A Canterlot Unicorn in Princess Platinum's Court

by FluorescentRed

Rating: everyone
Tags: Alternate Universe, Drama, Thriller, Adventure
Length: 10201

Twilight Sparkle finds herself in the distant past, the guest of the literally legendary Princess Platinum at her court in Canterlot. But how will she get home, when home is almost three thousand years in the future?

Twilight Sparkle finds herself in the distant past, the guest of the literally legendary Princess Platinum at her court in Canterlot. But as she contends with wars, racial tensions, magical mysteries, and getting home to thwart Nightmare Moon's not-so-imminent return, she finds herself struggling to fit what she sees with what she knows about Equestria's history.

Published 1970-01-01 00:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2016-01-24 22:37:14 UTC

00 Prologue

A CANTERLOT UNICORN IN PRINCESS PLATINUM'S COURT

PREFACE

Having been a student myself, I hold no illusions as to the likelihood that a given pony will read what I am about to write, rather than skipping ahead to the more exciting events that follow. I was, in fact, a student at the time that this story takes place. For that matter I still am, in the sense that a student is one who studies, and I have yet to stop studying even as I have run out of teachers capable of teaching me. However, leaving aside that more fanciful definition, and in the interests of providing context to the events that follow, I will say that I was a student in the traditional sense, and moreover the personal student of my country's eternal monarch Princess Celestia.

Learning is and always will be my one great passion. Under Celestia's tutelage I learned history, etiquette, thaumaturgy, astronomy, and otherwise all the hallowed and dignified subjects that make up a true classical education. It cannot be overstated how priceless the instruction she gave me was, from the secrets whispered in her ear by Starswirl the Bearded himself to the anecdotes she never shared about her visits to Ancient Anugypt, about which all records have been lost, so many hundreds of years ago.

And so, with the greatest of respect offered to my teacher and mentor, I must confess I learned more when we were apart. Although I was ostensibly enrolled in Princess Celestia's School for Gifted Unicorns, I stopped attending early on for the sake of my poor teachers, who in no way deserved the struggle to fit me into their curriculum. Instead, and owing to the fact that Princess Celestia had many more duties than my instruction, I spent much of my time at the library. There I learned chemistry, mathematics, physics, dark magic, formal logic, architecture, sociology, economics, and otherwise all that is not part of a true classical education. And, furthermore, I redouble my insistence that immortals make the best teachers, in that books are all it takes to truly make a pony immortal. Let it be no offense to Professor Cobalt that I preferred to learn my sciences straight from the horse's mouth, so to speak.

It should come as no surprise to those reading that these events took place in the rather distant future from where I myself am writing them. The tense structure of this book reflects my own personal timeline, which suffers from a rather large discontinuity, and it should therefore be remembered always that I will not be born for several millennia, assuming I am ever born at all. I will not speak now of what led to my being displaced several thousand years, lest I distract from the narrative of what happened after I arrived.

Suffice it to say that it was entirely my fault.

01 Impolite Society

PART ONE: THE PRINCESS AND THE WITCH

CHAPTER ONE v2

IMPOLITE SOCIETY

I was lying on the grass in the shadow of an oak tree, not entirely asleep but at the same time not awake. All around me was a great and overgrown valley. I could hear, but not see, a brook burbling nearby, and the whole of the sky was dominated by the Canterhorn, all but blotting out the sun with its bulk. Remembering all at once how I'd come to be there, I jolted to my feet. It was only then that I realized that I wasn't alone.

A mare stood expectantly some yards away. A helmet covered the whole of her head, with only a narrow slit for her to see out of, and with a spike on top to cover her horn - or at least I assumed, because she could as easily have been an earth pony with a fondness for sharp headgear. The whole of her body was covered in chain mail, and, strangest of all, she wore long, green ribbons all along her muzzle and sides. "Hail thee from Canterlot, fair maid, or yet farther afield?" she said, her accent thick and impossible to place. "Hark, for beasts and mongrels roam these hills. Make haste, lest the night catch thee out."

I didn't reply at first, being too busy staring at her helmet, but being quite sharp (if I do say so myself), I registered the fact that she was speaking in Old Equestrian, and without any fuss grasped the entirety of the situation; being that I was being accosted by either an ill-fated time traveller brought forward from, judging by her dialect, at least a thousand years previously, or else the poor thing was a madmare - a mad historian, judging by the accuracy of her getup - convinced she was in ancient Unicornia.

Belatedly, I said, "um, yes, Canterlot!".

The mare gave a courteous bow, ribbons fluttering elegantly in a sudden breeze that sent my magical senses prickling. She turned, then, and trotted imperiously in the direction of the Canterhorn, and I scrambled to my feet and followed.

We walked in silence for some time, and I became aware that the sun was not rising, but setting. Moreover, it was getting larger in the sky, and in fact was steadily falling. Moreover that, it was fall toward us. My host seemed unmoved by this sight, so I kept quiet.

And so it transpired that we arrived at the magnificent walled city of Canterlot, and I finally deduced that I had traveled into the distant past. In fact, I could put specific years to it, because Princess Celestia had torn down the walls of Canterlot at the start of her reign twenty six hundred years before I was born.

At this point I was having kittens, of course, for what I feel were perfectly valid reasons. Presently, my host drew up beside me and spoke, which startled me out of my skin, figuratively speaking.

"What sickens thee?" she asked. "Anguish suits not a mare so beautiful, nor fear, nor any malaise nor mania under the Sun-"

(It's worth noting that romantic poetry was very much in style at the time. Though to modern ears it may sound like she was hitting on me - and, in fact, that's exactly the conclusion I came to at the time - really that's just how they talked to each other in Canterlot twenty-nine hundred years ago.)

"-If any favor could bring ease to your heart, then only speak and it shall be done."

"Oh, no, that's fine," I said. Then, "it's just I said I was from Canterlot, but now I realize I was just confused and I'm not from Canterlot at all. I'm from somewhere else. Very far away."

