Together in Spirit

by Burraku_Pansa

Rating: teen
Tags: My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Dark, Alternate Universe, Main 6, Nightmare Moon, Drama, Princess Celestia
Length: 4439

It can be unwise to trust in fate. An errant coin flip heralds Twilight Sparkle's loss of control, and the shifting of her and everyone else's lives into something new and regrettable.

Twilight Sparkle, proud personal student of Her Royal Highness Princess Celestia, has just arrived to Ponyville with a supposedly critical assignment: "make some friends." Surely there are more important matters to attend to? Surely Princess Celestia would understand if Twilight reneged just this once, for the greater good? Surely… a coin flip would help.

But it can be unwise to trust in fate.

Thanks to La Barata and Golden Vision for initial brainstorming (and FloydienSlip for the title).
Thanks to ChromeMyriad for pre-reading.
Cover image by Huussii, used with permission.

Character tags subject to change as the story progresses.

Published 2015-10-08 12:40:02 UTC
Last updated 2015-10-08 12:40:02 UTC

Prologue, Part 1: Come Night

“Maybe the ponies in Ponyville have interesting things to talk about?” said Spike, motioning towards an approaching mare who was all too pink.

Spike had been developing quite the sarcastic streak recently, Twilight had noticed. The way he’d said it hadn’t sounded sarcastic, of course, but the wording left her wondering. Did he think that she never had anything interesting to say?

“Come on, Twilight, just try!” he urged, once the mare had reached them.

Definitely not sarcastic—just boyish in that way that made Twilight half want to pat his head and half want to groan and collapse. She looked up at the mass of pink, and the pink stared back with bright eyes and a sugary little smile. If it would make Spike happy…

“Uh,” Twilight said, “hello?”

Like a shot! The mare gasped the breath of a diver breaching the surface and sped off through the air—did she even have wings?—and away. After Twilight managed to gather herself, she said, “Well, that was interesting, alright.”

Spike sighed. Absently, Twilight wondered if perhaps Spike’s sarcasm of late was due in part to her influence. As the pair started making their way out of the town proper and to their first destination of the day, Twilight added ‘Try to be a better influence on Spike’ to her mental checklist of items to be added to her physical checklist—in full knowledge that such items rarely managed to be remembered long enough to make the trip, mind, but a symbolic promise of half-hearted future effort still managed to top not doing anything at—

Twilight had one of those crystalizing moments of self-awareness where she realized she was rambling in her own head. Coming off autopilot, she found herself and Spike at the start of a dirt path that wound through some very fragrant orchards and up to, in the distance, a great, idyllic farmhouse.

She thought back to the pony that she’d ‘met’ in town. She thought of how much studying she could be doing, right now, to find out more about the Elements of Harmony and how they might be called upon to stop Nightmare Moon should the spectre herself genuinely appear. How many books she could be burying her face in rather than ‘meeting’ more ponies.

And why was she meeting them in the first place? She’d called it ‘doing her royal duty’ before. But stopping Nightmare Moon—or even just preparing for the possibility of having to stop Nightmare Moon—was as much her royal duty as anything else, regardless of what Princess Celestia might think is best.

Twilight stopped walking, and Spike followed suit when he noticed. There was a crossroads here. Twilight had never gone against the word of a request from the princess before—the spirit, sure, when she’d been a filly finding out how much fun it is to solve a clear set of rules like a puzzle, but never the word. Twilight also knew herself well enough to realize that she’d never be able to think herself into starting now. But maybe, if she could muster the willpower to trust in…

“Spike,” she said, reaching for the coin purse in her tail, “horns or halters?” She balanced a gold bit on her hoof, poised to flick it up.

“Um, horns!” Spike said, and following her even-when-they’re-not-competing custom, Twilight went with the opposite of whatever he picked. “But what—”

“Shh.” Up into the air went the coin, catching the sun four, five, six times before it met the earth.

Halters.

A new pony!

Pinkie snapped a party hat onto that ugly wood-pony-head in the center of the library. Next were some streamers between the shelves. Then next some confetti all around. So many colors—so many colors of ponies to know! So many colors of parties to throw! So many colors of friends left to meet, and so many colors of cupcakes to eat!

