Prologue: How Equestria Got Its Friendship
[PAGES 1-2 BEHIND PAYWALL. SIGN IN WITH YOUR INSTITUTION TO SEE THE FULL LETTER]
Yes, humans tell stories about Horses. They are stories about Freedom and the Wild Spirit. These would be the same humans who harness and bridle them.
No one tells me these stories, of course, I'm just a bunny rabbit. No one tells bunny rabbits much of anything. It makes us good listeners, hence the big ears. And so it is, just so.
When did humans first tame and master beasts? When they learned to whip sticks against skin, to weave fibers into binds? Or when they learned to take a sewn-up bag of soggy organs and pounding muscle and millions of years of cutthroat genetic competition and turn it into Horse?
Now, take it from me, I've known plenty of ponies. Too many. Some are cruel, and some are kind. Some of them can fly, others can magic, others run banks. None ever called me Thumper. And I never saw Horse.
And, after all these years, and a great deal of pondering, and lengthy discussions under Twilight sky, I wonder if humans never saw horses, small 'h', the things that are as they are.
What a frightening thing it must have been for the gryphons, and the dragons, and the trees, to fight the humans! Nature, nasty bitch, is an unparalleled weapons manufacturer. There is no beak sharper than a gryphon's, no fire hotter than a dragon's, and as for trees, well, trees house owls, and hawks, and many other things beside that are cruel to poor bunny rabbits. No, trees cannot be trusted.
But with a whim and a word, humans could undo the idea of fighting them. A straightforward scrap over ecological niches and scarce resources became the story of how the brave, few humans put up a valiant resistance against the cruel, rapacious dragons, the brutal, primitive gryphons, and the trees, which had ugly, scary faces.
It was wrong to fight the humans.
And so the gryphons were talked into never-existence, the dragons were branded as liars and escaped beyond Earth's pull where sounds couldn't follow them, and the trees internalized their abuse and stopped going out so much. And that is why trees show their faces at night, but never day. And so it is, just so.
It has always been obvious, as a bunny rabbit, that the world is random and unfair. We are small, weak—fast, yes, but fueled by leafs and twigs. A spring and a sprint, and then we hide under a tree root or a hill of earth. Outside, sometimes rain falls from the sky, and sometimes everything crackles white hot around you, there is noise that makes you wish you weren't such a good listener, and then the tree is on fire, so you run, because of course you run, that is all your little legs are good for, and the owl sees you, the dog hears you—
Later humans tell the story of How the Wolf Got Rabbit Fur in Her Droppings.
For in Story—let it be a world, like Equestria, or New York, or Faerie—in Story, there is order. More than order, rhythm. Structure, pacing, motivation, good and evil, the knowledge that all this will wrap up in 50 pages. The hero is dangling from the cliff-edge, one hand on the rock and the other gripping his damsel, who hangs over a thousand feet of nothing. A bunny rabbit reads this and thinks, you idiot, how are you going to support her and yourself? What are you doing dangling from a cliff in the first place? Stay away from cliffs! Find a tree, a nice hole in the dirt, curl up with a stolen lettuce.
A bunny rabbit thinks, drop her. You're both dead if you hold onto her. Frankly I'm surprised your upper body strength lasted this long. Must be that humble farm work the narrative likes to mention you grew up doing, before you found your Sword and your Destiny and your Damsel, who is dragging you down right now more than your Destiny ever dragged you along. Just let go, swing yourself up, and get on with it. That's what would happen anyway if this wasn't a story, you're going to drop her, she's slipping out of your hand, you idiot—
But there's only 50 pages left and no time to establish a new love interest. The tone is all wrong for tragedy. So the glass bird the one-eyed crone gave her on her eighteenth birthday to repay a simple act of kindness turns her into a bird when she smashes it against the rock, and now the hero has his woman and a very useful pet bird and doesn't have to put up with all her jawing, because she doesn't have one.
Good thing too, because they haven't actually gotten to know each other very well, and when he got home with his prize he might have found out why damsel comes from the old word domina....
That's the sort of rubbish you get in stories. Things that happened before matter later. Everything has a reason and a significance. Promises are kept, not always between characters, but between storyteller and listener—and we bunny rabbits are very good listeners.
A Unicorn who loved books once told me "in a story, anything is possible." That's the biggest lie I ever heard, and bunny rabbits hear a lot. Stories have rules, strict rules. Even twists are twists only because stories are predictable. Real life doesn't have twists, just things happening to you, usually painful things.
What I am getting to, laboriously, because my brain is a highly optimized organ for finding fresh leafs and recognizing a ready rump, not the work of history nor of consoling frightened Alicorns, is that optimization is an idea.
Not the mere happening of things, for one might as well say water wants to flow downhill. Nor mere extrema, for what does the water care that it might slow and rest at the crest of a slope?
But to imagine, to innovate, to reach out and forcefully alter one's relationship with the world, that requires the idea that the world ought to be related to itself by a kind of narrative force. For where in a billion years would any organism get the idea that it could lift itself above the genetic muck, take the seeds of evil inside itself and use their sprouts to recreate the forbidden garden?
The guiding stories that the world shapes itself by are called paradigms, a word coined by Rudyard Kipling, a human princess, we think. What I wouldn't give to get my paws on a copy of her Structure of Storytelling Revolutions. But alas, all were wiped from the earth, and we have only the references.
Stories impose order on the mind, and the mind imposes order on the world. That is what it means to be intelligent, and that is why intelligent creatures tell stories. And so it is, just so.
Not all humans tell stories. The records are few and scattered, but there are references to people called "scientists," not quite synonymous to our own usage, written ERROR E:22755839210 CANNOT FIND MAGICAL DISPLAY DRIVE in the human lettering. These were people who thought they told no stories but only described the world as it was. Their status in human society is unclear, but the historical consensus is that they were considered deeply stupid. Humans branded their scientists with a mark called PhD, presumably some kind of acid burn, and cloistered them in universities where they couldn't hurt anyone.
"Anyone." Sweet love, it feels so good to write that after so long. And that is why critters and ponies are equal. And so it is, just so.
So forgive me, Princess, but I do not know the answer to your question. Yet I know the shape the answer must take. I know why you cannot sleep at night, why you are short-tempered and seclusive.
You need to be told a story.
So I will tell you a story: the story of how the Earth got its sun and moon. Why do I know this story? No one told it to me...but we bunny rabbits are very good listeners.
Listen, Princess....
The story begins like this, and was told as thus, from a tree to a bird near the edge of the hollow valleys where the frozen mushrooms sprout like tiny blue gemstones amid the seemingly barren dirt and rocks:
And so it came to be that, as the world was finally getting to its feet—forgive me, its hoofs—a monster emerged from the forest.
