Chapters “Twilight, Twilight!” Spike shouted. “There’s a strange mare in the library! Come quick!” He seemed alarmed, perhaps even a touch frightened, but when she pressed him for details, he provided none. He stammered instead, and hesitated, and repeated his shout: that there was somepony in the library, and Twilight needed to see. And so Twilight went, and she saw.
She was still in the library when Twilight found her, draped over one of the shelves and idly flipping through a book. At first, Twilight was shocked into silence. The strange mare was a princess, an alicorn, with a purple coat and a regalia of tarnished silver. Her mane was dark blue, streaked with purple and pink, and her cutie mark was a purple star, surrounded by five others.
She was tall, as tall as Celestia, but where the sun-princess was imposing and powerful of frame, the strange mare was thin and light. Her legs and wings hung down one side of the shelf as she read, appearing too long for her body. Her tail was cut short, like a stallion, with the effect that she seemed almost deer-like. It was a look that extended to her face, where her long frame and thin body emphasized her cheekbones and the length of her muzzle. It was an angular sort of face—like Princess Cadence, perhaps, if a bit longer and more bony.
Twilight was still trying to recover when the strange mare spoke. “You know, I haven’t seen a book like this in a long time?” She levitated up the text she was flipping through and held it towards Twilight. It was a copy of Daring Do and the Altar of Storms , dog-eared and well read. “A book that’s for reading that is. Books still exist—I have a collection—but they’re collectors items. They’re elegant things. All white and gold binding. Signaljunk. There to be pretty and make an exquisite library. Not for regular use.”
“Who are you?” Twilight asked, circling the strange mare slowly. Observing closely, she noticed other things about the room that were amiss. A few books were out of place, her secret stash of snacks was open, and on top of one of the tables was placed a set of green saddlebags, bulging to their fullest with some unknown contents.
“Come on, kid. I was a smart filly,” the strange mare replied. It was only then that she seemed to really notice Twilight, putting the book down and focusing on her. A smile appeared on her face, but only briefly, flickering into life and dying just as fast. “You already know the answer to that.”
“No...” Twilight said slowly. “Having my coat color and cutie mark doesn’t prove you’re me. You don’t look anything like me. And besides, Starswirl’s time spell only works once ever.”
“Once for each caster,” the strange mare corrected, raising a hoof in a single smooth motion. “Once per pony. But that was a thousand years ago for me. And you aren’t the pony you used to be. Are you?” She gave a wan smile, and then gestured down at the bags. “Here, I can prove it.”
As Twilight watched, the strange mare pulled up her legs and wings—what seemed an unmanageable amount of bone and feather somehow nearly folding beside her. She did not leap from the shelf so much as drift from it—seeming half to float to the ground and half to walk down the shelf’s vertical front. Her hooves hit the ground without a sound, and in a single step, she crossed the room to stand aside Twilight.
“Woah! Hey!” Twilight eyes went wide and she quickly scrambled backwards. Her gaze shot between where the mare had been and where she now stood—thirty feet at least, covered so quickly Twilight had no time to react. So close, her eyes barely came up to the strange mare’s chest, and she had to back off several steps before she could comfortably see her face.
“Sorry,” the strange mare said, still smiling that odd smile and looking down at Twilight. “Didn’t mean to scare you.” She glanced at the table, and her horn came alight, floating the green bags over to Twilight. “Ever since we were ten, we wanted a set of dragon-scale saddlebags, because Starswirl the Bearded had them and they’re awesome. But we felt... you feel... incredibly sleazy for wanting swag made from a sapient being’s skin. So we never breathed a word about it to anypony.”
Twilight paused, and then leaned forward to inspect the bags. Upon closer examination, what she had taken for a steady green was a regular scale pattern, bright and shiny under the library lamps. “How was...”
“Donated,” the strange mare said, bending her long neck to lead her head down beside Twilight’s. “Non-fatally. It’s a few hundred years before medicine reaches the point that it can effectively regenerate flayed skin. But when it does, there’s a small market for authentic dragon-skin items.” Twilight suddenly found her hoof surrounded in a purple glow as the other mare pulled her hoof up and pressed it to the bag. She lifted her own hoof as well, holding it against the leather alongside Twilight’s. “It’s a bit... macabre. But I know you treasure it. And don’t worry; Spike doesn’t mind.”
The purple glow faded, and the bags settled gently to the ground as Twilight found her hoof released. She looked sharply between the mare and the bag, her ears folded halfway back. She took a breath, licked her lips once, and then found it in her to speak. “Is the bag a gift, then?”
“After I’m done with it, yes,” the strange mare replied. She lifted her head, took a half step away from Twilight, and lifted her wings. As before, they seemed outsized for her body—neat and trim against her side, but unfolding into a blanket of feathers half-again too large for her frame. Wings thus raised, the strange mare lifted the saddlebags, and secured them tightly about her barrel. “I have some deliveries to make first.”
“That still doesn’t...” Twilight swallowed, a frown appearing on her face. “Prove you’re me. You could be a mind reader. Or a version of me from an alternate universe where we share that desire.”
“So skeptical,” the strange mare replied, a half-chuckle escaping her. “We don’t look that different, do we?”
Twilight ignored the question, squaring her shoulders and lifting her voice slightly, adding a kick of force as she spoke. “If you are me, then, how are you here? Starswirl’s spell only lets you go back for a few seconds. Why are you hanging around the library?”
“Well, that’s a few questions,” the strange mare said. She didn’t answer right away, but instead moved across the library. Three long, graceful steps brought her to Twilight’s desk, and the secret snack stash beside it. She hesitated there a moment, then restored the book that usually hid the stash from sight. “Starswirl’s spell only lasts a few seconds when it’s a unicorn casting it. I’m rather more powerful than you. I’d estimate I have about seven hours ish. Maybe a bit less. As for why I’m in the library, I was waiting for you.”
She flicked her short, brush-like tail, and gestured up towards the ceiling. “See, I remember this conversation. From when I was you.” Her pace picked up. “It’s been long enough the details are all blurry. I don’t know exactly what either of us is going to say. But I remember...” She trailed off, and her tone slowed again. “Finding me in the library. And spending...” She smiled again, shut her eyes, and shook her head, “a lot of time wondering what it would be like to be on the other side of this conversation. And now that I’m here...”
She opened her eyes again, turning back to Twilight. “I’m here because today is a special day.” She threw an energetic kick behind the words, and the soft smile on her face grew to an eager grin. “You and me, kid. Today’s the day we save the world.”
“Save it from... what?” Twilight’s eyes flicked to the strange mare’s back. “What’s in the bag?”
“Medicine,” said the strange mare. “You see, there’s a plague sweeping Equestria. Not the proper sort, with boils and fevers and bodies burnt in the streets. No. It’s a more insidious thing than that. A virus has no morality, it’s just a self-replicating chemical. But this! This darkness that comes among us now.” She returned Twilight’s way, gesturing out the window. “It’s an evil thing.”