‘Welcome to town’ parties were utter joy—you couldn’t beat ’em. “Gateway parties,” Granny used to say. Get to know a pony, learn the easy stuff, and you’ll know when to throw her a birthday party. Give her some friends, show her the nice ponies that live around town, and the sky’s not even the limit after that: slumber parties and all, sure, but if you figure a pony out just right, introduce her to the perfect friend, then maybe—Pinkie giggled all the harder—ju~ust maybe, you might be throwing her engagement parties, bachelorette parties, baby showers, who knows what!

Pinkie cut herself off with a snort. She was getting way, way ahead of herself, counting her krullers too early. Best to focus on the welcome party for now. For now.

“Twilight, what’s this about?” said a little voice outside the library.

Pinkie perked up. Twilight was the new pony’s name! Or at least according to town hall.

“Friend-making or not, the princess did give you a job to do. It’s not too late to go back to”—a pause—“Sweet Apple Acres. They’d probably let us try some of the food, too!”

There were hoofsteps right outside the door now. “Princess Celestia has never been anything if not understanding, Spike.” And that was new pony Twilight, here way too early. Even still, Pinkie crouched into the party deployment pose as the door began to creak open. “Even if Nightmare Moon never shows up, I’m sure the princess will realize that I was just trying to—”

Pinkie sproinged the legs and sprung the trap! “Surprise!”

“Wagh!” said that new purple friend, then she jumped back and—smack, shoulder right into the doorframe! She made a hurt, growl-ish noise.

“Oh my gosh!” said Pinkie. She ran right up to Twilight. “Are you okay? I’m so sorry!”

Twilight winced. “Fine,” she said, and she looked all around the room.

It was weird—it looked like she didn’t like the decorations or something. But of course she wouldn’t! They weren’t done yet. If she liked surprise parties enough to want to come to this one early, why didn’t she know that Pinkie wouldn’t be finished setting up? No, wait, didn’t she say she was here early because of… ‘Might Rare Noon’?

Twilight finished looking around and looked at Pinkie instead. She said, “What are you doing here, Miss…?”

“Oh!” Intro-doodle-ductions, duh. “I’m Pinkie Pie and, well, I can’t tell you what I’m doing yet, but just come back in a couple of hours, ’kay?”

Eye-roll. “You shouted ‘surprise’ at me when I walked in the door, and this place is set up for a party. I didn’t mean to ask ‘what’ you were doing here so much as ‘why’.”

A smarty-type, huh? Pinkie could play that game. “I’m afraid,” she said, sitting back and stroking her chin, “that I have no idea to you what you are may be referring.” Twilight raised an eyebrow, but Pinkie continued, “However, I know that I have offered your you to of my name, but there has yet not been reciprocication.”

The eyebrow rose ever higher, quivering like so much gelatin, before the eye it belonged to sparked with smartness. “Oh,” said Twilight Sparkle, “my name is Twilight Sparkle.” Jinx!

“And I’m Spike,” said that little voice from before that Pinkie’d almost forgotten about. She looked behind Twilight to what was riding her back. A little…

!!

Pinkie’s head whipped back to Twilight. “You understand talking alligators, too?” she shouted.

But Twilight had a ‘What are you talking about, Pinkie?’ face on. She shook her head really fast, then said, “Listen, it’s great to meet you, Pinkie Pie, but”—worst words—“I have a lot of work to get done, and I’ll need this library if I’m going to do it.” She grabbed Pinkie with her unfair unicorn powers. “I appreciate the thought of a surprise party, really, but I’ll only be in town for the weekend anyway, and I’m just too busy.”

And out the door Pinkie went. She turned back to Twilight lickety split, though. “Just the weekend?” she said, with a trademarked cute-sad infusion. “Well, how about you tell me when your birthday is, then I could ride over to— Where did you say you were—”

Slammed doors are the worst.

‘The Elements of Harmony: A Reference Guide.’

Twilight wanted to tear her hair out.