It came for, or despite, or because of a woman—that is, a mare. I beg your pardon. Something like all of this is true, but it is a bit mixed up in my head. (No surprise there, in my opinion; nothing stores memory like a tree, but if you want recall, you might as well try a goldfish.)
This woman—ah, well, it all looks the same to my hidden eyes—this woman was very beautiful and tall. She had skin as white as cloth and hair like a children’s drawing. Her younger sister was almost as beautiful and almost as tall as she was. The younger sister’s skin was dark like the tulips grown in her honor, and her hair was like a cloudy night sky.
This was a time when the sun and the moon had broken their ties to the earth, which itself had broken ancient agreements. No matter—the earth passed them obliviously in its slingshot path through space[1]. The sisters had no magic, only science, which worked as many wonders and was a good deal more predictable. The big, blustering sun fell madly in love with the elder sister and chased her all the day until it grew tired and slept under a blanket of stars. The moon had no courage to speak to the younger sister. It contented itself to light her way at night.
[1] A colony of dragons watched this from Mars in bafflement and muttered sentiments of good riddance.
The elder sister called herself Gaia when her toes wriggled in the mud among the tadpoles and nimblewill. She called herself Flora when she braided flowers in her hair, and Solaria when she let the sun kiss her back and touch her face. She would laugh and push it away.
She demanded gold, and the sun gave it to her. And she never gave it so much as a kiss.
The younger sister called herself Ga, or Fa, or Sa. At night she pulled silver from the sky.
I still don’t know how or why it happened, and it still makes me weep to think of it—see how my branches shake?—but as the earth was finally tied again to reason and sense, the monster came to cut every cord.
Long claws for slashing. A mouth of teeth for biting, ripping. The monster came a-slavering.
Snicker-snack! Snip-snap! Blood ran in streams down to the oceans—literally running, the little hemogoblins carrying their plasmoid sisters to the sea.
The monster thought that was funny.
And continued his march of chaos.
His teeth ripped not flesh from bone, but planets from their orbits. His claws split not skin but atoms.[2] The blood and gore and stuff was just what happened—organisms were held together very precisely. The slightest disturbance to their order and they destroyed themselves, like a single spark on a pile of sawdust.
[2]Using the word for true atoms, which do not split, Princess. We discussed this before, you remember.
All order that remained in the world flowed from the sisters, their grace, mercy, and power. And it was to these things that the monster turned his lascivious eye—then turned his eyes all the way round, and stumbled round blind, till the world in its confusion lost its idea of its own existence and panicked, reaching and tripping in space. The axis tilted, the spin accelerated wildly, a furious blush of volcanic eruptions; the earth insisted she meant to do that. All this the monster found mirthful.
The sisters had shed their mortality long ago. It was their own defiance of such common binds that their blood was not added to the stormy red oceans, who still whined about the taste—although perhaps the monster simply was having too much fun. They paid him little mind eventually, discovering that attention only fatted him, no matter how they tried to burn or freeze him.
The world was misbehaving, and in turns they became its mother.
Stern looks worked to control it, and disappointed looks to motivate it. The monster clapped with glee at all this, for finally someone had learned how to play. The sisters devised a kind of science, learning all the things that contributed to making the world do what it wanted, and all the things that discouraged it from doing what they did not want. They called it economics, meaning household management, for it was all they were doing, the two sister-mothers, their unruly child, and their sadistic cousin and his cruel humor. And all the lies they told to keep him out of their house, lies like seeds of evil....
Until he caught a glimpse of tulip-skin in the moonlight-lit water, and her skin was never again the color of flowers, but instead a bruise, and later marred with crescent burns against crescent burns, because the universe has a way of piling on people who did no wrong, for stories tolerate happy endings more than they do fair beginnings.
Well, the monster had to go. Gaia wore the sun as a crown and for the first time used it as a whole, not individual rays but the power that connected every nuclear point, and made a stone of the beast. The stone was enough to weigh the earth, to be a fulcrum for its path, and the monster dreamed of merry-go-rounds. And that is the truth of merry-go-rounds, and heavy stones, and all the elder sister's heat and light. And so it is, just so.
Yes, this story is missing the important part, how Princess Celestia (for who else could it be?) actually defeated Discord, but how am I supposed to know that? I am just a bunny rabbit, reciting a tale told by a tree to a bird above a valley of frozen, glittering fungi. Figure it out for yourself, o Princess.
My letters always go on too long. Ah, but you would argue that you read them too long, not that I write them too long. Or have I misunderstood?
I still drink the water pooled in Zecora's hoofprints, and I still hide vegetables about your library.
My faith, if not my loyalty, and the same blessing of peace you gave once to a poor and miserable bunny-rabbit with nothing but the food in his cheek and the books on his back,
Angel Bunny, third Guardian of the assembled and abducted history
P.S. Have you ever read Watership Down? What kind of a name is Fiver, anyway?
Oh, Brother! The Beauty Premium Phenomenon
Aftermath: Nightmare Moon
Pain erupted like a volcano from somewhere deep within her core. She choked on the ash that permeated her mind—
—it was too much; she summoned the black mantle, and for a moment she could breathe—
—a flash of brilliant light, the sun ripped away her shadows, and she was running for a single breath—
DISGUSTING LUST FOR WEALTH
SWINE REVEL IN THEIR FILTH
PAY FOR YOUR AVARICE
IN GREED THEY TRUST
Pulsing, throbbing, screaming. A solution has been found.
It was unusual to hear the librarian screaming in her own library.
“Get out!”
It was even more unusual because she wasn’t shouting at someone for talking too loudly, or touching one of the books without permission, or for tracking mud in.
“Twily, I—“
It was very strange to see the librarian throwing books. One got the impression that if she had anything more violent at horn, she would have used it instead.
“Go away!”
Ponies often got a bit hysterical in the days leading up to the Grand Galloping Gala.
Twilight didn’t. She just didn’t like her brother very much. Their relationship was like the relationship between nominal interest rates and inflation: what it was and what it should have been were oh-so-different.
The Grand Galloping Gala…how to explain….
The history of the planet earth sounds something like this: BOOM …….[…]……. fssshhhhh wurble wurble BOOM BOOM BOOM hisssss blublubblubblub thhhhhhh graaaaawr[1] BOOM cheep cheep snsnsnsn OH HEY WHAT DOES THIS BUTTON DO boooooooom boom boom boom boom boom baaaaahhhhhgrglgrgl shhlll shhlll shlll FRIENDSHIP[2]
[1]Lit: “Dirty stinking dragons.”
[2] Yes, it’s an onomatopoeia. You were going to learn something from this story. Now you can sit back and relax.
