Celestia's Angelsby AquamanChaptersDeviant GravityNot Like The OthersHer Right Hoo(ves)Low-Grade HumilityDeviant GravityIn a way, a millennium of total isolation had done the Castle of the Two Sisters more good than harm. A bastion built to outlast the ages certainly looked nice on a postcard, but surviving wasn’t the same as living, nor a fortress the same as a home. You couldn’t live someplace without leaving your mark on it, and it was those marks—not impenetrable walls or vaulted ceilings—which gave that place life. Time had worn away all but a skeleton of this one, but in those bones the marks of ages past remained: cracks in the walls from a monarch’s misfired spells, a hole in the ceiling from a sibling’s drastic final act. Swathed in the shadows of nighttime eternal, a mortal pony entered the Castle for the first time in ten centuries, her breath misting under her nose as she took in her otherworldy surroundings. The night air hung thick with anticipation, the ruin’s mystical past defying its mundane present. The last time two ponies had walked into this room, only one of them had walked out—a fact the Nightmare haunting it now knew all too well. As the stars had aided in her escape from the moon, so too would they grant her strength enough to rectify her greatest failure, and vanquish this little interloper who saw fit to stand in her way. If ghosts could be conquered, the young unicorn must’ve thought, then so could gods. As Sunset Shimmer would soon discover, though, gods tended to look a lot less conquerable when you were standing right in front of one. In their first moments together, neither pony moved—although calling the creature at the hall’s far end a “pony” bordered on insulting. Nightmare Moon resembled a mare in technical name only, standing twice Sunset’s height with an alicorn’s horn and wings, an ephemeral starry void in place of a mane, and razor-sharp fangs glistening in her maw. Beneath her jet-black torso, five rough-hewn stones orbited her armored hooves, each an ancient vessel for one of the mythical Elements of Harmony. When Sunset’s eyes flicked towards them, the Nightmare's face split into a vicious grin. “Looking for these?” she crooned, the opening notes of a cackle dripping from her words. Sunset met her gaze and held it, her brow rising as she sank into a fighter’s crouch. “Looks like I found them,” the young mare replied. Now Nightmare Moon laughed, throwing her head back with a manic gleam in her eye. “You little foal… thinking you could defeat me?” Sunset smirked, nursing a knowing glint of her own. “You know what they say: there’s a second time for everything.” A twisted scowl bent onto Nightmare Moon’s face, making her look even more monstrous than ever. “Your impudence will be your doom! What madness makes you think you could face me alone?” “She’s not alone!” From the archway Sunset Shimmer had entered through, a second young unicorn emerged. Physically, Twilight Sparkle stood in stark contrast to her companion: thin where Sunset had curves, lavender in color instead of dusty amber, and with a close-cropped blue-violet mane that looked rather plain next to Sunset’s flowing crimson and gold locks. Standing together now, though, the two mortals could scarcely be told apart. Their eyes burned with the same tenacious spark, nothing in either mare’s stance suggesting a hint of insincerity. “And we will defeat you,” Twilight said, pawing her hoof against the floor as she too readied herself for battle. Faced with the prospect of fighting two mortal mares instead of one, the Immortal Queen of the Night couldn’t even work up the effort to act impressed. “You’re kidding,” she assured them. “You’re kidding, right?” Evidently, they weren’t. Cued by a nod from Twilight, Sunset charged a spell into her horn and released it—not towards Nightmare Moon, but down into her own upturned hoof. Her magic flickered as it spread from her sole up to the base of her knee, then ignited into a seamless sheath of flames with a sound like hammered steel. Beside her, Twilight summoned a translucent shield the same fuchsia shade as her horn’s aura, holding it in midair as an ad hoc shield. Nightmare Moon rolled her eyes, then took a languid step forward, positioning herself between the Elements of Harmony and the two upstarts so desperate to die for them. For a single electric second, the night and its children all held their breath. Sunset struck first, swinging her hoof in a wide arc and flinging a melon-sized ball of flame towards Nightmare Moon. By the time the fire reached her, only a pair of glowering eyes remained, the rest of her body dissolving into a midnight-blue cloud that parted around the flaming wad with ease. Sunset’s second attempt missed its mark as well, splattering harmlessly against the chamber’s far wall, but the Nightmare’s counter fared no better. Before a tendril of her essence could squeeze around Sunset’s throat, Twilight heaved her shield into its path and drove it back, joining the assault with sizzling beams of her own magic. Without a window to return fire, Nightmare Moon collected herself and fell back, her adversaries advancing two steps for each one she retreated. More so than she’d expected, Sunset and Twilight attacked with masterful precision, alternating offensive volleys as Twilight’s defensive spellwork kept them both safely out of harm’s reach. Their barrage did little damage to anything but the masonry, but that—the Nightmare soon realized—was no accident. This seemingly coordinated assault was nothing but stagecraft, a pyrokinetic light show meant to push her away from the mortal mares’ real goal: the Element Stones. Within the compacted smog that comprised her body, Nightmare Moon scowled. If these infants thought she could be outwitted so easily, they would find themselves sorely mistaken. In the span of a momentary lull in their onslaught, the Nightmare left the Stones behind and shot up into the air, only to swoop down on the mares with a roar like an oncoming train. As if two halves of the same mind, Twilight and Sunset split apart in perfect sync, each diving away from the other and already casting the moment they rolled upright. The former widened her shield around the Nightmare’s haze, forming a semicircular wall that corralled her into the latter’s sights. Instead of chaining separate blasts, Sunset unleashed every ounce of her magical strength at once, channeling immeasurable energy into a blistering torrent of white-hot flame. The result was an arcane flytrap, Sunset’s firestorm buffeting Nightmare Moon from one side and Twilight’s shield reflecting it back at her from the other. No matter which way the Nightmare turned, Sunset followed, her every move balanced with Twilight’s to maintain the airtight cocoon in which they’d ensnared their foe. A clever move, and one clearly well-practiced. Nightmare Moon had underestimated these young mortal mares. She wouldn’t make the same mistake twice. It took several seconds for Sunset to realize Nightmare Moon was gone, long enough that Twilight had to shout to draw her attention to it. The two wasted precious time rooted in place, dripping sweat and squinting at the cherry-red circle their spells had melted into the floor, before Sunset snapped out of her reverie. With a jerk of her head, she led Twilight towards the Element Stones, the one thing they knew could defeat the Nightmare once and for all. Which made them the perfect place for Nightmare Moon to strike, her essence seeping out from the Castle’s undercroft through gaps in the shattered floor. Her horn flashed as she rematerialized, and her throat burned with a searing screech. “Enough!” The mortals’ minds were fast, but their bodies not quite fast enough. The pitch-dark bolt hit Sunset square in the chest, blasting her back into Twilight hard enough to send them both sprawling. As they slid to a stop in a tangled, dazed heap, Nightmare Moon reclaimed the Elements of Harmony for her own, wrapping them in her magic to hold aloft above her head. “How pathetic,” she sneered. “And all for naught. Now you will never see your Princess again, or your sun!” She raised the Elements high, all the better to smash them to pieces against the dais beneath her. “The night… will last… forever!” “I… wouldn’t say that just yet.” Framed by beautiful moonlight streaming through the broken roof, Twilight Sparkle pulled herself up onto wobbling hooves, supported by her partner’s equally shaky shoulder. The mare's pitiful retort stayed Nightmare Moon's hoof, but only for a moment. With how cocky the two mortals had been just minutes ago, she couldn’t resist savoring this moment of pointless rebellion against the inevitable. “Oh, shouldn’t I?” she wondered aloud. Her magic looped under the mortals’ barrels, and with a simple flick upended them both. As they slammed onto their backs, Nightmare Moon spread her wings and swept over them, leering down from above as they squirmed and gasped for breath. “Tell me, foals, what could possibly give you any hope of stopping me? Your friendship? Your precious Elements of Harmony?” Twilight’s eyes darted towards the ceiling, and the endless night sky beyond it. She might as well get used to seeing it, with what little time she had left. All of Equestria might as well too. Nothing would ever end it. Nopony would ever take her kingdom away from her again. “Well, yes, primarily those,” Twilight said. “But also the mare supercharging an electrokinetic pulse spell into her forehooves and descending towards this location at three-hundred-forty-three meters per second.” Nightmare Moon blinked, shook her head slightly, then blinked again. “Which in our defense,” Sunset added, “was entirely her idea.” The two mares stared up at Nightmare Moon, not a trace of irony in their expressions. Mouth agape, Nightmare Moon stared back. “The… what?” She never got a chance to ask again. Twilight brought up another shield—a dome this time, big enough to cover her and Sunset both—then shut her eyes and braced herself. Nightmare Moon felt the hairs on her neck rise, then the stones underhoof tremble, then the whole castle vibrate all around her. The air sizzled in her nose—crackled with electricity—gleamed in the light of something brighter than the moon. The Nightmare turned around just in time to watch what remained of the great hall’s ceiling implode. She saw a smear of pink and purple, a great blue flash, and then... It wasn’t a pony, like Twilight had said. It couldn’t possibly be. Nothing alive could have impacted the earth with such titanic force, detonated like a meteorite with a hurricane trapped inside. Thunder pealed and lightning flashed, air turned to fire and stone to ash—and over the chaos, a voice emerged, loud and wild and a little bit hoarse. “Yeeeeeeah, baby! How’s that Second Law of Motion taste?” === Nightmare Moon drew herself back together at an agonizing pace, seconds dragging into minutes as she collected bits of her essence from what felt like miles away. When her body finally became whole again, head pounding and throat burning with the metallic scent of ozone, she cracked her eyes open to a smoking, debris-choked warzone where once her castle had stood. The great hall had been obliterated, simply wiped away as if there had never been anything there but a glassy crater ten feet deep and forty across. What the blast hadn’t incinerated, it had razed to the ground, shin-high skeletons all that remained of the barbican and bailey’s once towering walls. Only by the grace of good fortune did the far wall of the throne room still stand, charred black with soot and supported solely by the cropped foundations of the Twin Sisters’ Spires. It was all gone: her castle, her grip on the night… the Element Stones. They’d been the last thing she’d seen before she blacked out. She’d lost them in the explosion—felt them crack apart with the last of her magical senses. And neither Sunset nor Twilight—now joined by a third unicorn mare as they clambered out from the crater together—appeared at all concerned about it. In fact, even as she heaved for breath with smoke still rising from her static-frizzed mane, the newest member of their crew looked more satisfied than any of them. “Not to ruin the moment or anything,” Starlight Glimmer said, her head swiveling from Sunset to Twilight and back again, “but you guys have got to try that sometime.” The Nightmare fell to her knees, her strength at its end and her resolve not far behind. Who were these little rats? How in Equestria could they be so powerful? “The… the Stones…” she rasped, shuddering with the effort of swallowing back a cough. “You…” “Blew ‘em up.” The third mare finished the sentence for her, rocking on her grimy hooves as she failed to suppress a giddy grin. “And before you ask: yes, it was totally worth it.” For several seconds, shock stuck Nightmare Moon’s tongue to the roof of her mouth. Discounting a sigh from Twilight, the mares still seemed utterly nonplussed. “But the Elements… t-they’re gone. You won’t be able to…” “Use them anymore?” This time Sunset cut her off, flanked by both her friends as she stepped forward. “Well, that’s where you’re wrong. The Elements of Harmony aren’t