“I think I’d know if there was a plague,” Twilight insisted, but the other mare did not look her way, continuing to stare out the window.
“That’s the trick, you see,” the mare paused, her voice falling as she went on. “It doesn’t kill at random. It targets the elderly. It draws away their strength, until they suffer some other accident. Broken bones, heart attacks, whatever.” She shrugged. “And then it appears to be natural demise. But there’s nothing natural about it. It’s a monster. It’s a monster, and if we don’t kill it, it will kill mom, and kill dad, and Shining and Spike and everypony else we care about.”
The mare looked down for a few moments, and when she lifted her head, her grin was back. “Nasty, ain’t it? But that’s why today is a special day. We’re about to do a good thing.”
“I... don’t know,” Twilight set her jaw, taking a step back. “If this plague is already here, why did you come back today? Why not go back earlier and stop it sooner?”
“Because today’s the day I came back last time.” She nodded her head Twilight’s way. “Gotta stay on the rails, kid.”
“That’s not a real reason,” Twilight insisted, raising her voice.
The other mare gave only a half-shrug. “It’s reason enough.” The strange mare unlatched the window, pushing it open and letting the strong, cool breeze inside. It was a beautiful morning in Ponyville, and in the nearby square, ponies could be seen going about their daily lives, their conversations barely audible. “I know you don’t believe me now, but you will. And this is your work. Your monster to slay. I’ve brought enough medicine for the ponies in imminent danger, and instructions on how to make more. But there’s a difference between having a cure for the plague, and curing the plague.”
A purple glow surrounded Twilight, levitating her up off her hooves. “Hey!” she shouted, but the strange mare ignored her, gently placing Twilight to her immediate right by the window.
“That’s why I stayed to chat,” she said, “instead of just going on to distribute the cure myself. There is a war you will have to wage soon. I remember that.”
As soon as her hooves touched the ground, Twilight took a quick step away from the strange mare, craning her neck up to look at her face. “Look, I don’t know... I’m still not convinced you are who you say you are. You don’t look like me. And you don’t talk like me. And... and there’s a lot of holes in your story. I’m not calling you a liar, but I’m not sure I can help you with—”
“Oh, that’s alright, kid,” the strange mare laughed. “You’ll call me a lot worse than a liar before this day is over. We have a bit of a fight at the end. That part... well. It’s something we need to go through, but you won’t enjoy it and neither will I. But we aren’t there yet, so, come on.” She nodded out towards Ponyville. “How about I prove my claim?”
Twilight frowned when she heard they would soon fight, and her frown only got deeper as the conversation went on. “Prove it... how?” Twilight asked, speaking slowly as she glanced between the window and the strange mare.
“Granny Smith is dying of the plague as we speak,” the strange mare said. “It has disguised itself as a stroke. She is bleeding in her brain and, untreated, will soon die. But I can save her.” The other mare smirked again, glancing at Twilight. “Let’s go see.”
“Wait, what? ” Twilight demanded. “Granny is dying? When were you going to mention—”
In a flash of purple light, the library vanished around Twilight. In its place appeared blue skies, white tufted clouds, and the green fields of Sweet Apple Acres stretching off into the distance. Twilight froze for a half second, and then shrieked as she realized she was falling. The ground and sky spun around her, and in a desperate attempt to slow her descent, she snapped both of her wings out and flapped as hard as she could. The motion made her twist, sending her into a spin, and as green filled her vision, she braced her legs for impact.
Twilight hit the ground hooves first. Her legs buckled under her, sending her flying forward until her chin plowed into the grass. She lay there for a few moments in a daze. She was in pain, but it was nothing more than the temporary sting of a few scratches and scraped knees and she soon picked herself up.
She lifted her head in time to see the strange mare land. So wide her wings and so light her frame, that she did not seem to fly so much as drift like a falling feather, touching down to the ground beside Twilight without a sound. She was smiling as she did, and Twilight scowled.
“That wasn’t funny,” she snapped, shaking the dirt off her coat.
“Well, comedy equals my suffering plus time it seems,” the strange mare’s smile only broadened, and Twilight’s scowl deepened in turn. “Oh come on, kid, get over it. It’s at least a little funny. I just can’t get over how short I was back then.”
“Short? ” Twilight snorted. “I’m the tallest pony in my group of friends! You’re the one who's built like a—”
“Twilight!” Applejack’s voice cut into the conversation, and both mares turned to the sound. Twilight could see Applejack rushing out of the farmhouse towards them, her eyes wide and her voice panicked. “Twilight, did you bring the doctor? Granny—” She paused as her eyes focused on the strange mare. “Who are you?”
“She claims to be me from the future,” Twilight said, quickly. “Applejack, what’s wrong with Granny?”
“I don’t know!” Applejack shouted, her voice rising in both volume and pitch. “She just collapsed and started, and started spasming. Big Mac ran to get the doctor.” Applejack took two quick breaths, looking wildly between the mares in front of her. “Twilight, she’s foaming blood at the mouth. I don’t know what to do!”
“She’s having a seizure,” the strange mare explained calmly. “The blood is from biting her own tongue off. She will be dead in minutes if not treated.” She smiled when Applejack looked her way, and gave a short nod of her head. “I’ve brought medicine for her. I’m here to help. Don’t worry, Applejack. I promise, she doesn’t die today. Shall we go to her now?”
“Wait,” Twilight said, but the other mare was already in motion. In two impossibly long strides, she covered the distance to the farmhouse. She spread her wings as she walked, and with a single bead, she leapt from the ground up to the roof. The window leading to Granny’s room was there, and though it was smaller than a pony’s frame, she somehow slipped through without trouble, and inside.
Twilight and Applejack stood there in shock for a moment, until Twilight again shouted: “Go!” Then the two friends ran, sprinting to the farmhouse, entering the front door, rushing up the stairwell and down the hall to the last door on the left. They burst in, nearly knocking the door off its hinges with the force of their entry, and then froze in the doorway as they took in the sight before them.
Granny hovered over the bed, suspended in a purple field emanating from the strange mare’s horn. She was still spasming, blood running down her chin and throat in frothy rivers. Spread out on the end table beside her was a strange case of shiny steel medical tools, none of which Twilight recognized. The mare had one levitated beside her—a steel syringe, though it had some kind of spring mechanism at the end, and a trigger halfway along its length. Her eyes were on Granny, narrowed and focused.
“Okay, Granny,” the strange mare cooed. “Time for your shots. Be a good filly and hold still and I’ll give you a lollypop.” She opened her saddlebags, revealing hundreds or perhaps thousands of loosely packed glass vials. She picked one seemingly at random, containing a pink liquid, and slotted it into her syringe. She pulled the spring back until a loud click could be heard, and the trigger snapped out from its resting place.