"Ah!" she said, then lifted her visor to shoot me a winning smile. The moment she released it, it fell back over her face with a resounding crash, drowning out whatever she was saying. Without stopping or repeating herself, she finished, "-present yourself in audience before the Princess, that she may know tidings of our cousins."

I nodded, partly because I wasn't clear on whether I had a choice in the matter, mostly because of a hard-ingrained tendency towards obedience when princesses were involved.

By now my hooves were aching horribly, dust had caked itself on my hooves and fetlocks, and I was sweating in a most unpleasant way. I'd never walked from the bottom of the Canterhorn up to Canterlot itself, being privileged with the services of a chariot whenever I had to travel.  I felt that Canterlot must have been much higher in the air, possibly due to some sort of erosion - or, alternatively, it was distantly possible that I was out of shape. To make matters worse the sun had drawn very close, and seemed poised to set directly on top of the Canterhorn, perhaps Canterlot itself. Its heat was making itself known, and for the first time I could remember Canterlot was actually warm as opposed to some variation on "too cold."

And so, almost reflexively, I muttered a spell. It was a spell I'd cast just about every day since I'd learned it, something they taught in the third year at Princess Celestia's School for Gifted Unicorns: Solomane's Nameless Spell. It was a stupefyingly complicated affair, and yet drop-dead easy to cast; designed to bring the air directly around me to the optimally comfortable temperature, without keeping the air from moving naturally or altering the temperature of the air surrounding that air. Star Swirl himself once called it Solomane's greatest achievement. We rarely notice how much effort went into the simple things we use every day. Clocks, irrigation, the sun.

Obviously this turned out to be important later.

Canterlot itself had changed surprisingly little in the intervening millennia, at least on the ground. It ran out of horizontal space to expand to shortly after its founding, and since then it had really only ever built up. Many of the buildings were the same ones I'd grown up with, only shorter and covered in slightly fewer or more glittering jewels.

The palace, however, was different. A tiered hall of glittering marble a hundred meters high, streaked with veins of pink. The roof of each tier overflowed with greenery, trees and orchards practically spilling out off the edge. Seven towers jutted from the top, each topped with a gold dome. Two double doors, each tall enough to fit a dragon and wide enough for ten ponies to stand abreast, stood side by side at the end of a long and elegant bridge separating the town from the palace. Vines cast in silver crisscrossed the doors, which were dominated by two enormous knockers emblazoned with the symbol of the sun.

About as big as the biggest ordinary buildings I'd ever seen. Definitely larger than the Prench palace, and it certainly dwarfed the Trottingham Palace, which was a museum in the present - that is to say, the future. A palace fit for a princess, definitely.

It was, by my estimate, about a quarter the size of Princess Celestia's palace, not counting the gardens.

Hardly fair, since I was pretty sure Canterlot was a city state at this point whereas Equestria was an extremely wealthy, very ancient, very large principality with the benefit of quite a bit technological and magical advancement. Still less than impressive when you knew what would be there later.

The armored mare, and frankly at this point there was no sense not calling her a dame*, since that was clearly what she was, took hold of both door knockers in her magic, ringing them against the doors with a tremendous crash. We waited in silence, and I was about to ask if it was possible no one was home when the doors came open with ponderous slowness.

The dame in the lead, we entered the hall.

03 Night Mare

CHAPTER THREE

NIGHT MARE

I was, for some time, alone in my cell. Unable to see, for the sun had set and my horn was ringed in iron, I measured out the dimensions of my cell with my hooves. It was, perhaps, two meters to a side and two high, with only a very small window just below the ceiling. This exercise took me some hours, or perhaps only one, but served to stop my shaking and center me.

It was, with this done, that I was calm enough to regain my mental faculties. Being me, I used them to berate myself for my own stupidity. Why hadn't I teleported away and run for the hills, well before they had a chance to lay hooves on me? What, precisely, had Her Royal Highness Princess Celestia herself taught me all those magic spells for if I was too dumb to actually use them?

Presently, I settled myself on my stomach to better chastise myself. It seemed profitable to list out all the things I could have done, in case the opportunity presented itself to actually do them at some point. With that in mind, I noted that I could have:

Cast any or all of a dozen rusting spells on the guards holding me, paralyzing them in their stupid, obsolete armor.

Cast the Want-It-Need-It spell on, say, Princess Platinum's tiara.

Transmuted the floorboards to bubblegum.

Used dark magic, of any kind. Why had I ever bothered if I hadn't thought to use it in the one situation it was actually useful?

And so I went, growing more inventive and less merciful as I went. It was when I, having noted in retrospect the lack of any wards against animation on the torches and statues in the throne room, considered what would have happened if I'd brought them to life, that my first genuinely useful thought occured.

Animation wards hadn't been invented yet. The first had been created by Legate Labyrinthine, in response to the destruction wrought the Come-To-Life spell in the Rebellion of Trottingham, invented earlier that year. Why would they put up wards that didn't exist?

I started thinking about all the holes in their security. They hadn't cast a blanket dispel on me when they'd arrested me, not that I'd been all that enchanted. They were using manacles and iron rings, not hoofcuffs and magic dampeners; the former could be escaped, the latter could not.

I dozed for some time, thinking of my new hoard of time travel enforced secrets. When I slept, I dreamt of the great weather factory at Cloudsdale, which allowed ponies to dictate weather with impunity, not just move it from place to place. I dreamt of taking Canterlot by force, leading an army of animated trees, as Commander Inglenook had done against the Zebricans in the First Ponic War. I dreamt of Princess Celestia, who may not even have been born yet.

I awoke with a plan.

I waited in the dark of the morning for a long time. I was considering the possibility that I'd been sentenced to starvation when I was drawn from my reverie by the sound of approaching footsteps.

A unicorn guard walked the long stone corridor that led to my cell. His coat was a grimy grey under chain mail barding, and his cutie mark was hidden. He shoved a wooden plate with my breakfast through a narrow slit in the cell door. It was bread and water.

