Dust started the day as an earth pony. The sun wasn’t even up yet when she found her eyes fluttering open—rising with Celestia, as her mother had said. She pulled herself out of bed, stretched, scratched, and stumbled over to the bathroom to get ready for the day. Her hooves trampled over loose paper as she walked, and kicked books and old projects aside, but she took little notice. The floor was so messy that trying to evade the debris in the dark would have been a futile effort.
Getting to the kitchen was no better, as the stairs were also cluttered with books, boxes of paper, and loose debris. Some of it she evaded, some of it she kicked aside. Dirty dishes filled the sink and overran the sticky countertops, but the pot of coffee she’d left last night was still there. She poured herself a cup of the cold and sludgy liquid, drank it in one go, and then repeated for a second cup. The third cup she took to the table, along with a bowl of dried oats and an apple that was still mostly good. She idly nosed through one of the neglected books as she ate, and when she was sure she wouldn't fall asleep again, she used her magic to conjure a ball of light so she could see the book properly.
It was a textbook on animating magic—most commonly known as the “Come to Life” spells—and it took little time for Dust to become absorbed in the words. She forgot her bowl and the dregs of her coffee, abandoning them at the table as she stood, levitating the book alongside her. She looked left and right until she spotted a target of opportunity in the next room, and started towards it with an eager step.
The sun rose as she wandered the house and tried to animate various objects within it. She got her lamps to light themselves, sparing her the trouble of summoning light with her horn. She got her broken grandfather clock to run even though she’d long since stolen its pendulum for one of her experiments. She was not able to get the dishes to wash themselves, though she did succeed in making the kitchen mess spectacularly worse. Water covered everything, soaking the counters, dishes, and floor alike, and ruining many books and boxes of paper.
Dust prodded at some of the ruined documents with a hoof. She looked to the piles of saggy cardboard, and mush that was once paper, streaked with ink. A frown crossed her face, and she put her textbook on animating spells down gently, well away from the water. She didn’t bother to clean any of it up, but she did stop experimenting. The sun was up, and it was time to get to work.
Leaving the house through the rear door, she found the little sky-wagon parked right where it had been last night, and flew it around to the front. Propping her front door open, she began to drag things out one at a time. First came several boxes of exquisitely carved gems, then an umbrella stand full of magical staves. Next came several loose boxes full of tools ranging from scalpels to wingpower meters, and finally after some thought, an old hardwood bookshelf that bore the family crest. Dust spent a while looking at the horseshoes and shield pressed into the oak, but eventually loaded it with the rest in silence.
Overfilled, the cart swayed unsteadily as she tried to work it up into the air, her wings straining as they beat to keep her aloft. The harness tugged sharply at her barrel, and her hooves struggled in the empty air to give her that little extra bit of strength. But eventually, she managed to stabilize the carts rocking motions, and the flight got easier. She lifted a good thirty meters into the air, and there took a moment to catch her breath, hovering in place and looking down at her house from above.
Dust’s house was the finest in Ponyville, or at least it was until Twilight’s castle. Built three generations ago by her noble ancestors who wanted a vacation estate in the countryside, it was an elaborate manor home, surrounded by gardens and picturesque countryside. Of course, the gardens did not look the way they had when Dust was young—neglected and overgrown, as the house was neglected and damaged. That made her frown as well. Her priorities had been good—her family fortune was not infinite, and her work was more important than anything, but it was still sad to see the old house that way. After a little while, she resolved to do something about it, and turned to fly into town.
Ponyville was awake by then, its marketplace already crowded—earth pony towns rise early. Dust passed by the pawn shop. Its prices were not the best, and she had nearly the whole afternoon to go around to all the specialty merchants. Her meeting with Twilight wasn’t until the late afternoon. She started with the little magic shop that catered to the town's few unicorns, where she sold the staves. Then she went to the jeweler, the blacksmith, and so forth, her cart getting steadily lighter as her coin purse got heavier. Eventually, only the shelf was left, and she found her sky-wagon touching down near Applejack’s stand.
“Hey there, Applejack,” Dust called, touching the wagon down with considerably more grace than she’d taken off with. “How you doing?”
“Fine. Beautiful morning,” Applejack said, but her normally friendly tone was more subdued. There was a pause before she continued, and she reached up to adjust her hat. “How are things going with you and the bank?”
“Fair, I guess. They haven’t taken the house yet,” Dust replied, with a small smile and a shrug. “I’m going to run out of furniture to sell soon, but hopefully it won’t come to that.”
“I heard Sweet Beet offered you a job,” Applejack gestured towards the distant beet stand with her nose. “Paying work.”
“Oh, yeah.” Dust nodded. “It was sweet of her. But I couldn't. My work schedule doesn’t permit it. And I’m not sure I’d be any good at it. I’ve never worked before, you know? It seems unpleasant.” A long silence hung in the air after that, which Dust eventually broke with, “Besides, I’m meeting with Twilight today. If I get her permission to publish, that’ll probably mean more money coming in.” She unhitched herself from the wagon, using her magic to open the heavy buckles.
