, she blurted out: “I love you.”

Celestia shut her eyes. She lowered her head. “Come here,” she said, and Twilight rushed forward to wrap her in a hug. They embraced, and Twilight’s grip was so tight. Celestia was more gentle, and her wings wrapped around Twilight like a cocoon.

Eventually, Celestia folded her wings, and gently pushed Twilight back. It was only reluctantly that Twilight let go, and the distance between them returned. “There is something I would like you to do, Twilight. You have been my student for a long time, but now I have a task for you.”

“Of course, Princess!” Twilight chirped. She was almost breathless. “Anything!”

“I wish that places like the mountain core didn’t exist, but I cannot outlaw bad luck. There will always be those who fall between the cracks. But even if we cannot change that fact, we can do our best to help them. I would like to start doing more to improve education in the earth pony parts of the city. Will you please research the available options and come back to me with a proposal?”

“I…” Twilight needed a moment to even be able to speak. Her ears were on end, her tail was high, and she seemed ready to leap for joy. “Yes, Princess!” she squeaked.

“Very good, Twilight,” Celestia nodded. “You may go.”

“Oh, wait. Before I do…” Twilight stood on tip hooves, giddiness written in her every motion. “Can I… summarize the lesson? Like you had me do when I was younger.”

“If you really must,” Celestia sighed, but her soft smile returned. “Go ahead.”

“Ahem,” Twilight took a deep breath. “It’s always easy to judge others. When we fail, we say it’s because of external reasons, but when other ponies fail, it’s because they were flawed. But that’s not how the world works. Misfortune can strike anypony at any time, and no matter how capable a pony is, the world can always pile more on them than they can carry. And so if we want the world to be a better place, we all need to be willing to reach out to help a pony in need.”

She paused. Then as an afterthought added, “Also, unicorns can’t dance.”

“Very good, Twilight.” Celestia nodded, and Twilight glowed. “Off to bed with you, then.”

“Good night, Princess!” Twilight called, skipping out of the room. She got started on her research right away, and when lights-out came, she pulled out a flashlight and got right back to work. It wasn’t until nearly 3AM that her eyes started to grow heavy, and her head slowly sunk to the top of her working desk.

“—and I’m going to rebuild the worst parts of the city, and Celestia will make me an administrator when I grow up, and I’ll get to work in the palace with her every day! It’ll be perfect! It…” Twilight paused. She looked around. “It…”

She was beneath the bones of the mountain. And such bones they were. The sky was the curled skeleton of a pony, so vast their ribs were wider than the grounds of Canterlot Palace. The giant lay where it had died, and ponies of stone had built their homes beneath it. There were fortresses, running along the spine. There was a grand palace, anchored into the skull, and there were vast warehouses inside hollowed-out hooves.

Twilight stood beneath the ribs. They formed a great cavern, into which countless homes and ramshackle businesses had been built. And all around her were the ponies who built them, vast crowds that filled the streets. Ponies of stone.

Statues. The streets were filled with statues. Statues waited at the crosswalks, and sat in the diners, stood frozen laughing at some joke. A mare in front of Twilight was halfway through a step she would never complete. The world was silent. Utterly silent. The sound of Twilight’s own breathing was deafening.

“I…” Twilight swallowed, her eyes darted left and right. She backed away from the statues as best she could, herded by them into the one clearing she could find. “I am in the dream realm. I… I got here…” She stared at the world around her. “I come here every night. You are Princess Luna. You are my teacher.”

“Yes,” said the skeleton. Its voice was but a whisper. It did not move, but from its mouth poured the sound. Twilight looked at it with fresh eyes, and realized that its skull had the cracked remains of a horn, as it shoulders mounted the bones of wings, its dead hooves wide and steady.

“I want to wake up now, Princess,” Twilight said quickly. “I don’t like this dream. It feels different from the others.”

“That’s because I am very angry, Twilight. And while I am not angry at you, I must insist you complete the lesson. Celestia taught you wrong today. She taught you a falsehood. She shaped your compassion for your fellow pony into a weapon against you.”

The ground shook ever so faintly. A statue of a foal fell over, and shattered. “I will not have it.”

The hairs of Twilight’s coat stood on end, and a chill passed over her that pierced her flesh and sunk into her bones. It was like she’d been standing in the cold for hours, and though her body shivered uncontrollably, she stood and squared her shoulders.

“No,” Twilight commanded. “No. I refuse. For the last seven years, you’ve done everything you can to paint Celestia in an awful light. Well this is my chance to finally prove to her that I do deserve to be her student. And I won’t just sit here and listen as you try to turn me against her! So go ahead. Do your worst!”

In the silence, Twilight could hear her heart beat. Her breath came in sharp, angry gasps. The silence around her lingered. “Well!?” she shouted up at the skeleton above. “I’m waiting! This is the part where I fall into a dream where some narrative contrivance proves your point, and I act like it’s all real, and wake up with your lesson in my head. But it isn’t real. It’s a lie. All you’ve ever shown me are lies! And I refuse to believe it any longer!”

Her breath came in and out. Nothing answered her. “Well!?”

“Your teenage years are very important,” Celestia said. Twilight shrieked like she was burned, and whirled towards the source of the sound. There, behind her, was a statue of Celestia and statue of herself, frozen mid-step just as they’d been in the tunnels below. “A young mare is often afraid, but she doesn’t let her fear control her.”

“I am not afraid of you!” Twilight snarled. “And I don’t let it control me!”

“You’re terrified, and your fear plays the strings of your heart like a fiddle,” the skeleton spoke, its voice so soft Twilight could barely hear. “But it is not me you are frightened of.”

Twilight heard a loud snap, like a bus of electrical switches all throwing at once, and abruptly the skeleton's head plunged into total darkness. There came another snap, and it’s tail vanished. Then its rear hooves, then it’s forehooves, and one by one the ribs of it’s body, until only Twilight was left. A deafening snap sounded right in her ears, and she screamed as she was plunged into total darkness. She could see nothing. Feel nothing. The world didn’t exist. She didn’t exist.

Then she heard a squeak. A little sound. The hinge on a firefly lantern. Soft light appeared before her. She was in Celestia’s chambers, looking statues of herself and Celestia, as they’d been that evening.

“Thank you, Princess.” The statue of Twilight said, in a perfect mirror of her voice. “I love you.”

The statue of Celestia didn’t say anything back.

“Many times you have told Celestia you love her,” the skeleton whispered, and Twilight was sure it was still a skeleton, though she could see nothing. “Never once has she said she loves you. And so you are terrified. You are terrified of what she truly feels. You think that you are nothing to her but a student. You think that if you work hard enough, labor diligently enough, if you’re smart enough and wise enough, you will earn her love. But this is a lie.”