"Her highness has weighed your case and sentenced you to death," he said. His voice was low and gravelly, his face scarred. "You are to be burned at the stake come morning tomorrow."

Inwardly, I'd already filled myself with so much false bravado that all I felt was disgust and mingled pity. The plan wouldn't work if I were my usual, sensible self; it wouldn't fit the mould. Even beneath that, I couldn't help but recoil at the thought. I'd got the death penalty over a painting?

Outwardly, I laughed. It was forced, but I'd been practicing, and it came out as a shrill, contemptuous giggle.

"Oh, how fun!" I tittered, clasping my hooves in front of my face. "You may tell your princess that I will accept her punishment, on one condition – oh, but this is no good, I simply must speak to her in pony."

"There is no condition," the guardspony sneered. "Nopony may question the princess's will within Canterlot, peasant, and-" his eyes widened fractionally. He'd leaned in closer to the bars, and so had I; this close, he could feel the heat radiating off my clasped hooves. Without my maintenance, even my double casting of Solomane's Nameless Spell was unravelling. Blessedly, it was designed to fail gracefully, releasing the trapped heat before the spellwork protecting me from it could unravel.

It hadn't been designed for the virtual oven of Princess Platinum's Court, but I was being burned at the stake regardless so what was the worst that could happen? I'd picked at it a bit.

"-and furthermore, I'd suggest you give up any trick you were planning and die with dignity," he finished. There was no conviction in his voice.

I settled down on my belly and went over my plan while I ate.

I guessed that it might be evening when the guard came again to give me my dinner, though I had no way of knowing. He seemed much more confident, this time, so I stayed silent and waited.

I spent the evening running my hooves back and forth over the edge of my mane and tail. Or, rather, my horseshoes, which being iron had inherent antimagic properties. Very, very carefully, I was deconstructing the outer layers of Solomane's Nameless Spell.

Clover came in the middle of the night.

I was awakened by the sound of her footsteps approaching, and within an instant I was perky. Adrenaline was a much more effective stimulant than coffee. I considered trying to develop some process by which I might bottle it, but it took no time at all for my mind to return to my impending doom and/or escape.

Presently, she came into view. She looked as she had in court, before, though she wore a different cloak, and her hair was pragmatically tied back.

Whatever she'd meant to say, she didn't say it.

My mane and tail glowed, waste heat and light straining the edges of Solomane's Spell. Wisps of smoke escaped periodically, as the aetheric envelope lost ever more consistency and strands of hair were incinerated. I tossed my head in a way I hoped was dramatic, scattering embers every which way.

"Good evening," she said evenly. "How are you?"

"Bored," I said. I tried to inject as much petulance into my voice as I could. "Amuse me."

"Unless you find being observed, and subsequently having your species identified, entertaining, I'm afraid you're out of luck."

I rose to my hooves and strode to the bars of the cell, and to her credit Clover didn't step back.

This was where I put to play my understanding of physics.

In the natural world, energy tends to go from high concentration to low. A tree, high in chemical energy, burns at a lower energy, and the heat dissipates to still lower and more diffuse levels. Magic, however, works in the opposite direction; it gathers energy into tight bundles, ready to be released.

Solomane's Nameless Spell was a very interesting example. Although used as a temperature regulator, it was actually an energy collector. Under most circumstances, there was no real reason to use it for anything but its intended purpose; it was easily dispelled, its presence was obvious to anypony who knew what it was, and there were better ways to collect energy than walking through it. Demonstrations of its energy gathering properties were relegated to the annals of industrial accidents, and the subject of mandated safety videoreels, not heist novels.

Nevertheless, Solomane's Spell had picked up every scrap of heat I'd been exposed to in Princess Platinum's throne room, and had had no safe place to vent it. Once I'd left, it hadn't vented the heat at all - lacking any direction to do so - leaving several hours' worth of direct sun exposure in the incredibly compact areas of my mane, my tail, and my horseshoes.

I felt the iron bars deforming at my touch, from the moment they passed through the envelope of the spell. I felt the parts of the spell that should've excluded the bars from the envelope fizzle and die, from where I'd carefully taken apart the exacting, redundant safety precautions.

Clover did take a step back, then. I pulled back. Then iron cooled the moment it left my hair, the spell bringing the heat with it, leaving only a head-sized dent in the bar where I'd touched it.

"A ... a Night Mare, then? No, of course you are, the mane is kind of a giveaway. Why are you here? I hadn't thought any of ... any of you actually existed. I thought ..." Clover trailed off.

(To her credit, Night Mares did not, in fact, exist. Just as well, because I had no idea what Night Mare was supposed to be.)

"There are stories," I hissed through my teeth, trying to choke my voice into a rasp, "forgotten stories, legends gone to rot. What good is it, a story no one tells? I wanted a new story, something to be told around a dying fire in the dead of night, something to spook foals in their beds."

"You ... wanted to be part of a story?"

I cackled. "And you've given me one! The clever advisor, who outwits the villain and – ah, but our story isn't over yet. Why, we finished before we began, without gnashing of teeth or tearing of manes. Nopony will want to hear of the story of the Night Mare who was summarily executed. No, it won't do at all."

"The guard said you had a condition for the princess. Is that what it is, then? We answer your riddle, beat you at chess, maybe, and then what? I doubt burning you at the stake would accomplish much."

"And then I leave, of course! Not to trouble you, at least, ever again. Perhaps your children, when they grow old, and forget the stories. Who can say?"

"And if we lose?"

I stroked the bars of the cell with one hoof, sending red streaks along its length. "I suppose I'll have to find a city with a more cunning advisor."

"No." Clover smiled coyly, and I felt my facade crack just the slightest bit. "If we're to have, as you say, gnashing of teeth and pulling of manes, then I demand compensation for my part in this."

Somewhere behind the lies, where I was a unicorn and not some bizarre fictitious monster set on Celestia knows what, I was screaming who cares what she makes you agree to just get the dampener off!

But, of course, I wasn't a unicorn. I was a monster of the night, and nothing about being in a cell upset me nearly as much as Clover not agreeing to my devil's bargain.