Since when, when, when were ponies making it easy? Years as a student of the arcane arts, and never had there been an age-old myth or spell or artefact with its own dedicated book—it had always seemed like it was future generations’ jobs to dilute them all, cram them together, and give them a generic name like ‘Legends of þe Olde Land’ or ‘Magicks Most Foul’. ‘A’, ‘L’, and ‘M’, in fact, were always great places to start a search, so that’s exactly what Twilight had done.

And it was right there under ‘E’ the whole time. Hours, dead and gone.

The craziest thing was that it wasn’t even an old book, that much she could tell even despite its lack of publishing information. For all she knew, Radiant Quill—a pseudonym if Twilight had ever heard one—could have penned it the day before. And yet it still told her almost everything she’d needed to know. Except what the sixth Element was, of course. Or what exactly they all did. Or even how one might go about using them.

It gave a strong recommendation as to where they might be found, though, so Twilight was more than willing to forgive it the rest. Besides, if she knew everything there was to know about them before having them in hoof, she’d lose out on the fun of experimen—

No, no. The sooner she could utilize them, the better, she reminded herself. With that thought firmly in mind, she put Spike to bed and set out at once, as fast as she was able with the state of her shoulder.

The sky’d been dark for a little over two hours, the air notably chillier than when Twilight had arrived in Ponyville, especially for summer. Still, she had to admit that the town was no less inviting with the sun down: she limped hurriedly by house after house lit brightly from within, filled with ponies partying their little parties with their little friends and little families. None of them aware of the imminent danger the world might be facing. She envied them that at least, if only a bit.

Before it could pass out of sight entirely, Twilight spared a look back at Golden Oaks. She’d always dreamed of living in a library. And sure, she practically did live in the library of her tower back at CSGU, but… something about that tree was just, just right. Maybe it was the wood. She’d have a talk with Princess Celestia about redoing the tower’s interior when she got back, perhaps.

Rambling internally again. This was going to be a long night, she could already tell… Pfft. Long night. She logged that one in the mental joke book.

Applejack’s eyes roamed all around, wherever Rainbow Dash wasn’t blocking the view. Where was she?

“Does my crown no longer count now that I have been imprisoned for a thousand years?”

Where in tarnation was she?

“Did you not recall the legend?”

Oh, why does she always— There!

“Did you not see the signs?”

Under the table. Smart girl, Apple Bloom. Just please, please stay put. Just this once.

Applejack looked back up to the balcony, to that big mishmash of shadow that wished it was half as impressive as old Celestia.

“No?” said the shadow-pony. “Such an auspicious moment as this, and there are none amongst you who yet know my name? Who know what is to come?”

“I do!” came a high-pitched voice from Applejack’s side. Pinkie Pie… “I know who you are! Might Rare Noon!” She sounded more serious than usual—like that’s hard—and Applejack turned to find a brave look on her face. “And breakfast is to come, in just a couple hours!”

There wasn’t a sound anymore, not even anypony whispering.

Tall, Dark, and Uppity burst out laughing. One of those ‘I’m better than you and you’re not even smart enough to know by how much, you little country treasure, you’ kind of laughs, but louder and longer.

“Close,” she said when she was finished, “yet so very, very far.” She somehow stood up even taller than before. “I am Her Royal Highness Nightmare Moon, my little ponies, and I want you all to remember this day.” Another chuckle snuck its way out.

“It was your last.”

“The Everfree Forest!”

Simply dreadful, this whole evening. Morning. Whichever—this whole affair, dreadful to the last infinitesimal facet.

“And we’re sure,” said Rarity, achieving what little vocal poise she could with the source of a very generous percentage of her foalhood nightmares rooted not twenty hooflengths ahead, “that this mystery mare of yours went in here, Pinkie darling?”

“Twilight,” said the little… dragon that had been sparing Rarity no shortage of ‘surreptitious’ glances. “Her name’s Twilight.”

Pinkie Pie bounded forward, like always. “Twilight Sparkle’s in there, no doubt-a-rout-a-roonie. The book said so, right?” She nodded to herself. “If books were liars, we wouldn’t have schools.”