something you can see or touch, and the spark that activates them isn’t just some spell you can read about in a book. You were so obsessed with using them against us that you never saw what was right in front of your nose.” Where Sunset left off, Twilight jumped in with barely a moment’s pause. “Even if you had understood what the Elements really were, you never could’ve wielded them. Their power isn’t meant for tyrants or princesses, or even most regular ponies. It takes a special bond, one so deep that nothing, good or evil, could ever break it.” “The kind of bond,” Starlight interjected, “that we just so happen to have.” The Nightmare tried to stand, but still her legs wouldn’t obey. In the meantime, Twilight took over again. “You thought we wanted the Elements so we could destroy you, Nightmare Moon, but more than anything, Harmony isn’t a weapon of war. It’s a construct, a connection between the Elements and the ponies who bear them stronger than any other magic known to ponykind. The Stones, while of not-insignificant historical interest,”—she shot a pointed glance at Starlight, who responded by sticking out her tongue—“aren’t the real Elements of Harmony. The real Elements… are right here.” Nightmare Moon furrowed her brow. Twilight hadn’t pulled anything out into view, nor cast a spell to reveal them. “What?” At first Twilight refrained from explaining herself, but as she fell silent the earth seemed to speak for her. A sudden gust ruffled through her mane, and somewhere nearby a low vibration began to thrum, growing louder with each passing second. “It’s like we said,” she finally murmured. “They’re right in front of your nose. Loyalty and laughter…” The sound coalesced into a colossal pulse. As the ground shook, Starlight Glimmer rose an inch above it—her body wrapped in magic, her eyes glowing like the moon. “Honesty and generosity…” Another pulse, and Sunset rose too, weightless and shimmering with ethereal light. “Kindness… and magic.” Now Twilight herself lifted off, spreading her forelegs as the same unknowable power coursed through her slender frame. When she looked down on Nightmare Moon, it was with the eyes of something not quite just mortal anymore. “The six Elements of Harmony. The six tenets of true friendship. Born as a covenant between the ponies of old, used by Celestia to banish her corrupted sister, hidden away for a thousand years… and unearthed, extracted, and reactivated four and a half months ago, by three best friends with a little too much time on their hooves.” Nightmare Moon raised a hoof to her slackened mouth, grasping for words and finding none. “You… h-how…?” “Serendipity, mostly,” said Sunset, her voice echoing from the influence of her Elements. “I mean, once three of the greatest magical minds in thirty generations ended up in the same dorm room, it was bound to happen sooner or later.” “Not that we’re bragging or anything,” Starlight added in the same resonant tone. “Knowing Celestia, she probably planned it that way all along.” Nightmare Moon slid backwards on her rump, scrabbling away from the crater in a last-ditch effort to flee. “W-Wait, this isn’t… y-you can’t…” A final pulse, the most powerful yet, knocked her flat on her back. Winded and powerless, she watched the three mares float higher into the air, and then heard them speak one last time. “Oh, we can.” “And we’re going to.” “... really, really hard.” The three Bearers convulsed as their Elements flowed through them, their heads forced back by the age-old magic’s unbridled might. Golden ringlets of energy formed around their forehooves, orbiting at blinding speed until they shrunk into bracers adorned with singular gemstones—red and orange for Sunset, turquoise and violet for Starlight, and lavender and pink for Twilight Sparkle. As the Elements manifested, a rumbling white aura enveloped their Bearers, building louder and brighter until it exploded into an unstoppable crescendo. Twin beams of light laced with every color of the rainbow twisted together in midair, then merged into a single keening ray that arced back down to earth at an unavoidable pace. “Nooo!” the Nightmare screeched. “Noooo!” That lone, desolate word was her last. The full force of the Elements swarmed over her, and the rest was darkness eternal. === For only their second time ever using the Elements of Harmony, though, this whole encounter went a lot better than Sunset Shimmer expected. She woke up to the same full-body exhaustion she remembered from trial number one, the kind that felt like her veins had filled with extra-crunchy peanut butter. Her groaning, cursing friends weren’t feeling too hot either, it seemed, but in spite of that she doubted any Bearer of the three really felt like complaining. At least this time they hadn’t demolished their own home in the name of magical friendship. Compared to convincing their insurance rep that an Omega-class Harmony discharge technically counted as an “act of Nature”, a few scrapes and bruises were hardly worth mentioning. A thick cloud of smoke still lingered as Sunset pulled herself upright, filling what had recently been a room inside what had recently been a castle. As she peered into the off-white fog—another hallmark of the Elements, it seemed—Twilight and Starlight picked their way through the rubble to stand with her, the latter still shaking blue sparks out of her fetlocks. For a while they stood together in passive silence, each of them absorbed in their own private thoughts. As Sunset actually was expecting, Starlight was the first to share hers out loud. “Is anyone else hungry?” she asked. “‘Cause I’m kinda starving right now.” “Yeah, I can imagine,” Twilight replied, her tone bordering on terse. “Vaporizing priceless Pre-Banishment artifacts must work up quite an appetite." Starlight cocked an eyebrow, matching the angle of her slanted smirk. “Well, isn’t someone salty she didn’t get to make the plan this time. And also forgetting the whole weekend I spent helping her catalogue the priceless archives and survey the Pre-Banishment grounds.” “Well, you still didn’t have to knock down the entire castle!” Twilight grumbled. “It could’ve had… I don’t know, sentimental value!” “Yeah, and now it has tourist value.” Starlight brandished a hoof at the smoldering wreckage, a salesmare’s glint in her eye. “Ten bits a head to see the wet spot where Nightmare Moon got her big fat face kicked in.” Sunset went without commenting on the matter, but with good reason. Her eyes narrowed as the mist dissipated, and something dark and lumpy within it sharpened into view. Twilight froze as well, her next snippy response sticking in the space between her lips, and Starlight followed suit as the shape started to move. “Or not…” Starlight muttered, charging a spell into her horn with a crackling snap. Next to her, Twilight did the same, her own softer magical timbre layered over by Sunset’s bassy growl. The three mares waited and watched the smoke fade, familiar eager tension purring between their shoulders. Between Sunset and Twilight’s warmup and Starlight’s finishing blow, the Elements of Harmony should’ve wrapped things up with energy to spare—but if the Nightmare still had some fight left in her, Sunset was more than willing to return the favor. Except when the fog finally lifted, it wasn’t Nightmare Moon they found themselves facing. Instead, a waifish cerulean alicorn lay before them, wide-eyed beneath her matte-blue mane and shaking in her spangled hoofshoes. “W-Wait…” she stammered, cowering even lower as Sunset took a tentative step forward. “W-W-Wait, please, don’t do it again! I’m not her anymore, I’m not! I… I-I’m…” Recognition snuffed out the flame in Sunset’s horn. She knew this mare, from fairy tales hidden in history books and legends so old even their authors were lost to time. “Luna,” she whispered, Twilight’s sudden gasp all she needed to know she’d guessed right. Between them, Starlight’s blank look progressed into outright gaping, her eyes darting between Sunset and the poor creature cringing in front of her. “Wait, Luna?” she said. “Like… the Luna?” “The Elements of Harmony… they must’ve purged the Nightmare,” Twilight said to herself. She’d heard the same stories Sunset had, stayed up until dawn combing through the same moth-eaten manuscripts. As a giddy smile grew on Sunset’s face, the same expression twitched onto Twilight’s. “It’s her. It’s really her.” Luna agreed with a frantic nod, straightening back up as relief welled up in her eyes. “I’m so sorry,” she gushed. “The Nightmare, it… I-I couldn’t control it. Celestia didn’t have a… oh, stars above, what have I done?” Step by timid step, Twilight made her way over to Luna’s side, laying a gentle hoof on her shuddering shoulder. “Don’t worry, Princess Luna,” she said, smiling as Sunset came to stand opposite her. “You’re safe now.” “We’re not going to do anything to hurt you,” Sunset added. As Luna ducked her head, both her consolers looked back towards Starlight, who up to that point still hadn’t quite gotten with the program. With a few coughs and a pointed look or two, the message eventually went through. “Sorry I nuked your castle from orbit,” she mumbled. Twilight pursed her lips, but Sunset just smiled and sighed. For Starlight, that was more or less close enough. “Hey, Twilight?” she said next, stepping away from Luna so she could meet her friend’s eyes. “You still have that parchment Spike prepped for you?” Although Starlight remained charmingly immune to subtlety, Twilight was starting to get a handle on it. “Yep,” she replied, pulling the charmed scroll out from voidspace and unfurling it with a practiced flick of her magic. “Think Celestia might like to hear about this?” Sunset popped a feather quill into being and passed it Twilight’s way, aided by a ray of dappled pink light. Off on the horizon, the sun was rising. “Yeah,” she said with a wink towards Luna. “I think she might.” Not Like The OthersNINE MONTHS LATER Among several other things, Twilight Sparkle considered herself an expert at staying calm under pressure. Not that she couldn’t say the same about her friends too, of course. With all the monsters they’d fought and adventures they’d had together, the three of them had pretty much rewritten the book on courage in the face of overwhelming danger. If such a book were to exist, that is. Was there a book about courage somewhere? Surely there must be a few about the epistemological concept, but what about specific metrics for measurement? Adjustment for situational and sociopolitical variables? How could she call herself brave compared to royal soldiers, or unwed mothers in economically impoverished areas, or postal workers, or… The point was, she wasn’t scared right now. Nervous, perhaps, just a tiny little tad, but that was nothing worth writing a report about. The velvet curtain in front of her hardly compared to a cataclysmic natural disaster, and the shapeless roar wafting under its gold-tasseled rim didn’t sound one bit like a ten-thousand strong army frothing for battle. And while she was at it, the maze of girders and technomagical spotlights overhead did not in the slightest resemble the spindly limbs of a Tartarus-bound hellbeast, lying in ravenous wait for her to make a wrong move or say something awkward that she’d never be able to live down. Besides that—which basically didn’t count—what did she even have to be worried about? Nothing, that’s what. Absolutely nothing. She felt fine. Perfectly at ease. Completely okay with the current state of— “Two minutes, ladies.” Once she landed from jumping about a foot in the air, Twilight rotated in place towards the stallion who’d just spoken, her heart hammering in complete contrast to how pristinely serene she actually still was. “Yes!” she told him. “Thank you. So much. Really, you’re just… awesome job. Is what you’re doing.” Though he looked puzzled for a moment, the stallion seemed polite enough not to look a compliment in the tightly clenched mouth. “My pleasure!” he said, a bashful blush darkening his cerulean cheeks. “Any last thing I can get you three before the Mayor’s done with her speech?” Twilight couldn’t see if Sunset meant to answer him, but she didn’t have to wonder about their other friend’s response. “Actually, yeah,” Starlight mumbled, crumbs spraying from her mouth as she gestured towards a near-empty platter of buttercup-and-banana sandwiches. “Could you tell whoever made these to pack a night bag and just hang out in the carriage till we’re done here? Because I swear to the stars I’m not leaving this town until him, her, or it is catering everything for me, forever.” Over her stiffened shoulder, Twilight heard a low chuckle. “We’re fine, Noteworthy,” Sunset told the stallion. “And she’s kidding.” “Less than you’d think,” Starlight added between bites. Noteworthy just laughed, friendly and cheerful as ever. “I’ll pass on your compliments to the chef,” he said as he left. “And thank you all as well!” With peace restored, Twilight had time for a deep breath and a quick shake of her head. She’d had a good train of thought going before, something about courage and bravery and a screaming mob of staring, rampaging... “You