The chill wind blew, rustling the papers on Celestia’s desk. “You cannot earn her love because you already have it. You are the daughter she never had, and she adores you with all her heart. But if she ever acknowledges that, she is betraying your mother. Stealing you from her. And so she says nothing.”

Twilight stared at the two statues, eyes wide, mouth open. Her voice cracked, and she struggled for words. But she couldn’t find them. She just choked up, and tried not to cry.

“Come morning,” Luna said, “you will not remember this dream, or me. But you will still know what I have told you. And you will not be afraid any longer.”

“Why?” Twilight croaked out the word.

“I have been… cruel to you, in the past. Because I believed it was necessary.” For a moment, Luna paused. “But I am proud of you, Twilight. You have been my student as long as you have been Celestia’s, and you have grown up into a fine young mare. Celestia cares for you. But we are sisters, her and I. And like me, she does not allow her compassion to stand between her and what she believes needs to be done. And now, she believes that you need to be controlled.”

“She wouldn’t do that to me. She loves me.”

For a time, Luna did not answer. The silence lingered, and Twilight peered into the darkness, seeking some hint of Luna’s form. She found nothing.

“You will make your own decisions,” Luna spoke, still with the skeleton’s hollow whisper. “You will decide for yourself what you think of my sister. You will decide for yourself what you think of my advice. But however questionable you find my council, you know in your heart I have never lied to you. I will never lie to you. That was your fear talking.”

“I…” Twilight had to swallow -- to force her throat to relax. “I’m sorry. I didn’t… I didn’t mean it.”

Luna said nothing, and after a time, Twilight went on: “What did you want to show me?”

Electrical busses snapped behind Twilight, and when she turned around, she was back in the mountain core, statues of earth ponies all around her. But the light was not steady, and it flickered above her. She could see one of the lamps there, attached to the underside of the great skeleton's rib. The wiring was frayed.

“Right. I remember that light,” Twilight said after a few moments to catch her breath. “The tunnel was dim when Celestia and I walked through it, and it burned out later when I was inside.”

“Why is this part of the city lit by substandard electrical lamps, when the unicorn parts of the city are lit by proper firefly lanterns?”

“Well…” Twilight managed. “They’re poor. Electrical lamps are cheaper.”

“Do they pay for the lamps out of pocket? Did your family pay for your own street lighting directly?”

“I… no.” Twilight hesitated for several moments. “I’m not actually sure why it’s different.”

Again, a bank of electrical switches snapped behind Twilight. When she turned back, Celestia’s office was gone. Instead, she found herself just a few dozen yards to the left of Jump Cut’s apartment. There were her and Celestia, just about to knock on the door, but it wasn’t the door she was looking at. It was the store selling lottery tickets.

“So what?” she asked. “Everypony gambles sometimes. It can be fun. My dad plays poker with his work friends once in awhile.”

“But have you ever seen a store like this in the good part of town?”

“No,” Twilight said. She paused. “I’m… not sure why that’s different either.”

Lights snapped around her, turning from flood lamps into spotlights. The lamps highlighted statues all around her: the workers leaning on their tools, the young colts hanging out on the street corners, the merchants selling cheap wares out of carts instead of from proper stores.

“I… I see that. I see the pattern.” Twilight bit her lip. “But what does any of this have to do with Celestia’s lesson?”

Twilight’s only answer was the ringing of an alarm clock.

“-inside the intact cell nucleus. Conversely, producing three or more daughter cells instead of normal two is a mitotic error called tripolar mitosis or multipolar mitosis, and is most commonly observed in certain species of fungi.” Twilight sat up straight, ears alert and a smile on her face as she rattled off the answer. She clearly knew she had it, and Celestia couldn’t help but smile back.

“Very good.” It was a beautiful spring day, and they were out on the balcony, enjoying the sunlight and the warm air as they worked their way through an afternoon’s lesson. “If you’re ready then, I do think Professor Slime Mold will let you skip straight to the final exam.”

“Thank you, Princess.” Twilight gave a giddy little tap of her hooves, and blushed with embarrassment a moment later.

Celestia’s horn glowed, and she lifted the chalkboard eraser from where it sat, quickly clearing the board. “Shall we move on to your magic lessons then?”

“Almost! I do have one more report. I’m sorry it took so long, buuuuut…” Twilight pulled a thick bundle of paper out of her saddle bag, dropping it in front of Celestia. “It’s my proposal for improving education in the mountain core! Just like you asked. Sorry it took so long, I wanted to take the time to triple-check my sources.”

“Well, this is exhaustive.” Celestia picked up the bundle of paper, which was nearly a full inch thick. “I shall have to take the time to read it properly this evening. May I get the summary now?”

“It has three main points,” Twilight rattled her words off in a quick, clipped manner. “First, I recommend requiring by law that the Municipal Works Department spend an equal amount of money per capita on each district proportionate to its population. While I can’t name any one official for bad behavior, their overall spending pattern clearly favors certain parts of town over others. Second, ban lotteries as a means of governmental revenue generation, since they effectively amount to a tax on being poor.”

Celestia stared, as Twilight went on oblivious to the long look. “Third, ban race-exclusive educational institutions, and where such institutions exist, obligate them to admit new students or merge with other schools. For instance, much as I love the School for Gifted Unicorns,” she gave a little half-smile, “is there really any benefit at this point to it being distinct from the Diamond Shoals Academy? Of course, the earth pony and pegasus students won’t be able to take the magic courses. But there’s a lot of other shared content: history, math, biology. The increase in efficiency alone should—”

Celestia raised a hoof. Twilight instantly fell silent.

“Twilight,” Celestia said gently, “did somepony help you write this?”

“Uh… no.” Twilight swallowed. “It’s entirely original. Why do you ask?”

“Did you get the ideas from somewhere? Magazine? Book? Leaflet?”

“No.” She shook her head. “All primary sources. And some of the reference books in the library. Is there a problem?”

“This wasn’t really what I had in mind,” Celestia put a hoof over the report, and gestured out to the city. “I was looking for something closer to a scholarship. Like the sort that helped Jump Cut. You learned a valuable lesson about charity, remember?”

“Yes, Princess. And I’m going to do a lot more to help Jump Cut myself. I talked with my dad and we’ll be visiting her family soon.” Twilight nodded quickly. “But, Jump Cut is precisely the problem. She’s very talented, and so she worked hard, and came up here, and as soon as she graduates she wants to move to another city, or at least to the nice part of Canterlot. It’s an effect called brain drain. The way it works is, a neighborhood is awful, so all the smartest and most capable ponies work hard to leave, so they leave, so nobody can fix anything, so it stays…”

Twilight trailed off, watching Celestia’s face. Her mentor suddenly seemed so tired, and her hoof raised to her face, trying to rub the stress lines away. “Did… did I do something wrong?”