As the strange mare leaned close, the glow of her magic brightened. Granny went still, but Twilight could see her muscles struggling. Her spasms had not calmed, but instead were restrained, her entire body held still in vice-like grip. “Now,” she said, lifting the strange device to Granny’s throat. “This shot is administered through the neck. Which can sometimes be dangerous. Bleeding out and such. And it would suck if I accidentally killed Applejack’s grandmother.”
She plunged the stainless steel syringe down into Granny Smith’s neck. Applejack shrieked and took a half-step forward, reaching out towards her grandmother, but the strange mare ignored her. She depressed the trigger, and the syringe hissed, the spring at the end slowly compressing. “So...” the mare said slowly, drawing the words out. “If you could clot that wound nice and quick like you’re supposed to, that would be super. Just...” She held a breath, and slowly removed the syringe. “Super.”
A stillness came to the room, and all was silent save for Applejack’s quick and shallow breaths. After a slow count of five, Granny’s spasming slowed, and then stopped. The strange mare lowered her back to the bed, and then pried open her jaw. “Now let’s make sure you didn’t bite off too much of your tongue. As I recall you’re going to need that later today and it would be a shame if... no. No. We’re looking good there. Just some superficial damage.”
The strange mare inspected Granny’s mouth a moment more, nodded as though in satisfaction, then grabbed a cloth and a bottle of some clear liquid from her kit of tools. Cleaning the blood from Granny’s throat and jaw, she revealed that there was no wound where her syringe had touched, and no more blood came forth.
Slowly, Applejack stepped forward. “Will she be...” she asked, her voice tight.
“She’ll be fine,” the strange mare said. She lifted the syringe, and a sharp tap to the spring mechanism ejected the empty glass canister, sending it rolling away on the floor. She set to cleaning it then, with a fresh cloth from her kit and the bottle of clear liquid. “She still needs some care though, so I need you to listen to me, Applejack. Can you do that?”
After a small pause, Applejack nodded,
The mare grinned. “Cool.” She finished putting her tools away before she spoke again, tucking the syringe and the bottle back into her toolkit, and then sliding the kit into her saddlebags. “It will take four to six hours for the medication to take full effect. She’ll be fine then, you understand? She’ll be fine. Nod if you understand.”
Again, Applejack nodded, reaching up to take her hat off her head and holding it to her chest.
“Okay, so for that time—for the next six hours or so—she’ll be very thirsty and hungry. If she’s awake, it’ll be to complain she needs food and water. You have to keep bringing it to her or she won’t heal properly.” The strange mare pointed at the floor, to roughly where the kitchen would be on the level below. “Something easy to digest. Finely ground porridge, say.”
“Right,” Applejack nodded quickly. Her voice was still tight, but she forced herself to speak. “Right, I understand.”
“Some of her hair may fall out, but don’t worry, that is a perfectly normal side effect. It doesn’t mean anything is wrong.” The other mare crossed the room, not stepping around the bed but over it, in a single motion that made Twilight’s eyes burn. Yet, there she was beside Applejack, resting a hoof on the other pony’s shoulder. “Your grandmother will be okay, Applejack. I promise. I promise she doesn’t die today. Do you believe me?”
“I...” Applejack took a breath. “Yes, I...” she craned her neck up, to look the other pony in the eye. “Is that really you, Twi?”
“From about a thousand years from now, yeah.” The strange mare grinned. “It’s a heck of a ride between here and there. But we’ll get to catch up on that later. I’ll be back in about six hours. Granny will be up and walking around by then, so we’ll have some stuff to catch up on. Have some of that cider you make ready, would you? It’s been a long time since I had any.”
“No,” Twilight stepped forward. Her voice was calm, but forceful, and she raised it to be heard clearly over any other conversation. “You’re not going anywhere. I’m becoming less and less convinced you are who you say you are, and there’s something a little too perfect about you showing up to cure a mysterious illness that suddenly appeared this morning. For all I know, you made Granny sick just so you could cure her. We’re going to go see Princess Celestia. Right now.”
“No, we aren’t,” the strange mare said. “There are other ponies in imminent danger. There’s a lot of hospitals in Equestria, and I have to visit every one today. Plus a few more places besides.”
“I wasn’t asking,” Twilight snapped. Her horn came alight, and a bright purple forcefield appeared around the strange mare—a bubble that encased her in all directions. “I don’t know who you are really, but—”
The mare unfolded one long leg, and reached out to Twilight. Her hoof passed through the forcefield without the slightest resistance, tapping Twilight square on the nose. “Boop.”
Twilight froze, until a sharp flick of the other mare’s hoof made her squeak in surprise and sent her stumbling backwards. Her forcefield vanished, and the other mare chuckled.
“Kid, I didn’t bring you along because I needed your permission,” the strange mare said, her voice low and quiet. “We’re on the rails now. All that’s left is for events to unfold just the way they did. But this,” she pointed at the bed, “was something you needed to see. And now there’s something else you need to—”
“Princess Celestia will—” Twilight started to shout, but the other mare waved a hoof, and her voice abruptly vanished. Twilight’s eyes went wide in shock, and she tried to scream, but not so much as a squeak emerged. Applejack stared as well, slowly backing away from the strange mare, and her smile that never faded.
“As I was saying,” the other mare continued. “There’s something you need to see here. Over the next few hours. You’ll be getting a letter from Celestia soon anyway, so feel free to write back. I’ll be along this afternoon to... well. Catch up. Still need to give you your bags, right?” she gestured up at her saddlebags. “Oh, and you can have your voice back and stuff.”
Twilight gasped, the sound of her breath suddenly audible. Immediately she lifted her head, her horn coming alight as she pointed it towards the other mare.
But she was already gone. Where she had stood beside the open window, there was only empty space.
Late that afternoon, Twilight and Applejack sat in Granny Smith’s room. They were by the window, near enough that they could check on Granny at any time, but far enough that there were things to see other than a sick mare. The other alicorn's four hour time limit had come and gone, but neither Twilight nor Applejack could say if Granny was better. She’d awoken an hour after her injection, alert but complaining profusely of hunger and thirst. Those complaints had continued intermittently for two hours, no matter how much porridge or water Twilight and Applejack produced. Granny then fell asleep again, and had remained asleep in the hours since.
Much and little had happened away from her bed. Apple Bloom had come home from school and promptly been sent to her room. Doctor Stable and Big Mac had returned, but the doctor had no diagnosis, and eventually returned to the hospital. Spike had arrived at the farm in a rush, bearing a letter from Princess Celestia. He now waited downstairs with Big Mac, but the letter stuck in Twilight’s mind.
The letter spoke of a mysterious alicorn who claimed to be Twilight, appearing in hospitals across Equestria and giving strange injections to the ill. With self-proclaimed royal authority and self-evident magical might, she had set the pharmacies of Equestria to producing more of her elixir. But what it was, none could say, and every time Celestia attempted to speak with her, the mysterious alicorn vanished moments before she arrived.