“Could you not do that?” Applejack demanded. “We’re in public, for gosh sake.”
Dust paused, staring at Applejack for a time. She felt confused, and her expression showed it, with a slight widening of the eyes and a turning of the ears. She looked down at herself as though to check her appearance, but her coat was the same off-grey it always was, broken only by the headless sandstone statue on her flank. She turned her head back up before she remembered she couldn't look at her own horn that way. She could sense it though, enveloped in a pale-green glow, mirrored on the buckles. After a moment, the glow went away.
“I wasn’t aware it was something I needed to be ashamed of,” Dust finally said. Though the slight stiffening of her tail betrayed her anger, she kept it out of her tone, and Applejack didn’t notice the subtle shift in body language. “Is there something you’d like to say to me?”
“I didn’t mean it that way,” Applejack replied stiffly. “Tap dancing and singing ain’t nothing to be ashamed of, but it’s still rude to do it in the middle of the market. You draw a lot of attention.”
“I’m not sure I agree, but it’s your stall and I don’t want to be rude. So—I’m sorry,” Dust said, glancing back at the wagon. “I will have to turn back into a pegasus to get the wagon out of here, but I can go find somewhere private, if you don’t mind watching my stuff.”
“You can’t just pull it out like a regular wagon?” Applejack asked, walking around from behind her stand to confirm the wagon did have functioning wheels.
“I guess that depends on if you want to buy the extremely heavy object inside it.” Dust smiled slightly, and nodded back at the shelf. “I heard you were looking for a new bookshelf for Apple Bloom. Since she’s getting all those study books from Twilight? I thought we could work out a trade.”
“I think that might be a bit rich for our blood,” Applejack said, though she did lean in close to inspect the shelf. It was covered in fine detailing, depicting great deeds of generations past, and the ascent of Princess Celestia and Princess Luna. “Some fancy woodwork there.”
“I’m not looking for money, actually. The bank would just take it anyway,” Dust replied. She spotted a patch of dust on the shelf, and her horn again lit up a pale green, brushing it away. “I was hoping for some help with the house. Cleaning up, yardwork, that sort of thing. I’m sure we can find something that’s reasonable.”
“Thanks, but uh... I’m a bit busy to be taking care of two houses,” Applejack replied, shaking her head.
“I’d be fine with Apple Bloom doing it. It’s just some light chores that—”
“I don’t think Apple Bloom needs that kind of influence in her life,” Applejack replied curtly, stepping back behind her stand. “But thanks anyway.”
Dust let out a sharp breath. She looked at the ground, and licked her lips, her ears twisting back. Her chest grew tight as she forced air back into her lungs. A swirl of grey energy surrounded her for a fraction of a second, and when it cleared, her horn was gone. Her frame had become lighter and athletic, and was mounted by a pair of long grey wings, tufted with white. They spread wide as she put her hooves up on Applejack’s stand, and glared at her neighbor from across the way.
“You got a problem with me, you want to say to my face?” she demanded, and while her voice remained soft, a sharp edge had entered it. “Because the way I see it, I’m the same pony I always was, only now you’re suddenly treating me like I stepped in something. And I’d kind of like to know why.”
“Oh, come off it.” Applejack shot back. “It’s not like that.”
“Horse hockey.” Dust snorted. “Do you have a problem with pegasi? Is that it? Got a problem with unicorns?”
“Lands sake! You know perfectly well I do not.” Applejack snorted right back, putting her own hooves up on the countertop.
“Then why do you have a problem with me?” Dust demanded, the two of them practically muzzle to muzzle in the crowded market.
“Because you ain’t a unicorn or a pegasus, you’re an earth pony!” Applejack gestured sharply up at Dust’s wings. “Only apparently not. I’m sorry that four solid hooves just wasn’t good enough for you.”
“It’s good enough for me every morning,” Dust replied, lowering her volume away from shouting, but keeping her tone hard. “It’s good enough for me when I need to focus, to work hard, to knuckle down like I should. It’s good enough for me for seeing family, for tending the land, for doing things the traditional way. But for getting that sticky wagon strap undone, yes, being telekinetic is kind of helpful. You know doing it with your teeth is a pain. I am as much an earth pony as you are!”
“No y’ain’t,” Applejack growled. “Learning to deal with hardship like that, with adversity? Not having magic to make everything easy? That’s part of being an earth pony. Only not for you.”
“Even if that was true, why is this such a problem for you?” Dust demanded. “Why do you care if I’m not an earth pony? You like Twilight and Rainbow Dash just fine.”
“Twilight and Rainbow Dash ain’t trying to ruin it for the rest of us!” Applejack shouted. “Twilight respects us. When it comes time for harvest? For Winter Wrap-Up? She knows magic might be faster, but it wouldn't be better, because that’s not our way.”