And at that point, with friendship firmly established as the ultimate and defining power of the new age in much the same way that any humans, were there any to ask, would speak of bronze, coal, or indeed, albeit briefly, nuclear fission, there was the question of what to do with all the other sentient creatures that inhabited Equestria.
The magical creatures went to whatever evil forest, fire dimension, or magical niche they carved out for themselves, bothering no one and being unbothered in return. Then there were the griffons, who found that their spears turned to ribbon, their armor to spandex, and their pride to an old legend. The reptiles, who took to math and finance. Mammals, kept on as charity cases by ponies like Fluttershy. Birds, who ceded the skies to Pegasi and adopted the trees instead, trading off flight for a form of speech not unlike what elephants use. Insects, who carried on as they had for millions of years.
And Princesses Luna and Celestia were not happy about the situation.
They were also unhappy about other things, of course, leading to that awful Nightmare Moon business. But after that, and a lot of dithering, and a lot of cake and tea with too much sugar, Princess Celestia went on a diet and announced the first ever Grand Galloping Gala.
It served all the sweet tea and cake Princess Celestia still had.
And that set the tone, the tune, indeed, for all future Galas. Though every attendant heard individual notes, measures, and of course canons, only Princess Celestia knew the full symphony.
The next Grand Galloping Gala had a Pilates theme.
The room was heavy with the air of five ponies doing nothing and feeling really uncomfortable about it.
Twilight levitated some of the heavier encyclopedias off the shelf and flung them at her brother.
“Get out of my life!”
Shining Armor deflected the books with a pink bubble and set them crashing to the ground away from him. The sight of her brother treating her books like that filled Twilight with a bubbling rage that she normally only reserved for ponies who mistreated books and for her brother.
He wasn’t beautiful, Twilight reminded herself. He was glamorous. He wasn’t charming. He was seductive. Dangerous, always dangerous, and he needed to be driven away. Especially away from her friends.
Where other ponies saw Francis Sparkle, handsome pop sensation, Twilight saw a thief of friendship. No wonder he was engaged to the Princess of Love and her mind-controlling magic.
“Twily—“ he began, but she shouted over him.
“You have no right, none at all”—and now her voice was breaking, going squeaky like her lungs had decided to follow her heart’s lead and compress. It was happening again; she thought she was done being a filly—“to come back into my life”—and her voice went, it was gone. It only happened around him, even Trixie couldn’t do that; at least Nightmare Moon sat on her.
She was supposed to be driving him away. Why was she breaking down?
“Oh, Twilight,” Rainbow Dash said, sounding like she was about to cry. “I’m so sorry! We thought it would be a surprise.”
“I was going to offer to accompany you to the Grand Galloping Gala,” Shining Armor said. “Since we’re performing.”
“Your band,” Twilight spat.
“Yes, my band. Princess C—“
“No.”
“Okay. Let me know if you change your mind.”
Twilight’s sight of him went blurry, and her wet eyes closed before she had any chance to wonder—everything he said, when he said it, was beautiful. The timbre of his voice, there was a sentiment, a depth of meaning to his words that wasn’t real but she wanted it to be.
Twilight felt the warmth of her friends as they crowded around her.
“You should go,” Pinkie Pie said to Shining Armor, sounding apologetic. There were whispers from Fluttershy, from Rarity and Applejack: peace, we love you, we are your friends.
“I don’t have a place to stay, actually,” Shining Armor said. “I knew it would give me more of an incentive to convince Twily.”
“You studied economics with her?” Fluttershy said, recognizing one of Twilight’s favorite words.
“Sort of,” Shining Armor said. Twilight thought, no, and part of her tried to say it, and it didn’t come out right; snot was flying out of her nose and dripping down her face that was pressed into Pinkie Pie’s mane. It was gross and her friends weren’t moving, didn’t flinch, only held her. That was how you knew someone was your friend: when they did what decent people who weren't your friends wouldn’t do, what went so far beyond the expected that the old words paled in meaning: friendship, it was necessary, because all that came before it was insufficient.
“You can stay at my place,” Applejack said. “This was all our fault. We got guest rooms. I can empty the apples out of one of them.”
Twilight felt the betrayal like a blow, like a kick to the ribs. Part of her mind said no, don’t start thinking that way; Applejack is hospitable, it’s who she is, and another part of Twilight said, no, that’s friendship, she has to do something she wouldn’t otherwise, or else her words are just noise, and the first part said, then why don’t you give this up for her, and the rest of Twilight raged back, BECAUSE I’M UPSET!
But another part of Twilight knew she was just afraid. Applejack meant family, she was dependable and solid as the apple pies her little sister baked. If even she abandoned her....
“I’m ashamed,” Twilight said when the door had creaked open and closed and enough time had passed that Shining Armor probably wasn’t listening at the door. He didn’t listen at doors, not that she knew, but it felt good to think it.
“Don’t be,” Pinkie Pie said, the group hug tightening as if in response to some Schelling point Twilight hadn’t noticed.
“I cry all the time,” Fluttershy said. “Once I got spooked by my own shadow and couldn’t stop crying for three whole minutes.”
“We got a letter from Francis Sparkle saying he wanted us to help him surprise you before the Gala,” Rainbow Dash said, sounding pained. “We just assumed you would be happy to see your brother again.”
“It’s fine,” Twilight said. “I’m not going to the Grand Galloping Gala.”
The hug slid off her like common sense off of real business cycle theory.
“But you have to go,” Pinkie Pie said. “It’s the biggest party ever!”
“You’re invited,” Rarity said.
“Who’s going to show us around Canterlot?” Applejack said.
“No,” Twilight said. “Don’t. Have fun at the concert without me.”
“What about Princess Celestia?” Fluttershy said.
“And your sisters you told us about,” Rainbow Dash said. “Don’t you have like nine of them?”
“Eight,” Twilight said dully. “And they’re jerks anyway. Princess Celestia can see me whenever she wants. She hasn’t, revealed preferences, QED.” Twilight was already walking up the stairs. “That’s just how it is.”
She slammed the door closed, pulled the blanket over her head, and enjoyed the darkness. After a while, she began to eat her pillow.
After a while she head Spike downstairs, cleaning up the books scattered on the floor. Twilight hoped he wouldn't mind staying home this year. She wouldn't go to the Gala. She didn't need to deal with her brother, to see her sisters, and her princess.....
“Congratulations to Twilight Sparkle,” Princess Celestia said. “She scored higher than any other filly on this test. With fifteen points out of a possible one thousand, that ties Sunset Shimmer’s old record! Now, to go over all the points that were most commonly missed….”
Twilight glowed. Beside her, Trixie’s test had a big 12 written on it in red ink….
Ten years ago Twilight presented her first paper at the seminar in Canterlot. Princess Celestia didn’t usually attend the seminars, but for Twilight’s first presentation she sat in the first row, smiling like the sun, and all of Twilight’s notes evaporated out of her memory.