okay, Twilight?” “Mm-hmm,” she hummed at Sunset, pursed lips pushed into a smile. On the other side of the curtain, a magically amplified voice pitched higher with excitement, as did the uncountable throng of listeners cheering at every word. If Sunset noticed the sweat beading under Twilight’s bangs, she did nothing to draw attention to it—or at least was too busy coaxing Starlight away from the refreshments to bother. That was good. The more attention Sunset and Starlight paid to each other, the less anyone would point towards her. A few smiles, maybe a wave or two, and then this would all be over. Simple as that. Certainly no worse than a cave full of monsters. “... without further ado, I proudly present: the bearers of the Elements of Harmony and Equestria’s resident heroes… Celestia’s Angels!” Honestly, though, if she’d had the choice, Twilight really would’ve preferred the monsters. At the Mayor’s booming command, the curtain rose and the spotlights fell. Half-blinded by the sudden glare, Twilight stood paralyzed, blinking and blushing as the deafening approval of hundreds—no, thousands—of ponies crashed over her. Ponyville was a small town by anyone’s standards, quaint and quiet with residents friendly as any Equestria had. On an ordinary day, Twilight rather liked the place—but today was the opposite of normal. Today had been planned out for weeks, every infinitesimal detail checked and double-checked by every mare and stallion who’d helped set it up. Today was being talked about from Manehattan to Los Pegasus, radio-broadcast from Cloudsdale to Appleloosa, and simulcasted via an unprecedented network of long-distance scrying spells—half of them Twilight’s own design, for pony’s sake—all the way to Vanhoover and Trottingham. Today marked the end of Harmony’s Run, a goodwill tour around the kingdom sponsored by and starring its three most idolized, adored, and distinguished citizens—one of whom was starting to reconsider this whole world-famous-magical-supermare thing. Oh, stop it, Twilight scolded herself, swallowing hard as the audience undulated before her. There’s nothing to be scared of! It’s just a pep rally! And technically speaking, it really just was. Concluding the tour here had even been a concession on the part of Celestia’s advisors, chosen over a larger city like Manehatten or Canterlot primarily for the Angels’ sake. After all, this was kind of where it all began for them: where they’d first encountered Nightmare Moon before the Elements’ public debut, and where they’d stopped countless times since on their way to one mission or another. After six straight weeks in the public’s ever-present eye, a low-key visit with allies and acquaintances here had sounded like heaven to Twilight’s ears. So really, could anyone blame her for being tense when quaint, quiet little Ponyville drew the single biggest crowd of the entire Run? Could she have ever anticipated word of their connections here spreading to every corner of the nation, or even the locals being treated like minor celebrities just for knowing the three of them by name? No, they couldn’t, and she really couldn’t have, but that hardly made her feel any better about it. It certainly wasn’t a problem for the other Angels. Sunset looked positively radiant at center stage, greeting her fans with a regal wave and basking in their adoration. Ahead of her, Starlight took to the crowd with all the moxie of a rock star, kneeling at the stage’s rim so she could pass out hoofbumps to everypony in reach. It was only Twilight who hated this: all the attention, all the mindless praise she couldn’t help feeling like she didn’t deserve. Protecting Equestria was just what she did—what anypony would’ve done if they were an Angel instead of her. It felt wrong to brag about being special, especially when the whole kingdom already seemed to think they were. “For the record, you still really suck at lying.” All at once, the ruckus ceased, like someone had flipped a switch and simply turned the rally off. Until she looked up and saw Sunset in front of her, Twilight thought her eardrums had finally ruptured. Instead, a transparent dome surrounded them both, tethered by a wispy strand of magic to the tip of Sunset’s horn. “In case you were trying to think of something you’re not good at,” Sunset went on, putting on a wry smirk to match her tone. Bit by bit, the tension seeped out of Twilight’s chest, along with the breath she’d been unconsciously holding in. “Thanks,” she sighed, meeting Sunset’s stare with her best effort at a brave face. “And sorry. I know we’ve done this a million times, but…” “But the venue’s overbooked and you thought this one would be calmer anyway, and you still don’t feel like you deserve all this even though you know way better than to think that by now, and the fact that you still do anyway just makes it worse.” Sunset flicked her eyes up in thought, shrugging her shoulders as she added on one last thing. “And on top of everything else, I messed up the Subtle Silence spell and didn’t make it invisible, and that’s honestly bugging you a little bit too.” Twilight flushed an even deeper shade of red. “Are you that good at reading ponies, or am I that bad at lying?” “Little of column A, little of column B.” Another sigh ballooned in Twilight’s chest, as six weeks’ worth of fatigue forced her eyes shut. “I just don’t know how you do it,” she groaned. “I’ve never known. You and Starlight always know what to say and how to act, and I just… make it up as I go along.” “And you don’t think we do too?” Beyond the blackness of Twilight’s eyelids, Sunset stepped into range for a friendly nudge in the shoulder. “We’ve been doing this nonstop PR thing for a month and a half, Twi. I’m a train delay and a couple nasty looks away from burning down a post office. Hell, Starlight probably has burned one down already, and we’ve just been too busy to notice yet.” Still blind to the world, Twilight leaned into Sunset and accepted a one-legged hug. “It’s okay to be tired,” Sunset told her, “and it’s okay to be nervous too. Remember how scared Starlight was her first night at school?” Twilight nodded. Of course she remembered—it had been her first night at Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns too, and the first she’d ever spent away from her parents. She’d lied awake for hours, utterly petrified but too embarrassed to tell anypony, until she heard somepony sniffle in the bed next to hers. On that bed’s other side, Sunset had heard it too, and so it was the three most famous mares in Equestria first met: huddled around a stub of a candle, facing a pigtailed filly who’d hardly said a word through all of orientation, and holding her hooves as she softly sobbed about missing her family and wanting to go home. “And look at her now.” Outside of the bubble, Starlight bounded across the stage, whipping the crowd into a frenzied, inaudible chant. “None of us would be the ponies we are now without each other’s help, and even if you don’t think you’re special, the rest of us all do. So don’t worry about rubbing in how amazing you are. That’s me and Starlight’s job.” Twilight bit her lip, trying to hold back a grin. “Now you’re just being mushy.” Sunset huffed in mock offense. “Oh, I’m the mushy one, Miss Element-of-Kindness?” she growled as she pulled Twilight in for a powerful noogie. Twilight couldn’t help but giggle as she squirmed away, so much that even the damp, squishy sound of somepony intruding on the Subtle Silence spell couldn’t ruin the moment. “‘Sup, nerds,” Starlight said, the dome rippling around her neck where she’d stuck her head through it. “Whatcha doin’?” “Braiding each other’s manes and talking about our feelings,” Sunset replied, prompting Starlight to make a face and gag. “Ugh, please. Not on a full stomach.” She glanced at Twilight, her blue eyes suddenly piercing as her brow lifted ever so slightly. “You good, boss?” Smiling at Sunset, Twilight nodded again. “I’m good. Enjoying yourself out there?” “Nope,” Starlight said through a toothy grin. “Friggin’ miserable. Wanna jump in?” Even with laughter still glowing in her cheeks, Twilight’s stomach turned over at the thought. Encouragement notwithstanding, she didn’t feel quite that good yet. “I… think I’m good there too.” Starlight’s brow shot up again. It seemed she’d been hoping Twilight would say that. As Starlight ducked away again with a wet schlorp, Sunset looked at Twilight again, gesturing with her head towards the dome’s crest. Once Twilight gave her implicit permission, she lit her horn again and let the Subtle Silence spell run out. The clamor hit Twilight’s ears like a runaway train, but this time it all felt exciting—even a little exhilarating. When Sunset strode forward to meet it, Twilight went with her, adrenaline blazing in her chest and Starlight’s call-and-response chant booming in her ears. “What do we think of monsters?” “HORSEAPPLES!” “What do we think of horseapples?” “MONSTERS!” “Thank you!” “THAT’S ALL RIGHT!” All things considered, she’d fought Tartarus-bound hellbeasts a lot worse than this. === Compared to the morning’s mainstage event, the private party that followed it seemed oddly subdued, despite said party’s best efforts to the contrary. Not an inch of Sugarcube Corner had been spared their host’s overeager touch: streamers, balloons, and welcome banners plastered every wall and even the ceiling, all of it laid over by thumping blasts of music and the sweet scent of the pastry shop’s famously delicious wares. The attendees were just as chaotic as the decor, packed shoulder-to-shoulder as they laughed and danced together. If the event had a theme, it was “death by sensory overload”. Anywhere else with any other ponies, Twilight would’ve been wracking her brain for an excuse to escape. But here, for the first time in the whole Run, she finally felt like she could relax. All the cameras and tourists had gone, ushered away with a friendly wave and a raincloud from the local weather team trailing behind them. Only the cheerful occupants of a sleepy little farm town remained now, their presence alone enough to leave her wonderfully at ease every time she and the Angels visited. As a sip of punch spread over her tongue, Twilight leaned back in her seat and let the sights and sounds of the party wash over her. She’d lived in Canterlot since she was born and would always consider the Royal City home, but more than once she’d wondered how settling down someplace like this might suit her. There’d be no crowds, no politics, only occasional monster attacks. She’d even noticed a open listing on the Town Hall announcement board, for a two-room apartment above a library housed in an oak tree. What could possibly beat living above a library? A sudden bray of laughter reminded her of at least one thing. Across the crowded room, Starlight’s horn showered blue sparks into a tub of water, an impish grin stuck to her face along with smoking flecks of the apple she’d just vaporized. She took aim again as another target flew into her sights, and drew another snort out of the sky-blue pegasus hovering above her when she blasted it apart with a sizzling magical bolt. Ponyville might fit Twilight to a T, but Starlight would stick out here like a sore hoof. If a few hours here got her riled up enough to start exploding produce, Twilight shuddered to think what a few years would do to her. Truth be told, Starlight had always been a bit of a wild card, even as a gunshy little filly. She’d stuck to Sunset and Twilight like glue for weeks after they first met, silent as a mouse until the day a particularly bratty bully on the playground induced a memorable lesson in diplomacy. Of course, in Starlight’s case, “diplomacy” involved headbutting the poor colt in the muzzle and loudly promising the same to anypony who ever picked on her friends again. The years—plus a few gentle reminders from Sunset and timely Full-Body Freeze spells from Twilight—calmed her down a little, but Starlight’s identity never faltered after that. She’d traded her pigtails for a messy, tomcoltish mop, and grown into a fantastically confident mare with a healthy penchant towards explosions, not to mention—her professors begrudgingly admitted—a preternatural gift for bodily-kinesthetic magic. Near the shop’s front counter, a trio of mares had noticed her putting that gift to good use, among them the scowling, Stetson-bedecked earth pony who’d stocked the apple-bobbing tub in the first place. True to form, Sunset quickly intervened on her friend’s behalf, grabbing the cowmare’s attention again with an inaudible comment that neither she nor the stunningly dressed unicorn next to her could help chuckling at. The way she went about it, Sunset made persuasion and flattery a veritable art form, one she’d perfected through a childhood spent talking Twilight into their classmates’ social favor and Starlight out of their teachers’ rather consistent ire. As long as Twilight had known her, she’d been the beauty to her brains and Starlight’s brawn: the filly every colt dreamed of winning over, the young mare who won by a landslide when she ran for class president, and now the public face of the Angels beloved by every one of