Applejack’s hoof struck the top of her stand, and her ears folded back as she glared at Dust. “Doing things the hard way is part of being an earth pony. It’s part of what makes us who we are. And Twilight, being the Princess of Friendship and not a crazy pony, knows that using her horn and just humm-zap-flashing it all done would take something away from us. Something special! But you don’t seem to know that. You can’t shut up about how much better you are now. The things you said to Apple Bloom. She and her friends still can’t—”
“Is there a problem here, ladies?” a sharp masculine voice cut into the conversation. Turning, Dust and Applejack both saw a dark green stallion in a constable’s uniform, giving both of them a narrow look. “You’re causing a scene.” He gestured back, and it was only then that Applejack and Dust noticed the small crowd of onlookers they’d gathered.
“I... no. No problem.” Dust’s ears folded back, and her eyes went to the ground. She took her hooves off the stand top, and quickly retreated to her wagon. “I was just leaving.”
She didn’t look at Applejack as she hitched herself back up to the sky wagon, and took off and away. Though the furniture store was barely a block away, she took a long route around Ponyville, beating her wings hard as she took the wagon through a banking turn. Being a pegasus always made her more physical, and the hard exercise calmed her. By the time she made her way back around Ponyville and touched down outside the Furniture and Houseplants store, she even felt okay. A flash of white light returned her earth pony strength to her, and she managed to work the hardwood shelf inside.
The bell over the door rang as she awkwardly managed to get the shelf inside. There was no guarantee Sawdust would buy it, but she knew it was a quality piece that would resell quickly, and he’d been kind to her in the past. She found him right away, negotiated a price they could both live with, and then helped him carry it into the back. She turned into a unicorn to count the bits he gave her, and he didn’t say anything about it or even make a face.
She was just about to leave when the bell over the shop door rang again. Turning, she saw Rarity and Fluttershy stepping inside, and paused. Her gaze went to the floor at once, and her tail swished uncertainly.
“Well hello, darling!” Rarity called, dispelling Dust’s hope that she wouldn't be noticed. “So good to see you again. How have you been?”
“Alright,” Dust said. Her hoof brushed the carpet. “Good to see you two as well. Hi, Fluttershy. Um... how are your heads?”
“Oh, fine,” Fluttershy said, stepping into the store. “No headaches for months now. Twilight says that the side effects from that um... resonance thing have probably worked themselves out.”
“Trans-elemental harmonic resonance generator,” Dust said, quickly. “I actually just sold the last parts of it this past week. It was disassembled long before that of course. I junked it up right when Twilight told me to. I’m really sorry. I didn’t know that—”
“Dust, dear. Really.” Rarity’s horn came alight, and she tilted up Dust’s chin. Smiling gently, she continued, “You’ve apologized quite profusely on this topic already, and we have forgiven you. Let’s not spoil a nice shopping day with self-recrimination, shall we?”
Dust smiled, and a small blush came to her cheeks. “Sorry. Um... you two are out shopping together then?”
“Mmmhmm,” Fluttershy nodded. “I needed some new pillows, and Rarity was looking for a backup backup fainting couch. We were going to get lunch later if you wanted to join us.”
“I’d like that, actually,” Dust nodded gently. “I’m just here killing time until the afternoon. I’m meeting Twilight so she can approve my publication.”
“Ah...” Rarity flicked her tail just so, as she paused to think of the words. “I thought that meeting was to discuss the possibility of approval.”
“Uh... yeah.” Dust looked back and forth between Rarity and Fluttershy. Rarity had a neutral expression, while Fluttershy found a sudden interest in a display of potted plants nearby. “Has she... discussed it with you two?”
“She’s discussed it,” Rarity said with some delicacy, adding a moment later, “I know she hasn’t made up her mind yet.”
“But...” Dust’s face fell, her ears pulling back. “There’s no reason for her to reject me, is there? I thought she loved my work.”
“Oh she does, dear! She does,” Rarity said, her tone soothing and her words quick. “She just has a few concerns I feel a lot of the town shares. Not about you, of course. You’re an amazing researcher and I know she has only the utmost respect for your frankly spectacular accomplishments.” Rarity smiled, but Dust didn’t smile back. “It’s just... well. There’s a bit of a gap between that and general publication, isn’t there?”
“I don’t see why there should be,” Dust insisted. Her voice was quiet, and her tail tucked in tighter against her. “It worked out great! A few hiccups, but nothing major. I know she watched my flying lessons. I thought I was a very quick study.”
“Oh, it has! Simply magnificent. You’re like an alicorn in three parts,” Rarity cooed. “But... well. You of all ponies must understand that transformation magic is difficult and dangerous. It worked out fine for you, but does that mean it will work well for everypony?” She stepped up to Dust’s side and laid a gentle hoof on her shoulder. “The consequences of a pony who lacks your skill botching such an invocation are too terrible to mention. Death would be less cruel. Twilight does have an obligation to protect her subjects from the dissemination of such dangerous spellcraft.”