Twilight had written back to Celestia at once, telling her everything she knew and urging the sun-princess not to trust the mysterious stranger. But since then, Twilight had heard nothing, and the sun was already growing low in the sky. It had been five hours since the stranger appeared, and Twilight did not know what was happening across Equestria.
Twilight looked at Applejack, and lifted her ears. Applejack nodded and looked to the window, but it had been over an hour since the two had spoken. First they’d traded stories, then they worried, then they cared for Granny Smith, and eventually they ran out of anything to say. At one point, Applejack had put her head down to rest, but sleep had not come.
Twilight fluffed her wings, and looked over at Granny Smith again, when her thoughts were interrupted by Applejack’s voice.
“Why is it you didn’t trust her?” Applejack asked, and Twilight’s head quickly turned. “When she first showed up, I mean.”
Twilight paused, and then shrugged. “She doesn't look like me.”
“That’s it?” Applejack glanced back at the bed briefly, then back to Twilight. “She’s too tall?”
“I think if a pony claims to be me, it’s reasonable to expect she actually look like me,” Twilight snapped, her tail lifting as a defensive edge came to her words.
“Woah, woah. I was... just asking. Sorry.” Applejack tipped her hat Twilight’s way. “Didn’t mean nothin’ by it.”
“No...” Twilight sighed. “I’m sorry. I shouldn't have snapped. It’s only...”
“I understand. We both got reason to be stressed right now.” Applejack nodded to Twilight, and Twilight smiled weakly in return. They lapsed into silence again, and Applejack joined Twilight in staring out the window. It was perhaps half a minute before she spoke: “She does look like you though.”
“No she doesn’t. It just seems that way because our coats are the same color.” Twilight brushed aside the comment with a hoof. “But pretend you’re colorblind and look at our faces. We’re nothing alike.”
“Not to tell you the shape of your own body, Twi, but I ain’t sure that’s true.” Applejack looked over at Twilight, who soon mirrored the gesture. “I mean, yeah, y’ain’t mirror images or anything. But... well. Shucks. I know Rainbow’s teased ya a bit about how much taller you’ve gotten since you got those wings.”
“Like an inch taller,” Twilight insisted.
“An inch in a year,” Applejack pointed out. “And you do...” She gestured at Twilight’s face with a hoof. “I mean, Rarity would say you look aristocratic.”
“Yes, okay?” Twilight insisted, snorting sharply and turning back to the window. “I’ve been flying a lot, so I’ve been getting more exercise, so yes , I’m a bit thinner and it’s showing on my face. That doesn’t mean I’m going to... end up like that . And growing an inch in a year does not prove I’ll keep growing. By that logic, you’d look at a puppy and say that in ten years it’ll be the size of town hall!”
“I know! I know, Twi. I ain’t saying that’s what you’ll end up looking like. It just... could be that way, you know? Fits the facts and such. Can’t...” She looked over at Twilight, whose gaze resolutely remained at the window. “Can’t rule it out.”
Twilight waited a few seconds before she answered, folding back her ears slowly. “She’s not me, Applejack,” she finally said. “I know that’s what you want to hear. I understand why. And I do hope, whoever she is, that she wants to help Granny. But she’s not me.”
“But how do you know?” Applejack struck her hoof to the floor to emphasize her words, leaning in closer to Twilight.
“Because she doesn’t act like me, Applejack!” Twilight snapped, pushing her muzzle forward right back, “She doesn’t act like me at all. And because I remember this little incident with Canterlot and a wedding and an army of shapeshifters. Do you remember that? Remember what happened the last time my ‘something’s not right here’ alarm went off and you insisted we ignore it?”
Applejack slowly pulled away, and her tail tucked in between her legs. “Yeah, I remember. But this is different and—”
“No, Applejack. It isn’t different.” Twilight’s words were harsh, but after a moment, she moderated her tone and reached out to take Applejack’s hoof in hers. “I can’t imagine how you must be feeling right now. I know you want to believe it’s true. But you saw what she did when I interrupted her. You saw how she talked and moved.There’s something about her. From the moment I saw her, she didn’t feel right. I felt...” Twilight frowned. “Repulsed. There’s something wrong with her.”
“What is it?” Applejack frowned.
“I don’t know. A feeling?” Twilight shrugged. “I’ve already told you all the specific things that were suspicious about her. But it was just something... off.”
“Do you think something will be... off , with Granny?” Applejack swallowed. “When whatever that was is done?”
“I don’t know, Applejack. I’m sorry, but I really don’t.” Twilight looked at her friend, and leaned forward, and soon the two were embraced in a tight hug. Twilight sniffled, squeezed her friend, and said, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I let things come to this point. I hope Granny Smith is okay.”
“It’s okay, sugarcube. I know you did your best,” Applejack said, and again, the two lapsed into a lasting silence.
They sat there for nearly twenty minutes before anything else happened. The blankets rustled on the bed, then again.
“Hey, Granny,” Applejack called. “You need more water?” Both she and Twilight rose and moved up to the bed, but Granny did not answer. She was still asleep, but in the short time since Twilight and Applejack had last checked on her, much had changed. Her hair was falling out in clumps. Long white hairs and short green ones lay scattered over the pillow and sheets, matching the bare patches on Granny Smith’s head, tail, and sides. Even as they watched, a clump of her tail simply fell off, hanging askance from the other hairs before drifting to the floor.
“Hey, Granny,” Applejack repeated, her voice trembling. “You awake?”
“She’s not awake,” Twilight said gently, reaching out to rest her hoof over Applejack’s. “Come on, let’s... clear this hair off her. Take a look at her.”
Applejack nodded, and together, the two removed the blankets and started sweeping the fallen hairs away. In the few minutes it took them to finish, the rest of Granny’s hair fell out, leaving her bald as a plucked chicken. Applejack sniffled quietly, but kept working even as tears formed in her eyes. She diligently continued sweeping and cleaning the bed, even as her sides started to shake, and the tears rolled down her face. It wasn’t until Twilight touched her shoulder that she stopped. Then they embraced, and with her head buried in Twilight’s shoulder, Applejack cried.
There they stayed for some time, as Applejack allowed Twilight to ply her with sweet and hollow reassurances. Until eventually, Applejack’s ears perked up.
“Hey. Look!” she said, sniffling as she tried to get her voice under control. “Peach fuzz.” Twilight followed Applejack’s eyes, and saw that Granny’s pale tan skin was turning an off-green, not from any sickness, but from the little hairs that were already emerging. The fuzz around her head, neck, and dock was golden instead of green, showing the distinctive pattern of a mane and tail. “That’s good! She’s recovering.”
“Yeah...” Twilight said slowly. “But why is it yellow?”
“Huh?” Applejack looked over at her friend.
“Her mane. Why is it yellow? Granny’s hair is white,” Twilight said, pointing at the mare before them with the tip of a hoof.