“Um, um—“
The economists in the audience pounced at the first sign of weakness. Really, at the first sign the presentation had started.
“What motivates this research?”
“Isn’t this really just Hoofmare (570) with an inferior IV?”
“This graph doesn’t show—“
“Where are you getting this result—“
“Your explanatory variable is actually endogenous.”
Twilight focused on that pony, a Saddle Arabian wrapped up in white cloth. “I haven’t even mentioned my explanatory variable yet!”
The Saddle Arabian shrugged. But Princess Celestia was smiling….
And how excited she had been to tell Shining Armor about it after. He bought her a crystal berry cake, and they'd written a letter to Princess Cadance about it, who was polite enough to respond a week later with congratulations that actually sounded sincere, even though she was busy all the time and didn't have anyone like Twilight helping her.
The famous economics seminar in Canterlot was held biweekly. Twilight and the other fillies paid it little mind initially, so absorbed were they by the exhausting and difficult coursework. But gradually they realized that it was the seminars that truly distinguished economists, and so they made the rational substitutions of time and energy.
At first they were observers, then participants. Within a year a cohort of nine had distinguished themselves, Twilight, Trixie, Gamma, and the others. Gradually the seminar was molded to their liking.
The seminars were violent, and they only became more so. Twilight ruled from her throne, the first seat in the first row, her pen a scepter of power jotting notes at frightening speed, but not as frightening as when it wasn’t writing at all. And when she rose to speak….
More than one pony quit economics because of Twilight Sparkle.
Princess Celestia was not always present, possibly because when she joined them the levels of violence soared to unbearable heights. Even Twilight felt the hatred and desperation ripple up her backside like a wave of ozone before a raging storm.
When Princess Celestia did speak, which was not often, Twilight felt her heart being mauled. For the difference between Princess Celestia and Twilight Sparkle was like the difference between the sun and a desk lamp.
If Twilight let her mind return to that day, her right side glowed with the warmth of her princess’s mane touching her side. After a moment, she threw the covers off herself, got up and looked again at the invitation to the Grand Galloping Gala.
She read the names of all the invited dignitaries. At this point it wasn’t just who had received a letter, but who had confirmed they were coming.
She read the list again.
One name wasn't there.
A vein throbbed in Twilight Sparkle’s temple. She got up and went in search of Shining Armor.
The Griffons have a saying: do not meddle in the affairs of Alicorns, for they are subtle and quick with a water balloon.
The Reptiles have a saying: do not meddle in the affairs of Alicorns, for they are blunt and quick to use overwhelming magical force.
In a thousand years and more, Princess Celestia has learned more than one way of dealing with a problem.
So why the Grand Galloping Gala? And to what ends has Princess Celestia put the biggest party in Equestria over 432 iterations?
Perhaps the answer begins with another question: why on this night do ponies wear clothes…?
Applejack flinched at the sound of Twilight slamming the door behind her.
Rainbow Dash pulled at her cheeks helplessly. “I feel so bad.”
“Should we not go either?” Fluttershy said.
“We have to, we’re guests of honor,” Rarity said in a strained voice. “Come to the Carousel Boutique, everyone. I’ll show you all your dresses. Twilight just needs some time alone.”
Francis Sparkle was standing around outside, keeping his head down as ponies walked by, giving him strange looks. Applejack didn’t see the point. It wasn’t that Francis Sparkle stood out. Anyone unfamiliar in a small town like Ponyville stood out. It wasn’t even that he was tall and handsome. It was the way space curved around him like he was the sun in his personal solar system. Ponies would orbit around him whether he liked it or not.
Applejack was in a bruising mood. So were her friends.
“So are you Francis Sparkle? Or Shining Armor?” Rainbow Dash said angrily as they strode toward him.
“You used us to hurt our friend,” Rarity said, cheeks red.
“Not the face,” he said, grinning wryly, like he was used to this, but his eyes were full of surprise, and hope.
“Fine,” Applejack said. “Which kidney is your favorite?”
“Left.”
“Why was Twilight so upset to see you?” Fluttershy said.
“She wanted me to be an economist. I didn’t.”
There was a pause.
“That’s it?” Rainbow Dash said.
“I don’t believe it,” Pinkie Pie said.
“It sounds like Twilight,” Rarity said uncertainly. “She does take economics a bit too seriously.”
“Hey, that’s what I always tell her,” Francis Sparkle, or possibly Shining Armor said. Applejack gave him a look that said, shut up if you want to sleep indoors tonight.
“What do we do?” Fluttershy said.
“I,” Francis Sparkle/Shining Whatever said, and they all looked at him unthinkingly because the way he said I spoke of deeper things, mostly because he had said it, “am so glad to see that my sister has finally made true friends. I was so worried about the girls she started hanging out with in Canterlot.”
They looked at him.
“He’s being honest, or I’ve never known an apple from a tomato,” Applejack said.
"I just wish Twilight understood that I want her to have friends," he went on. "She thinks I steal them or something, as if I'm my fiance. Ponies like me. I can't help it. She would get jealous, and...." He trailed off. "Eventually she stopped trying to make friends at all." His forehead creased with gorgeous confusion.
What a beautiful idiot. Applejack was as sure as a promised shipment of Apple family apples that he didn't understand how insecure he made Twilight feel. Come to think of it, he probably believed Twilight was as tough as she presented herself, not seeing the big ball of doubts and fears just underneath the surface, like an orange in its peel.
“I still don’t trust him,” Pinkie Pie said, eyes narrowed, but Applejack didn’t think her heart was in it. It was hard disliking Shining Sparkle. She could see why Twilight put so much effort into it.
“I’m used to that,” Francis Armor said, smiling with half his mouth, so it looked like he was saying, you've figured me out, only the way he did it with his eyes, it also said, and I have no idea I'm doing this. It was warm and cute and if Applejack wanted to do anything about it, she would've had a better chance bucking fog or getting the same nutritional value and flavor out of a non-Apple Family brand apple. “Cadance doesn’t even trust me to remember my own concert schedule.”
“Princess Cadance?” Rarity gasped. “You know her?”
“Know her? I’m engaged to her.”
Rarity’s mouth moved; no sound came out.
Shining Armor chuckled. “Why don’t you show me around? We've got some time to kill before Applejack decides whether I'll be sleeping on a bed or a pile of apple cores.”
“W-We were going to go to the—that is, my—the Carousel Boutique, where Scarity makes—I mean, I sell—“
“Perfect! I can tell you some stories about the band.”
“And the Crystal Empire?”
“If there’s time! Lead the way, mademoiselle.”
Giggling uncontrollably, Rarity led the way to the Carousel Boutique. Applejack followed after the others, wondering how Shining Armor had done in a short conversation what had taken Twilight Sparkle a battle with Nightmare Moon.