“There are already lots of dangerous spells in the library,” Dust insisted, though her already quiet voice had gotten quieter. “There’s no reason to believe mine is any more dangerous.”
“Yes, but you also had no reason to believe your resonance generator would cause migraine headaches,” Rarity said gently. Seeing Dust’s head pop up, she was quick to lift a hoof and to add, “I’m not upset! I’m not. You took all proper precautions—Twilight and I both agree.” Rarity’s toned turned soothing, and she again rubbed Dust’s shoulder. “Using such an original method to power your transformation was brilliant, and what happened was an unforeseeable accident. But it was an unforeseeable accident that left nearly two dozen ponies in blinding agony. Fluttershy and myself included. So perhaps we should—as it were—realize that we do not know everything. Just because there’s no reason to believe something is dangerous...”
Dust dragged her hoof along the floor, her eyes somewhere around Rarity’s chest. “I found a better way to power the spell. It’s much safer. I mean, something bad happened once, sure, but I’m not sure that’s a... a good reason for censorship.”
“There’s more than that,” Fluttershy added, her gentle voice making Dust’s head lift. “There’s also the matter of... well. The family fortune.”
“Twilight cares that I’m in debt?” Dust asked, puzzled. “I didn’t think that was an issue. I haven’t defaulted with the bank if that’s the concern.”
“No. No, that’s not it...” Fluttershy bit her lip and hesitated, but after a moment, pressed on. “It’s just, well. Twilight says your method requires some very rare ingredients. A ritual circle cast out of platinum. All those pure mirrors. Gems from ancient unicornia. Clouds from old Pegasopolis. A golden apple. She did some math and said that even not counting your research, the ritual itself probably cost something like a million bits?”
“About that, yeah.” Dust nodded. “I think it was a good deal. I’ve learned so much about the equine condition this way. I don’t think you can put a price on understanding what it’s like to be a pegasus or a unicorn. To truly understand that all three pony races are equal.”
“That does sound magical,” Fluttershy agreed. “But um. You can put a price on it. And that price is all the money you have. Which for most ponies is less than a million bits. You see.” She swallowed.
“Well, of course. I mean, I didn’t have a million bits just lying around either,” Dust said, quickly glancing between Rarity and Fluttershy. “I mortgaged the family house in Canterlot. So, I know it’s really expensive, but it’s a chance for enlightenment into the pony condition. A way to better yourself—”
“Dust,” Fluttershy said firmly, lifting a hoof. “I know. I know it’s important. But um... most ponies don’t have the option to just talk to a bank and get a million bits. Not, like, they’d have to go into debt to do it. Like they can’t do it at all. Twilight is concerned that with your method, only the nobility will be able to afford it. And that that would be very unfair. It would mean the rich have access to the powers of all three races, and everypony else has to wait.”
“I’m nobility,” Dust pointed out, her ears folding back as she looked between Rarity and Fluttershy. “I mean, I know I don’t always act it...”
“It’s not about you, dear,” Rarity assured. “I know you’ve been subject to some... very personal attacks over all this. But that’s not what Twilight is getting at. Her only concern is doing what’s best for Equestria.”
Silence hung in the air. Rarity swallowed. “And like I said,” she added, “she hasn’t made up her mind.”
“Sure,” Dust said. “Sure. Um... well. I’m sure she’ll tell me when I see her. You were looking for a fainting couch?”
Dust spent the rest of the morning and early afternoon with Rarity and Fluttershy, talking about furniture and window shopping. She used her wagon to help them get their purchases home, and Rarity insisted on treating her to lunch in return. Dust never quite laughed or truly unwound, but the conversation was pleasant, and the company was good, and she did smile at points.
It was about three that she left their company to go knock at the Crystal Castle, but when Spike answered the door, she was told that Twilight was running late. Fifteen minutes, he said, no more. He invited her inside, but Dust decided to take a walk around the town instead. She decided to visit Sugarcube Corner and come right back, leaving her cart by the side of Twilight’s castle. Lunch had been an experience, but Dust wasn’t sure exactly how Rarity survived off of nothing but three leaves and a wedge of lemon. Perhaps getting dessert later was the point.
“Ding a ling a ling,” sounded through Sugarcube Corner as she stepped inside. Dust froze to the spot uncertainly, and then looked up at the door frame above her, which notably did not feature a bell. She frowned, her ears folding out to the sides and she looked around, before finally spotting Pinkie Pie hiding in the corner, her hooves held around her mouth.
“Creeeeeeak,” Pinkie Pie said, as the door swung shut. “Thump!” she added, when it hit the frame, both sounds seeming to emerge from a spot just above the door.