“Oh,” Applejack sighed, a smile appearing on her face. “It used to be yellow back in the day. A real golden-blonde she said. I reckon whatever other-Twi gave her is just... making it come back in its healthy color.”
Twilight turned her head to glance at Applejack, but said nothing, and turned back to Granny a moment later. She lifted a hoof, and pressed it to Granny’s side, and frowned. “Something is wrong with her skin.”
Applejack mirrored Twilight’s motion, pressing her hoof against Granny’s ribs, and then turning her ankle to brush carefully. “Feels healthy to me,” she said after a moment.
“That’s what’s wrong,” Twilight said. “A pony’s skin shouldn't feel healthy at that age. It should feel... weak. Like paper that’s easily torn. I remember when I was little, and my grandfather felt that way.”
Applejack frowned, and repeated her feeling gesture. “Well... other-Twi did say that she was suffering from a plague. Maybe that was a symptom all along and we never knew it.”
“She’s not another me,” Twilight said. “Call her... whatever you like. But not that.”
“Well,” Applejack said, putting her hoof on the floor. “We’ll see, won’t we? She’s getting some proper color back already.”
And she did get her proper color back. It was only a few minutes before peach fuzz was a short but passable coat, topped by a golden mane in what seemed a boyish buzz-cut. Her wrinkled skin grew taut, and her jowls faded as the flesh adhered closer to her cheeks. The swelling around her joints faded away, as did the stretch marks along her belly. In her sleep, Granny stretched and twisted her legs, and a profusion of pops and cracks came forth. But the sounds soon faded, and her legs moved more easily. Blood ran from her mouth, but when Applejack and Twilight pried open her jaw to see if she’d bitten her tongue again, they found she was bleeding from the gums, where a new row of white teeth could be seen forcing their way out.
At first, Applejack and Twilight commented upon these things to each other. But as the changes crew more extreme, they lapsed into silence, and simply watched. Granny Smith’s motions grew more agitated as time went on, until eventually, her eyes flew open and she sat up sharply.
“What happened!?” she shouted, eyes wide. She was soaked with sweat, and her breathing came in quick and shallow gasps. She looked all around the room like she didn’t know where she was, until her eyes settled on Applejack. “Applejack? What...”
“How you feeling, Granny?” Applejack asked, leaning forward as Twilight did the same. Both of them peered at Granny Smith’s face, but all they could see in her expression was a hint of confusion.
Granny Smith paused before answering, looking down at her legs and the bright green skin there. “I gotta pee like a racehorse,” she answered, brusquely, hauling herself out of bed and trotting around to the bathroom door by the bedside. She left the door half ajar, and through it, Twilight could hear the tap come on. She and Applejack looked at each other, waiting in silence as they heard the toilet flush. Then they heard water splash, a scrubbing and a loud hiss. Then the faucet turned off, and the door opened the rest of the way.
The pony who emerged from the bathroom door was unknown to Twilight. She couldn’t have been over twenty, and if she was a day under it, it was surely to tempt older stallions to ruin. She was short but fit, with a lime-green coat and a bright golden mane, cropped close around her ears. Her eyes were a bright and lively orange, and her ears came to two sharp tips above her head. Her cutie mark—an apple pie—stood out in contrast to her natural colors, her short coat making the image appear crisp and sharp. She stopped then, and stared at Applejack and Twilight. Applejack and Twilight stared back at her.
“Well, if you two will excuse me,” Granny Smith said, turning and promptly walking out into the hall. Twilight and Applejack looked at each other quickly, and then took off after her, following her through the hall and down the main stair. Granny breezed through the kitchen without slowing down, trotting past a stunned Spike and Big Mac with nothing more than a, “Gentlemen.” Then she shoved out the kitchen door, picking up her pace and trotting off into the yard.
Twilight watched her from the doorframe, Applejack, Big Mac, and Spike not far behind. While the three behind her joined into a hushed conversation, Twilight took a hesitant step forward, and then walked up alongside Granny. She had stopped about a dozen paces out into the yard, and was looking out over the orchard beyond.
“Granny Smith, I...” Twilight looked behind her to the house, and then back to the pony in front of her. “How are you feeling?”
“Princess,” Granny Smith said, glancing at Twilight and then back to the farm. For a little while, she didn’t elaborate on that, flicking her stub of a tail back and forth. Finally she continued, “Am I dead?”
She continued before Twilight could reply. “Because I remember suddenly getting the most powerful headache, and then I fell, and it all started to go funny.” Her voice grew strained, and she swallowed. “And now I’m feeling things that can’t possibly be real. I look like I’m supposed to, again. And the farm.” Her voice cracked, and she swallowed. “I ain’t seen it this clear in years. Not in a long time.”
Tears formed in Granny’s eyes, running down her cheeks. As Applejack and Big Mac emerged from the house, making their way up behind her, Twilight reached out to pat her shoulder. “You’re uh...” She stumbled over her words, swallowing. “No, you’re not dead. You’re not... dead, Granny. But I don’t know what’s going on. I don’t know. So you need to come back inside. We can get the doctor and see what he thinks.”
“I think I’ve spent enough time with doctors, Princess.” Granny Smith reached up to rub the tears from her eyes, turning to look at Applejack on her opposite side. “Applejack. Big Mac. Lands sake, you two grew up to be some beautiful young ponies, you know that? Your parents couldn't have been prouder.” She reached out, pulling the two of them into a tight hug and squeezing them against her. Both were caught off-guard, but returned the hug after a moment.
“Of course, Granny. We know that...” Applejack said slowly. Granny pulled out of the hug, and though her cheeks were still stained with tears, she smiled up at her two grandchildren.
“Good. You should know that,” she said. She sniffled, and then pulled back another step. “Well, I’m going to go for a walk around the barnyard. Stretch these legs.”
“Granny, I ain’t sure that’s such a good idea.” Applejack stiffly adjusted her hat. “We still don’t know what’s happening, and—”
“Fiddlesticks!” Granny replied. “It’ll be fun. Don’t wait up.” Without another word, she turned and broke into a trot, heading out onto the farm. Applejack, Twilight, and Big Mac all exchanged a quick look, and again took after her.
“Granny, wait!” Applejack shouted, but the other mare put on a burst of speed in response, accelerating from a trot to a gallop. Like a pony possessed, she shot out into the orchard, weaving between trees and leaping over fences or obstructions. So fast was she, that even Applejack and Big Mac started to fall behind, and Twilight was forced to use her wings, taking to the air. Thus advantaged, she quickly outstripped both Applejack and Big Mac, catching up with Granny as she wove through the trees. There was a strange sound coming from her, a noise that Twilight only heard when she got close.
It was laughter. Granny was laughing.
“Catch me if you can, Princess!” she shouted over her shoulder, taking a hard left turn and leaping over the fence to the adjacent carrot farm. Her course was erratic, weaving left and right with no obvious destination in mind, dragging her three pursuers through the carrot fields. It was only when one of the barns came into sight that her meandering course straightened, aiming directly for a wagon parked in the yard. It was being attended by one of the carrot farm’s hired hooves—a soft, brown pony by the name of Caramel. He started as Granny Smith sprinted up to him, screeching to a halt with Twilight and company only seconds behind.