"Com – pen – sa – tion," I hissed, stretching the word as far as it would go.

"I propose a counteroffer, and make no mistake, this is a negotiation. If you could do as you pleased, you wouldn't have gone to such lengths to draw my attention. You'd have burned the mountain to cinders and gone off to do as you pleased elsewhere. You need something from me."

I smiled my most forced smile. It was more of a grimace. "Counteroffer away, oh cunning one."

"A contest, which we must both agree on. If you win-" Clover swallowed nervously "-you'll have my soul, but none other, and must agree to leave Canterlot forever, and never again set foot on the mountain. And if I win, you'll give me your true name, and I'll bind you to a lamp, to serve me forever."

"Hardly a fair bargain," I said, while inwardly I was jumping up and down shouting yes, yes, yes! "I'm to content myself with only one, from the entire sumptuous bounty of a city? And how am I to know you won't weasel out? Perhaps you'll refuse every challenge I offer, and we'll be in negotiations until you die of old age."

"Am I to take that as agreement, pending details?"

"...pending details."

Clover stroked her chin. "A time limit of three days. If at the end of those three days we can't come to an agreement, the challenge will be chosen by ... I'm not sure."

"Counteroffer," I snapped. "I will make eleven challenges, and you will make eleven of your own, and both of us will give our word that those offers are made in good faith. If none of those are agreed to, then I will pick a member of your nobility, and, free of either of our influence, they will choose for us. Is this agreeable?"

"Agreed. Do I have your word, then?"

I laughed, injecting as much shrill evilness as my throat could handle. "Why, of course not. But it's a start. How will I be assured that you will keep your word, mortal? And, should the contest be protracted, where will I be accommodated? Surely you don't expect a being of my stature to put up with this hovel?

"You must provide your own means of forcing my word. As for accommodations, I will draw a circle of salt and silver within a comfortable room suited to a noble visitor. You will be brought what you desire, within reason, and released only for the contest. You will not harm any citizen of Canterlot, nor damage its property, nor sabotage its interests, while you are its guest. Is this agreeable?"

I chewed my lip as if deliberating, and held the pose for a long time. When I judged I'd come across as suitably conflicted, I said, "fine. But to ensure your will be done, and our bargain kept, I will place upon you my malediction; that if you should reserve your offers of contest for a period of longer than three days, or if you should offer me any injury or attempt to bind me before the contest is concluded, or if you should attempt to fetter me in any way beyond the circle of salt and silver, I will remove the horn from your head, and take from you your magic for the rest of your life, and the same for any citizen of Canterlot who violates our bargain. Are we agreed?"

Clover gasped and took a step back.

I offered my hoof.

Quivering, she touched it, then leaped back. My horseshoe was red hot, now.

"Agreed."

04 Closed Circle

CHAPTER FOUR

CLOSED CIRCLE

It was daybreak when Clover returned to release me from my cell. There were dark circles under her eyes, and she was shivering badly, her cloak drawn tight around her as if to keep out a chill. With her were no fewer than ten soldiers, unicorns all, who removed me from my cell with utmost care. Not a one of them dared approach me, so I ended up in the midst of an uneasy procession through the halls and up the stairs. I was tempted to just make a break for it, except that the iron ring was still on my horn, and the manacles prevented me from reaching my hooves high enough to remove it.

My new room was, as promised, fairly pleasant. It was small by modern standards, but not cramped, and furnished with a bed, a table, a chair, and a small but empty shelf.

More interesting was the promised 'circle of silver and salt'. I'd never seen one in my life, though I'd heard vague mentions in the oldest of texts, alongside such oddities as 'aqua fortis' and 'eye of newt'. It was much more elaborate than I'd expected;  Clover had to have been working all night. It consisted of three interlocking rings, each marked into the floor in shimmering white, more like a chalk drawing than the powder I'd expected. Each ring ran over each of the others, dissolving where they touched into fractal triangles. It was so wide that I had to be lifted over, I supposed for fear I'd try to smudge it on the way.

The moment my hooves touched the stone on the far side, I heard a collective sigh, as though some great peril had passed. Clover stopped quivering. There was a long silence, filled with nothing but stares.

Finally, I swallowed as much of my own nerves as I could manage, worked myself into character, and (because I didn't trust my voice) hissed, "the ring."

Clover nodded, and there was another long pause. Finally, when I felt my throat was going to jump out of my body and strangle me, she repeated, "yes. Rem – remove her fetters."

It was some minutes while the guards, communicating only through sidelong glances and sharp looks, decided who was to come close enough to remove the ring. It wasn't long before Clover was dragged into the argument and, under the pleading eyes of the ponies under her command, approached the edge of the circle.

A pair of iron tongs was passed along from pony to pony. She took them in telekinesis that shook and sparked. It took her three tries to get them anywhere near my horn.

Then, finally, it was off.

The very first thing I did was scatter the flames in my mane and tail and reassert Solomane's spell. This startled Clover so much that she leaped back, dropping the tongs, and only barely managed to catch them before they could spoil her circle.

The second thing I did was shatter my manacles, which, lacking any enchantment, and being frankly shoddy, came apart easily under telekinesis.

The third thing I did was cast a maximum-strength cooling spell, which I didn't release until thin lines of frost had begun to form on the stone floor. Protected or not, after being on fire for twelve hours the relief was almost palpable.

When that was done, I found that Clover and I were alone.

"Well, then," she said. "That was-"

The fourth thing I did was charge a teleport, aimed directly behind Clover.

I hit the circle with a muffled bang, and for a moment the room was lit with a brilliant silver light that sapped the magic right out of my spell. I reappeared with my face pressed against an invisible barrier, mere inches from Clover's own. Pain shot through my horn, reverberating through my body.

I stumbled back, stunned, while Clover, in her haste to escape, ran headlong into the door. There was silence for some time, while I checked to make sure I was still in one piece and Clover tried to regain what composure she could. She was still hyperventilating when I judged that the worst of the damage was a frizzy mane.

