A Story of Numbers, Calculations, and Betrayal
The world erupted in verdant fire. What wasn't dead or dying was wiped away, trampled beneath the horde of grass and blossoms as it spread across Equestria. The old regime was falling, and only in the smaller towns, like Appeloosa and Ponyville, could one hear the last warbles of its rallying cry. As night turned into day, winter shriveled up and blossomed into spring.
Twilight's study was open to the world outside, but only through the tiny portcullis that served as her window. Tender breezes wafted into the room, bringing with them the scent of fresh-baked bread and blooming flowers. Beyond the dim glow of her sanctuary, all the sounds of a town rousing from hibernation could be heard. Laughing foals, the squeak of worn carts as they barreled through the streets, and the perpetual, dull murmur of a crowd.
Every part of her wanted to be there. For a second, the walls fell away, and she was there. Rainbow Dash and Applejack were chatting amiably over the last drivels of the prior year's cider harvest. Sooner or later, the bragging would begin, and they would both be raring for another contest of skill. Fluttershy was doing her best to herd tiny flocks of critters through the throng of ponies, and was trying doubly hard to keep her eyes open the whole way. Rarity was just offering to take her out to lunch--her treat, as always: a lady of her stature couldn't be too generous. She would be half-way through her entrée when the topic of her spring line came up, and of course she was willing to discuss details with such a close friend, never mind that half of her upcoming line was still wrapped around cardboard tubes, waiting to be sewn together.
And Pinkie Pie would be doing whatever Pinkie Pie does best. She was unpredictable at best, and intentionally misleading at worst. The only certainty--aside from uncertainty--is the inclusion of one or more party cannons, a rubber duck, and ten-pounds of confetti and cupcake icing.
"But that's not today," moaned Twilight. She cast her eyes to the veritable mountain-range of paper that sat atop her desk. Hills and valleys roiled like a white-washed sea with every change in the wind. Occasionally, one or a couple sheets of paper would be feeling particularly cheeky, and decided to fling themselves unto the mercy of the wind, much to Twilight's chagrin.
It was hard enough to read the papers when they were situated neatly in front of her. Forcing her to fetch errant pieces of document every few minutes only added to her frustration. Closing the window simply wasn't an option: the native stench of the room had only fermented with the change of fall into winter, to the point where, if the shutters were fastened and the breeze was null, it would become unbearable.
No, the beast took wing whenever it could, but she would be content to fight it on its own terms. Quills stood at the ready, their tips already sitting in tubs of inky black...ink. A quick exertion on her part brought the unruly papers into a neat stack. She wished for a binding big enough to cage it, but nothing this side of Equestria would even come close. No matter; she knew of a perfectly good paperweight that wasn't doing anything.
"Spike!"
Like the well-trained mook he was, Spike poked his head through the door. He was, at first, taken aback by the room's unique odor, but a simple nose-plugging made the perfect remedy.
"Yes, Twilight?"
"Can you get me that paperweight over there?" A deft flick of her hoof brought his eyes to rest upon an old, discarded rock. This rock had a history of making spectacular entrances wherever it chanced to go. Its first foray had been into the house of one Filthy Rich, where it took no prisoners, brokered no bargains, and shattered every bone and glass object it touched. How it ended up in her house was one of life's small mysteries, but she didn't chance leaving it alone--or worse, releasing it into the wild, after which point it might decide to turn on her, and fling itself through the most expensive window on the premises.
Spike dutifully fetched the rock, and unceremoniously dropped it onto Twilight's desk. They both shuddered at the loud reverberations, and Twilight feared the worst for her poor desk. Thankfully, crystal was much stronger than its synthetic counterpart, and it took the brunt of the rock's force with much more grace.
"Thanks. I thought I'd have to get up for a minute there." Spike rolled his eyes, and skulked out of the room.
"I said thank you!" From some far-off place, several clones of Twilight Sparkle joined in the fun of shouting. This is a phenomenon in physics-circles that is known as an 'echo'. At least, that's what Celestia always said, and there was never a reason to mistrust the words of her sagely instructor. Besides, the "theory" of Multibody Harassment was nothing more than a crackpot doodle that had grown in the seeded corners of the imagination: there was no proof to corroborate the notion that several copies of yourself would yell back at you from unseen corners, in an effort to drain your sanity (or make you mute).
Meanwhile, somewhere else
"She doesn't suspect a thing, Sir," grunted the first. This was good, and his slow nod was enough to spark some semblance of a smile on the first crony's face. After that scare a couple of years ago, the Ministry had been on high-alert. How that pony managed to piece it together was anyone's guess, but by some stroke of divine luck, his findings were being discredited left and right. Pretty soon, they would have him.
"And then--" cackled the hooded figure, "--the world!"
"Did you say something, Boss?"
"No. Shut up, before you give us away." He turned to face his second-in-command. "Everypony is to return to their standard patrols. The invasion has been a thousand-thousand years in the making, and we're almost nearly there, now. We haven't come all this way to mess up in the final stretch. File another report under 'Sparkle, Twilight' and let that be the end of it."
Back in Ponyville...
"I...I think I've got it!" The figure sitting at the desk only bore a rudimentary resemblance to Twilight Sparkle. The purple coloration of her mane and coat were streaked with black and red stripes, the bangs that were her only pride and joy (Spike, too, of course) had been replaced with something more functional for battle, and countless band-aids formed an impromptu maze on her face and hooves.
But, it was all worth it. All those minutes of hoof-cramps and paper cuts, and the days of requisite material she had to study had all led to one, triumphant conclusion. The filled form seemed to glint in the light of the sun, though that might have just been her eyeballs violently retching from the lack of sleep.