“I have always thought,” she said to him, barely audible to Twilight above. “That you were a very handsome young stallion.”
“Uh... thank y—” Caramel said, before Granny grabbed him with both forehooves and pulled him down into a passionate kiss. His eyes wide wide, and his ears and tail shot up as he stood frozen to the spot.
“Stop by sometime?” Granny asked, eliciting a round of incoherent stammering from Caramel, and much the same reaction from Applejack and Big Mac. It was Twilight who pushed forward, and physically separated the two.
“No! No, Caramel. No, Granny! No... you’re... Granny. You’re unwell ,” Twilight said, the firmness in her voice rising sharply and tinged with anger. “You need to come back to the house with us. Now . We need to find out what’s wrong and—”
“I don’t think anything’s wrong,” a voice sharply cut into the conversation. Twilight, Applejack, Granny, Big Mac, and Caramel all looked up to the roof of the nearby barn. There, the strange mare could be seen, grinning down at all of them. On her high perch, her thin frame and large wings made her seem almost like a statue—an artist’s elongated representation of a pony, designed to emphasize lightness and motion. It was an emphasis that became clear when she lept from the roof-top and—steering with her wings—landed beside the little group.
“In fact,” she continued, as she folded her wings. “I think she looks more right than she has in a long time. So how about we trust her judgement that she knows what’s best for her?”
“What are you doing here?” Twilight demanded, now with naked hostility in her voice.
“I said I’d be back, didn’t I?” she asked, unmoved by Twilight’s anger. “My spell gives me a few hours here—I’ve got a good twenty, thirty minutes left.” She slid her saddlebags off her barrel, and undid the clasp with a sharp twist. They fell to the ground, obviously empty, and a moment later, the injector syringe landed in the ground beside them, sticking into the dirt point-first like a dart. “As promised.”
“Stuff your gifts! Tell us what you did to Granny. No more lies. There is no plague! Why are you really here!? Tell me!” Twilight shouted, and her horn came alight, but her alter-ego only laughed. Like it was all some big joke.
“Well, if that’s what you want. We’ve got some time to chat.” She turned to Applejack, still with that grin on her face. “Hey, did you get that cider I asked for?”
“Uh...” Applejack stammered, looking back towards the distant apple farm. “It’s back at the house...”
“That’s fine,” the strange mare agreed. Her horn began to glow, and in a flash of light, she, Twilight, and Applejack all vanished.
The strange mare lifted the mug of cider to her lips, taking a slow and careful sip. She seemed to savor it, shutting her eyes as she took it in. She drank only a small amount, and then let out a long breath, lowering her mug to the table. Her eyes remained shut for a few seconds more, and she sniffed at the top of the mug.
“It’s been so long, I’d forgotten what it tasted like,” she said, opening her eyes and taking another sip. “It’s good though. You stop making it in about... what? Two hundred years? Ponyville had other cider makers by then, but...” She shrugged. “It wasn’t the same.”
“Well I’m glad you’re enjoying it,” Applejack said, though her tone was hesitant. The three were seated about Applejack’s kitchen table—Applejack by the cider barrel, Twilight to her left, and then the strange mare—the rail-thin, unnaturally light creature that claimed to be Twilight, her wide feathered wings resting spread by her side. After teleporting them all back to the house, she had insisted on the cider, and Applejack had agreed over Twilight’s objections. Thus it was that the three came to be seated around the table, with Twilight glaring at the strange mare, while Applejack kept a flatter expression.
“Okay, you’ve had your stupid cider. Now mind telling us who you really are?” Twilight snapped.
“Kid, I know we’re going to have an argument, but—’”
“Stop calling me ‘Kid’!” The anger in Twilight’s voice only intensified, and the strange mare hesitated a moment, the edges of a frown appearing on her face.
“Well, I can’t call you ‘Twilight,’” the strange mare said. “It feels weird. That’s my name.”
“The heck it is. If you were me, you wouldn’t have had to make up some phony plague,” Twilight’s lip curled back as she glared across the table. “All you’ve done since you showed up is lie.”
“I haven’t lied to you once...” The strange mare paused a moment as she gestured at Twilight, finally settling on, “Original-Flavor-Twilight. That cool?” Twilight’s glare didn’t waver, and the strange mare laughed. “For starters, a plague isn’t just a disease. It’s any widespread affliction or evil. Like a plague of locust? A plague of desolation? Well, Equestria was suffering from a plague of aging.” She gently lowered her hoof back, and leaned forward to look Twilight in the eye.
“It’s definitely an affliction,” she affirmed, fixing her eyes on Twilight. “And it’s unquestionably evil. I told you that if we let it, it would kill mom, and it would kill dad, and it would kill Spike, and it would kill all our friends. And it would have.” She let out a breath. “But we kill it first. I struck the first blow today.” She tapped her chest. “Stabbed it through the heart with a stainless steel spear. But there’s fighting left. That will be your job.”
“You’re nitpicking,” Twilight hissed, unmoved. “You knew I’d misunderstand, and I bet most of the other ponies you spun that story to did as well. Even if you didn’t lie , you willfully deceived us.”
“I did not,” the strange mare replied firmly. “No more than Princess Celestia did when she told us to come to Ponyville to make some friends. I presented the information to you in a way you’d understand.”
“And I’m supposed to believe that?” Twilight demanded. “That it was all for my own good?”
“Not for your own good, no. We’re already immortal.” The strange mare chuckled. “But we do care about other ponies. And it’s easy to prove what I did was for their own good. Just wait and see. Nopony dies of natural causes tomorrow. Or the day after that. Or, ever. Because I cheated, and got the old hospital records. So I knew just who to visit, and exactly how many doses I needed.” She vaguely waved in the the direction of the window. “I also knew what pharmacists to talk too. Who had the resources on hoof to make more. Some of them needed persuasion, so I gave them tomorrow’s lottery numbers.” She smiled. “Fun, right?”
“Manipulation and bribery aren’t my idea of fun . Now tell me who you are!” Twilight’s horn started to glow, but the strange mare only took another sip of cider. “Don’t you ignore me. Tell me. Tell me!”
Twilight lowered her horn to point directly at the strange mare, but Applejack quickly reached across the table and pushed her back. “Twilight, no! We won’t get any answers that way and you know it.”
Slowly, the glow faded from Twilight’s horn and she sat back behind the table. The hostile intent remained clear on her face though—her earlier glare having rarefied into something toxic. The strange mare frowned when she saw Twilight’s expression, but after a moment, she turned to Applejack. “Go ahead then.”
“What’s wrong with Granny Smith?” Applejack asked, directly. “Ever since she got back up, she’s been acting funny. Strange and impulsive.”