“Uh... hi, Pinkie Pie,” Dust said, a hesitant smile appearing on her face. She glanced around Sugarcube Corner and saw that it was nearly empty, nopony there but her, Pinkie Pie, and surprisingly, Rainbow Dash behind the counter, a tube of frosting in her teeth as she worked at a tray of cupcakes. “Did I... step into the bizzaro alternate universe or something?”
“Nope!” Pinkie Pie replied with a bright grin, cheerfully bounding to her hooves. “Applejack made fun of Rainbow Dash for not being able to feed herself without grazing in the park so Rainbow wants to learn how to cook so I’m teaching her to make muffins and cupcakes and stuff but then I realized that that meant Rainbow was learning a new skill and I wanted to learn a new skill too!” Pinkie Pie took in a single massive breath. “So I’m learning to throw my voice! Twilight gave me a book on it. See?” She took the book off the table in her teeth, proudly holding it up.
“That’s... really cool, actually,” Dust said, her ears perking up as her wings spread slightly from her body. “You’re getting pretty good at it.”
“Fanks!” Pinkie Pie said, before spitting the book back up onto the table. “This is gonna be a ton of fun next Nightmare Night.”
“I bet,” Dust agreed. She glanced back at the countertop, where Rainbow continued to focus on her work with obviously mounting frustration. Her cupcakes were not looking good, with lumpy and uneven coverage and dangling bits of frosting off the edges. “I don’t want to interrupt you if you’re busy, but could I get two blueberry muffins to go? If you’re tending the shop I mean.”
“No problemo,” Pinkie Pie agreed, bounding back behind the counter. She pulled the sliding glass door into the display case open, and the glass hit the edge of the case with a loud thump.
Rainbow’s teeth reflexively squeezed, splattering frosting out all over the cupcakes and the countertop. “Dangit!” she shouted, spitting out the frosting tube. Before Pinkie Pie could speak or even breathe, Rainbow shouted again: “Sorry! Sorry. I’ll get it next time. Where’s the... tool thing to clean them up and start over?”
“Spatula. Here, let me help,” Dust said. But rather than looking for the missing tool, Dust transformed before Rainbow’s eyes. In a flash, her wings vanished in favor of a horn, and green light surrounded the cupcakes, gently lifting the frosting off them and away.
“Where do I...?” she asked. Pinkie Pie indicated a bowl on the counter, and Dust dropped the frosting inside. The cupcakes behind were left bare, just as they’d been before Rainbow started. “There.”
“The idea was for me to do it myself,” Rainbow grumbled, her hooves crossed as she glared across the counter at Dust.
“Oh. I’m sorry sorry. I didn’t think it through.” She swallowed. “I mean, I was just trying to make it better.”
“Yeah.” Dash grunted. “‘I didn’t think it through. I was just trying to make it better.’ That sums you up pretty good.”
“Dashie!” Pinkie Pie cut in, both Dust and Rainbow turning to see Pinkie’s focused glare. “That was mean. Apologize!”
Rainbow sighed and rolled her eyes, but Pinkie Pie’s glare didn’t subside. Finally she grumbled out a reluctant: “Sorry.”
“Oh, no... it’s fine,” Dust said, looking down at the floor. “I can see you’re frustrated about other things. We’ve all snapped like that.” She reached up to scratch behind an ear. “So have you talked with Twilight today?”
“About the approval thing? Yeah.” Rainbow nodded as Pinkie Pie dropped two muffins into a bag. “She asked us all what we thought.”
“...and?” Dust swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry.
“We were both against it.” Rainbow shrugged.
“Can I...” Dust forced herself to lift her head, though her folded back ears revealed her true feelings. “Can I ask why? I thought you’d like... you seemed to think I was doing well at flying lessons.”
“Well, basically, it’s about what happened at Cloud Dancer’s birthday party,” Rainbow explained, resting her hooves beside the tray of bare cupcakes.
“Um... I wasn’t at Cloud Dancer’s party.” Dust’s tail tucked in behind her, and she flinched as though in anticipation of a blow.
“Really? That’s weird.” Rainbow said, leaning across the counter. “Because she’s been your best friend since you were like three and it would super hurt her feelings if you didn’t bother to show up to her birthday. So I’m sure you’d be there. Maybe you just missed it because you were busy helping Cherilee teach magical theory. I know the colts and fillies were really looking forward to it.”
“I had a breakthrough the night before that and it kept me up. I slept through my alarm. I didn’t mean—”
“Well not meaning any harm didn’t un-stand up your friends,” Rainbow Dash snapped. “It didn’t un-disappoint Cherilee. It doesn’t change the fact that your house went from being the cool place all the kids hang out to being a terrifying fire trap. You know Rarity won’t even let Sweetie Belle around there anymore after she found out about all the toxic mold up in the attic? Something she found out about after your friends tried to stage an intervention.”