Celestia took in a deep breath. Slowly, she let it out. “No. No, Twilight, you didn’t. Quite the opposite. You are apparently a startlingly insightful young mare. Every time I think I’ve found an end to your talents, you manage to surprise me.” Celestia managed a weak smile, and Twilight did smile back. “But I cannot implement your proposal. Were that I were a tyrant and could rule the realm with an iron hoof. But I rule with the consent of my ponies. And the unicorns of Canterlot will not consent to this.”

Twilight’s smile flickered, and then turned to a frown. “But it’s not fair. Poverty in this city has nothing to do with bad luck. The entire system is rigged to make sure earth ponies stay where they are!”

“And a century ago, it was rigged to make sure they stayed illiterate,” Celestia spoke calmly, but the warmth was gone from her tone, replaced with a certain grimness Twilight had not before heard. “And two centuries before that, it wasn’t rigged at all, because it was perfectly acceptable to publically pass a law forbidding them from setting hoof on the mountainside or owning books. I have guided this city one day at a time to becoming better than it is. And a century hence, maybe it…”

She let out a little breath, and tapped Twilight’s report. “Maybe it will work this way. But not today.”

After a moment, Twilight spoke. “And that’s why you do so much charity. Because it helps a little at least, and the unicorn population doesn’t find it threatening. It’s dressing things up in a way they’ll accept.”

Celestia nodded. Her eyes went to the floor.

Twilight watched her mentor’s gaze fall, and then in a flash of purple light, she was by Celestia’s side. She rested her hoof over Celestia’s, and Celestia turned to look at her.

“If you think it’s best for it to be that way for now,” Twilight said, “then that’s best. I trust you, Princess. I’m a little disappointed you can’t fix everything just yet, but… you’d never do anything wrong if it wasn’t strictly necessary.”

Celestia’s ears twitched. She stared at Twilight for some moments, her eyes seeking something in the young mare’s face. “Do you truly mean that, Twilight?”

“Of course!” Twilight smiled. “I’m your faithful student, remember? And I know you love me.”

Celestia let out a sharp breath. Her head lowered. “I… suppose that I do.” She needed a moment to collect herself. “I’m very proud of you, Twilight. Thank you.”

She reached out and pulled Twilight tight into a hug. Twilight hugged her back.

Special Talents

Twilight took a moment to inspect her reflection in one of the shiny suits of armor that decorated the hallway. She was not given to vanity, but the customs of Canterlot’s high society placed a great deal of emphasis on appearances. Peasants and earth ponies walked around naked. A proper unicorn adorned themselves, and their choices said much about who they were. It was a subtle game, whose rules often changed without warning.

But, Twilight thought she had played it a least reasonably well. She wore a set of silver hoof-boots, and a thin silver chest plate to match. The resulting combination was not entirely unlike Princess Celestia’s own regalia, a move that Canterlot’s elite almost certainly found to be bold. She wore nothing about her head or neck that could conceivably be taken as representing a crown—that would be a step too far—but she did wear a ruby earring on one ear. Once upon a time, Princess Celestia’s personal circle of advisors had all worn that symbol.

Twilight smiled at her reflection in the suit of armor. A bit of a blush appeared in her cheeks. She reached up and removed the earring. Then, after a moment’s hesitation, she reattached it. She checked the little things. Her coat was brushed and shiny, her hooves were polished, her mane was tied back, and if she had a bit of teenage acne it was certainly much better than it had been recently.

She was debating the merits of trying to pluck one of her stray tail hairs when the door to Celestia’s chambers swung open. She leapt to her hooves so sharply she stood at attention as the Minister of Public Works stepped out into the hall. He paused when he saw her, and inclined his head.

“Ms. Sparkle,” he said, respectfully.

“Mr…” Twilight spoke. Her voice immediately cracked, and it was with some blush in her cheeks that she cleared her throat and tried again. “Mr. Ditch. Is the Princess available?”

“Yes, I think you can go in. Have a good day.” He nodded to her and went on his way, and it was only once he was around the corner that Twilight allowed herself a giddy little smile. She stepped in through the open door and pulled it shut behind her, looking around the sunlit office before her.

“Good morning, Princess!” she called. Celestia sat at her desk, quickly scribbling down some notes.

“Good morning, Twilight.” Celestia finished what she was writing and then looked back at the door. Her gaze paused over Twilight, and slowly, she raised a single eyebrow.

“Eh heh…” Twilight smiled a stiff smile. “So uh… do you like it?”

“I feel like it’s trying to send a message, but I can’t quite tell what it is.” Celestia’s tone was dry, and gaze remained fixed on Twilight. But though she blushed, Twilight didn’t look down at her hooves or back away.

“I…” She cleared her throat. “I want ponies to take me more seriously around the palace. I know I’m only fifteen, but a lot of ponies have accomplished great things by that age. And, even if I am young, I’m not a mascot. I’m either helping you run the scholarship program or I’m not. So…” She coughed again. “May I?”

Princess Celestia let out a sigh, and considered Twilight for some time. But, finally, she nodded. “I’ll be very disappointed if you misuse it.”

“I won’t, Princess. I promise.” Twilight bowed her head low. “Thank you.”

“Shall we begin your lessons then?”

“Actually, if it’s alright. There was one other matter I wanted to ask your advice on first.” Twilight lifted her head. “A uh… a friendship problem. With Jump Cut.”

“This isn’t about your Advanced Illusions final project, is it?”

“Uh… yeah.” Twilight’s smile turned stiffer, and she scratched the back of her head with a hoof. “She feels that I… showed her up.”

Celestia hid a small smile with her hoof. “Your final project was very impressive. You left the audience quaking in their horseshoes. For half a moment there, even I was convinced you’d turned Spike back into a raging giant.”

“So… maybe the reason she feels I showed her up is because I showed her up.” Twilight let out a sigh and lowered her head.

“Mmmm. Possibly. You certainly took first prize from her, but I’m not certain doing your best on a class project is the same as trying to steal her spotlight.” Celestia lowered her hoof, and for a moment, she watched Twilight curiously. “But,” she spoke softly, “you already knew all that. And that’s not what’s bothering you, is it?”

“I’ve… apologized. And she’s accepted it. She’s not, like, yelling and screaming and calling me a jerk mad. She smiles at me when I say hello.” Twilight gave a weak shrug, her shoulders suddenly limp. “But she’s still mad underneath that. Like, really mad. And I don’t know what to do. Sometimes I feel like we’re not even friends right now.”

Twilight scuffed the floor with a hoof.

Celestia’s expression softened, and she walked across the way room to sit next to Twilight. “Do you think Jump Cut is jealous of you?”