“Part of it is that she’s recovering from a stroke,” the strange mare said, calmly. “Part of it is that she’s been through a heck of a shock and is probably still in a daze. Part of it is that she went from having eighty-year old hormones to being a fit young mare in only a few hours, so that’s where that impulsiveness comes from.”
She raised her cider to Applejack, and her grin returned. “You know, she ends up marrying him a few years from now?” She glanced to the window. “Part of restarting her life. Starting fresh.”
“So... she’ll be okay?” Applejack asked, slowly. “She’ll be back to normal?”
“She’ll definitely be okay, yes,” the strange mare nodded firmly. “As for normal? Well, she’ll be a normal twenty year old, so I imagine that will take some getting used to. But things sort themselves out soon enough.”
“And you think that justifies what you did?” Twilight asked.
“Do I think saving Granny Smith’s life justifies telling you a half-truth and bruising your ego?” the strange mare replied, looking at the table and swirling her mug. Then she looked back to Twilight. “Yes, actually, I do. And so do you, because you’re not self-absorbed enough to think your pride is worth more than other’s lives. Unless I’ve grievously misremembered what I was like at that age.”
Twilight looked like she might yell again, her fire seemed to waver, and she lowered her ears. “Please...” she said quietly. “Just tell me why you lied to me. A straight answer.”
“Fine. Straight answer,” the strange mare said, her smile fading. “Because you’d have tried to stop me.”
“Because you’re about to turn Equestrian society upside down,” Twilight said, and while her voice remained quiet, some of that fire returned. “You’re going to destroy the social fabric. There will be chaos, and... and worse things I don’t want to think about.”
“I said that I was giving you a war, didn’t I?” the strange mare said. “That there were things you needed to see? When the chaos comes, there will be ponies who... say we have no right.” Her voice dropped, and became quiet. “That it’s natural. That’s it’s the way things should be. There will be a lot of ponies who say that. And the only way...”
She cleared her throat, and her voice picked up. “The only way I got through it was to remember today. The blood, the spasms. The terror on Applejack’s face when she saw it all happen. I remembered that if I lost, that’s what I’d be subjecting all the ponies of Equestria to.” She shook her head. “It’s a rough transition period. But Equestria has Celestia, and Luna, and us. We do good work, and it’s not half as bad as it could have been. I’m confident that I’ve saved more lives than I’ve taken. A lot more.”
“You can’t just decide that for all of Equestria,” Twilight insisted, her gaze going down to the table.
“We’re Princesses, kid,” the strange mare said, firmly. “Deciding things for all of Equestria is literally our job. And even if that wasn’t true, what’s the alternative? Keep the cure from ponies? Only give it to some of them? Or was I supposed to ration it out? Decide who lives and who dies? Who is worthy of getting to live?” She smirked. “I’ve changed a little since I was you, but not that much. That’s not us. Not ever.”
“So why did you do it this way?” Twilight demanded. “If you’re really me from the future, you must have known we were going to fight like this. Why would you make me so mad at you—”
“Because you,” the strange mare pointed, “have not even started to get mad at me. Right now, you’re just pissy. But by the end of this conversation?” She let out a breath, and looked down into her cider. “By the end of this conversation, you are going to hate me. Actually hate. Pure...” she smirked. “Pure and unadulterated contempt.”
“Find that funny do you?” Twilight snapped.
“I’m watching my younger self throw a temper tantrum. What’s not funny?” the strange mare shook her head and took a sip of her cider. “Kid, I’m sorry. I know it sucks to be you right now. But, eventually... you get over it. I got over it. This is the past for me now. I spent a long time wondering what it was going to be like on this side of the conversation. Wondering how I turned into that mare. But... well. I’ve found peace with it. Our life isn’t so bad.”
“What is it you say then?” Twilight asked. “That makes me hate you so much?”
“Spoilers,” the other mare laughed again, and looked up at the ceiling. “We’ll get to it in a second. No need to rush it. It’s one of those things. My memory is really sharp, but it’s been a long time. I remember that Applejack’s cider was good, but I couldn't actually remember the taste . I remember why we fought, and more or less what we said, but the conversation...” She shrugs. “I mean, it’s not like I know what you’re going to say word for word.”
“What happens?” Applejack interjected, both alicorns turning sharply as they suddenly remembered there was a third pony in the room. “What... happens to Equestria? To us?”
“The next decade is tough,” the strange mare nodded to Applejack. “Ponies... well, they don’t know what to expect. They’ve got old relatives showing up like new. Ponies with rich parents whose inheritance they realize they are never getting. Heck, even here. Think of what it’s going to be like to have Granny pulling that plow right alongside you.” She tapped the table. “Now multiply that by one country.”
“How...” Applejack looked to Twilight and then back, her ears folded halfway back. “How bad does it get?”
“Well, the princesses don’t get much sleep.” The strange mare chuckled. “And there is a bit of... ah. Rioting these next few years. Town hall gets burned down. Like I said, the next decade is tough. But after that, things start to settle down. Stabilize. Ponies see the good news. You all do okay and uh...” She nodded to Applejack. “You meet a pony in the bucket brigade.”
“What... sort of pony?” Applejack spoke slowly, looking up into the tall alicorn’s eyes.
“A stallion.” She lifted her hoof to hide a giggle. “Who I am instructed to describe to you as, quote, ‘As sensitive and nurturing as he is amazing in bed,’ end quote.”
“W-what?” Applejack blushed, and her ears perked up. “Uh... what’s his name? What’s he look like?”
“Oh, gosh, AJ.” The strange mare bit her lip, and slowly shook her head. “I know you like it better when the ending is a surprise. You’ll just have to find out on your own.”
“Well, come on!” Applejack sat up straight. “You gotta give me more than that! Do I marry him, or is he just a fling, or what?” A small smile appeared on her own features.
Abruptly, Twilight’s hoof slammed into the table. “She doesn’t know who you’re going to marry, AJ.” Both mares turned to look at her, and she snorted sharply. “I’ve heard fortune tellers with more specific predictions.”
“Twilight...” Applejack reached over to her friend. “Sugarcube, I know this is rough, but I’m pretty sure she’s you. If you stop and think about it—”
“If you stop and think about it, she’s fed you a steady stream of what-you-want-to-hear ever since this conversation started!” Twilight’s tail lashed. “You want to believe Granny Smith is going to be okay, so you’re letting her delude you like a cheap con-artist! You’re the Element of Honesty, and she’s already admitted she’s a liar!”
“Twilight, that’s enough!” Applejack stood up, and leaned in close to her friend. “I get it. You don’t like her. But you’ve been snorting fire ever since she showed up, and that’s not like you! It ain’t like you to get this riled up, so maybe—”
Somewhere in the house, a door slammed, and Applejack trailed off as she looked for the source of the sound. A few moments later, Apple Bloom stuck her head in from around the corner. “Uh... Applejack? Are you...” Her eyes went up to the strange mare, and her words stuck in her throat. “Uh... hello.”