"...agh, why did you do that?" she shrieked. "Do you enjoy seeing me suffer? Is this your idea of fun?"

"I was only testing your circle's integrity," I said, my voice cracking.

I didn't think that thing would actually work, I did not say.

"I – I – I – need a few hours, I think, to – to think. I need a few hours to think, I can't make any- I have three days, right? I'll be back later." She turned to go.

"Wait," I croaked out. The barest sketch of a vagueness of a plan was forming, and it was telling me that I needed to keep pushing, at anything I could get. "I'll have your first offer. It would be remiss to leave them all for the last minute."

"Ch - chess?"

I stroked my chin absently, more for theatre than anything else. If she was willing to stake her soul on it, I doubted I could beat her. "No, not chess. Very well, you may go."

She was out the door before I'd finished speaking.

I all but collapsed on the bed. My heart hammered in my ears. The edges of my vision were black. I felt faint. More than anything, I wanted to curl up into a ball and just stop existing.

Instead, I itemized my assets.

1: Magic, but apparently not beyond the edges of the circle.

2: All sorts of technology, but nothing I could do with it in three days.

3: The contents of my room, which was almost entirely bare.

I spent a long time waiting for a fourth. When one didn't come, I slept.

...

I was awakened by the sound of gentle rapping at my door, and for a brief, blissful moment, I thought I was at home, and Princess Celestia, having found a free minute, was calling me as she sometimes did for an unscheduled early morning lesson.

I was quickly disabused of this notion.

"M'lady," came a voice, soft and hesitant. "I beseech a moment of your time, that I may attend to you."

I rolled over with a stifled groan. My back was suddenly very sore, no doubt a souvenir of my time in the dungeon, and judging by the evening sun streaming in through the window I hadn't slept more than a few hours. I rolled over again, and unceremoniously fell out of bed.

The door opened, and a servant entered, presumably having taken my fall as an invitation. That she was a servant was extremely evident; she was the second most demure, second most tentative, and second least dynamic creature I had ever laid eyes on, seeming at least three quarters deer. She carried a wooden platter, and wore some sort of frippery, an utterly unidentifiable construction of pale fabric that seemed to serve no purpose, which I assumed indicated what sort of servant she was. Her cutie mark, which was only partly visible, was a lit candle.

"M'lady," she repeated. "I apologize most sincerely, only I've been sent to wait upon you, and told that I'm to offer you this-" she gestured with the platter "-and in no uncertain terms indicate to you that should you need anything, you're to simply ring this bell-" she produced a bell from a pocket of her frippery "-and that, with these considered, the 'bargain is fulfilled to the letter'."

With that, she set the platter down inside of the circle, with the bell beside it. Now that it was on a level with me (I being still, of course, on the floor), I could see a block of cheese, lettuce, an apple, bread, and water.

"May I offer you anything else, m'lady?" she asked. "Canterlot is at your disposal, m'lady."

"Yes," I said automatically. I didn't have a plan, but whatever plan I came up with I was better off with something than with nothing.

I waited, mind blank, for as long as I thought I could justify silence. Then, without any thought passing through my mind, I said, "a book. A book about Night Mares."

"I will search the library, m'lady. May I get you anything else?"

"Yes." I wracked my groggy, sleep deprived brain. I couldn't think of anything. "A chess set."

And, like a switch had flipped in my head, I had a plan.

05 Unreasonable Discourse

CHAPTER 5

UNREASONABLE DISCOURSE

The morning found me snuggled comfortably in bed with my fourth book, when the door burst open with such force that the doorknob made a dent in the adjoining wall. I had to clamp both hooves over my mouth to keep from shrieking in fright, such was the state of my nerves. I hadn't slept all night, keeping myself going on nothing but wakefulness spells.

"Show yourself!" came Clover's voice from the dim. "Come out and face me you pestilent monster!

I couldn't see her from where I lay. Wary of anypony coming in while I was doing anything unmonsterly, I'd conjured a barrier of oily smoke that hovered at the edges of the magic circle. It took three deep, calming breaths to keep me from shaking, and three more to get myself into character.

I dismissed my reading light and relit my mane, casting the room around me in pink and purple light. I'd spent some time working on my illusions, finding a shade of flame that looked intimidating without clashing with my colour scheme. Lacking anywhere better to hide them, I shoved the chessboard and the dinner platter from the night before under the bed, then dismissed the barrier.

Light streamed in from the window, driving away the artificial gloom and forcing me to squint to see Clover. The evidence of her sleep deprivation was more prominent now, bloodless skin and uneven gait joining the worsening circles under her eyes. She didn't meet my eyes, instead looking fixedly at the books piled up beside me.

"Good morning," I said. I felt more natural in my fake amusement, now. I'd spent much of the night practicing my tone under a silencing spell, narrating my plan to myself while I worked on my enchantments.

"Every book. You took out every book in the castle library that made reference to Night Mares."

"I'm given to understand that there are no withdrawal limits. Besides, these are fascinating. Did you know Night Mares can't tell lies? I didn't."

Clover stormed up to the barrier, only stopping short of crossing the circle itself. "You are entitled to reasonable hospitality and nothing more. Give me back my books at once or so help me I will find a way to make you suffer."

"But then what will I read?" I whined. "I'll tell you what: you can have half, and when you're done with those, come back and we can swap."

Without waiting for a response, I picked up the top half of my "to read" pile, plus the three I'd already read, and passed them over to Clover.

"Other half."

"What?"

"Give me," hissed Clover, "the other half. I don't trust you. I don't trust you not to give me the books with mistakes, or a pile of decoys that only mention Night Mares in passing. Give me the books you kept for yourself, and take these ones back."

I almost told her that she should take a random mixture of the two piles rather than risking a double-bluff. My common sense managed to put a stop to that, so I swapped stacks with her in silence, keeping only the book I had been reading before she came in. She looked ready to demand that as well, but held her tongue.

Reluctantly, she turned to go, then spun back and walked right over the circle. "No, wait, I'm not done yet. You can't have left the room, which means you've been acting through the servants. How did you find every single book before I even found one?"