Celestia’s star-struck subjects. In private, though, Twilight also knew her as a sensitive, steadfast friend who still struggled to keep her ego in check despite her phenomenal magical dexterity, and who’d lay down her life for any mare, stallion, or foal who needed it—most of all the two mares who’d stood by her side every step of the way. More to the point, she adored Canterlot as much as her hometown of Manehattan, and took to the big-city lifestyle perhaps even more than Starlight did. Though she knew her friends would support her decision if she chose to move away, Twilight couldn’t bear the thought of leaving them behind just yet. Besides, in terms of coffee shops per square foot, the Royal City beat Ponyville by a mile and a half. It wasn’t a deal-breaker by itself, but it certainly dulled the fantasy a bi– “Omigosh… it’s really her!” It took Twilight a few seconds to shake herself back to the present, and a few more on top of that to attach the voice she’d heard to its owner. She didn’t recognize the unicorn filly her gaze eventually fell on, but the curly-maned foal sure as hayfire recognized her. “I told you they were here!” she squealed over her shoulder. “Apple Bloom, Scootaloo, it’s Twilight Sparkle!” From within the mob crowding the dance floor, two more fillies popped into view—one of whom Twilight did know. With a name like Apple Bloom and a mane as red as her namesake, the earth pony could only be Applejack’s little sister, so the pegasus shoved up against her shoulder must be Scootaloo. And now that she thought about it, she remembered seeing the unicorn somewhere around town before—probably with Rarity, if their matching off-white coats were anything to go by. Hadn’t she mentioned her name once, and something about a club or a secret society… “We did it, girls! We’re in!” On Apple Bloom’s cue, the fillies jumped up in the air and slapped their hooves together, their shrill cheer loud enough to drown out even the music. “CUTIE MARK CRUSADER PARTY CRASHERS! YAAAAY!” Oh, yeah. Rarity had definitely brought up Sweetie Belle before, right after talking about the migraine she was liable to have later. In retrospect, that anecdote made a lot more sense. “Is Starlight here? She’s gotta be here, right?” Scootaloo bounced in place as she spoke, her wings fluttering with unrestrained elation. “Rainbow Dash swore she’d be here!” “Forget about Starlight! Where’s Sunset?” Apple Bloom propped herself on Sweetie Belle’s shoulders, shading her eyes with a hoof as she frantically scanned the crowd. “What kind’a party is it if Sunset Shimmer ain’t here?” “Omigosh omigosh omigosh…” Sweetie Belle mumbled, gaping up at Twilight with wide, glassy eyes. “I’m in celebrity heaven…” “Um…” said Twilight Sparkle, craning her neck up to look for Sunset and Starlight. Help, said her eyes once she found them, her meaning more than clear enough to remain unspoken. As her friends excused themselves from their own conversations, Twilight smiled at the fillies and tried to look dignified—or at least, as dignified as one could look with a cup of lukewarm punch in hoof and almost two months of sleep deprivation packed under their eyes. “Oh!” Yet another voice joined the fray, tinged with soft notes of melodious panic. “Oh my, oh goodness… girls, please, where did you–” Fluttershy reached Twilight just as Sunset and Starlight did, already stammering out an apology by the time Applejack, Rarity, and Rainbow Dash followed their respective companions over. “I’m so sorry, Twilight!” she gushed. “I told Applejack and Rarity I’d keep an eye on their sisters, but I just turned around for a moment and then they were gone! I hope they’re not disturbing you, o-or ruining your party, or…” “It’s fine, Fluttershy,” Twilight said, opting to interrupt the poor mare rather than wait until she hyperventilated to get a word in. “They’re–” “Can we have your autographs?” the Crusaders screeched in unison. Sunset bit her lip, and Starlight started rooting around for a pen. “... they’re fine.” Swaying with relief, Fluttershy pointed a meek smile at Applejack as her runaway wards piled over each other to reach Starlight first. “Thank goodness,” she said. “This ponysitting thing is harder than it looks.” “Believe me, darling, you don’t need to tell us twice…” Rarity muttered, backed up by Applejack’s defeated sigh. “Once again, Miss Shimmer, I envy your patience.” Sunset leaned over to catch the permanent marker Starlight tossed her way, the Crusaders following underneath it like kittens chasing a butterfly. “It comes with the territory,” she said over them, laughter twinkling in her eyes. “And it’s always nice to know we’re appreciated.” “Well, of course you are!” Scootaloo squealed, mesmerized by the glossy scribble Sunset had left on her safety helmet. “You guys are the coolest ponies in Equestria!” “Oh really, squirt?” Rainbow Dash landed with a thump, winking at Twilight before Scootaloo could turn around. “So what am I, chopped celery?” Scootaloo’s ears fell flat as she realized what she’d said. “W-Well… okay, maybe second coolest,” she mumbled as Twilight gently floated her helmet into writing range. “But that’s still pretty awesome!” Twilight smiled as she signed, finishing her name with a loopy heart like she always did. Sunset had said it best: feeling like a celebrity did have its perks. Once she’d left her mark on Apple Bloom’s hairbow and Sweetie Belle’s flower-patterned notebook, Twilight moved to put the marker back wherever Starlight had found it, but found her path blocked by a mass of frizzy pink hair and an ear-to-ear grin. “Ooh, ooh, me next, me next!” the mare shouted, thrusting a photograph of the Angels up on the Harmony’s Run stage into Twilight’s face. Twilight blinked in surprise, then snorted as she uncapped the marker again. “Don’t we sign something for you every time we visit, Pinkie Pie?” she asked once she was done. Pinkie Pie bobbed her head in agreement, cackling with glee as she bounced over to Sunset. “Yep! Fifteen times and counting! You guys should visit more often so I can get more!” “Hey, you keep throwing down like this, and I’ll open a Tartarus gate down the road just for the excuse,” Starlight said, leaning over the picture as it reached her so she could scrawl her name into an open space. “Seriously, killer party, Double-P.” Pinkie shined her hoof on her chest and held it in front of her, blowing imaginary smoke from her sole. “What can I say?” she intoned. “It’s a blessing and a curse.” “Truth be told, we all chipped in for this one,” Rarity said. “You’ve been so awfully busy this past year, we thought a more… intimate event might lift your spirits.” “Just our way of sayin’ thanks, I suppose,” Applejack added. “For all that y’all do for Equestria, and for bein’ so good to us little folks in Ponyville.” “The pleasure’s all ours,” Twilight assured her, Sunset and Starlight chiming their agreement. “You’ve been wonderful hosts, and I’m so glad we’ve all gotten to know each other so well.” A chorus of “Same here!”s and “Absotively posilutely!”s made its way through the group, and ended with Fluttershy’s sudden gasp. “Oh my goodness, I almost forgot!” She took to the air for a moment to get a better view of the party, her eyes lighting up when she found somepony out of Twilight’s view. “Over here!” she called out to them. “Come and join us!” As Fluttershy settled back down, she leaned in close to whisper to Twilight. “She just moved to Ponyville a few weeks ago. She’s a little… eccentric, but she’s been dying to meet you and your friends. If it’s not much to ask, would you mind if I introduced you to her?” Without the Crusaders screeching in her ear, Twilight felt her nerves settling down and her good mood returning. “Of course I wouldn’t,” she said, confirming her answer with an amicable shrug from Sunset. “I’m sure it’ll be a pleasure meeting, uh…” The mare caught Twilight’s eye immediately—or rather, it was kind of impossible for her eye to catch on anything else. She stood frozen at the party’s edge, a cobalt blue rock in a blurry sea of bodies, eyes bulging and mouth popped open like the whole crowd had kicked her in the gut as the gap in it closed behind her. She didn’t seem to respond to Fluttershy’s cheery wave, nor look at any of her other Ponyville friends. Mostly, she just stared, unblinking and unbroken, long enough to make even Sunset crinkle her brow. “This is Trixie,” Fluttershy told them, seemingly accustomed to her friend’s comatose state. “And Trixie… well, I suppose I don’t have to tell you who Celestia’s Angels are!” Twilight swallowed hard and put on a wan smile, her hoof halfway lifted in greeting. Trixie still didn’t move, or—as far as Twilight could tell—breathe. “Actually, I may not even be introducing you at all,” Fluttershy continued, now speaking to Twilight again. “You probably didn’t see her much, but she actually went to Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns too, just a year behind you three! Isn’t that right, Trixie?” A small noise escaped Trixie’s throat—a cough, perhaps, or at most a winded moan. Her jaw quivered in sync with her legs, and beneath her pale two-toned mane, her face flushed from white to scarlet red. “She’s, um…” Fluttershy murmured. “She’s kind of your number-one fan.” As the Angels’ number-one fan graduated from wheezing to outright babbling, Starlight cleared her throat and stared pointedly at Sugarcube Corner’s front door, matching Twilight’s sentiments exactly. Had she been a religious mare, she would’ve prayed to Celestia for any way out of the single most awkward moment of her sapient life—and in light of that, would later remember what happened next as among the most ironic. Before Fluttershy could drag her dumbstruck friend within drooling distance, Twilight felt a familiar pulse of magic vibrate through her flank. When she looked at her fellow Angels, she saw exactly what she hoped she would: their cutie marks flashing like lighthouse beacons, chiming with each pulse like divine bells of heaven. The three of them shared a look in the time it took the Crusaders to gasp in awe, and just as quickly came to a unanimous, all-too-welcome decision. “Well, that’s our cue!” Twilight said, her disappointment much less feigned once she turned to face the rest of her Ponyville friends. “Thanks for the party, but we’d better get going!” “Awww!” Pinkie Pie’s face fell, almost as far as Trixie’s shot up like a firework. “But you just got here!” “Sorry, guys,” Sunset said, no less firmly than Twilight. “Wish we could stay longer, but, well… duty calls!” For the first time, Trixie spoke in something approaching Equestrian. “Twili… thastwilisperk…” “Literally,” Starlight added. “Calling right now.” Not for the first time, Twilight thanked her lucky stars for the unflappable ally she had in Applejack. “Say no more, y’all,” she said, a knowing smirk perched on her lips. “Don’t leave the world unsaved on our account.” “Do come back in one piece, though,” Rarity reminded them, herself just as understanding. “Good company is hard to come by.” Sunset nodded her appreciation, and Starlight threw in a wink for good measure as they clustered around Twilight’s sparkling horn. The moment the teleportation spell was ready, Trixie found her voice again. “Ohcelestiawaitpleasedon’tgoyetIdidn’tevengetto–” For the good of all Equestria, Twilight didn’t let her finish. With a pop and a flash of light, Celestia’s Angels left the building. Author's Note mfw still frantically fixing a borked Gdoc transfer as the new season premieres FIMFIC WORKING AS INTENDED Also, re: Starlight's chant: it's exactly the reference you'd expect from me. Her Right Hoo(ves)In every sense of the phrase, there truly was no place like home for Celestia’s Angels. Standing eighty feet tall and carved into a perfect resonance spiral for casting work, the order’s trademark ivory-white tower had bookended Canterlot’s landscape for nearly a millennium, a magically engineered exclamation mark on the royal city’s skyline. Mandated though her residence in it was, Twilight Sparkle could hardly complain about her new home, and after a year of living there frankly couldn’t imagine who would. Haven had just about everything: a great location, plenty of breathing space, and—most importantly right now—a grand semi-circular balcony perfect for aiming a long-distance teleportation spell at. As she and her friends blinked back into corporeal form, an involuntary shiver rolled down Twilight’s spine. Even in mid-summer, the air took on a biting chill this far up the mountain—but in fairness, the view more than compensated for the cold. From this vantage point she could see for miles in every direction, from the rolling green carpet of Hollow Shades all the way to the tiny matchbox houses of Ponyville. Sometimes she felt like she’d dissolve into the scenery if she stood out here long enough, just a tiny smudge of purple ink on a painting as big as the world. A similar sensation filled her head now, but for a much less existential reason. It’d taken fourteen cities and the better part of two months, but Harmony’s Run had finally and unequivocally fried her, and all Twilight could do about it now was wobble a bit and wish