Rainbow took off with two small beats of her wings, letting her spread her hooves wide as she hovered. “You’re obsessed, Dust. So obsessed you ruined the family name, destroyed the house, and betrayed all the ponies close to you. You’ve made it perfectly clear that getting your horn and wings is the only thing that really matters to you. And maybe I don’t think that’s the sort of pony we should be trusting to come up with magic that could kill us all if it’s the slightest bit wrong.”
“Well,” Dust said, her voice tight. “Thank you for...” Her voice trailed off, and for a second, she struggled to find words. “I guess it’s good I know how you feel.”
“Dust...” Pinkie Pie says, her eyes wide. She paused briefly to shoot a much sharper, angrier glare at Rainbow Dash, before pushing the bag of muffins across the counter. “I’m sorry. Please, take them. They’re a gift. And remember that Twilight hasn’t made up her mind yet.”
“Rainbow said you were both against it,” Dust answered, her eyes still on the floor. “What did you say?”
Pinkie Pie hesitated for a long second before she answered: “I don’t think it’s bad. I don’t think you’re bad. And I don’t think it’s going to hurt ponies or destroy society. I just don’t see what good it can do.”
“You don’t think that...” Dust swallowed. “Wouldn’t you like to be able to fly? To become a pegasus? It would be a real surprise.”
“Yeah, I mean. It’d be neat,” she agreed. “But neat’s about it, isn’t it? I can already visit my pegasus friends with my balloon or cyclocopter. And it’s not like I’d be a real pegasus.”
Dust’s breath caught in her throat, and slowly she lifted her head. Pinkie Pie’s expression was one of singular discomfort, eyes going every which way and mouth pulled into a pained grimace. “I just mean that, you have wings and stuff, and you’re doing great for a beginner, but you’ll never be as good a flyer as a real pegasus because you haven’t had a lifetime of practice growing up. Just like, Twilight has earth pony magic now, but she’ll never be Applejack. She’s still the same pony deep down as she was before. Don’t get me wrong! It’s a really cool toy. But it’s just... well. A toy. You can’t change how ponies are.”
Dust’s eyes went back to the floor, and Pinkie Pie’s voice wavered. “I’m sorry, Dust,” she said. “I know you worked really hard on this. Hey...” She hesitated. “I know! I’ll throw you a party. Cheer you up! I know your friends would just... love to see you again.”
“Oh, no. It’s fine.” Dust’s horn came alight, levitating the bag of muffins off the counter. “Let’s save the party for after the bank takes my house. I’ll need something to feel good about then.” She swallowed. “I should go. Twilight is waiting.”
Dust ran out before Pinkie Pie or Rainbow Dash could say another word. She soon accelerated to a gallop, and then in a flash, she had wings. The bag of muffins crashed forgotten to the ground as Dust took off into the air, flying nearly straight up with no course in mind. Her course soon twisted through the sky, back and forth in bizarre and unsteady loops around the crystal palace.
Finally, after one lap too many, she spotted a cloud in her path. She came to a stop, crashed down on top of it, and buried her head in the fluffy mass. Faint sniffling sounds emerged, and her torso shook as she tried to get a hold of herself, her hooves clasped tight over the back of her head.
Dust’s head was still buried in the cloud when she felt the air stir around her, and heard the beat of wings. Lifting her head, she saw Twilight Sparkle hovering nearby. She was in her full royal regalia, which was very unusual for the friendly and approachable princess. Dust didn’t know what to think, and so only watched as Twilight touched down on the little cloud.
“Princess,” Dust said, her voice cracking as she tried to speak. “I’m sorry I missed our meeting.”
“Pinkie Pie found me,” Twilight explained calmly. “She told me what happened with you and Rainbow Dash. I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault,” Dust insisted. Her voice again wavered, and she reached up to rub the tears of her eyes. “I’m sorry I’m not presentable.”
“It’s alright. You’ve given up a lot to be here—sacrificed so much,” Twilight’s voice was touched with sympathy, and she reached a hoof out to rest it over Dust’s. “I can’t imagine how stressful it must be to worry it was all for nothing. But don’t worry. I promise that won’t happen.”
“It... won’t?” Dust sniffled again, but she lifted her head.
“No. I think I have a compromise solution that will work for everypony,” Twilight said, adding a bright little kick to her tone. “Publishing your work would be controversial, but I’ve spoken with Celestia, and she said the Crown would be happy to buy your research. All of it. And I don’t mean like she’s going to cover it up—of course we’re going to acknowledge your great accomplishment. You’d get your own shelf in the restricted section of the Canterlot library, the chance to write a few books, and it would be more than enough money to bail you out of debt. You’d get your family fortune back! Isn’t that great?”
Dust said nothing, and as the silence grew overlong, Twilight’s smile flickered. “I thought you’d be happy.”