"A spell."

"What. Spell."

"A spell to look for words."

"And how did this spell find those words from inside the circle?"

"Obviously it had to leave the circle first."

"How did the spell leave the circle?"

"It was carried."

Clover visibly restrained herself. Her eyes had narrowed to pinpricks, and even from where I lay meters away I could hear her grinding her teeth. "Give me a straight answer, right now."

I pouted. "Oh, you're no fun. I gave a servant, whose name I don't recall, a spellform inscribed with a spell to search the library for the term 'Night Mare'. I asked her to bring me anything that it pointed out to her."

Clover's eyes widened. "The circle should prevent any of your magic from crossing the boundary. How did you-"

"The spellform didn't have any of my magic in it. The energy comes from the unicorn using it."

In truth, I was just guessing. I had no idea how Clover's 'circle of salt and silver' worked, so I'd systematically made every kind of magic item I could think of and thrown them at the barrier.

"Tell me," Clover said, "that the spell you had cast served no hidden purpose."

"The spell I had cast for me served no hidden purpose. It looked for books containing the term 'Night Mare', nothing more."

"I will instruct the servants not to humor any more such requests. Goodbye." With that, Clover hopped gingerly over the barrier and stomped out of the room, slamming the door behind her.

I sagged with relief. My heart was hammering in my ears, and beads of sweat had formed on my brow. I wished, not for the first time, that Princess Celestia had let me learn medical-grade anti-anxiety spells when I had the chance.

I turned back to the book I'd been reading. For a book of fables, it wasn't especially soothing. Of the twenty one stories it contained, four featured Night Mares in a prominent role. I'd only just read the last one.

It was about a about a magician named Evanescent, who was locked in a bitter rivalry with a wizard called Gambol. In the course of her research, Evanescent discovered in a deep cave the prison of a Night Mare by the name of Palimpsest, who had been bound there in ages past.

Evanescent sought out Palimpsest, asking for knowledge of spells long forgotten. Palimpsest offered a deal. A single soul on which to feed, she said, would soothe her hunger, and Evanescence need not fear, for a single soul would not give her the strength to escape her prison.

Evanescent agreed, and returned to her city and snuck into Gambol's home while he slept. Catching him by surprise, she subdued him with magic and brought him to the Night Mare's lair. As promised, Palimpsest granted to Evanescent a book of powerful spells, and sent her on her way.

Rather than devouring Gambol's soul, however, Palimpsest offered him deal: the souls of ten ponies, in exchange for his freedom. Gambol agreed, and the next night he returned to his city and crept through the slums and tenements, and with magic chains bound ten criminals and madponies he was confident wouldn't be missed, to bring before Palimpsest. After she'd sent Gambol on his way, however, Palimpsest made the same offer: if each on the ten brought ten victims of their own, Palimpsest would release them. They agreed, and that night they crept into the city, going from house to house looting and kidnapping. Working together they brought, in twos and threes, the promised hundred souls. Again, however, when the ten went on their way, Palimpsest made her offer, and the next night the hundred ponies went into the countryside and travelled from village to village, taking for her one thousand captives.

At last, Palimpsest came before her thousand prisoners. This time, however, she made a new offer: she would release them only on the condition that they deliver to her in bondage every single pony in the city. The country ponies agreed readily, for they hated the city ponies who had delivered them as captives; but they despaired, for the city had high walls and many skilled soldiers, and they were only peasant farmers. And so Palimpsest offered to arm them with her dark powers, if they would in turn agree to serve her. And the ponies agreed, for their farms had been burned and they had no homes to return to.

And so Palimpsest's army fell upon the city, weilding her dark magic and cursed weapons. And, when she was given her due, she devoured the souls of each and every pony that had lived within its walls. And, when at last the she came upon Evanescent, she struck her down and reclaimed the book of spells. With her hunger sated, Palimpsest's power swelled, and she tore through the bindings that anchored her to the cave, free to plague the world again.

As disturbing as it was, it gave me an idea, though nothing to do with my escape. Rather, in the great checklist in the back of my mind, I'd written in a new header. The header read: Long-Term Plans.

The task of getting myself thousands of years into the future was far from trivial. It had occurred to me, out of the blue, that it was quite possible I would never make it home; and furthermore, even if I did, it might be some time before I did. And, if I was to spend any amount of time in the past, I might as well make myself useful.

It hadn't escaped my notice that the light of civilization was rather on the dim side, and, while I could hardly blame them for it, the ponies here were utter savages. I had even come across passages in my readings that indicated the pracise of slavery, as unthinkable as it was, was still alive and well. It was undeniable to anyone with the pertinent information with which to compare, that any country not ruled by Princess Celestia was barely worth living in.

And so I came to a dilemma. For whatever reason, Princess Celestia's united Equestria was nowhere to be seen. Perhaps she controlled some part of the continent, while Canterlot had yet to be incorporated into her rule. Perhaps she hadn't even been born yet – even to me, Princess Celestia was very closed-lipped about her origins. I could hardly pledge myself to the service of a pony who didn't even exist yet. What to do?

Now, I was a practical Canterlot pony – the real Canterlot, not this rotten hovel – and I would never dream of shying away from hard work, especially when I was the only one for the job. It seemed to me that this was very straightforward problem, in which the country had a dearth of decent leadership. I was hardly in any position to deny that there was an obvious solution. It was evident that, as the only educated, enlightened pony in the whole world I had a moral obligation to take over, for the good of the species as a whole.

And so I resolved, and, as it wasn't relevant to the situation, put the thing clear out of my mind.

02 Princess Platinum's Court

CHAPTER TWO v2

PRINCESS PLATINUM'S COURT

The sunlight was oppressive. It suffused the chamber; there was nowhere you could look where you wouldn't be blinded, and nowhere you could stand that offered any better than partial shade. The heat was such that I could feel it even through Solomane's Nameless Spell - though I could feel more strongly the magical effort the spell was investing to spare me the brunt.