“Oh,” the strange mare put her mug down. “Oh my goodness. You are so cute! I’d forgotten how adorable you were at that age!” With a gleeful smile on her face, she skipped across the room, coming to a neat landing next to Apple Bloom. “You’re like a pony, only tinier!”
“I... guess...” Apple Bloom said, backing away slowly, her voice wavering and uncertain. “I needed to talk to Applejack about... Granny. And what’s happening. Nopony has told me anything.”
“Oh, right. Of course. Granny is fine. Fit as a fiddle!” The strange mare said, with an overly sweet tone, reaching down to ruffle Apple Bloom’s mane. “Hey, while I’m here, do you want to know what your cutie mark turns out to be? That’s a big deal to foals, right? I remember that being a thing.”
“Uh... sure?” Apple Bloom said slowly, narrowing her eyes and taking a half-step back.
The strange mare noticed Apple Bloom’s expression, and quickly backed away herself. “Oh!” she laughed stiffly. “Sorry, uh... I’m spooking you, aren’t I?”
“Little bit.” Apple Bloom let out a nervous laugh herself. “Yeah.”
“Well, I don’t mean to, I’m sorry. I just—you uh... caught me a little bit off guard. Everything is really just—”
“You don’t seem very comfortable around children.” Twilight’s voice cut into the conversation sharply. Her alter-ego turned back to the table, to find Twilight standing with her wings spread, and her horn alight and crackling. “So, your medicine. It causes sterility?”
“No,” the strange mare replied. She paused for a moment as Applejack darted across the space between the two of them, grabbing Apple Bloom. Applejack shoved her through the door, slamming it behind her and holding it from the kitchen side. “Granny actually has a foal next year.”
Ignoring Apple Bloom’s kicking and demands to be let back in, Twilight advanced a step. “Then explain .”
“Oh come off it. You already know.” The strange mare shook her head. “Overpopulation. Nopony ever dies , except in freak accidents and the occasional suicide. If we didn’t curb population growth, the planet would be stripped bare.”
“So...” Applejack swallowed. “How do ponies... have...”
“There’s a lottery,” the strange mare explained. “Would-be parents put their names in, and every time somepony dies, there’s a drawing. There’s a lot of resistance to it at first, but when the population hits about fifteen times the current level, ponies come to their senses.”
“How do you enforce it?” Twilight demanded. “Drugs? Punitive laws?”
“Magic,” the strange mare said, her horn briefly sparking. “It takes all four princesses working together to enchant all of Equestria, but we make it so that—”
“Stop,” Twilight said. Her gaze went down to the floor, and the sparks in her horn faded. She looked nauseous, and the downward shift in her tone made it sound like she was sick already. “Stop talking.”
“I told you you’d hate me before we were done,” the strange mare said slowly. “I know it hurts right now. And I know you’re about to fight me. But when you stop and think about it—”
“You’re not me,” Twilight said, lifting her head again. Her eyes were wet, but focused, narrowed in on the strange mare across from her. “You’re not me. I don’t know... who you are. Or what your game is. Or how you know so much. But I’m the Princess of Friendship, and you’re a monster . Just the way you talk about... the way you talk about rulership makes it clear you don’t even know the difference between a Princess and a tyrant. And...”
Twilight drew a breath, and let it out. “And you’re a liar. You lied because it was convenient . You lied because it was easy . You didn’t hesitate to use force to get your way. You’re manipulative, and proud of it. You’re vain. You’re arrogant. And worst of all, you’re cruel .” Twilight jabbed a hoof outside, pointing to the yard where they’d all stood a few minutes ago.
“The way you were lounging on that roof? Just watching and smirking while our lives fell apart. Like a cross between a gargoyle and a jaguar deciding which antelope to kill. You enjoyed seeing the pain on my face. On Applejack’s face.” Twilight drew a shaky breath. “You lorded your power over me, over us, at every chance. And now you think I’m going to sit here and listen as you talk about riots, and anarchy, and sterilizing the population? Because I have no choice? Because we’re on the rails? Well you’re wrong. I do have a choice. And I won’t let this happen!”
Twilight lowered her head, and her horn shone brilliantly. “Because I’m a real Princess, and I will never, ever , turn into YOU!”
Twilight snarled as she let out a blast of purple energy at the strange mare. It was as bright a beam as she had ever fired—a pencil-thin ray of energy as bright as the sun, streaking across the little kitchen in a fraction of a second. It struck the strange mare in the side of the neck, right where her needle had pierced Granny Smith’s skin.
The beam bounced off, lancing upwards and vaporizing a chunk of the ceiling.
Through the door, Apple Bloom screamed and ran, shouting for Big Mac as she fled the house. Wide-eyed, Applejack backed away as well, opening the door behind her and slowly retreating into the next room. Neither alicorn took any notice of these events. They had eyes only for each other, gazes locked across the little room. Twilight was breathing heavily, almost panting with the exertion. Bits of ceiling plaster, ashes and sawdust rained down on her from above, and after a moment, the shattered remains of a chair landed on the table beside her. The strange mare was calm, and still, but she wasn’t smiling. Her face had turned down into a hard frown, and her ears had pulled back.
“Can’t say I enjoyed that,” she finally spoke, quieter than she had before. “You know these moments are coming, but you forget... all the details. You forget just how it stung. And you want to make it better. Soften the blow. But there’s nothing you can do to avoid it.”
She looked down at her cider, and finished it with one long sip, placing the mug back on the table. “I know that you hate me right now. You hate me more than anything. But you know why we end up this way, kid? Because when you have a chance to... change this. You realize that changing it means killing ponies. That the war I’ve handed you isn’t one you have to fight. You can walk away from it at any time. You can be the mare you want to be. Because you get to live forever, screw everypony else.”
The strange mare looked up at the ceiling, watching the smouldering hole. “But that’s not us. Not ever. So you do fight it. And you win. But the war changes you. And one day you realize that you’re not the pony you were. That you’ve turned into me and... well. That’s not a happy day. But we come to terms with it. With the help of our friends.” She let out a humorless half-laugh, but the sound died after a time. The strange mare’s ears folded back, and the stared at Twilight in silence.
“They never abandon us,” she finally said. After a moment, she sniffled, and shifted her tail unsteadily. “So you know, it’s not so bad.”
A faint whine filled the air, and lightning crackled over the strange mare’s skin. She looked down as white light surrounded her, a whine gradually building as the energy of her spell reversed itself.
“But if you don’t like...” She paused. “If you don’t like what I am, kid? Then change it. It’s your future. You make it with your actions. You... decide who you wanna be. If what I am disgusts you? Fight against it. Try to fix it.”
Slowly, the trace of a smile returned to her face. “I did when I was your age.”
The whine rose in intensity, growing, building as the magical flows pulled back the way they had come. Until finally, in a brilliant flash of light, future-Twilight vanished.