“Are you...” Dust swallowed. Her mouth suddenly felt dry and dust, and when she licked her lips, little moisture came. “Are you telling me that I will not be permitted to publish my work? Publically, that is. For general consumption.”
“No,” Twilight replied, but her voice was hesitant now. “I thought we could skip all that. Find a better way.”
“I spoke with your friends,” Dust said quickly, forcing her eyes to stay locked on Twilight’s face. “They said you asked their advice on the matter, and all of them came out quite strongly against me. Have you decided that if I refuse your offer, you will deny me the right to publish?”
“No,” Twilight repeated. “Granted, five of my five advisors are all strongly against you. But we aren’t a democracy. Their advice is just advice.”
Twilight considered Dust, and carefully folded her legs. “But I would need a compelling reason to ignore their wishes. Applejack is concerned you’ll destroy Equestria’s culture and traditions. She was very upset when Apple Bloom considered if her destiny might be to become a unicorn. Rarity raises significant safety concerns. Fluttershy points out you might start a class war. Pinkie Pie questions if there’s any compelling reason to bother with the trouble. And Rainbow Dash points out, unkindly but not inaccurately, that you have a proven history of irrational decisions and recklessness.”
Dust said nothing, and so after a moment, Twilight prompted her: “Do you think they’re wrong?”
“No, Princess,” Dust said. “I do not think that they are wrong. I just don’t think they matter.”
Twilight lifted her head and neck, and her eyes narrowed slightly. “I hope there’s something coming after that.”
Dust took in a slow breath, forcing herself to swallow what felt like a lump of sand in her throat. “Applejack’s culture will die. You know that. That’s what cultures do—they die. If I don’t kill it, somepony else will. Maybe somepony who makes a better apple picker. Or maybe changing tastes that shift demand for produce. Or maybe something awful like a war. But her traditions will die, and that’s not a bad thing. Once it was tradition that you couldn't marry a pony of another race. We don’t feel sad that went away!”
Dust took another sharp breath, her hooves shaking. “And—and if Apple Bloom’s destiny is to become a unicorn? Or a pegasus? If her destiny is to become the next great wizard or a brilliant weather pony? Applejack should be proud of her! Which matters more, her stupid traditions or her sister’s happiness? She should be ashamed for even thinking that!”
“Calm down,” Twilight cooed, gently pressing her hoof over Dust’s shaking forelegs. “I know you’ve had a rough day, but shouting won’t help.”
Her trembling gradually stopped, and she took long, deep breaths. “I know,” Dust said quickly. After a moment, she flicked her tail and repeated the words slower, “I know. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to...”
“It’s okay. Go on,” Twilight urged. “When you’re ready.”
Dust nodded, and after a few more deep breaths, went on. “Rarity and Fluttershy aren’t wrong. But they are wrong. Mistaken. Yes, of course new things are dangerous. But what’s the alternative, never try new things? I’m not proposing we throw a how-to guide for my work to every first-year enchanter and tell him to have at it.” She shook her head. “Obviously it’s going to be more complicated than that. Precautions taken. But the risk of magical discovery never stopped you, and it shouldn’t stop the rest of us either.”
“That’s Rarity. What about Fluttershy?” Twilight asked.
“That only the rich can afford it?” Dust shook her head. “What else are you going to ban? Fine art? The opera? Commissioning a painting isn’t cheap. Are you going to quarry Canterlot Palace? Open up your home to boarders? Or, no. Because those are luxuries. Education is a better example.”
Her pace picked up, and she made a sharp, wild gesture of her hooves. “Sure, the poor get an education, but would you be the Princess of Friendship if you’d been born to two earth pony coal miners? I don’t think so. And yes, that’s unfair and the government should do something about it, but the solution isn’t to ban ponies from learning. And the solution isn’t to ban my work!”
Dust took a few deep breaths, forcing her pace to slow. “And you think my work is so important that the poor absolutely cannot be without it, isn’t that even more proof that it’s worth publishing? You’re a monarch. You can... find some way to fix the money problem.”
“It’s not quite that easy. And that’s not quite how the monarchy works,” Twilight replied, but she nodded for Dust to go on.
“I’m sure you could work something out with Celestia. And...” She spread her wings, gesturing down to Sugarcube Corner. “And Dash and Pinkie Pie are wrong too. If you removed the works of every researcher who was a little personally abrasive from Canterlot Library, you know what you’d have?”
“An empty building?” Twilight asked, with a small dry smile.
“Exactly,” Dust gave a half laugh. “Research demands sacrifice, and... and your hero. Starswirl the Bearded? People still use his magic, even though he was responsible for everything from the birth of the Changeling race to King Sombra. His, let’s be frank, screw ups have killed thousands if not tens of thousands over the course of history. I’m not saying that’s okay. What he did was wrong, and we can acknowledge he did bad things. But we don’t throw out his work because of it.”