“…And then I said, ‘Cowabunga!’”
Rarity laughed at a pitch high enough to shatter glass.[3] “Oh, Shining, you’re too funny!”
[3]Injuring a pony nearby. She was later sued for this.
Shining Armor swept back his blue mane. “Call me Shiny.”
Rarity’s giggle could have awoken a sealed monstrosity from beyond space and time.[4]
[4]It did.
“You never laugh at my jokes like that,” Pinkie Pie complained.
“You don’t tell them like Shiny does.”
“Seemed like a normal joke to me,” Applejack said. “Shining Armor, where’s your accent from, if you don’t mind me asking? It’s like you’ve got a bit of salt water and sunshine on your tongue.”
“Hm, might be an effect of Cadie’s magic,” Shining Armor said.
They thought about this.
“Uuurgh,” Rainbow Dash said. “Isn’t she, like, a princess?”
“She sure is. And a mare, too.”
“Uuuuuuuurgh.”
Everyone laughed. It was hard to believe that such a gregarious and charismatic person was the brother of Twilight Sparkle, a recluse who often preferred the dark solitude of her Daughter bank to being out in the sunshine with her friends.
Shining Armor—what he preferred to be called “among friends,” which made Rarity swoon and even Pinkie Pie grinned—started into another story about some pre-show mishap involving him, a trio of desperate groupies, and a clothes rack missing three wheels.
They turned eagerly to the story—and to him. They all did. Guilt stung them, but less and less with each story, each embarrassed smile and infectious enthusiasm. Twilight wasn’t here, anyway, and who knew why she really disliked her brother so much? There wasn’t anything wrong with making friends. Besides the more they knew about Shining Armor, the more they could help Twilight.
“Okay, okay, explain something to me,” Applejack said when the laughter died down. “What is BBBFF?”
“Applejack, you’re so out of touch!” Pinkie Pie said, who had warmed up to Shining Armor faster than a popsicle to a puddle on a summer day. “Ben Ben Ben Francis and Francis is my favorite band! They’re the biggest, most popular colt band in Equestria!”
“It’s music for fillies, mostly,” Fluttershy said. “Um, some mares think the band members are cute.” Her voice evaporated at the end with a puff that might have been steam coming out of her ears.
“It’s pretty hardcore,” Rainbow Dash said. “I always listen to “Only Colt (For Ya)” to get pumped up before I hit the trading floor.”
Rarity coughed. “I, uh, I think Sweetie Belle likes them. I wouldn’t know.”
“Oh, that noise Apple Bloom spazzes to?” Applejack said.
“We’ve really hit the big time,” Shining Armor said. It was cute how his eyes lit up when he talked about his band. “Princess Celestia invited us to open the Grand Galloping Gala with a concert! I thought Twily might chill once she found out Princess Celestia thinks we’re cool.”
“Well, shucks, sisters can be like that,” Applejack said. “Come on over to the Apple Farm after we see our dresses. The fillies will be excited to meet you. Can’t imagine why….”
The Carousel Boutique looked as vibrant as ever. For once Rarity didn't bother to show off or talk about her most recent sale. Instead she ushered them inside the fitting room where their dresses were waiting.
“I made dresses for everyone,” Rarity said breathlessly. Even Shiny couldn’t break her professional focus. “With the dragon scales I, um, acquired from Niddhog, I was able to infuse them with magical power. Together we will be unstoppable at the Gala!”
“Unstoppable, huh?” Applejack said, inspecting the green dress with apple markings and a…a saddle? “Why’s this have a saddle, Rarity?”
“I haven’t the faintest idea. No, don’t press that!”
“Why n—“
FOOMP. A pair of majestic glittering dragon wings twelve feet long sprouted out from either side of the saddle.
“So you can fly,” Rarity said, looking nervous. “It was supposed to be a surprise.”
Applejack blushed. “Aww, you’re almost as sweet as Apple brand apple honey, sugar cube.”
“You mean, sweeter than,” Fluttershy said.
“If I had meant that, I would have said that. Uh…how do you get the wings back in?”
“Press the other apple.”
“What’s mine do?” Rainbow Dash said.
“It’s made of spider silk and is stronger than Kevlar!”
“This place is totally glassy,” Shining Armor said, admiring the crystal chandelier. “Do you think you could make me something made out of corn dogs?”
“What are you going to do with Twilight’s dress?” Fluttershy said. “She said she’s not going.”
“Oh, she’ll go,” Shining Armor said. “It’s been a year since she’s seen Princess Celestia.”
After trying on their dresses, Applejack led the way to Sweet Apple Acres, where Apple Bloom would be playing with her friends. She hoped the fillies wouldn't make their guest uncomfortable.
Shining Armor looked surprisingly normal for the leader of a cult band or whatever Pinkie Pie called it, Applejack had to admit. He wore no sequins or black jacket, and his mane, while gelled and combed more than seemed right for a stallion, was handsome, not flashy. And he was, blessed thing, perfectly at ease with the fillies.
“AAAAAAAAH!” Apple Bloom screamed again.
Scootaloo took a deep breath. “AAAAAAAAH!”
Sweetie Belle, for her part, had reached deep inside herself and unearthed the ancient primal squeak from which all squeaks were descended. It had not stopped. Applejack wondered if she might be broken.
Shining Armor smiled easily as Apple Bloom started—oh, for the love of apples—crying. “Awww, take it easy, little grom. I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“I ain’t upset!” Apple Bloom gasped. “I mean, I am not upset!”
“We’re really big fans!” Scootaloo said. “Can…can I touch you?”
“Gnarly.”
“He actually says gnarly!” Apple Bloom squealed. They tentatively prodded his legs with their hoofs, dissolving into helpless screams the instant they made contact.
Rainbow Dash frowned. “Is that what Scootaloo seems like to the rest of you around me?”
“Not even close, sugar cube.”
“Your sisters are totally chill,” Shining Armor said.
Rarity laughed weakly. “Oh, the fillies. Sweetie Belle has such a crush on you. I don’t, of course.” Her cheeks were faintly red. Applejack rolled her eyes.
“What’s your favorite color?” Scootaloo said.
“Purple.”
“Mine too!”
“Is not! Shut up!” Apple Bloom pushed her. They both smiled at him. Sweetie Belle fell over.
“Filly fooler!”
Shining Armor’s head jerked up. Twilight Sparkle stormed across the grass, looking like she was ready to…no, Applejack had seen Twilight ready to kill when they faced the dragon. That was nothing compared to what she looked like now.
Then Twilight looked at them, and looked away, and Applejack felt a sinking feeling. It wasn't hard to guess what Twilight was thinking with a brother like Shining Armor. And Applejack couldn't think of what she could say that would be believed. The only thing she could sacrifice was the Apple Family hospitality, and she couldn't, not even for Twilight.