desperately for a shower and a nap. Preferably both at the same time. “Didn’t expect her to have something for us so soon,” Sunset mused, ambling towards the floor-to-ceiling window separating the balcony from the rest of the tower. She managed to pull the door open with a sputtering burst of magic, but even that small motion seemed to drain her just as much it would’ve Twilight. “Think it’s important?” Starlight flopped onto a reclining couch the moment she stumbled inside, her face buried in a pillow and forelegs dangling off either side. “It could be an order to pick up her dry-cleaning, and I’d still be happy,” she groaned. “I don’t know about you guys, but I’m kinda all extroverted out at the moment.” Twilight swayed in place again, but for the moment stayed upright. “You said it. And that was before Fluttershy’s friend showed up. What was her name, Tracy or…” “Close enough,” Sunset said from behind a hoof rubbing at her eyes. “No kidding, though, that was weird.” There was really nothing else to say on the matter after that. If you could manage to throw Sunset Shimmer off her social game, “weird” was a colossal understatement for what you were. “Okay, girls, game faces,” Twilight said, shaking the cobwebs from her head as she trotted forward. “Let’s see what the Princess wants.” Sunset answered with a jaw-cracking yawn, and Starlight grunted as she yanked her pillow over her head. Twilight thought about repeating herself, but in the end just shrugged and kept going. If Celestia had seen fit to call them in the middle of an afterparty, surely she wouldn’t mind a little magic-lag. The temperature shifted again as she walked, the setting sun’s warmth fading a bit as she moved away from the window. Instead of separate floors, Haven’s interior opened up into a single cylindrical rotunda, ringed with three stacked mezzanines connected by spiral staircases and topped with a stained-glass depiction of Celestia’s Royal Seal. Directly beneath it stood a round crystal table, translucent and sparkling in the evening light. Beyond that, a pair of towering gemstone-studded doors secured the tower’s front entrance—as did eighteen inches of magisteel fortifications and a six-layer security spellweave, but the shiny gates usually came off better in speeches. All told, Haven more resembled a fortress than a home, which to be fair that was more or less intentional. In spite of that fact, the newest Angels had managed to make themselves comfortable here. Besides the cluster of chairs and coffee tables near the balcony, a small kitchen and dining area lightened up one side of the ground floor, while its opposite side had been overtaken by a combination laboratory and research library. As for living space, they’d all claimed one floor of the three above for their own, each outfitted with its own bedchamber, private study, and excessively lavish bathroom. Twilight’s just so happened to be the highest one, so far up she had to crane her neck and squint just to see the web of girders nestled underneath it. Next item on the home-improvement shopping list: an elevator. Or, it occurred to her now, at least a bell or something to let Haven’s fourth resident know they were home. “Spike?” Twilight called out, her voice scratchy and dull until she raised it enough to reach the tower’s summit. “Spiiiiiike!” As her shout’s echo faded, the distant clack of baby dragon footsteps grew to replace it. Sixty feet above Haven’s living “room”, Spike popped into fuzzy view, his head squeezed through a gap in the balustrade. “Oh hey, Twilight!” he replied, waving a clawed hand as he grinned down at her. “When’d you guys get back? I thought you were staying in Ponyville tonight.” Twilight tilted her head towards her still-flashing flank. “Change of plans,” she told him. “Come on down and help us get set up.” With an obedient nod, Spike pulled back out of sight and started the long trek downstairs. In the meantime, Twilight approached the crystal dais at Haven’s core, and from underneath its rim pulled out a gold-banded wooden chest, its lid embossed with the current Angels’ cutie marks. As Sunset joined her, Twilight flipped the case open and passed her a translucent melon-sized ruby, perfectly round save for a narrow crevice the precise size and shape of Sunset’s horn. Keeping the amethyst stone for herself, Twilight floated the sapphire towards Spike, who caught it in midair on his way over to the couch Starlight had passed out on. Steadying herself with a deep breath, Twilight lifted her gemstone over her head so she could gently slot her horn inside, bringing violet motes of magical energy swirling to life within. Sunset did the same with her own crystal a moment later, but across the room Spike spent several more prodding at Starlight without provoking a response. After biting his lip in thought, he tilted her slackened head back until he could spear the stone on her horn himself, then flashed Twilight a grin and a thumbs-up. Once all three Angels were present and technically accounted for, Twilight activated the contact charm. With matching brilliant flashes—and a little extra nudge from Spike—the three orbs rose from the Angels’ horns to hover above the crystal table, connected by three wispy strands of pure-white magic. A fourth tendril danced between the others, searching for a matching signal in a place beyond mortal comprehension—and finding it after a few seconds with an electric flash of light. The stones sank down again, embedding themselves in a trio of indentations along the table’s edge. Shuddering with the force of a freshly woken spell, its crystal surface reshaped itself before Twilight and Sunset’s eyes, jagged peaks rising and rounded valleys rolling across its once unblemished face. In less than a minute, a gleaming map of the entire Equestrian kingdom lay before them, scaled and accurate to every last topographical detail. Instead of the magnificent display, Twilight focused on the humming ovoid veil that filled the empty space above it. Portal magic was always a tricky business, but Twilight had never known this instance of it to fail. Sure enough, a motherly voice soon wafted through, warm and wonderful to hear after so much time spent away from it. “Good evening, Angels,” Princess Celestia said. “Good evening, Celestia,” Twilight wearily replied. “Thank you for responding on such short notice,” Celestia continued, an ethereal echo trailing each word. “I trust you all are well?” “Well enough, Your Highness,” Sunset told her. “Just a little short on sleep.” As if on cue, Starlight jerked awake with a muffled yelp of surprise, her horn flaring by reflex as she tumbled onto the floor. Her gaze drifted to the portal as she pulled herself upright, comprehension dawning with each blink of her bleary eyes. “So I can imagine,” Celestia said through a chuckle. “My apologies for disturbing you, then.” Starlight yawned in response, sniffling as she rubbed at her nose. “No big, Princess,” she mumbled into her fetlock. “‘Sup.” Twilight kept her sigh quiet so the portal wouldn’t pick it up, but Celestia probably wouldn’t have minded hearing it anyway. Of all ponies, the Princess knew all too well how exhausting public service could be. “I know I’m keeping you all from a well-deserved break,” Celestia said, “but if it’s any consolation, what I’d like to discuss with you today won’t prevent you from taking one.” Twilight couldn’t help but squint at that. “Pardon me, Princess, but what exactly do you want to discuss, then? From the way you contacted us, we assumed it was something… well, serious.” “No need for pardoning, Twilight. In your position, I’d be curious too. While this matter isn’t as urgent as most, it is delicate and somewhat complex, so I thought it’d be best to give you some time to prepare. As for the exact timing…” Celestia chuckled again. “Diplomatic responsibility does have its perks. Among them, the occasional excuse for an unplanned exit.” Sunset shook her head and grinned. “You could at least eavesdrop on us in person, Your Highness.” “And miss my weekly municipal budget meeting?” Even without seeing her, Twilight could hear the wry smile on Celestia’s lips. “Were I only so uncourteous, Sunset.” Before she could ask it, Celestia answered Twilight’s next question too. “In four days’ time, Canterlot Castle will host over five hundred dignitaries, dear friends, and diplomatic envoys from twelve allied kingdoms for the grandest royal event in modern Equestrian history. As a matter of course, the comfort and security of our expected guests will be of utmost importance, and all necessary precautions to that end have already been put in place. But without our kingdom’s three most beloved guardians in attendance, I fear this most regal of ceremonies could end in abject disaster.” Twilight nodded to herself, her mind already racing through every relevant detail and data point she could think of. Canterlot had stood as a beacon of harmony and royal strength for hundreds of years. A threat to any part of it was a threat to all of Equestria. Even with a few days to prepare, they’d need to work nearly around the clock coordinating its defense—exactly the kind of job Twilight Sparkle lived for. “We’re your mares, Princess Celestia,” she said. “What’s the occasion? Trade negotiations? An international peace conference?” For a moment too long, Celestia didn’t respond. When she did speak up, Twilight could’ve sworn the Princess was smiling again. “Something like that,” she mused through the portal’s mystic veil—just before it pulsated in the wake of a thunderous belch. Over by Starlight, Spike doubled over as a powerful hiccup nearly knocked him on his rump, his eyes watering and cheeks already bulging with a sequel to his first interjection. Once he let it out, a jet of green fire spurted from his maw, condensing in midair into a pair of wax-sealed scrolls just like the one smoking in Starlight’s lap. After a few coughs and a quick pound on his chest, a fourth scroll emerged as well, small enough to fit perfectly in his adolescent claws. “I hate when she does that…” he muttered, grimacing through a rather hoarse groan. While Spike rubbed at his throat, Starlight broke the seal on Celestia’s letter—which, Twilight noticed, didn’t bear her usual insignia. Instead of the Royal Sun, a faceted crystal heart adorned the messages, blue as the sky and bordered by swirling golden brackets. Twilight had seen that seal before. In fact, she knew for sure they all had. “The Crystal Empire?” Sunset murmured. “‘Dear friends’?” Twilight added at the same volume. They turned to each other and spoke with one voice. “Princess Cadance?” “Will be married this coming Saturday, right here in Canterlot,” Celestia confirmed. “She thought you might like to come.” The truth washed over Twilight in waves, each one tinted with a different emotion. The Angels had seen and conquered horrors immemorial, from a rogue Ursa Minor to the malevolent spirit of Chaos incarnate… but a royal wedding? In just four days? There’d be names to memorize, gifts to buy, corsages to surely grow by horn if they wanted to avoid the late rush—and stars above, what in Equestria were they supposed to wear? They’d be lucky to find any designer on such short notice, let alone one worthy of Crystallian royalty. And Tartarus forbid they skimp on the standard prep work: profiling guests, performing structural analyses, plotting communication networks and emergency escape routes… And it was all for Cadance. Princess Cadance of the Crystal Empire: Celestia’s protégée and adopted “niece”, newly crowned Princess of Love, and the youngest Angel—not to mention only alicorn—to ever join the order. She’d been everything to them when they were growing up, from babysitter to mediator to irreplaceable mentor once they’d succeeded her in joining the Angels. Twilight owed half of all she’d ever be to Cadance’s guidance and encouragement, and now she was getting married. And this cross-kingdom song and dance was how she’d found out. Twilight blinked once, twice, then held her eyes shut as she dragged her hoof across her face. With every passing day in this job, she understood more and more why Cadance retired from it in her prime. “For the record, Your Highness,” Sunset said, “the next time you summon us, we’re definitely sleeping through it.” A hoof held over her mouth wasn’t enough to hide the grin beneath it, though, nor the tinge of laughter in her voice. Before Starlight could catch it, Sunset tugged an unopened scroll out of her grasp with her magic, sliding it into one hoof while the other held Starlight firmly at foreleg’s distance. “With the heartfelt blessing of—there’s three letters, go get your own!