“No,” Twilight said quickly. “I mean, honestly, I don’t think my project was even as good as hers. Like, yeah, the illusion was more convincing, but that’s because I burned like ten times as much magical energy as she did maintaining it. The class is about technique, not about how much time you’d had to build up your raw strength.”

“You burned so much energy because you had many layers of illusions stacked on top of eachother,” Celestia spoke slowly, but with a certain firmness to her words. She spoke as though stating an absolute fact. “From the image of a monstrous dragon, to the warming spell to conjure its breath, to a lesser earthquake enchantment to make the ground shake, all working in harmony.”

“I’m sure Jump Cut would have done that too. If she’d had you as a teacher and… gotten some time to practice more.” Twilight gestured at nothing, her hoof flicking in the air. “I mean, her spell construction was really efficient. She just had less raw material to work with.”

“Are you looking at the facts and drawing a conclusion?” Celestia pressed, not letting up with her firm tone. “Or are you starting with the conclusion you want to be true and then looking for facts that support it?”

Twilight let out a little breath. “No. I mean. I’m just kind of good at magic. Jump Cut is the illusionist. Like, sure. My special talent is magic. But there are a lot of wizards out there. I don’t want ponies thinking that I think I’m better than them.”

She let out a little breath. Her mouth drew into a line. “So... if it’s okay with you, I think I might just take it easy next time. Shoot for a solid B+ and focus more on scholarship stuff. It’s important to study hard. But friends are more important. And it’s not like grades really matter at this point.”

Celestia considered that. “You’re a bit old for me to put a wing around you.”

Twilight frowned, and lifted her head. Celestia was smiling, and she raised a hoof with the flat facing Twilight. Then, gently, she tapped Twilight’s shoulder. “That is what the young mares are doing these days, yes?”

Twilight paused. She laughed an incredulous little laugh. “Did you just try to play punch my shoulder?”

“Is that what that is?”

“Yes! I mean, no.” Despite herself, she laughed again. “Yes that’s a thing these days but you have to actually punch my shoulder, you can’t just give me a gentle tap.”

Celestia pulled her hoof back.

“No no!” Twilight spoke quickly. “I’m good! I’m good! I’m very… reassured. I’m good. We bonded.” Breathless, Twilight laughed again. Celestia joined her. Then, Celestia put a wing around Twilight anyway.

“Twilight,” Celestia asked, “what is Jump Cut’s special talent?”

“Illusions.”

“Really? All illusions?” Celestia asked. “Because I met an earth pony illusionist during my last trip to the mountain core. He used a sleight of hoof to pull coins out of my ears. Can Jump Cut do that?”

“No.” Twilight rolled her eyes. “She’s a unicorn. Illusion magic.”

“So she intends to study magical theory then?” Celestia gently pushed. “Maybe write a few books on phasm theory? Become a professor and teach aspiring young magicians?”

Twilight grunted. “Are you going to keep asking questions you already know the answer to?”

“Are you?” Celestia couldn’t help but grin, barely hiding the expression with her hoof. “But please, indulge me for just a moment more?”

Twilight let out a slow breath. “No. Er, I mean. No to your earlier question. Not, ‘no I won’t indulge you.’ Jump Cut wants to work for a movie studio and do special effects.”

“And in a studio, when she is providing those lovely images for the camera to capture, will Jump Cut be expected to make the ground shake? Which would her director prefer—for her to layer a dozen skillful illusions on top of each other, or for her to understand the subtleties of how an illusion appears on camera vs to the naked eye?”

“No. And the second one, obviously.” Twilight looked aside, glancing out the window to the beautiful fall day outside. “I guess school exams don’t really capture that.”

“No. They do not.” Celestia nudged Twilight’s shoulder, and when Twilight looked at at her, Celestia smiled. “Nor do they capture her subtle artistic understandings of how to frame a shot. Nor her affable personality and clear speaking skills, which will allow her to coordinate with the cameramare, the stunt director, and the dozens of other ponies she must work with in an effective team.”

Celestia gestured up at the chalkboard. “Magic tests measure only one area of an achievement. It is an area in which you excel, but it is not all there is to life. Jump Cut is young and unsure of herself, and when she sees your accomplishments she fears she is not valuable. But one day soon, she will find her place in the world, and when she does, she will go on to achieve things you would never have been capable of. Just like one day soon, you will discover your destiny. And in your way, each of you will make Equestria better.”

“One day at a time?” Twilight smiled back, and shook her head.

“One day at a time,” Celestia tone affirmed each word. “Some ponies talents are rare, and some are common, but all are precious. If I evaluated your father and mother based purely on their cutie marks, I would say they were somewhat talented writers. But that would ignore their compassion, and their love for their children, and their skills as parents that drove you and Shining Armor to where you are today. And so, in the end, their greatest contribution to the world may have nothing to do with the novels they’ve written.”

“Heh. I guess that’s true.” Twilight looked back at her flank. “When you’re little, getting your cutie mark seems so important. You think that once you get it, your life is set. But… now that I’m older. I guess there’s a long way between knowing what you’re good at and understanding your destiny.”

“There is. But you’ll find it in time, and so will Jump Cut. Everypony has something special to contribute.”

Twilight nodded, but after a moment, she looked at Celestia anew. “Princess. When I was younger, you said I had a special destiny. That I was going to make the world better somehow. Was that… were you stating a general truth, or do you know something I don’t?”

Celestia’s grin turned impish. “Spoilers.”

“Really?” Twilight scrunched up her muzzle. “That’s how you're playing this?”

“Really really.” Celestia giggled. “I know it’s hard to wait, but some things you’re better off discovering on your own. But I promise, when the time comes, you’ll know. I won’t let you miss it.”

“Uuuuuugh!” Twilight grumbled. It took her a moment to work her way around to a terse, “Fine.”

“Have you decided what you’re going to do about Jump Cut?”

“Yeah. I think I’ll just talk things out with her. Let her know we’re both uncertain, show an interest in her filmcraft. She’s down with her family, so I won’t see her until class on Monday, but maybe I should ask if I could tag along for her studio tour next week.”

“You want to see a film studio?”

Twilight smiled a little. “Not really. But how will I know if there’s anything special there until I go and see?”

“I used to wonder what friendship could be!” Twilight sang, lifting her hoof in time with the music. “Until you all shared its magic with me!” She belted out the notes with a clear and pure pitch, her head tilted at just the right angle to catch the camera and the mic boom at the same time.

She took a breath to continue the song, but suddenly faltered. On rote, she continued to sing, the words “When I was young I was too busy…” emerging uneven and stilted. “To…” Finally, she trailed off. She looked directly at the camera. She looked down at her hoof.