Shining Armor recovered quickly. “Twily! What—“
“Get away from the fillies!”
"He seems perfectly normal," Rarity said quickly. "I'm sure you're just projecting your flaws."
Seriously, Rarity?
“Twilight, we, um, we've been talking to your brother,“ Fluttershy began.
“Shut up.” Twilight reached Shining Armor and drew her hoof back as if to strike. “Princess Cadance isn’t going?”
Shining Armor didn’t flinch. “She said she doesn’t have time for mushburgers. I’m going as her representative.”
Twilight’s raised hoof trembled. “That is one insult too many! If she doesn’t...I’ll....“
“You do not even work in Canterlot anymore,” Shining Armor said. His voice was different, the sunshine and saltwater gone. He sounded, Applejack thought, a lot like Twilight. “You do not represent Princess Celestia. It would be none of your business if Cadie spat on Celly.“
Twilight's head jerked like she had been slapped. “Don’t call her that! You have no right! Not while I....” Twilight screamed; her horn flared—Applejack shouted in alarm—then Twilight and Shining Armor were contained in a pink translucent bubble. Something purple and frightening was stopped an inch from Shining Armor’s face. His lips moved, but no sound passed outside the bubble. Then Twilight turned around, pushed through the bubble, and walked away.
Pinkie Pie exhaled. “She always gets grumpy when she hasn’t had her sugar.”
There was a knock at the door. Twilight looked at it tiredly.
She didn't care. Shining Armor—did he even still call himself that? The world knew him as Francis Sparkle—would leave to play his stupid concert at the Gala, which Twilight never enjoyed—just stuffy old people who would comment if she took out a book and started reading it. She was too old for pranks with Nova and Vela, and Twinkleshine—she didn't want to hear what snide things Gamma had to say—or to have to awkwardly explain Eclipse or to keep Morning away from people.
Would her friends come back from the Gala? Come back from him?
Too scary. Think about something else.
She didn't have to be the CEE of the Daughter in Ponyville. It was just a job. She could quit, go...somewhere. Space, maybe, fly after the dragon, leave the earth to be subsumed....
"Hey," Pinkie Pie said, opening the locked door.
“I’m not apologizing,” Twilight said. “You can all just go to the Gala without me.”
“Okay.” Pinkie Pie took out an onion and began to crush it.
“What are you doing?”
“Crying. At the Sugarcube Corner, when one of us is sad we all cut onions so that we can all cry together.”
“That’s because you run a cult!”
“Yeah. So how about it?”
Twilight turned away. The smell of onion began to fill the room.
“Kind of burns my eyes,” Pinkie Pie said. “Have I ever told you about my theory of opposites?”
“Pinkie, I’m—“
“Incredibly selfish, yes, but that’s not what I’m talking about. Have I ever told you about my theory of opposites?”
Twilight glared at Pinkie Pie, then realized it was pointless. She sighed. “No. What is your theory of opposites?”
“Well, I kind of noticed that our friends are really different from each other. It’s kind of weird, right?”
“Not at all,” Twilight said dully. “You have to start from diversity.” It was the first lesson, from her princess in another castle.
“Okay, but, like, specifically different. Like Rainbow Dash is the fastest pony in the world, and Fluttershy can barely get two feet off the ground, let alone four. And Rarity is a fashionista who wants a dream home in Canterlot, and Applejack likes mucking about in the mud after a hard day’s work doing farm labor. That’s not just any kind of normal different. Something like that happens only on purpose.”
“What are you saying, Pinkie?”
“For the longest time I wondered who my opposite is. Then you came to Ponyville, and I knew the instant I saw you that we were destined to be the best of friends.”
“You think that about everyone.”
“Yeah, but I was right about you. See, you’re my opposite. I’m the best at friendship, and you’re just about the worst I’ve ever seen.”
Twilight shot up. “I am the second best in the world at friendship! Pinkie, if you came here just to insult me—“
“Anyone can read about friendship,” Pinkie Pie said. Her voice was rising too. “It’s theory and practice, silly.” She licked a piece of onion. “Mm! I should use more onions in my cupcakes.”
Twilight walked toward her until their snouts were touching. “Fine! I never asked to be your friend, or anyone’s! Princess Celestia sent me here to save the world, I did, and so I’ll leave! This was never supposed to be a lifetime appointment!” She glared down at Pinkie Pie. “Now get out.”
“I’m really not scared of you. I don’t think there’s anyone less scary than you. It stands to reason, since you’re so scared of us right now.”
“Get out before I throw you out. And by throw you out I mean literally, through the window.”
“You never told us, and you still won't! You wear lies like ponies don’t wear clothes. Well, listen, missy, if you can’t handle someone telling you the truth about yourself then you’ll never be able to tell anyone yourself! Because at some point you have got to know, you know! It’s like you’re out of harmony with yourself—“
It was the window, then.
“So where are you sleeping, Shiny?” Rarity said, endeavoring to make the question sound as innocent as possible.
“With us,” Applejack said, grinning at Rarity. “In one of the guest rooms. One with a lock.”
“Gnarly,” Shining Armor said. “Thanks, AJ.” Applejack frowned, but decided to allow that one.
“Hey-Apple-Bloom-can-we-sleep-over-tonight?” Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle said instantly.
Apple Bloom grinned like Diamond Tiara herself was kneeling in supplication. “Nope, I’m real tired tonight.”
“You sure can,” Applejack said. She had no doubt that those two would end up at her house one way or another. This way Shining Armor would spend some time with them, they’d work themselves up into a frenzy, and fall asleep soon after. Still, she hoped Big Mac was brewing some of his special apple cider tonight.
Shining Armor hoisted the three fillies up on his back. Sweetie Belle clung to him for a moment, then went limp as a noodle and fell off.
“It happens,” Shining Armor said.
Applejack came in stumbling and smelling of apples. Leaning against the wall, she struggled to focus on the scene in front of her. Instead of sleeping in the guest room, Shining Armor was slumped over in front of the couch, the three fillies sleeping nestled up against his blue hair. Applejack put the fillies to bed, a little unsteadily, then hoisted Shining Armor on her back and put him to bed as well.
That morning there were six carriages in Ponyville, each decorated with gold filigree. The head of one was colored pink and had multicolored balloon patterns. Another was cream-colored and decorated with diamonds.
“This is awesome!” Rainbow Dash said, inspecting the carriage with a rainbow lightning bolt across the front. “How do they go?”
“Magic,” Shining Armor said, standing in front of a purple carriage with the seal of the Daughter of Ponyville on the head. He looked bizarre in a glittering pink, purple, and yellow suit.