—Her Majesty Princess Celestia of Equestria, yadda yadda, pomp and circumstance… Princess Mi Amore Cadenza.” A low whistle punctuated Sunset’s recital. “Remind me never to call her that.” Even as Sunset nudged her away, Starlight leapt right back up, an unusually airy giggle bubbling out of her throat. “C’mon, you’re leaving out the best part!” she shouted, bouncing in place as she waved a second folded paper in Sunset’s face. “We’re not just going. We’re gonna be frickin’ bridesmaids!” A crease formed in Sunset’s brow. “And you’re excited about that?” “What, is that too girly for me? Am I not allowed to be girly?” Starlight shot back, her mood no worse for wear. “Of course I’m excited, it’s a royal wedding! This is, like, thirty percent of everything I’ve ever wanted in life.” “What’s the other seventy percent?” “Life-threatening and/or illegal to do in public. The point is, I’m stoked.” Twilight had a good idea of what Sunset’s face looked like after that, but at the moment she couldn’t know for sure. As she’d unsealed the last invitation and read it for herself, a fuzzy black shutter had fallen over her eyes, screwed into place by a splitting headache beneath her horn. She heard someone approaching—maybe Spike, maybe a rabbit in a petticoat slurping down the dregs of her sanity—but for now elected not to join them back in the real world. Between the rally this morning, the party this afternoon, Celestia summoning them all the way home to Canterlot just to pass on a wedding invitation, and now this, she and reality were ready for some time apart. “Twilight?” Sunset asked from the other side of the earth. “Twilight, you’re being weird. She’s being weird again, Starlight.” “So sue her,” came Starlight’s echoing retort. “It’s just Twilight being Twilight. Whatever she’s freaking out about, there’s no possible way it can make this any better than it already is.” And that did it. That was the last straw. With a sputter, a cough, and a last crimson-tinged look at the parchment crumpled in her hooves, Twilight Sparkle finally snapped. “Princess Cadance is marrying my BROTHER?” Twilight’s voice carried all the way to Haven’s peak, her screech shuddering through the walls like the opening notes of an earthquake. Sunset glanced at Spike, who looked at Starlight, who stared at Twilight with gleeful madness sparkling in her eyes. “Never mind,” she said. “You just made it better.” Low-Grade HumilityBy any passerby’s account, the house at the corner of Millennium Avenue and 7th Street didn’t look like anything special. It stood a modest two stories high, neither dwarfed by its neighbors nor towering over them. Its exterior consisted of only a smooth sandstone facade and a brown tiled roof to match. Every facet of its presentation—from its drab iron fence cast to the patch of close-cropped grass it contained—seemed specifically tailored not to draw the eye, to convince anyone in eyesight that their gaze was better off wandering elsewhere. But if somepony ignored their better judgement and did look through the front gate and past the yard, they might have noticed a rounded red door with brass hinges, a small central depression shaped like a crescent moon—and no keyhole or knob. That pony might then wonder how you were supposed to enter a house through a door you couldn’t open from the outside, when in fact the real question they should’ve asked was why the mailbox just shuddered with a dizzying flash of light, and then why they suddenly couldn’t remember how they’d ended up in front of it. So it was that the little house remained unnoticed and unremarked upon—just how its new owner preferred. After all, when it came to Celestia’s Angels, there was no such thing as being too careful. And when it came to their Seraphim, the one and only pony outside of Celestia herself entrusted with every secret and strategy they possessed, that went double for staying too far out of the public eye. Unless, of course, said Angels needed a full mission requisition arranged within seventy-two hours of a Royal Wedding. When it came to that kind of scenario, all bets were off. “Starlight, time check.” Somewhere behind Twilight, Starlight took a moment to process the request. Twilight could’ve turned away from the mailbox to face her, but that would’ve wasted valuable seconds that—until she got an answer—she wasn’t sure she had to waste. Her post-prep readiness checklist had taken over two hours to get through last night, and the final items on this morning’s pre-pre-mission list weren’t going to check themselves off—or what the hay, maybe they would if Starlight quit slurping at her iced coffee long enough to pay attention. “Check what to the where now?” Starlight finally replied. “The… what time is it?” “Probably about time for you to relax, Twilight.” Sunset stepped up onto the curb next to Twilight, smiling to herself as if dozens of successful operations couldn’t be chalked up to Twilight’s completely manageable verification system. “And maybe get half-caf next time?” “I will drink decaffeinated coffee when I’m dead in the ground and when this wedding is over, in that order.” Twilight said, the mark she made on her list as firm as her reply. “Now on to item #143-b: ‘Ask Starlight again, louder this time, what time it is’.” “Couple minutes to noon, and this is why Spike hides the bean grinder every morning,” Starlight told her. “Just in case you ever wondered.” Another checkmark graced Twilight’s list, accompanied by a tight-lipped frown. “Well, excuse me for wanting to make sure my only brother’s wedding isn’t ruined by his little-sister-best-friend-forever’s failure to plan ahead. Which brings us to item #144…” Before she could keep going, Twilight’s checklist floated out of her reach, guided away by a teal tendril of magic slightly more forceful than her own. “Seriously, Twilight. It’s gonna be fine,” Sunset said once she’d folded the list inside her saddlebag. “I know this is your thing normally, but even for you this is getting a little out of control. Especially since, and this isn’t the first time we’ve said this–” “Seventh, including now,” Starlight added through her straw. “–but we’re not even really on duty for the ball tonight or the ceremony tomorrow. All we have to do is show up, wave to a few upper-crust types, and have a good time.” “Exactly!” Twilight said, swiping at Sunset’s bag to no avail. “Something bad happening at the wedding is the definition of a bad time! How am I supposed to enjoy myself at a complete and total catastrophe?” “Whatever you’re gonna suggest, don’t,” Sunset told Starlight first, waiting for her mumbling pout to peter out before continuing. “Twilight, this isn’t like you. You’re never this jumpy before a job. Please talk to us… or just to me. Starlight’s optional.” Twilight just shook her head, every muscle in her body tensed with the effort. “Nothing’s wrong, okay? I just… I’m a little stressed, that’s all. Which is normal. This is a stressful thing we’re doing. So… I’m fine. Gimme my list back.” A few pedestrians ambled by in the silence that followed, each tacitly ignoring the three famous young mares crowded around a wholly uninteresting yard fence. In the meantime, Sunset stayed put, counting off the seconds with drawn-out blinks of her eyes: one, two, three, four… “He could’ve at least told me himself...” Twilight mumbled, slumping down onto the curb with a weary sigh. Sunset’s stony look melted away as fast as it had come, every part of her softening as Twilight finally let her friend’s hoof reach all the way around her shoulders. “I haven’t seen Shining Armor in months, or Cadance. And now they’re getting married and I’m supposed to be their bridesmare and I don’t even really know what a bridesmare does…” “Teases the groomstallions, mostly.” Starlight’s contribution came out a little muffled by the last dregs of her drink. “I mean, that’s my plan, anyway, but feel free to branch out.” Much as she tried to fight it, Twilight felt a smile tugging at her lips. Leave it to Starlight to make saying the wrong thing somehow the right response. “It was really sudden,” Sunset granted her. “And I’m sure he did try to tell you. We were probably just still on the road when the invitations came out.” A powerful voice in her head demanded she argue otherwise, but for the time being Twilight held her tongue. As much for her friends’ sakes as her own, she could keep her cool for now. She was an Angel, darn it, and Angels did not negotiate with her inner psyches about when or when not to start flipping tables. Besides, if Starlight’s account was right, she had more important—and timely—things to focus on. At precisely one minute past twelve o’clock, Twilight stood up and pushed the house’s gate open. After confirming she still recalled their reason for being there, she led the Angels up the narrow walk to the front door, taking care not to step off the path and readying a reactive shielding spell just in case a hoof went misplaced. While Sunset and Starlight muttered indecipherable codewords into the flowerbeds flanking the doorway, Twilight climbed the front stoop and knocked three times as she’d been instructed, holding her hoof flat against the door’s crescent insignia after the third hit. The wood pulsed and grew warm beneath her sole, a chorus of echoing clicks and buzzes wafting out from within the house. The moment they ceased, a low distorted voice followed up. “You’re late.” Twilight glanced back at Sunset, who egged her on with a silent nod. “Syrup spill on Halter Street,” she answered as clearly as she could. “Had to stick around.” With a final grinding clunk, the house opened up for them. The front door thudded shut again as soon as the Angels passed through it, leaving them sealed inside an austere marble foyer. Across the spotless floor, a pale, skinny-legged unicorn mare glared at them from behind a pair of thick-rimmed black glasses. Twilight met the curt greeting with a warm smile, and sa their host’s icy facade melt a bit in response. “It’s good to see you again,” Twilight told her. “Always a pleasure, Seraphim,” Sunset added. “Hi, Moondancer!” came Starlight’s ear-splitting shout. “Thanks for not killing us!” What little affection had snuck into Moondancer’s posture vanished in the span of a flustered shudder. Teeth clenched and glasses askew, the Angels’ quartermaster blew a hissing sigh out through her nose, shrinking even farther inward as Starlight skipped her way. “Good Celestia in the West-ia, though, this place is tricked out! A legimental timegate, tripartite passphrases, arcomagnetic locks… and were those balefire mines buried under the rhododendrons? And to think, all the last Seraphim had was a residential cloaking spell and a post office box…” Her empty cup cast aside, Starlight threw her hooves around Moondancer’s shoulders and sniffled with joy, hanging off her like a monkey swinging from a faintly twitching rock. “Oh, it’s the little things, MD,” she gushed into her ear. “It’s how I know you care.” A thought of apologizing worked its way through Twilight’s mind, only to exit as soon as she saw the look on Moondancer’s face. “Nice to see you too, Twilight,” the Seraphim said tonelessly. “And your… friends.” As Starlight nuzzled their cheeks together, Moondancer’s flushed yet another shade darker. “Please get off of me.” Prompted by Sunset’s pointed cough, Starlight heaved herself onto her hooves and cleared her throat with gusto. “Right as always, compadre. No time to waste.” She swept her foreleg into a bow towards Moondancer, wiggling her brow for emphasis . “Apres-vous, mon cherie.” “That’s not even the right…” Before she could finish, Moondancer shook her head and seemed to think better of trying. “The lab’s downstairs,” she said to Sunset and Twilight. “If anything gets broken, I’m not notifying your next of kin.” With a guiding jerk of her head, Moondancer led the Angels down a spiraling set of stairs, stopping at each landing to dissolve a transparent security wall with a spark of salmon-pink magic. Halfway through a much longer trip than she’d been expecting, Twilight decided to get rid of the awkward silence as well. Even though she’d promised they had the Elements of Harmony under control now and apologized a thousand times since, she got the sense Moondancer still hadn’t totally forgiven them for her old lab’s rather exciting end. “We really appreciate you doing this on such short notice, Moondancer,” Twilight said. “I’m sure you must be busy with your own plans as well.” Another blockade fizzled beneath Moondancer’s horn, her brow sinking a little lower with each passing step. “Oh, you know me,” came her terse reply. “The life of every party.” Ever the optimist, Sunset gave peace a try next. “So besides the wedding prep, what have you been up to lately?” Moondancer stopped without casting any spells, only turning her head to level a blank stare at Sunset. “I was being sarcastic.” “Well, I’m sure you’ve got a few projects of your own you’re working on,” Sunset went on, hardly missing a beat. “As I recall, you were pretty handy with a soldering torch even back at CGU.” The Seraphim shrugged—or it might have just been the final step in the staircase jolting through her shoulders. Instead of opening up, Sunset’s friendly demeanor seemed to make Moondancer withdraw even more. “Not really. Nothing important. Just a few case studies, material tests… boring stuff. You wouldn’t be interested.” “Try me sometime,” Sunset said with a wink. “I’m kind of a sponge for boring stuff.” Moondancer’s lips twitched, but other than that she didn’t respond. A few more paces revealed a heavy cellar door blocking their way forward, which instead of opening just evaporated like