Applejack held up a stalwart hoof. “The book said the Whatsits ’a Harmony are in there, Pinkie Pie.”

“Elements,” said the dragon, a light frown on his little face. “They’re all she’s been talking about for the past couple days. Them and mares in the moon, and precises— prespices… precipisa.” He shook his head. “You know, brinks and everything.”

“And, um…” Fluttershy all but whispered. Rarity had nearly forgotten that she’d come along. “She wouldn’t be… afraid, Spike? Of going into a place like the Everfree?”

‘Spike,’ that was it. Spike shook his head again, saying, “Twilight’s not afraid of anything if she thinks it’ll impress the princess.”

Rainbow Dash groaned in that way that she does. “Guys, let’s just go, huh? Not got a lot ’a time, here.”

Rarity shut her eyes, took a sharp breath in through her nose, and said, “Right.”

Stupid pink mare.

No, that was mean, Twilight. It wasn’t her fault. Well, it was definitely her fault, but she clearly hadn’t meant any harm. Likely quite the opposite.

Good intentions or no, a bum shoulder wasn’t helping Twilight get through this interminable forest. The walking had been bad enough—through grabby little shrubs and puddles of mud almost the consistency of clay, under canopies so thick she hadn’t been able to properly navigate, past sleeping monsters she had only ever seen at the Canterlot Zoo.

No, there’d been swimming, too. Swimming. At her best, Twilight had barely eked out a time that let her avoid remedial swimming lessons at CSGU—though, she’d promptly emptied her stomach in the bushes outside the gymnasium afterwards. She was most assuredly not at her best right now.

But at last, there it was!

Across one rickety— one sturdy, well-maintained bridge was the Castle of the Royal Pony Sisters. Just in the nick of time, too, because if the legends were true, Nightmare Moon would be free from the…

Oh. Crossing the bridge, Twilight had taken her first unobscured look up at the moon in what might have been hours, and found it to be awfully bare. Bright side: she’d been right all along! Plus, the means to defeat Nightmare Moon lay just ahead.

Up the stairs, into the foyer, on the… pedestal?

Why was the pedestal empty? Why in the name of all things mag—

Okay, they had to be around here somewhere. Had to. They weren’t behind the pedestal. They weren’t around any of the foyer’s remaining columns. They weren’t under this patch of surprisingly heavy stonework. They were…

Was that a flash of light up in that tower’s window?

Fluttershy shivered. Coming along had been a brave pony thing, but she’d had to do it anyway. Animals couldn’t survive eternal night—especially not the little snakes and lizards.

She’d had to come. Had to. Stop turning around! Stop looking back at the path, you silly little mare. You’re almost there. You can do this one thing, this one time. Stop proving everypony right.

“Look!” said Rainbow.

Fluttershy looked. There was a worn-down castle up ahead. The kind other ponies tell you ghost stories about.

“Look there!” said Rainbow, pointing.

Fluttershy looked there. One building had lights flashing in its windows, white and frightfully bright. There was a little purple speck making its way up some stairs into the building, too.

“C’mon!” said Rainbow.

Fluttershy came on, though she really hate— disliked running. Oh, wings. Well, she wasn’t exactly in love with flying, either, but if times where it’s okay to worry about it even exist, this probably wasn’t one of them.

A feeling settled deep in Fluttershy’s tummy as they all approached the building’s entryway. She’d read an adventure story or two, or a few dozen. This had been a little journey, and the strong, confident band of ponies doesn’t get to the end of the journey without meeting up with the bad thing again.

Hopefully her being there disqualified them all from—

“…supposed it would be best to try and understand them first. Shame.” Nightmare Moon was in the room just ahead!

“Well, I guess you missed your chance, Nightmare,” came a voice that Fluttershy didn’t recognize, back through the cold, stony hallway. Twilight Sparkle? “You can bet I’m not about to let you destroy them, either!”

There was a shimmery sound—unicorn magic—and then Nightmare Moon laughed one of her mean laughs. Fluttershy gulped.