She was flickering, in and out of existence. The whole world was flickering, in twenty-four frames per second.

The camera was the source of it all. Behind it, beside it, anywhere not in the view of its lense, she could see nothing but an inky darkness, and she knew in her heart that she would cease to be if she passed into that indifferent void. From the lense flowed light, flowed warmth, flowed life, a projected cone of motion and being that came and went with every frame.

Twilight was standing close to the lense, and thus, close to the darkness behind it. Her heart fluttered, and she quickly stepped away. Turning her head to look behind her, she could see the rest of the scene that was her world. She was in a rustic little town, like many that were within a few days travel of Canterlot. It was full of green fields, and wide open spaces, and little picturesque structures inhabited by little picturesque ponies.

It seemed so real. She could walk into it, and it would have depth. She could go and talk to the townsfolk, and they would talk back. She could lose herself here, and never leave.

“This is the dream world,” she said. “I come here every night. And you are Princess Luna. You are my teacher.”

“You know, you don’t have to say that every time.” Luna’s voice came from behind Twilight, and when Twilight turned back, there she was. She stood behind the camera, and did not flicker, but was solid as it was. Her hoof rested upon its controls, and briefly, she checked the view through its eyepiece.

“It helps me remember. Remember everything, I mean.” She touched her unreal hoof to her chest. It felt to her like she should be able to simply push her hoof through her torso, so insubstantial was her flesh. But whenever her hoof was solid, her chest was solid, and whenever her chest didn’t exist, she didn’t exist. And so her chest resisted her hoof like it was solid, as the ground resisted her, and it all felt so real. Twilight took a stiff breath.

“Does the dream trouble you?” Luna asked, frowning over her camera. “I can change it, if you wish.”

“It’s a little creepy. Yeah.” Twilight looked back at the town behind her. “But, don’t change it yet. What town is this? I feel like I’ve been here before.”

“This is Ponyville,” Luna said, with a quiet, flat tone. “It is here that you will discover your destiny.”

“You know what my destiny is?” Twilight turned back to watch Luna, and saw her nod. “Well?”

“If I tell you, you and all of Equestria will suffer.” Her stone stayed cool, and she watched Twilight like she were watching nothing but a slow paced film. “There are truths you are not prepared to accept. If you hear them now, you will block them from your mind, and will not be able to perceive them with the time comes.”

“Keeping secrets? After all your talk about the absolute truth?” Twilight snorted.

“The truth is the most precious thing of all. I will never lie to you, even by omission. But sometimes, when I think it necessary, I will delay telling you something until you are ready to hear it. It is no different from my delaying giving you ‘the talk’ until you were at an age to notice colts.”

Twilight snorted, but she turned away from the town. “Is there anything you can tell me?”

Luna paused for a long time. Then she spoke. “A time will come, Twilight Sparkle, when you stand in Ponyville, and I stand before you. And on that day, the longest day of the thousandth year, I will speak to you a truth.You will hear my words, and you will know them for what they are, and will not be able to deny what stands before you.”

Twilight rolled her eyes. “Is it ‘Celestia is actually just a thousand gerbils in a pony suit’? Because that would actually be surprising.”

Luna frowned. She tilted her head, and stared at Twilight.

Twilight sighed. “Nevermind. It was… sarcasm, Luna. Sarcasm.”

“I don’t like sarcasm.”

“I know, Luna.” Twilight licked her lips and rubbed her hoof over her face. “Actually, I’m sorry. Can we... skip the lesson tonight? I don’t feel like studying magic. I’d kind of just like to have a relaxing dream and wake up feeling well rested.”

“Certainly. There is one matter we should discuss before I go, but it will be brief.” Luna paused. “How do you feel about the baths? You found that dream relaxing when you were younger.”

“They’re okay, I guess.”

“If you prefer, I could arrange a dream with you and that nice colt who-”

“Baths are great,” Twilight said forcefully. “Perfect, even. They’ll be great.” She sharply clapped her hooves together. “What else did we need to talk about first?”

“My sister’s instruction today on the nature of special talents.”

Twilight frowned. “Surely you aren’t suggesting I go with my original idea and phone it in.”

“No.” Luna gently shook her head. “Coddling Jump Cut’s jealousy by not applying yourself at school was a foolish notion. Unfortunately, you have merely replaced it by coddling her in a different way, and have lied to yourself for the bargain. Each of you is in denial, and must come to terms with the simple truth.”

“And that simple truth is?”

Luna blinked. For a moment she didn’t answer. “You’re more capable than her. You always have been.”

“Ugh,” Twilight let out a sharp breath, and a weak half-laugh. “Luna. I did pretty well on that exam, but Jump Cut is a straight-A student too. Maybe I’m a little better than her on the theory, but—”

“For the last eight years, she has studied the craft of illusions without pause,” Luna spoke swiftly, and her formally quiet voice rose. “It is nearly her entire elective magic curriculum. It is what she practices in her spare time. It is the trade to which she dedicates her love and care. You attended one, single class on the subject, while taking eight other classes, learning from Celestia personally, and administering the school’s new scholarship program. And you vanquished her.”

“I get extra training from you every night.”

Luna tilted her head. “Eight years worth?”

“Oh my gosh.” Twilight let out sound somewhere between a sigh and a growl. “You’re missing the point! Maybe…”

She sighed again, and lifted her hoof to her face. “Maybe I am a little brighter than her. But what does that matter? Ponies who brag about their IQ are losers. Life isn’t about who does the coolest tricks or memorizes the most facts. It’s about what you do to make the world better for your fellow pony. Everypony has their own special way of contributing. And one day, Jump Cut will do something that I could never—”

Twilight Sparkle ceased to exist.

Alone in the darkness, Luna unloaded the roll of film. She loaded another. She turned the camera's crank.

“—do! She’ll…” Twilight nearly leapt out of her hooves, her heart racing as she looked around wildly. She was on an apple farm, standing out in the fields in front of an old red barn. Standing next to her was the flickering image of an earth pony mare, a tan, blonde creature with three apples on her flanks.

“Luna!” Twilight shouted. “Don’t do that!” She backed away quickly from the camera and the mare alike, but the mare took no notice of her shouting. She only smiled vapidly and stared into space, her breathing and the occasional twitch of her tail the only things separating her from a statue.

“You know this pony, do you not?” Luna asked. Without waiting for Twilight’s answer, she went on. “She is a farmer. She tends her trees. She feeds the animals. She keeps up the house and the barn. When it is time to harvest, she puts apples in baskets and brings them to town.”

“I know! I know, Luna. That’s Apple…” Twilight took a slow breath. “Applejack. What about her?”

“What will she do one day, that you can never do?”

Twilight looked from Luna to Applejack and back. “What do you mean?”