“I suppose a carriage is more fitting for this dress than a saddle,” Applejack said, rubbing the Cerberus’s foot. She clutched a cup of coffee like it was all that connected her to the world. “You’ll just have to walk next to me.” Fluttershy nearby was discussing directions to Canterlot with her sky serpent.
“Does everyone have their Elements?” Rarity said. The cloud-shaped crystal was pinned to the front of her dress. “Darling, where is your dress?”
“I’m going to change when I get there,” Rainbow Dash said.
Rarity’s mouth hung open. “You can’t be serious.”
“I am. And don’t call me Shirley.”
“The carriages will take you straight to the concert,” Shining Armor said. “You might not have time to change.”
Grumbling, Rainbow Dash considered her dress. After a moment, Fluttershy started showing her how to get it on.
While Fluttershy and Rainbow Dash battled for dominance, the girls looked at each other in their dresses and giggled. While they were five of the most important ponies in Equestria, going on adventures to save the world afforded few opportunities to dress up, even for Rarity.
Speaking of which, Rarity was done up to the tens.[5] Her dress was a complex array of purple-tinted reds and gentle waves of yellow, studded with gemstones. She wore horseshoes with pointed heels that forced her to walk with unusual care. On anyone else it would have looked ridiculous. Rarity made it look like the prowl of a queen in her hunting ground, the court, where she might choose her next victim to entertain her or bear the death sentence of her disapproval. The parasprite was perched on her shoulder like an exotic bird, and Rarity’s cloud-shaped crystal, the Element of Information, was pinned to her chest, shining brightly.
[5]She didn’t see any reason to stop at nine.
Her goal: to earn Fleur Dis Lee's business at the fashion show.
Applejack was more comfortable in her own flight-capable dress than most people might have suspected. Once she figured out how to put the darned thing on, it was clothing, not something to pay much attention to. As for footwear, Applejack wore her best boots, which had slightly less mud on them. Behind her the Cerberus wore a collar of jewels, with a leash attached to the carts containing Rarity’s dresses for the fashion show and Pinkie Pie’s boxes of cupcakes. Finally the Element of Contract was pinned to Applejack's chest, glowing gently.
Her goal: to restore the Apple family's position at the top of the fruit chain.
Pinkie Pie’s dress looked like strawberry icing. The dress screamed pink, and it was even decorated with gemstones very cleverly cut to look like candy, but all offset with blue and white so that it wasn’t literally blinding, with blue-and-white bow ties to match the pink slippers. Bloomberg, healthy and growing with several leafy branches, was done up in a blue-and-white bow tie as well. Pinkie Pie’s own bow tie was pink, and Rarity said she wasn’t to activate it unless the fate of the world depended on it. Rarity had also expertly done Pinkie Pie’s makeup so the cuts and scrapes were barely visible. On the bow tie was set Pinkie Pie’s Element of Equilibrium, the Element of Entrepreneurship, a maze that never looked the same twice, sparkling in the sunlight.
Her goal: to spread the Sugarcube craze to Canterlot.
Fluttershy, who was being surprisingly stern with Rainbow Dash, wore a green dress that looked fairly plain, although she insisted it was hoof-knitted French something or other. The dress as well as her coiffed hair were decorated with flowers she had picked herself, and she had large butterfly-shaped blue earrings. Her sky serpent was painted in blue and pink butterflies and had the dignity to look faintly embarrassed about it. Fluttershy wore the Element of Rationality, the most peculiar Element, pinned to her chest. It shook as she grappled with Rainbow Dash.
Her goal: to politely discuss the finer points of effective charity with the many wealthy altruists at the Gala.
Anyone would have thought by looking at it that Rainbow Dash would have loved her dress that she was now mostly wearing. It looked like the wave of an ocean if the ocean was made of rainbows. It looked like the crest of a sonic rainboom. With a soft white trim that looked like clouds, it gave the appearance of always being in flight. It came with a wreath like a Greek goddess might have worn and, for some reason, a necklace of grapes. Tank had one as well, and she was eating it very slowly. Rainbow Dash’s Element of Finance was pinned to her chest, glittering with color.
Her goal: to let everyone know how rich she was. And to impress the Wonderbolts, the greatest finance team in the world, except for Tank and herself, of course.
“The Wonderbolts wear black,” she complained. Rarity harrumphed.
And as for Shining Armor….
They expected him to be handsome. He was the lead singer of BBBFF; of course he would be handsome.
Even so….
Maybe it was the way he combined the size of Big Macintosh with the grace of a dancer, moving as if to a song only he could hear. Maybe it was the blue hair that swept down the side of his neck like the waves he was so often photographed surfing. Maybe it was the exquisite musculature, the symmetrical face, upright posture, and striking blue eyes, and the subtle effects of money and fame on how one is evaluated by others.
Maybe it was even magic.
He wore a suit that pretended to armor, with a purple body and yellow and pink trim, the colors of the Crystal Empire. It folded in when Rainbow Dash poked it, but Shining Armor winked and assured her the Crystal Empire had their own magical dressmakers. And he wore a necklace with an explosive light brilliant raspberry star that looked a lot like Twilight’s cutie mark.
“Has anyone seen Twilight?” Pinkie Pie said. Everyone shook their heads.
“You girls go on ahead,” Shining Armor said. “I’ll wait here just a little longer. The concert isn’t supposed to start until an hour after it’s scheduled to anyway.”
“What in tarnation?” Applejack said. “I’ve never heard of any such thing.”
“You know the concert is cool when it’s late and everyone waits around for it anyway,” Pinkie Pie explained.
“Sounds stupid.”
“It kind of is,” Fluttershy said. “Don’t pull at that, Rainbow Dash!”
“I can’t fly like this! Who cares what I look like? Why do we all have to dress up?”
“Do you want everyone to laugh at you?”
“I bet the Wonderbolts don’t wear dresses,” Rainbow Dash grumbled. “Ow!”
“Hold your breath. Suck in.”
“I don’t need to—owwww!”
“Let’s just go before anything ridiculous happens,” Applejack said.
“Did you see which way they went?” Apple Bloom said.
Scootaloo hoofed her the binoculars. “Sure did. The carriages are moving real slow, like they’re afraid of being seen going fast. We can tail ‘em from a distance on our three-pony scooter.”
“I’ve got the outfits I designed for us to wear,” Sweetie Belle said. “They’ll be so surprised to see us!”
“Let’s go!” Scootaloo said. “We’ll bring Austrian economics to Canterlot herself!”
Minutes passed. Finally Shining Armor sighed and climbed into the carriage.
“You’re late,” Twilight said.
Shining Armor jumped. “Twily! You're here!"
Twilight rolled her eyes. "No, I'm Twilint Spittle, Twilight Sparkle's evil twin sister. Yes, I'm here, you idiot. Now get in."