She and the others reached the end of the hall and turned into the room. A throne room. It probably would have been very pretty, years and years ago—and it still was in its own way, with nature making a home inside of it, vines and moss growing all around and through pony-made things. But it was much too… dark.

The darkest part, still cackling, stood in front of the throne. What looked like stone spheres were gathered together at her hooves and covered by a little purple dome.

“Twilight!” called Spike as he ran forward. Oh, Fluttershy wished he’d’ve stayed with the group.

Twilight Sparkle turned, wide eyed and horn aglow, and said, “Spike?” She looked up from him to Fluttershy and the others. “Who are all of you?” She sounded worried. An inch from fearful. Fluttershy’s heart went out to her. “What are you doing here, and why did you bring Spike?”

Applejack stepped forward, looking towards Nightmare Moon rather than Twilight Sparkle. “Stoppin’ her,” she said, not a bit of shiver in her. “Give it up, ya no-good inkblot!”

“Yeah!” said Rainbow. She tumbled back and forth through the air like she was dodging other flyers. Had her hooves raised like she was going to… punch somepony. “No surprise on your side this time, lady! All of us here, you don’t stand a chance.”

A fire seemed to take Twilight Sparkle’s eyes. She nudged Spike away and stood up, wobbly at first but then firm as a rock. She turned bodily towards Nightmare Moon and set her head low—Fluttershy heard her snort out a breath.

“You’re kidding,” said Nightmare Moon, sounding half about to laugh again. “You’re kidding, right?”

Twilight Sparkle wasn’t kidding, Fluttershy could tell. The little unicorn started pawing at the floor, her horn flaring brighter than before. She snorted again.

Nightmare Moon took the stance up herself, not smiling even meanly anymore—just looking darker.

Fluttershy’s wings did what her hooves were too frozen to do, and came up to shield her eyes.

She heard the pair set off towards one another, hooves beating on the stone so sharply it hurt to be near. The unicorn shimmering picked up, louder and louder.

One step sounded like a shuffle more than a hoofbeat. Twilight Sparkle and Nightmare Moon both made a strangle— a really pathetic sound.

Fluttershy waited.

She waited. Why wasn’t anypony moving or saying anything?

Oh, dear… Fluttershy had to look, didn’t she? She slowly brought a wing down.

Rarity was off to the side. She had a look on her face like…

Fluttershy took a deep breath, as deep as her tight throat would let her take. She brought the other wing down.

Rainbow, too…? Her eyes were wide, her pupils tiny.

Fluttershy turned, and—

She ran forward. She brushed aside a dazed-looking Twilight Sparkle. She knelt down.

At this distance, she could hear the gurgling very clearly.

She moved the torc aside from where it had gone askew. There was a depression in the dark flesh. Small, but there.

Something… something internal.

The big mare coughed, ejecting—

Fluttershy didn’t— she didn’t have— couldn’t…

Could never do anything.

A light registered in her brain. Warm on her back but not seeping quite deeply enough.

A voice said, “Twilight Sparkle, my faithful student.” Metal touched stone with a delicate sound. “I knew you could…”

Twilight had never seen the princess cry.

Prologue, Part 2: Come Morning

“No, thanks.”

When the princess told everypony who Might Rare Noon was—and before that, even—Pinkie’d had to fight pretty hard to stay in control. To not just run home and cry herself into a Pinkie-puddle.

“I appreciate the thought, dear, but I don’t think it would be best.”

She lost the battle pretty quickly. But today’d been a new day!

“We’ve, um. We’ve decided not to this year.”

Or that’s what she’d thought, anyway. Just hop headfirst back into the saddle—it did nopony else any good, her being all Weepy Pie. She’d feel better when she made sure everypony else was feeling better.

“From you? No, thank you.”

Pinkie was a pretty great planner, but that one fell apart kinda quickly.

“After what you and your little group pulled?”

She’d known ponies—plenty, plenty of ponies—who had a time when they just didn’t want to be happy. Usually it wasn’t too hard to get them to see how silly that is. This was gonna be a tougher nut to crack. Sting-y. A cactonut.

“No, Pinkie. Would you get a grip?”

But she’d do it. She had to. If she didn’t, she’d wind up just as grumpy as everypony else.