“That is your thesis, is it not? That everypony has some special way of contributing that is uniquely theirs? That Jump Cut, that Shining Armor, that Applejack, that all the others, will each bring some good into the world that you could never have created.” She nodded her head to Applejack. “You know this mare. You know who she is. You know what she is. You have seen her destiny, and where it leads. What can she do, that you cannot do better?”

“She’s a farmer. Obviously. She knows her plants better than I ever could.”

The camera roll clicked, and Applejack abruptly teleported a few feet away from Twilight. It was a splice-cut, away to another scene where the actor stood further from the lense. “I think you will find that your formal training in biology and herbology trumps her informal experience.”

“She has more practice. She can work faster. Or better!”

Again, the camera clicked. Applejack jumped another dozen paces away, now solidly in the orchard, and the middle ground of the shot. “She can harvest perhaps a hundred trees in a day. Your telekinesis lets you harvest a hundred trees in a minute.”

“She could be a leader in her community. Make Ponyville better.”

The click sounded louder, and suddenly Applejack was on the horizon, staring at Twilight from so far away. “You administrate Celestia’s personal charity program and have relentlessly campaigned for civic improvement in the largest city in Equestria. She opposed the construction of her community’s railroad station because it was an unnecessary modern contraption.”

“She’s taking care of her sister! Apple Bloom could go on to do great things.”

The camera clicked one last time. “Applejack doesn’t have a sister. She has a daughter. Apple Bloom has been sent away to Manehatten. They couldn’t care for her properly after Granny Smith died.”

Applejack was gone.

Twilight stared at the orchard. Her throat was tight, and her eyes started to water. Luna frowned, and leaned around the camera to look at Twilight more closely. “You are upset.”

“Of course I’m upset, you-!” Twilight bit her lip hard. “Luna, I just want to be nice to my friend. I want us to be equals.”

“Then be equals.” Luna shrugged. “Then be nice to her. There is no rule of Celestia’s world or my own obligating you to treat those of lesser ability with disrespect. She may contribute less than you, but she contributes in her own way, just as a copper bit is less than a brick of gold but they are both money. More practically, Jump Cut is a good friend to you for many reasons. She is supportive and loyal.”

“You make her sound like my sidekick,” Twilight snapped.

“I merely state facts.”

“Then why do you care!?” Twilight whirled. “If the end result is the same, what does it matter?”

A shaky breath escaped Luna, and she stepped away from the camera. It took her a moment to speak, and when she did her voice was soft. “Because lies always come out in the end. If your friendship with Jump Cut is predicated on the notion that you two are of equal ability and equal importance, then your friendship is doomed. Only by acknowledging the truth and coming to terms with it can you truly support each other.”

She looked at Twilight, and reached out a hoof to her. Then, she thought better of it, and put the hoof down. “I’m… sorry. I did not mean to hurt you.”

Twilight sniffled, and rubbed the tears from her eyes. “Was that everything you needed to tell me?”

“Yes.”

“Then, we’re done,” she snapped. “Go away. I don’t want to see you for the rest of the night.”

Luna vanished, and after a moment, the crank of the old camera ceased to turn.

Jump Cut and Twilight had their second period class together: Advanced Thaumic Decomposition for Specialists. The subject matter was legendary for its difficulty, and the mathematics involved were generally considered unintuitive for species that didn’t evolve inside seventeen dimensional folded space.

Jump Cut arrived fifteen minutes early, and sat in the front row like she did every class. She took our all her notes, her textbook, and her pencils and colored pens, and took the time to review them to ensure she’d be absolutely on top of the lecture material.

She looked at the seat to her left, but it was empty.

Twilight made it to class twenty minutes late. She didn’t scramble or run, walked to her seat at an unhurried pace. She was polite, but not ashamed. She moved like like she owned the building. The professor paused the lecture for a moment, and gave her a pointed look when she sat in the front row.

“I apologize,” she said. “I was at the palace and an important matter ran long.”

The professor nodded, and without a word, went back to the lesson. Twilight took studious notes, while Jump Cut alternated between looking at the board and looking at Twilight. Eventually, the class ended. The other students packed up and hurried out, and the professor erased the board.

“Nice outfit,” Jump Cut said, eyeing Twilight’s hoofboots and chest plate. “I assume that’s your next Nightmare Night costume?”

“Okay, Jump Cut? I can’t deal with this passive-aggressive stuff any longer.” Twilight snapped her notebook shut and turned to face the pony beside her. Her voice turned forceful, and she spoke with a quick, sharp cadence. “I’m sorry I upstaged you. I didn’t mean to, and I didn’t mean to hurt you. I didn’t know what that project meant to you and if I had I would have done things differently. But that was not a one-off incident. ‘Twilight does something cool with magic’ is a recurring trend with me, and I need you to deal with it.”

“Oh, you need me to deal with it? Ms. One-Step-From-The-Sun needs me to adjust to that fact.”

“Yes, Jump Cut, I do! Because you’re my best friend, and I miss you, and because it is literally true.” Twilight gestured sharply at the air, ignoring entirely the small crowd of students that had paused to listen to the exchange. “Because I miss us being able to hang out, and because I need your advice and…”

Twilight make a vague, helpless gesture, and her hoof hit her desk. “And because you’re going on your studio tour soon. What if you take an apprenticeship? I want to go with you and see where you’re going to be.”

“It’s a studio lot, Twilight. It’s nothing special.”

“So what?” Twilight threw up her hooves. “It’s special to you. And you’re special to me because you’re my friend. And…” She sighed. “We’ve been friends since we were fillies and I don’t understand why you’re acting this way.”

“Because you always act like you’re the next big thing! You just assume you’re the most talented, most important, most capable pony in the room.” She let out a sharp snort. “Maybe I have some trouble dealing with that.”

“I know you have trouble dealing with that, but you need to deal with it, or we can’t be friends anymore. Because I’m not hanging out with somepony who constantly snaps at me, and I’m not pretending I’m somepony else.”

Jump Cut shook her head. “You know I remember when we were little, you were really humble?”

Twilight drew her lips into a line. “Yeah, well. Ponies change.”

Integrity

Twilight had asked Princess Celestia if she could have a small alcove in the palace. She didn’t ask for much, just a nook for a tiny desk and some books—somewhere to study.

It seemed a reasonable request. Space in the palace was limited, certainly, but the space Twilight was given was not exceptionally valuable. It was just a small awning in a busy hallway, with barely enough room for a desk and two tiny chairs. It was loud, and it was crowded, and it was certainly far from private.

Anypony could just walk up and sit down.

Twilight had her muzzle in a book, when she noticed the other mare. The book was Theories on The Distillation of Vis In Proximity to Natural Bauxite Concentrations. The mare was Applejack.