the other barricades before it. Darkness enveloped Twilight as she crossed the empty threshold, but then a final flash of magic flooded the room with light—and left all three Angels speechless. In a word—and Twilight had real trouble settling on just one—Moondancer’s workshop was literally cavernous. Before her lay a cylindrical underground cave, ringed by knobbly stalagmite formations and wide enough for a whole Royal Guard regiment to stand comfortably in formation. Workbenches and technomagical apparati crowded the room from floor to craggy ceiling, all arranged around a compact central living space complete with table, chairs, and a small foldable cot. Judging by the rumpled state of the sheets and textbooks scattered on top of them, the Seraphim more or less lived down here—and seeing it for the first time now, Twilight had half a mind to join her. “This… this is incredible,” she gushed, hypnotized by one shiny gadget after another as she absentmindedly wandered forward. “Did you make–” “Natural cave system inside the mountain,” Moondancer interrupted. “Offshoots run all over the city. I just cleaned this one up a bit.” “No need to be modest,” Sunset commented, her tone that of someone holding in a low whistle. “It’s really impressive.” Once again, the Seraphim said nothing. When she looked at her, Twilight saw an odd expression on her face: narrow and tightened up, like she wished she had something to hide behind. “Not like I had much of a choice,” Moondancer eventually replied. “What with you three harmonizing my last place.” “To be fair, we got better about that,” Starlight called over to them, entranced herself by a blinking device sequestered on a counter by itself. “In densely populated areas, anyway. What’s this thing do?” “It explodes when you touch it,” Moondancer growled. Starlight blinked once, then let her face split into a grin. “Cool,”she said, forehoof already halfway outstretched. “That means don’t touch it!” Moondancer’s livid expression didn’t fade even once Starlight retreated a step. “Why did I even let her in here?” she seethed to herself, storming off towards another display rack set away from all the others. Faced with Sunset’s disapproving glare, Starlight blinked again and gave an innocent shrug. “Don’t look at me,” she said. “She’s got a point.” After years of knowing her, the near-constant urge to snap at Starlight for something or other had devolved into an occasional weary sigh. While Sunset got hers out of the way, Twilight did her best to pacify the fourth member of their team. “Sooo, getting back to business… is everything ready?” she asked the Seraphim. If she’d had room to do it, Moondancer probably would’ve leapt at the chance to change the subject. “And accounted for,” she said through a sigh, inclining her head towards the table she’d stopped in front of. As the Angels crowded in closer, her tone turned dour again. “Bit of a rush job, but I had a few strings saved up to pull. Wouldn’t mind a little overtime pay one of these days, though...” Moondancer raised her hoof up level with the table—first to smack Starlight’s away, then to point out each item of note. “As per Sunset’s request, I started with the basics: one grappling hook with accompanying nylon line, three all-purpose tranquilizer darts with hoof-mounted launcher, and for emergencies, two crystal fission flash grenades.” She lifted one of the lemon-sized glass grenades from its plastic-and-foam case with her magic, holding it aloft for her guests to examine. “Half-turn the upper hemisphere to arm, three second fuse. Don’t look at it when it goes off if you want to read your own cereal box the next morning.” As Moondancer slotted the grenade back into place, Twilight threw a pointed glance Sunset’s way. “‘Not even on duty’, huh?” she muttered, to which Sunset replied with a cheeky grin. “What can I say?” she whispered back. “I’m a creature of habit.” Moondancer moved down the table, prompting Twilight and company to follow along. “Given the nature of the op, I figured you’d prioritize discretion over utility, so I factored that into the design of these.” Her horn flickered to life again, this time to display a pair of rhinestone-spangled eyeglasses. “When worn, they’ll allow the user to identify any magical anomalies within a radius of forty yards. They’re a bit gaudy for casual wear, but preliminary intel indicates most of the wedding crowd would consider that a compliment, so you and all the hoity-toities should get along famously.” The glasses bobbed in place for a moment, then soared over into Twilight’s forehoof, just barely out of Starlight’s reach. “Do I have to say it?” “We’ll… keep them safe,” Twilight replied, carefully tucking the glasses into her saddlebag while Starlight muttered something about having an itch. “Finally, communication.” Moondancer flipped open one of three velvet-covered jewelry boxes, extracting from within a silver-wired necklace garnished with a violet opal pendant. “Another tricky prospect, all things considered, but manageable enough. Once charged, the stones will act as neuromagical transmitters, allowing you to hear each other speak without drawing any external attention. The matching earrings will help triangulate the signal, so your voice doesn’t end up in the wrong pony’s head.” Moondancer paused for a moment, her hoof still lifted as if she hadn’t expected to run out of gadgets so soon. “And… that’s it, I guess,” she said as it dropped. “Hope it helps.” In Twilight’s mind, that settled it: something was definitely off about Moondancer today. She’d always been on the quiet side, but today she looked outright nauseous every time she opened her mouth, even while showing off her own inarguably impressive work. “I’m sure it will,” Sunset told her. “Thanks so much for doing this, Moondancer. Chalk up another one we owe you for.” Moondancer’s dismissive grimace cemented Twilight’s opinion, and more than that convinced her to do something about it. “Why don’t you and Starlight work on getting all this packed up?” she suggested to Sunset. “I wanna get a closer look at some of the equipment down here.” Starlight needed no further encouragement, the flash grenade case already splayed open in her lap the second her name came up. After sharing a glance with Twilight, Sunset nodded and turned her attention to the tranq darts. “Mind if I get the grand tour?” Twilight asked Moondancer, who acquiesced with a weak shrug. Once they’d put a couple humming chemical analyzers between themselves and the other Angels, Twilight made her first move. “So how was the move-in?” she asked, trailing her hoof along the eyepiece of a microscope. “It must’ve been tough getting all this stuff down here.” “It was fine,” Moondancer said plainly, offering no further explanation or insight. One in-road down, another one up to bat. “I really wish we could’ve helped out. Believe me, after that long out on the road, it’d have been a welcome change of pace.” Twilight let her hoof fall to the ground, a smile creeping onto her face as if her next thought had just now occurred to her. “You did get the birthday gift I sent, though, right?” Even with her lips pulled taut, Moondancer couldn’t hide the satisfied glint in her eye. “I did. It was nice,” she admitted, her eyes flicking over to the velvet-furred teddy bear next to her cot. “Thanks.” “Don’t mention it,” Twilight said, giggling at a joke she knew Moondancer would understand. “You don’t know how many times I’ve woken up to write something down and forgotten what it was before I could dig up a quill. Hopefully the Reactive Recording spell I charmed into that little guy will make him worth his stuffing.” “Mm-hmm.” Moondancer nearly made it to the edge of the chamber before she noticed Twilight had stopped walking. “What?” she asked as she turned around. “I think you know what, Moondancer,” Twilight replied, soft enough that Sunset and Starlight wouldn’t overhear. ‘I just wish I did.” “I’m fine, okay?” Moondancer grumbled. “I never said you weren’t.” Moondancer’s mouth popped open, then snapped closed again without a word sneaking out. “Moondancer, come on. You can talk to me,” Twilight went on, an inkling of an idea directing her final plea. “I’ve been your friend just as long as I’ve been theirs.” And there it was: a crack in the Seraphim’s armor, quickly widening into a chasm. “I… it’s stupid,” she muttered. “I know it’s stupid, you’ve told me it is…” “But you’re not stupid, Moondancer.” Twilight closed the gap between them as Moondancer stared at her hooves. “And neither is feeling the way you do. This whole thing, the Angels… it’s weird for me too. Weird for all of us.” “It’s not just that!” Moondancer snapped, but all that came of her outburst was a flush of color in her cheeks. “It could’ve been… I mean, I could have… y’know, just…” She couldn’t bring herself to say it, but Twilight had heard enough to guess. “You’re right, Moondancer. You could’ve been an Angel with me. A wonderful one. But that doesn’t mean you should’ve been. You didn’t want this. You told me that yourself a year ago, when Celestia first asked me to join.” “But you did want it,” Moondancer said, nearly in a whisper. “And Sunset wanted it and Starlight wanted it and I… I didn’t.” There were no tears, but Twilight could see them prickling behind her old friend’s eyes, feel them threatening to break through the barriers she’d built to match the ones outside her house. Suddenly, finally, she understood—and felt her stomach sink with shame for how long it’d taken her to notice. The least she could do now was mend what she’d left unfixed. “You know when we were choosing our Seraphim, they asked us for a list?” she said. “Seriously. Waited all of thirty seconds after the initiation ceremony to ask, too. We had twenty-four hours to nominate our candidates, and then twelve after that to vet and confirm our pick. You think mythical beasts are bad, try bureaucratic ones.” Moondancer frowned, nudging her glasses up with her magic. “Am I supposed to be flattered that you settled for me?” Twilight smiled, a gesture she hoped came off more comforting than secretive. “I wouldn’t call it ‘settling’ by a long shot.” “Well, thanks anyway,” Moondancer said, sniffing away the last dregs of vulnerability from her voice as she turned to trot away. “Suppose it never hurts to have such a good friend on the inside…” Before she made it ten feet, Twilight stopped her in her tracks. “I didn’t nominate you,” she told her. “Starlight did.” Caught in mid-sneer as she was, Moondancer looked at once like she was baffled and about to sneeze. “She… Starlight? Glimmer?” “Technically, she just beat Sunset to saying it out loud,” Twilight continued. “You know how she gets when she wants to be heard.” “Well…” Moondancer shut her eyes and shook her head. “Okay, great, so I was on their lists too, but…” “We never even made one. You were the list, Moondancer. You were the only pony in all of Equestria that any of us wanted for the job.” The Seraphim deflated like a leaking balloon, her breath leaving her in the form of a winded sigh. Once her lungs emptied, she stood silently in place, shrunk into a crumpled statue with sagging shoulders and twitching lips. “I’ve known you since magic kindergarten, Moondancer,” Twilight said, her smile growing. “We’ve been study buddies, lab partners, research assistants, even target dummies for each other’s spellwork. Just because Sunset and Starlight are my friends too doesn’t make you any less of one. And just because I’m an Angel now doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten how close we were when I wasn’t.” Reaching out, Twilight found a spot for her hoof to rest next to Moondancer’s stiffened neck. “Or how much you deserve this. Regardless of who your friends are.” Moondancer scoffed, but she wasn’t any better now at lying than she’d ever been before. As for Twilight, she’d had just about enough of her oldest friend deflecting her own praise. “Come on, really?” she intoned. “You were valedictorian of the only CGU class in history to have three graduates join the Angels. And speaking as one of said Angels, you were my only nominee too. Because on top of being the most absurdly overqualified Seraphim pretty much ever, there’s nopony else in Equestria I wanted by my side more.” Now Twilight shrugged, though hers was purely playful. “Y’know, just for the record.” At long last, bit by bit, a smile peeked out from beneath the creases lining Moondancer’s face. “Now you’re just being mushy,” she mumbled. An ugly sound escaped Twilight’s throat, one that she’d later generously remember as a snort. “Go figure,” she muttered half to herself. “Sunset’s much better at this than I am.” Once she saw Moondancer’s brow darken, though, Twilight straightened up again. “You really should give her another chance. I know she comes off a little… magnanimous sometimes, but she really does mean all those nice things she says.” Moondancer chuckled, this time without hesitation. “Element of Honesty, huh?” “To a fault,” Twilight agreed. “And Starlight… well, you don’t have to tell me how abrasive she can be. But if you can, try not to take it personally. Weird as it sounds, all that teasing she