I took a moment to check how well the spell was holding up, and found that it had formed two envelopes - one of cool air around me, and another of brutally superheated air around that. I didn't dismiss it, but took a moment to magically dissipate the heat and alter the spell to store it somewhere less noticeable. I settled for the cores of my horseshoes.

The literal climate seemed to dictate the political climate; the unicorns in the most impressive robes and finery stood at the furthest edges of the room, in raised alcoves or behind corners. Lesser nobles and courtiers milled about behind pillars or statues. Servants flitted from shadow to shadow with trays of chilled drinks and sliced fruits balanced carefully in the air with magic. Those of no noble status or employment, myself and the dame included, were worst off, trying to work their way into some patch of shade. I was only mildly uncomfortable, protected as I was by my spell, so I stayed where I was.

In the center of the room was a single enormous platform, made of the same marble that constituted the walls and floor. It was shaped like a stylized waterfall of stone, made up of elegant droplets and sweeping curves that seemed to defy gravity. It gave the impression of having been carved where it sat, and its workmanship was so delicate that I couldn't make out a single chisel mark or imperfection.

Atop the platform, resting on cushions and silk, sat the princess. She needed no introduction or announcement. Her coat was utterly white, combed to a blinding sheen. Her mane was bound up in silver chains embedded with emeralds and pearls (so much so that I couldn't make out the color), and her gown was similarly adorned, so much so that I doubted she could move from where she sat. Therein lay the ease of identification; she was too heavily encumbered by her regalia to climb down from her throne, meaning she must expect others to come to her.

Of course, the fact that the sun itself hovered only a few meters above her head, filling the air around her with a radiant corona of light so intense that I couldn't bear to look directly at her, also aided in the identification process.

We stood waiting for some time, and I was reminded of the aching in my hooves. At first I tried to sit, but as more and more unicorns crowded into the room it became infeasible and I stood again.

Being an academic, standing for long periods of time was not something I was used to at all, and, frankly, beneath my dignity. It was after only fifteen more minutes of standing, by which point my legs were so sore I was beginning to feel I might topple over, that I felt I had to sit down again. I pushed through the crowd until I was at the edge nearest the princess, where the ponies were much less thick and almost invariably struggling to force their way closer to the wall.

I sat again, and almost immediately, one of my horseshoes started to melt. This close to the sun, the heat was so much that even within my spell it felt like a midsummer day. The heat, stored in my horseshoes, had reached the tens of thousands of degrees, and, reaching the end of even Solomane's ability to contain it, started to leak to the edges.

Fortunately, Solomane's genius shone through - the spell kept the melted iron from conducting heat to my hooves. Still, obviously I'd miscalculated. I pulled as much heat out of my horseshoes as I could and, lacking anywhere else to put it, stuffed it into my mane and tail. It took a minute of playing with oxygen and aetheric membranes before my hair stopped combusting, then another to recast my horseshoes into their original shape (not something I could've managed if they hadn't already melted), five more to replace the parts of my mane that had burned to ash*, and another ten to work a second casting of the Nameless Spell on top of the first one. This new casting I left to store the heat in the air like it normally did, lacking a third place to put it.

Then, finally, the princess rose. The babble of conversation choked off in a fraction of a second, replaced by a silence so absolute I could hear my heart beating. Long seconds dragged out before she spoke, and when she did her voice was high and clear.

"We," she said, "her highness Princess Cynosure Platinum XI, call to session the ninth Sunset Court of the third lunar month of the thousand and first year of the reign of the Platinum Throne. May the petitioners come forth at this time."

That apparently concluded the formalities, because she sat back down. Frankly, I was surprised by the shortness of the speech; Princess Celestia's Day Court could take as long as ten minutes to get through all the bowing, pleasantries, rituals, and, of course, Princess Celestia's many, many titles. But, then, Princess Celestia provided cushioned chairs, whereas Princess Platinum forced her subjects to stand within thirty meters of the sun itself, so I supposed it made sense to keep it concise.

I wasn't sure when it was polite to present myself, or even why or how I was to do so, so I kept still. In any event, the first dozen or so petitioners came from the highest echelons of the nobility, so I supposed there was an order to it.

The first petitioner was a pale green unicorn wearing a sable robe. He made his way slowly before the throne, keeping his head bowed and his eyes on the ground. I wasn't sure if it was only custom, or because of the heat and light, but I made note of it anyway. It was probably both. He slowed as he approached, and finally stopped well short of the throne itself, throwing himself to the floor.

"I," he said, "his excellency, Gambol Halcyon II, do humbly beseech your most merciful highness on behalf of my cousin, Indue Halcyon-"

"Denied," said the Princess. "The next petitioner will come forth."

Almost gratefully, he retreated to the back of the room. It had taken longer for him to walk to the throne than to make his case. I suddenly felt a deal more nervous about my own petition, whatever it was.

The next was a unicorn so swamped by his cloth-of-gold robes that he almost had to crawl down the stairs. Atop his head were no fewer than three crowns, stacked atop one another in an almost comical fashion.

Eventually, he judged himself close enough to the throne and bowed low. "We, Radiant Grace, Lissome Emollient," he said, his voice a plaintive whine, "do formally beseech the Platinum Throne to lift its ban upon-"

"We acknowledge no such ban," the Princess said evenly. "Begone from our presence, and do not return. The next petitioner will come forth"

The next petitioner wore little finery - only a bow of silver upon her head - but came from the farthest edge of the room. She came to the very base of the throne before bowing, and she shook from the pain of enduring the heat so close to the sun.

"My princess, I am Felicity Evanescent," she said. "I bear no noble title, but-"

"If you bear no tile, you speak out of turn. Begone, and do not return on this evening. The next petitioner will come forth."

The evening wore on, as the princess worked her way through the petitioners, and my mind whirled. I wasn't long before whispered conversation picked up, and when no one seemed at risk of being beheaded as a result I worked my way back to the dame.

This Canterlot was suddenly seeming slightly inhospitable, and it suddenly occurred to me that I probably needed a story of some kind.