“Please get out.”

If she didn’t, what would that make her?

Rainbow was considering leaving town. Finding a new home again—maybe not even bothering to bring her house this time. But…

“It wasn’t your fault,” she said to the yellow-and-pink lump in her hooves.

The lump just shivered and kept crying.

Rainbow looked around the little cottage. Everything was moving even slower than normal. Mice trudged from hole to hole. Birds sat slumped on their perches. She sighed.

Fluttershy had done a lot for her, she knew. Always had two ears on offer when Rainbow came around with some sob story or dumb idea. Always had some soup when Rainbow was sick or just hungry. Always… made Rainbow feel important—like somepony worth all that. They didn’t fit each other, but they fit each other.

Rainbow didn’t know how to be Fluttershy for Fluttershy, though. That was all too clear.

She ran her hoof down Fluttershy’s mane again. “You did everything you could.”

She wasn’t brave enough to say, ‘More than me.’

Thunk.

Applejack was fine. Just fine.

She knew how that sounded, even in her head, but it was the honest to goodness truth! There was nopony she loved more than her kin, but stars above could they ever run her right into the ground with their worrying.

Thunk.

It had been awful, yes. She would remember it for the rest of her life and probably have a couple nightmares, yes. Would it stop her from keeping on? No!

They didn’t even know what happened past what the princess announced. They didn’t have a reason to be so worried. Not that they should’ve been like this even if Applejack had gone into the gor— the nitty-gritty details.

Thunk.

Why, if Applejack went and—

“Applejack?” said a little voice.

Applejack turned to Apple Bloom. “Yes, darlin’?” she said.

“Why are y’all, um…” She pointed past Applejack.

Applejack lifted a hoof and patted Apple Bloom’s mane. Rustled Momma’s old bow. “Just lettin’ out some stress. Don’t you worry none—the tree can take it.”

Apple Bloom frowned, saying, “Okay…”

Applejack patted her again, giving her a little noogie till she giggled. “Go on and do your chores, ’kay, hon’?”

Still giggling, Apple Bloom nodded and ran off.

Thunk.

That mare in Rarity’s mirror was far too beautiful. The way her perfect, richly colored curls played about her face. The way her coat—a white that sauntered over to gray, stroked it delicately, and left it speechless—not so much shone but caught and graciously gave back the light. The way her eyes gave that impression of sapphires drowning in thick cream.

The way they weren’t bloodshot.

Why weren’t they bloodshot?

Why wasn’t her mane frazzled and her coat unwashed?

Because this was a mare of impressions. Care and currycombs. This mare had had a sound bout of beauty sleep. A nice shower. A light, healthy breakfast.

As though she deserved—

Ugly thoughts breed ugly faces. Strive instead for stately graces. No matter what this mirror-mare had been party to, she didn’t deserve Rarity’s or anypony else’s wishes that she be as ugly as her soul surely was.

Everypony deserves to look their best.

It wasn’t Fluttershy’s fault, Dash said.

Fluttershy did everything she could, Dash said.

Everything she could.

Sunlight found its way through the curtains, thin as they were. Now was probably as good a time as any.

“Hey, Spike,” said Twilight.

A couple seconds, then from between her forehooves, “Morning, Twi.” Weak sounding.

“You didn’t, um.” Twilight told her brain to come up with something less blunt. It ambled back with, “You usually snore when you sleep.”

“You, too,” said Spike.

Twilight gripped just a little more firmly. “It wasn’t because I was holding you…?”

“No, that—” Not just weak. Twilight could hear the lump in his throat. “That helped anyway, you know?” He gripped her forehoof tighter back. “Like when we were littler.”

When they were littler.

When it was okay to forget to apply the safety precautions you’d learned because the worst you could really do was give your favorite assistant a tummy ache. And the worst that would happen was a scolding and a repeat lesson.

But now, if Twilight got up, she’d… She would just be some…

Twilight could almost feel her spent lachrymal glands trying to squeeze out a few more tears that wouldn’t come. “Spike,” she said, “I think I just want to st—”

“Me too.”