Twilight stared. They were quite the pair, sitting across from each other around the little school desk. In many ways, they were quite similar. They were about the same height and the same age, both teenagers whose voices were not done changing and whose legs were not quite the same length. They could have been school fillies together.

But they were not. Twilight was brushed and polished, clad in silver and a ruby earring. Applejack was bare save for her bags and a worn stetson hat. Her coat was scuffy. There were bags under her eyes. She smelled like hay.

“Would you like some tea?” Twilight offered. He had a thermos under her desk, next to a stack of textbooks. “You look like you’ve had a bad day.”

Applejack nodded. Twilight cleaned the rim of her teacup with a cloth, then refilled it, and levitated it to Applejack’s side of the table. There is no dignified way for an earth pony to drink from a cup designed for unicorns, but if Twilight noticed the slurping sounds, she paid no mind. Instead, she calmly put her book away, and cleared the desk.

“You’re Applejack, right?” Twilight asked. Across the table, the other mare nodded. “I’m sorry. I don’t know how I know that. We haven’t met before.”

“It’s okay. Right back atcha.” Applejack looked around the palace hallway for a time. “I have met Rarity though. She’s a friend. In Ponyville.”

“How’s she doing?”

“She’s good. She’s good.” Applejack let out a long breath, and looked down at the desk.

“I got you something.” Again, Twilight reached down into her pile of books. This time, the book she drew out was wrapped in parcel paper, held together with string. “Actually, it’s for Apple Bloom. It’s an illustrated book about the lifecycle of fruit trees. I loved it when I was her age. I thought… you two might enjoy reading it together.”

Applejack stared at the book, and Twilight swallowed. After a moment, AJ took it and put it away. “Thanks. I was uh… gonna visit Manehatten on the way home. You know. Since I’m at the train station here anyway.”

“I figured.” Twilight shrugged, her posture stiff as she sat back in her chair. “So. What brings you to Canterlot?”

“The uh… the farm. You know I have a farm, right?” She checked Twilight’s face, then went on. “Princess Celestia gave my family the land way back when. But it’s not going so well. Ever since the railroad came in, you know. Price of apples ain’t been what it used to be.”

Twilight nodded, listening closely as Applejack continued. “Got griffons and centaurs and harpies in the big cities every day sellin’ apples for less than it costs to ship ‘em in. Everypony in Ponyville’s startin’ to feel mighty squeezed. And… I was hopin’ maybe Princess Celestia could see us to a loan until things blow over.”

“If you’re here to ask Princess Celestia for a favor, why are you talking to me?”

“Well…” Applejack gestured in Twilight’s direction. “She said no. Is the thing. She said we didn’t have to pay taxes or nothin’ for a few years, and that is mighty generous of her, but the farm’s gotta have profits to be taxed. And I heard uh… I mean, I didn’t hear. But I got a mighty strong feeling you can…”

“Fix it?” Twilight asked. Applejack nodded. “Of course.” She smiled. Applejack smiled. “Anything for a friend.”

Twilight pulled out a notebook, opening it to a blank page and blotting an ink pen on her spare sheet. “Tell me. What’s the typical price of apples in Canterlot right now?”

“Uh… wouldn’t you know better than me?” Applejack asked. She stared at Twilight for a time, and Twilight stared back. A small blush crept into Twilight’s features. “Right. Right.” Applejack letout a nervous laugh. “Don’t buy your own apples. Uh… maybe three bits a bushel.”

“And your typical price? From before you started getting squeezed.”

“Four and a half bits. But Apple family apples are way better than-”

Twilight lifted a hoof, like Celestia did. Applejack fell silent. Twilight’s pen scribbled for several moments. “And I assume your transportation costs are something in the range of 150 to 200 bits a ton? Or roughly 2-3 bits per bushel. So the majority of your costs are actually rail transportation rather than raw materials?”

“Uh… yeah. That’s right.” Applejack nodded quickly.

“Well, that’s no problem then.” Twilight smiled, and lifted her head from her notes. “I’ll have a word with the rail company. I’m sure they have plenty of unused capacity that’s just going to waste on Ponyville/Canterlot line. Easily enough for them to move your cargo for free. That should make the farm quite profitable.”

Applejack cleared her throat. “Beggin’ your pardon, but I was looking for a loan to get back on our own four hooves, not special treatment.”

“I’m not a government official, Applejack. I can’t give you a loan.” Twilight gave a small shake of her head. “I just happen to go to the same school as the daughter of Mr. Cross Ties who owns the East Equestrian Rail Company. And in any case, if the farm is losing money on each bushel sold, a loan will only prolong the inevitable. You need to reduce your costs.”

Slowly, Applejack took her hat off her head. “I’m not…” She hesitated. “That sounds like special treatment. You askin’ Mr. Cross Ties to charge us less and all.”

“Getting a loan and a remittance of taxes from Princess Celestia is special treatment too.”

“Well, yeah, but…” Applejack let out half a laugh. “She does that all the time, don’t she? Give away land, or money, or magic junk to ponies who need it. Starts towns and such.”

“She asks the railway to do favors for her friends all the time as well.” Twilight’s voice was calm, and she opened her hooves. “And I’m a friend of hers and you’re a friend of mine.”

“Twilight. I don’t think you understand. I mean…” Applejack cleared her throat. “You heard me say that all of Ponyville is gettin’ squeezed, right? Like, a lot of farms are as bad off as us or near there.”

“Yes, that’s right. The recent reconfiguration of the East Equestrian Rail to open access to the border provinces has been generally unfavorable to near-Canterlot exurb agriculture.”

“Uh… sure.” Applejack soon her head. “But the point is, lots of farms are on the brink. And you’re sayin’ we get our shippin’ for free. Does everypony in Ponyville get this 100% discount?”

“It’s not a discount. It’s a gift.” Twilight paused. Her eyes flicked over Applejack, up and down. “To you.” After a moment, she frowned. “I… thought you’d be happy.”

“I am... “ Applejack let out another breath. “I’m happy you’re trying to help me. But Twilight, what am I supposed to do when my farm’s makin’ money by the hooffull and my neighbors are strugglin’ just to get by.”

“You could give the money away.” She shrugged. “Or you could buy their farms, I suppose. Their produce would still get discounted. We do consolidations like that all the time.”

Applejack’s jaw fell open. Quickly, she pushed her hat back onto her head. “I can’t believe what I’m hearing!” her tone turned sharp and snappish. “You think I’m going to go live the high life while my neighbors starve just because some gussied-up unicorn in Canterlot decided to shake her tail hairs my way?”

Twilight’s frown deepend. “I didn’t mean it that way, Applejack. I really thought you’d be looking forward to this.”