I found her soon enough, and, as the princess had already reached the lesser nobility, tapped her gently on the shoulder. She raised her visor and shot me a smile and a wink, then let it fall with a resounding crash.

The petitioner who was presently speaking let out a squeak at the sound, but the princess didn't bat an eye, instead taking the opportunity to dismiss the mare and call the next.

"I need your help with something," I whispered. "I, ah, am not familiar with the rituals of your court."

"Ah!" she stage whispered, drawing the looks of a few nearby us but again no chastisement. "Never fear, it's very simple. When our turn comes, I will announce you for the princess. All you need to do then is approach the throne, as close as you can - to show respect, you see, by enduring the sun to be in the princess's presence - speak your titles, and offer your deepest respects. Merely a formality, and I have no doubt the princess will welcome you graciously."

(For the sake of my readers, I've chosen to write in modern Equestrian rather than repeatedly translating. In truth, I don't remember the exact phrasing in, so it's no more or less accurate one way or another.)

"Ah," I said, the gears turning in my brain. I somewhat doubted 'personal student of the Princess of Equestria' would fly. "Forgive me, I'm from so far away, and our language has changed over the years; perhaps my home is known under a different name here? With which principalities are you in contact?"

The dame looked surprised. "Why, we none! The lowlands are so suffused with barbarians, we rely on those brave few who brave the journey from farther cities. With some, such as Prince Eloquence of Vanhoover and Princess Imbroglio of Prance, we share only some rare contact. From others, we have only scant legends and what letters and maps we've preserved from the bravest of explorers."

I became aware that the lesser nobility had all finished their petitions, and did some hasty mental geography. Briefly, I considered claiming to be from the Crystal Empire, but I wasn't entirely sure that even existed. The barbarian comment I filed away for further research

"Then I'll speak it in my own tongue: I am" -I did a quick rundown of noble titles- "Margrave-Reticent Twilight Sparkle of Trottingham."

Trottingham, of course, besides having definitely had unicorn settlement as far back as two thousand five hundred years before my birth, was on the other side of the continent from Canterlot, separated by an inland sea and two mountain ranges. If anyone did make it that far, it'd be my word against theirs. Also, I actually had been born in Trottingham, for all that was worth.

"Goodness, I can't say I've heard of it," whispered the dame. "How exciting!"

And then it was our turn.

The dame kept her distance from the throne, but separated herself from the crowd and cleared her throat. Raising her visor, she bellowed, "may I present before the court, Margrave-Reticent Tw-" there was a crash as her visor came back down "-of Trottingham."

A gentle murmur swept through the crowd, though I suspected most were only asking their neighbors if anyone had caught my name. Hesitantly, I approached the throne. I considered dismissing my spell, for fear it would be seen as cheating, but as I came closer the heat became so intense that I dismissed the notion. Better impolite than roasted, and I could probably just play it off as a Trottingham thing.

I knelt at the very base of the throne, my forehead resting against the burning marble. "Your royal highness, I am Lady Twilight Sparkle of Trottingham. I come before your throne to pay my deepest respects" - and at this point I became aware that I was outright plagiarising the Saddle Arabian ambassador, who'd come before Princess Celestia a few weeks before, so many years in the future, but it was too late to back out now - "to yourself and your most magnificent-"

"I challenge your claims, so-called Lady Sparkle," declared a voice. It wasn't a commanding voice, and wavered between quiet and loud, as though the speaker were unsure of herself. I turned, and so did the crowd and the princess, to where a dark unicorn mare strode down towards me. Her cutie mark was a constellation - Sculptor, it looked like, though I wasn't sure. She wore a robe of midnight blue, and sparks shot from her hooves when she walked.

The sparks were nothing but a stupid parlor trick, and she'd have been laughed out of court for it if she'd tried it in my Canterlot. Apparently she had a reputation here, though, because ponies scrambled out of her path regardless.

"Trottingham," she said, "is separated from Canterlot by an inland sea and two mountain ranges."

"Horseapples," I muttered under my breath. At least I hadn't said I was from the Crystal Empire.

"This mare claims to have traveled the width of a continent, farther than any unicorn has in over two centuries. Lies. She comes before the throne in mock respect, but does not sweat a drop. I see the magics she has worked, though I cannot say their extent-"

"You digress, Clover," the princess said, though not unkindly. "Do you offer proof of her guilt?"

Clover cleared her throat. "Yes, your highness. I have in my possession a rare treasure, depicting the city of Trottingham as it was two hundred and fifty years ago. I ask the Lady Sparkle, then, to describe Trottingham. If her description matches the painting, I will withdraw my objection."

I let out a breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding. That wasn't bad at all. So long as I kept it vague...

"Trottingham sits on a floodplain," I said, "by the edge of a river that flows into a shallow bay. The soil is rich, and there are rich deposits of silver and kaolin. The city is surrounded on all sides by gentle, forested hills. It's theorized that it was volcanically active in the distant past due to the telltale signs of melted rock, but the erosion of the hills indicates that was at least two hundred thousand years ago."

Clover was smiling brutally, and I felt the strangest sense of vertigo. A servant rushed to her side panting, and gave her a silver cylinder. From the cylinder, with the greatest possible care, Clover retrieved a roll of fine paper, which she unrolled.

I realized, below the dull roar that was filling my ears, that I recognized the painting. It was in better condition than when I'd seen it, and part of the bottom, which had been torn off some time before it was added to the Royal Canterlot Museum's collection. It depicted a walled city on a tall, steep hill, surrounded on all sides by dense forest. In the distance, the ocean was visible.

"We, by the authority of the Platinum Throne," intoned the princess, though I was hardly listening, "do hereby acknowledge the challenge. Lady Twilight Sparkle, for the crime of speaking falsehood in the presence of our highness, you are hereby outlawed. The next petitioner will come forth."

I was seized, and dragged away. It didn't even occur to me to try to escape until I was being thrown in my cell. By then it was, in any case, too late.