"Was I married in the last year?" she murmured to herself. "No!"
"Did I have any foals in the last year? No!"
"Do I have any statement of income from the last year, form double-you two? No!"
"Did I file for federal aide in the last year?" Her voice had grown from a dulcet whisper into a gutteral roar. "No!"
"Did I sell my house? Did I have any unplanned expenditures? Did I install a new, eco-friendly furnace/air-conditioner combo!? Buck no, I didn't!"
"Do you have any idea if you filed them right?" Her heart leapt up into her throat so far that she thought she'd cough it up. Wild eyes scanned the room, searching for the pony to whom the voice belonged to. After a minute's search, she found her, in the doorway. Of course. Duh.
"Hello, Princess. I-I was just doing my taxes from home."
"Yes, I can see that." Twilight did her best to ignore the mess around her. Her cheeks burned with an inner fire when she glimpsed herself in the mirror. Celestia's feathers, I look horrible! And my poor bangs...
"You, uh--" Twilight followed her mentor's gaze to the desk. Do not look; do not be embarrassed. Do not look, do not be embarrassed. "--certainly have been studying, haven't you? All this for taxes?"
"Y-yes. Yeah, it's, ah, all for taxes." Now's my chance! Her heart was thumping like a twelve-ton drum, loud enough that Celestia could probably hear it if she was half deaf. All of a sudden, Twilight's legs gave. The floor was rushing to meet her like an old friend, when an even older friend stooped to catch her. Instead of kissing the dirty, dusty floor, Twilight found her lips wrapping around feathery down.
"Are you alright?" Celestia asked. Twilight had already regained her footing, at least physically. Mentally and emotionally, she was still scrambling up a landslide in a hurricane, hoping to strike solid ground before she was blown away. She had been dreaming of this moment since she was a teenager. Nearly everypony fostered a crush on the Eternal Princess at some point in their lives, but Twilight had it worse than most.
"Y-yeah," she stammered. "I'm fine. I just--"
"Just what, Twilight?" Celestia was so close. Heat radiated off her body like the sun that was her namesake. Twilight smelled the air: she couldn't help herself! Raspberries, or maybe vanilla cake. Some combination of the two, maybe? It's so hard to focus! Celestia was leaning in. It was all just one peck away.
"I..."
"Yes?"
"Ithinkit'stimesomeponytalkedtoyouabouttaxreform." Phew. Safe and sound at home plate. The look on Celestia's face had gone from unreadable to clear confusion in just a matter of seconds. Her eyes blinked once, twice, three times.
"Uhm...one more time, please. And go slow enough that I can understand you, this time." Twilight nodded, and took a deep, calming breath.
"I think...that somepony needs to talk to you about tax reform."
"That's what I thought you said." She could feel the weight of Celestia's scrutiny on her shoulders. "You surprise me, Twilight. From friendship counselor to tax adviser in a couple days, and all it took was an entire copy of the Equestrian Tax Code to bring you around. Alright; I'm game. Tell me what you think needs to be improved."
"Let's start with the code," she suggested. "It's long-winded, it's directionless, and at times it even goes out of its way to be intentionally abstruse. It looks like a patchwork quilt made entirely of brown, lime-green, and fuchsia squares." Everypony in the room suppressed a shiver at the thought of such a monstrosity. "We need a tax code that looks like it was intentionally made, and not just slapped together with a mishmash of whatever the lawyers thought sounded good at the time."
"You are absolutely right," cooed Celestia. Something in the room's atmosphere changed, and suddenly, no amount of chill breezes could dispel the warmth (nor the smell, for that matter). Her tail flicked seductively from side to side as she walked over to the door, and with one solid kick, forced it open. Twilight couldn't even be brought to care about the damage. "Why don't we have this conversation someplace more...comfortable?"
The remnants of her heart cried out for relief, but her ears were still ringing from Celestia's last words, and her mind was still processing what, exactly, had been said. After hours of silent comfort and unspoken vows, was it supposed to end like this?
"What...what do you mean, Celestia?" Her tears were banging at the gates, demanding to be released, but silent resolve and determination kept them at bay. It was enough for now. "What did I do wrong? I-I can go back, I can fix it. Everything can go right for us, but I need to know what!"
"Nothing can fix this now. You went too far, Twilight."
"No... No..."
"I'm afraid so. You see this?" Her gilded hoof tapped gently on one of the form's greyed-out areas. "This is supposed to remain empty. Whomever you consult with is supposed to fill that out for you. You really did go too far, and now you'll have to fill out the entire form a second time."
Her head was a whorl of emotions, each new one a more tempestuous partner than its predecessor. Nothing really stepped out of the whirlwind. She was adrift in her own mind, and nopony but herself was to blame. Even so, and even in her state, a pattern began to unfold. Everything was connected, she realized, to one core emotion. Like following a trail of bread crumbs, Twilight sleuthed out the culprit behind her temporary breakdown. Suddenly, the room felt very hot, but not for the reasons I previously alluded to. This was an icy heat, if that makes any sense, and it fell somewhere between blind fury and emotionless calm.
"Taxes suck," she gasped.
"I know, Twilight. I know."
Author's Note
I know, I know. "Tax stories were so early April. What kind of screw-up posts them one day before the deadline? You must be pretty stupid, especially since you never really talked about taxes: you just parroted popular opinion, and made ~~lots of~~ a few ~~funny~~ stupid jokes ~~out of it~~."
Well, what can I say? I'm not really in control here. The cats operating the levers in my mind tell me when and what to write. I just have to obey, or they'll cage me up and make me go to moon counseling. You really don't want me to go to moon counseling: if you do, it's only because you have no idea what it is. Nobody deserves moon counseling.