“And what part of this would I be lookin’ forward to, exactly!?”

“If you’re a landlord—or if you can afford some hired hooves—you’ll have a lot more free time on your hands. So you wouldn’t have to leave Apple Bloom alone all day.” Twilight swallowed. “So she could come back to the farm.”

Applejack didn’t say anything for a long time. Her gaze went down to the table. She couldn’t look at Twilight.

“She…” Applejack struggled. Her voice cracked. “I just… the family should be back together. You know? Ever since Ma and Pa died. Big Mac and I have been missin’ her something fierce and…”

Twilight reached out and placed her hoof over Applejack’s. She waited quietly, until Applejack lifted her head. When their eyes met, Twilight’s expression was soft, and she reached out with her other hoof as well.

“You’ll raise her to be a good pony. You will.” Twilight’s voice was firm. “You don’t have to be afraid of the truth, Applejack.”

“Heh.” Applejack smile, even as tears started to pool in her eyes. “I know. I know.”

Applejack swallowed. “I dream too.”

The End

Alas, this story is never to be finished. But for those of you curious what would have happened, here are my remaining notes, including the ending!

The core chapters continue with the same theme. Each time, Celestia teaches Twilight a lesson that is helpful and age-appropriate, but technically founded on a lie, while Luna presents the cold truth. The other chapters I had in mind were:

Cheaters Never Win

Looks Don't Matter

Race Doesn't Matter

Money Doesn't Matter

Words Will Never Hurt You

Unconditional Love

Hard Work Always Pays Off

But along the way, we start to see other chapters where she runs into her friends. In each of these chapters, she knows her friends and they know her, but they're certain they've never met, except to say: "Maybe I dreamed about you." You've already seen two of these published, Destiny (Rarity) and Integrity (Applejack). The others were:

Meritocracy (Rainbow Dash): Rainbow realizes that no matter how good a flyer she is, she can't get into the Wonderbolts without connections. Twilight is happy to pull some strings.

Tradition (Pinkie Pie): Pinkie Pie learns that the "traditional values" that make her family life so dour and grey are very recent creations of her conservative culture, and that most of the stories her parents told her are lies. Furious, she leaves home for Ponyville.

Nature (Fluttershy): Fluttershy learns that nature isn't beautiful like it is in parks. It's savage and cruel, and animals prey upon each other to survive.

As Twilight continues to get older, she becomes more self-aware of the fact that something is going on. She can remember that she learned things in her dreams, or that things happened she sortof remembers. Eventually, she can remember Luna while she's awake, but when she goes to tell Celestia, she finds that she can't. Twilight lies in bed, worried that she's possessed.

Eventually, the day of the Summer Sun Celebration comes, and Twilight goes to Ponyville to meet all her friends, who are waiting for her. Rarity has made for each of them a hair-clip just like the one she made for Twilight, showing her cutie mark (five stars). They all wear them, and silently proceed to the Castle of the Two Sisters to get the Elements of Harmony, successfully retrieving them before the mid-afternoon. When Celestia comes to raise the sun, she's surprised to see Twilight already there, and already with the Elements, when Twilight says: "The stars will aid in her escape."

Celestia screams, and is trapped in a cage of magical energy, when the Mare in the Moon returns to the world. Twilight and her friends look at her mentor, and look at the Elements of Harmony, and ask what happens now.

"Did I not tell you," Luna replies, "that on the longest day of the thousandth year, I would stand in Ponyville, and would utter unto you a truth, and you would not be able to deny what stood before you? And that at that time, you would know your destiny?"

"Yes," Twilight replies. "So what's this truth?"

Luna holds up a hoof for silence, and they wait. Celestia pleads with Twilight and her friends to destroy Nightmare Moon, to use the Elements of Harmony against her, to do this or that or save the day. But all Luna does is signal for them to wait a moment longer, and Twilight and her friends do so wait.

A few moments later, without Celestia or Luna doing anything, the dawn comes, and Luna tells Twilight: "The sun rises."

Twilight demands an explanation from Celestia, who says she wanted to put an end to the fighting between the three pony tribes. A thousand years ago, she made up the idea of a sun goddess, as a way of giving the three tribes common ground. A way to unite them, she says, without conquering them. But Luna, dedicated absolutely to the truth, wouldn't have it. The two came to blows, and Celestia was forced to banish her sister with the Elements of Harmony.

The Element of Honesty, she explains, turned to stone first, and the others quickly followed. But it was all worth it, because she brought peace and prosperity to Equestria. A thousand years without a war, without a revolution, without a plague or a famine. And of course, things aren't as perfect as she likes to make ponies think, but they get a little bit better every year. And she asks: "Doesn't the greater good justify one lie?"

And after a lot of thought, Twilight replies. "I forgive you."

Then she walks away.

Destiny

A pony sat next to Twilight on the bench. They were about the same age, both in that awkward teenage phase when their limbs seemed slightly too long for their bodies, and even their furry coats couldn’t quite hide the occasional bout of acne. They were both unicorns, and both brushed and prepared as the well to do of Canterlot preferred. About the only difference between them was their cutie marks, and that while Twilight was purple, this mare was white.

“You’re…” Twilight’s brow furrowed. “Rarity, right?”

“Yes,” the other mare said. She paused, and seemed confused in her turn. “Have you met me before?”

“No. I don’t think so.”

A silence hung between them. “But, you’re Twilight,” Rarity said. “I mean, that’s your name.”

“Yeah,” Twilight agreed. “Have you met me before?”

“No.” Rarity gave a small shake of her head. She had a bit of an accent, Twilight noticed. She sounded rural, adding a twang to the end of her words. It contrasted sharply with her proper makeup and preparation. “To be perfectly honest, I’m not even sure why I came here. This is my one day visiting Canterlot without my parents about. There are all sorts of places I should be going. And I don’t tend to favor parks.”

“I don’t like this park either. The one closer to the palace is much nicer.” Twilight looked off into the distance. There was a duck pond, and some fillies playing with their mother on its banks. In the distance, a group of stallions were playing with a frisbee. “It felt right though.”

“It has a certain charm,” Rarity agreed. Then she reached into her bag. “I made you something.”

Out of her bag, she pulled a mane clip. It was decorated with jewels, depicting one large star, surrounded by five others. “It’s your cutie mark.”

She handed it to Twilight, and Twilight put it in her mane. It clipped neatly behind her left ear. The stones blended in with her hair, and the end result was not exceptionally gaudy or eye-catching. It looked good, but simple. Something she might wear every day. “It’s very nice. Did you make it yourself?”

Rarity nodded. The two sat in silence for a time.

“The stars will aid in her escape,” Rarity said.

Then, she left. And Twilight was alone on the bench.