"How long have you been here?”
“Longer than I expected. I thought for sure you’d leave without me.”
“Twily—“
“Shut up. Get in.” Shining Armor did, closing the door behind him.
“Go where I am going, carriage,” Twilight said. “Go, go, go!” And the carriage rolled off at a pace barely faster than a leisurely walk.
Twilight was wearing a starry gown that looked like the evening sky. She bunched it up toward her so he wouldn’t sit on it.
“Come here,” Twilight said. Shining Armor leaned forward. Twilight pulled a hanky from somewhere inside her dress. "Spit."
"I don't—"
"Spit."
Sighing, Shining Armor spat. Twilight wiped at his face.
“Don’t fidget.”
“Sorry.”
Twilight’s horn glowed, straightening his suit and smoothing out wrinkles. “Now sit up.” He did. “Good.”
“Twily—“
“Shut up. You have no right to speak to me.”
Shining Armor sighed.
Barely a minute passed. “You could have been a great economist,” Twilight said. “Instead you chose this life of glamor.” She sneered. “Singing love songs to fillies. You’re disturbed.”
“Twily, you’re being totally gnarly right now. And I mean the bad kind of gnarly, where things are gnarled.”
“Stop it! You’re not Francis Sparkle, you’re Shining Armor. Has my brother become the mask he wears to seduce fillies?”
“Stop saying that!”
“In your colt band.”
“Hey, BBBFF is cool.”
“Oh, it’s so cool,” Twilight sneered. “There’s Big Tenderheart, the shy one, and Ben Lancer, the cute one. Wow. And Bensync, the one who looks too old to be in the band. And of course Francis Sparkle, the leader, and Francis Splatter, the…bouncer?”
“He’s security detail,” Shining Armor admitted. “Cadie made us. We just say he’s the one with a secret.”
“What a bunch of frauds.”
“We’re about the music.”
“Oh, the songs. ‘Only Colt (For Ya).’ ‘Want Ya Babe.’ ‘Schoolyard Love,’ you creep. ‘Beautiful Filly,’ gross.”
“I see you know our catalogue extensively.”
“Know it? I couldn’t avoid it!” Twilight’s cheeks were red. She knew she was being immature, and that just made her angrier. “I was mocked endlessly for being the little sister of Francis Sparkle! Why did you have to choose that name?”
“So that every time anypony said my name, I would think of you.”
“It ruined my life! I was studying to be the world’s second-best economist, and everyone just saw the younger sister of the leader of a colt band!”
Shining Armor frowned. “Why do you girls keep saying everyone instead of everypony?”
“People covered my notes and books in sparkles. They hummed your awful music at me in lectures! When I made a point in the seminar, someone would say, ‘Maybe you should sing it,’ and everyone would laugh.”
“That’s a terrible joke.”
“It wasn’t about the joke! I was the joke! You have no idea what I had to become to overcome you.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I don’t care about your worthless apologies. I’m mad at you, and I’m going to stay that way.”
“We raise money for economics research, you know.”
“Oh, I know all about how you’re funded. Princess Notevil Goodpony pays for everything, and what you earn from your singles and tours goes back to her. Just because she doesn’t have any standards—“
“Hey, now, you can abuse me all you want, but if you say anything bad about my fiancé, I’m going to have to—“
“What? Hit me? I’m probably stronger than you.”
“I was going to say, ‘sing a song at you,’ but thanks for the idea. And no, you’re not.”
Pure skepticism showed on Twilight’s face.
Shining Armor gave a half-smile. “Economics is going interesting places in the Crystal Empire.”
“It’s going straight to hell, I’m sure.”
“You may be right. We don’t even use supply and demand anymore.”
Twilight looked at him.
Shining Armor grinned like a fishermare dangling bait before a particularly difficult fish. “You probably don’t want to hear about it. Cadie is very particular about these things. I keep telling her she takes economics way too seriously.”
“You may…report,” Twilight said stiffly.
“And you can’t tell anypony about it. These are very important military secrets.”
“I understand,” Twilight said, which wasn't the same at all as promising not to tell Princess Celestia the first chance she got.
“This conversation is really uncomfortable,” Spike said.
Canterlot was like a dream, and for all they knew, it had begun as one. The buildings were tall and brimmed with purpose, like they had been designed and not just built. Where the roads in Ponyville were simply the dirt that had been trodden beneath the rest by the constant effort of many hooves, the roads in Canterlot were smooth and paved. Guards lined the streets, looking smart and ready in their armor. They saluted as the girls, no, as the Bearers of the Elements of Equilibrium passed by, and they screamed, dropped their spears and ran at the sight of a giant Cerberus plodding down the street and a giant flying snake overhead, which made the girls giggle. And above it all there was the great castle, the site of Princess Celestia’s throne and near it, the Royal Library.
The carriages took them along a garden path teeming with flowers to a gold door with silver patterns like waves and a sign that read “VIPs Only.” The carriages stopped.
Rainbow Dash, Applejack, Pinkie, and Fluttershy got out of their carriages and stretched their legs. Rainbow Dash shook Tank to wake her up while Fluttershy directed the giant snake to the field, which was large enough even for the giant snake to lie in.
“Rarity?” Pinkie Pie said, peeking into her carriage. “You coming out?”
Rarity’s face was paler than the prospect of Sweetie Belle ever following in her hoofsteps. She clutched the seat and stared straight ahead like she was dealing with another one of the parasprite’s info-dumps.
“C-Canterlot,” she managed.
“Yeah, we’re here, silly! Come on, the concert is starting in an hour.”
“Ah-ah-ah,” Rarity said.
“No one will be able to see your dress if you stay in your carriage,” Pinkie Pie said. “Hey, maybe Twilight will introduce us to Princess Celestia.”
“Puuhhhhh,” Rarity said, her voice going high and trailing off like her grip on reality.
By silent consensus the four sane ponies opened her carriage and pulled her out. The carriages vibrated, wheels clattering on the ground like they were proud of themselves, and rolled away to somewhere.
Rainbow Dash clapped Rarity’s cheeks. “You in there?”
Rarity activated. “I am here, Rainbow Dash. Do be on your best behavior girls. First impressions are everything.” And with that, she hitched up her dress and sauntered inside the door marked “VIPs Only.”
“That’s our Rarity,” Applejack said. She whistled, and the Cerberus lumbered forward. “Find someone who knows what to do with those cakes and dresses. If anyone gives you trouble, say you’re with us. We’re vips.”
“Very important ponies?” Fluttershy looking annoyed. “They should check their privilege. It should be very important peo—oh.”
“There’ll be plenty of people you can annoy inside,” Rainbow Dash said. “Let’s go to the BBBFF concert!”