“I’m not sure that logic quite holds,” Twilight said, looking down at Sugarcube Corner. “But even if it did, all you’ve done is argue that it’s less dangerous than some ponies think. It’s still dangerous, and honestly? I agree with Pinkie Pie. I don’t see what good it does. With hard work and determination, anypony of any race can fulfill their destiny. The fact that an earth pony made this incredible discovery proves that as much as anything.”
Dust sniffled as she lifted her head, nodding to Twilight. She took a breath, sniffled again, and finally forced herself to go on. “I’m sorry, Princess. I suppose I shouldn't say this to my betters. But that’s a load of horse apples.”
Dust’s jaw worked without sound for a moment, but abruptly she began to speak again, cutting off Twilight’s reply. “Do you seriously expect me to believe that Apple Bloom could be a weather pony if she really put her heart into it? Because being able to fly is kind of a big part of that. Or is she born not wanting it? That earth ponies naturally just have no interest in weather?” Her tail lashed back and forth. “Because for a pony who is literally the physical incarnation of unity between all tribes, that’s pretty racist. But I don’t think you meant it that way.”
Dust pointed sharply down towards Sweet Apple Acres in the distance, jabbing an accusative hoof towards it. “I think you meant that she’ll get over it. That she’ll learn to accept her limitations and forget she ever had those dreams and be happy without them. And you know, she will. Just like Scootaloo and Nova Star will get over being crippled! I’m sure they will be happy one day but it’s still wrong!”
Dust started to tear up again, her wings fluffing out from her side. “That’s not how ponies are. We don’t sit there and force ourselves to become happy with what we have. We strive for more and we make it happen and we refuse to accept our limitations. Earth ponies did it when they founded this town right by the Everfree. Unicorns did it when they let Starswirl revolutionize magic. And pegasi... I don’t know! They did something.”
Dust lifted her head to Twilight, spread her wings out by her side, and forced her wavering voice to stay level. “I’m better than I was. More than I was. Just like you became more than you were.” She paused, and then added quickly. “No. No.” She gestured out at the town. “Just like everypony becomes more than they were when they learn a new trick. A new ability. That’s what ponies do. It is good and it is right and I don’t have to justify that.”
“That may be so,” Twilight agreed. “But then why not accept my first offer? You’d get to stay as you are. You worked hard and earned your wings and horn.”
“Because when a little colt who doesn’t get to go to the restricted wing of the library runs up to me and asks how they can learn that trick, I want a better answer than, ‘You can’t because I really wanted to have a nice house.’” Dust snapped the words out bitterly, and then turned to look away.
“You feel very strongly about this,” Twilight said slowly, though her tone remained calm.
“As strongly as you do about friendship and magic, Princess,” Dust nodded, reaching up to rub her eyes. “It’s what I’ve dedicated my life to. It’s what makes me special. And it’s what I share with other ponies to make the world a better place.”
“I see that.” Twilight looked down at the cloud. “Can I ask you a question then?” Dust nodded. “Which race do you prefer? I know you don’t think one is better. I’m not making an accusation. I’m asking which body you prefer to wear.”
“Unicorn magic is better for manipulating small objects,” Dust answered, “and I’m really enjoying learning to cast spells. Pegasi wings are great for getting around, and dealing with physical things. Running, stamina, long moves. Cold resistant too. But I always go to sleep as an earth pony.” She swallowed, and a moment later clarified. “When I’m a unicorn, I always sleep right through my alarm. Earth ponies have an easier time of it.”
“You enjoy getting up at sunrise?” Twilight asked.
“No. I enjoy sleeping in,” Dust answered. “But I have work to do in the morning. Sleeping in feels good physically, but... there’s so much in the world worth doing. What if today was the day I was going to learn something important, or finally have that last breakthrough, but I miss it because I’m sleeping? I couldn't.” She pulled her hooves together, rubbing one over the other. “There’s not enough time as it is. I don’t see how you could waste it sleeping.”
“Hmph.” Twilight paused, and then slowly rose to her hooves. “If I can’t persuade you to take the third option then?”
“You can’t,” Dust confirmed.
“Then, I’ll need a couple of days to think this over. I want to talk to Princess Celestia again.” She turned to go, but then paused. “And, Dust? Could you look at me for a moment?”
Slowly, Dust turned her face back to Twilight. The princess fluffed her wings, pausing a moment to find the right words. “I don’t know what decision I’m going to make. This could change the fate of Equestria and... and it’s not to be made lightly. I have to do what’s best for my subjects. But no matter what decision I make, I want you to know that... well. I think you’re brilliant. A genius. And now that your work is done, maybe... maybe we can see you in Ponyville more. Make some friends.”
“I’d... like that,” Dust said. After a moment, she added, “Thank you, Princess.”
Twilight nodded, spread her wings, and lept from the edge of the cloud. Dust watched her fly away, twisting through the sky back towards her crystal palace, until she slipped within its doors, and was lost to sight.