does is kind of how I know she likes you.” Moondancer didn’t say anything, and didn’t need to—a single raised eyebrow communicated her thoughts on the matter just fine. Admittedly, she had a bit of a point, but Twilight felt sure she’d come around on Starlight’s good points in due time. After all, Princess Celestia had, hadn’t she? Or so one theory went, anyway. Another was that a thousand years of monarchical control over heaven and earth had given the Princess of the Sun a somewhat twisted sense of humor. And in perfect honesty, there was more evidence supporting that hypothesis than Twilight cared to admit. In any event, Moondancer had made another good point too: perfect honesty was Sunset’s thing, not hers. As long as her friend was happy, Twilight could live with a couple little white lies of omission. And as anypony could see, Moondancer had perked up by half since she’d first pulled her aside. She even stayed that way for a good ten seconds, before a tinkling crash rent their tender moment asunder. In fairness, though, that still counted as progress. “What part of ‘don’t touch it’ didn’t get through?” Moondancer shouted, her voice rising with every step as she tore back across the lab. To her surprise, though—and honestly, Twilight’s a bit too—this mess wasn’t Starlight’s to make. Instead, the Seraphim skidded to a halt in front of the other two Angels calmly organizing the last of their gear—and then staggered back onto her hind hooves as a cobalt-blue blob launched itself into her. “Moondanceeeeer!” shrieked said blob. “Omigosh omigosh I’m so super-duper excited! The royal wedding’s tomorrow and we all get to be there and I think I broke a lamp or something and the Angels are gonna… Twilight Sparkle! You’re here! C’mere and hug me, ya big hero, you!” And so Twilight did, not that she had any choice in the matter. When Minuette wanted a hug, Minuette got a hug, and woe be unto anypony who tried to squirm out of the way before she did. As their former classmate latched onto her shoulders and squeezed hard enough to make an earth pony blush, Twilight did her best to return the favor before she lost circulation in her forehooves. “It’s great to see you too, Minuette,” she wheezed, stepping back so Minuette could bound over to Sunset. “I didn’t expect to see you down here!” After a moment, the full absurdity of that statement sunk in. “How did she get down here?” Twilight whispered to Moondancer. “She cried until I gave her a master spell,” Moondancer grunted, still wincing from her own enthusiastic greeting. “I’m not good with crying.” “Ooh, that’s a good grip!” Minuette’s voice came out a little strangled, a byproduct of her battle with Starlight to see who could crush the other’s ribcage first. “Have you been working out?” “Magic-aided calisthenics, Minnie,” Starlight said once she relented, rolling her shoulders with a proud smirk. “Carves me up like a pumpkin.” “Well, happy Nightmare Night to you too, then! Yowza!” Minuette sucked in a deep breath and held it for a bit, but even still couldn’t keep from wriggling a bit and squealing deep in her throat. “Oh, isn’t this terrific? The ol’ CGU gang, together again! I practically begged Lemon Hearts and Twinkleshine to come down here with me, but they just couldn’t find the time! You know Twinkleshine’s actually working the reception tonight? It’s been all hooves on deck from dawn to dusk the whole week! I mean, she’s thrilled, of course, just over the moon about the whole snazzy setup, but it’s about all she thinks about nowadays. Just talk-talk-talk about this floral arrangement or that hors d’oeuvres display… half the time, I can’t even get two words in! Can you imagine that?” “I do,” Moondancer muttered under her breath. “Often.” “But I don’t have to tell you three any of that, huh?” Minuette went on, giving Sunset a vigorous nudge in the shoulder. “Bridesmaids for a royal wedding… goodness, I feel like half a duchess just knowing you! The fanfare, the dresses, the perfect spot to watch the most perfect moment in a beautiful loving couple’s life…” Minuette screwed up her eyes, waving a forehoof in front of them as a hiccup cut through her spiel. “Oh, horseapples, here I go again. Third time today.” As Minuette’s hard lean into Sunset’s shoulder morphed into a damp hug, Twilight shook her head and laughed. “It’s a big responsibility,” she started to say, “but I’m sure we’ve got everything under contr…” In a single searing flash, the room went blinding white. Twilight’s hearing followed her vision’s example, all sounds snuffed out save for a distant peal like shattering glass. Heart frozen and lungs shriveled into raisins, Twilight gasped, sputtered, and then shrieked aloud. “Dresses! Sun-moon-and-stars, we don’t have dresses!” Sunset cringed as Twilight ripped her saddlebag away, scattering all its contents but the crumpled list of pre-wedding duties. Twilight would’ve sworn she’d triple-checked it. Her lists never failed. They couldn’t fail. In a just and kind world, that wasn’t how checklists worked. But there was the evidence, clear as crystal before her: guest profiles, chapel reconnoiter, flowcharts of backup plans for every disaster scenario imaginable. All were crossed off, and none were “pick up wedding dresses from literally anywhere that sells them”. This was bad. This was beyond bad. This was a meteor strike wrapped up in an alien invasion overshadowed by a tidal wave the size of Canterlot Mountain, which she’d just as soon throw herself off of then serve as a bridesmaid for a royal freaking wedding without so much as a– “–ey, Egghead!” Twilight snapped her head up, her useless checklist sagging to the ground in shame. “What?” she screamed. Starlight dropped her hoof from where she’d been waving it, warding off Sunset with the same motion. “Gimme a break, I tried her real name first,” she griped at her, before returning to Twilight. “Dresses were on my to-do list. We’ve got ‘em. Calm your bits.” “We… but… t-the list…” With the return of her bodily senses came some of Twilight’s short-term memory as well—specifically the bit about her strategic delegation of wedding-related tasks among the three of them. Which she now recalled had been done so she wouldn’t, to quote Starlight four days earlier, “freak out right before it starts exactly like I’m pretty sure you’re going to anyway”. Right. Yeah. “I should’ve gotten decaf,” Twilight whimpered, sinking onto her haunches in exhausted defeat. She didn’t see much of what happened next, but when she looked up again Starlight had produced a rolling metal display rack—upon which swayed three of the most exquisite, gorgeous ball gowns Twilight had ever seen. Each matched their respective Angel to a picture-perfect T, stitched and shaded with such immaculate care that from a distance they could’ve stood for the mares themselves. Starlight nudged her own topaz-lined hem out for effect while Minuette gasped at Sunset’s fiery golden-red train, and between the two works of synthetic art hung a sight for Twilight’s aching eyes. The third dress—her dress—was an iris-violet construction of sleek silk and lace, complemented by a gossamer shawl speckled with a gleaming tapestry of astronomically-accurate constellations spelled out with tiny inlaid amethysts. Mesmerized by it as she was, Twilight almost missed the alabaster square of cardstock tucked underneath its lapel. Extracting it, she saw a note scribbled in looping cursive, and recognized the pensmareship long before she reached the signature at the bottom: Dearest Angels, Consider these a gift from your friends down in Ponyville, and yet another token of our thanks and affection. I only ask in return that you continue your tremendous work in service to our kingdom—and, if you’d be so kind, make me look good at the wedding. Ever yours, Rarity “Funny thing is, I didn’t even have to ask for ‘em,” Starlight commented. “Remember Minnie’s old roommate Lyra? Turns out she lives in Ponyville now, and any word out of Minnie’s mouth travels kinda fast. Rarity had these halfway finished before I could even say ‘thanks’.” Her head still spinning for more than one reason, Twilight took her time mashing a response together in her mouth. “It’s… they’re beautiful,” she managed to whisper, just before Minuette made it clear she was having the opposite problem. “Well, just don’t stand there gawking!” she said. “Try ‘em on already!” She didn’t need to tell anypony twice. When Twilight emerged from behind one of Moondancer’s machine banks several minutes later, she saw Sunset and Starlight already dressed near the lab’s entrance, marveling at their wardrobe just as much as she felt like doing herself. Rarity had taken their measurements a few months back—for “inspirational purposes”, she’d claimed at the time—but Twilight never could’ve expected this as a result. The dress flowed along with her every movement like a second set of skin, flexible where she’d want maneuverability and snug where she’d prefer to be flattered. Instead of awkward or cramped, she felt liberated, like she could take on the world and look fantastic doing it. “So this settles it,” Sunset said once Twilight approached, setting down her conjured hoof mirror with a firm nod. “We need to be much better friends with Rarity.” “Told you I had it covered,” Starlight replied, but her boast rang hollow through the giddy grin on her face. Through Sunset’s mirror, Twilight saw no reason to disagree. For the first time since becoming an Angel, she well and truly looked the part. “They’re perfect,” Twilight declared to Minuette. “We owe you one… or rather, three.” As Minuette nodded and sniffled behind her quivering hoof, Twilight shot Moondancer a smile too. “You too, Seraphim. Will we see you at the ball tonight?” “Doubt it,” Moondancer said. “Got some research to catch up on.” Twilight sighed, but bit her lip when she saw Moondancer doing the same. “Your loss.” “I doubt that too.” Twilight accepted that response with a playful roll of her eyes. She might as well have read Moondancer’s mind with how much she’d expected to hear that—and when she faced the other Angels again, she wondered whether Sunset had done the same to her own. “Care to do the honors?” Sunset asked her, Twilight’s checklist already floating by her side. With a pithy glare, Twilight took her up on the offer, summoning a feather pen to assist her with this sacred final task. “Canterlot Royal Wedding, final prep check. Intel?” She paused a moment to recall all her research, then scratched a check mark next to the appropriate item on the list. “Check. Equipment?” Sunset tapped the two cases stacked by her side. “Acquired.” “Attire?” “Fine as hell,” Starlight confirmed. Twilight scanned down the list with her pen, stopping once she reached the last item. “Transportation…” She looked up, fixing Sunset with a quizzical glance. “Where’s Spike?” She didn’t have to wait long to find out. A few seconds after she asked, a distant rumbling boom reverberated through the ceiling, grit showering onto their heads as a faint whiff of ozone trailed down the stairs. After another moment, an angry shout echoed into earshot, indecipherable as language but certainly not lacking in intent. “Did you really put balefire mines in your front lawn?” Sunset asked Moondancer. “Not in the lawn, per se,” Moondancer replied. In the silence that followed, she made a face and shook her head. “He’s a dragon. He’ll be fine.” Another sigh left Twilight’s lungs, but this one did little to dampen her mood. With great satisfaction, she checked off the last item on her list and rolled it up to tuck inside her saddlebag. “We’d better go meet him,” she said. “And fix his tux. See you tomorrow, Minuette.” “Say hi to Twinkleshine for me!” Minuette gleefully sobbed. With everything taken care of at last, the Angels made their exit. At the top of the stairs, Twilight reached out with her magic to open the front door, revealing a very put-out—but still slightly smoldering—baby dragon on the stoop, and a carriage for four waiting out on the street. The three mares stopped for a moment, all thinking the same thing. “Well, here we go,” Starlight said. “Can’t wait,” Sunset agreed. Both mares looked at Twilight, waiting for an answer to their unspoken question. “We’re ready,” Twilight declared, trotting forward to follow Spike out to their ride. “Let’s rock this thing.” And rock it, they hopefully in all honesty wouldn’t. But for now, at least, Twilight wouldn’t have really minded if they did. And that, at least, was something worth coming home for.
Deviant GravityIn a way, a millennium of total isolation had done the Castle of the Two Sisters more good than harm. A bastion built to outlast the ages certainly looked nice on a postcard, but surviving wasn’t the same as living, nor a fortress the same as a home. You couldn’t live someplace without leaving your mark on it, and it was those marks—not impenetrable walls or vaulted ceilings—which gave that place life. Time had worn away all but a skeleton of this one, but in those bones the marks of ages past remained: cracks in the walls from a monarch’s misfired spells, a hole in the ceiling from a sibling’s drastic final act. Swathed in the shadows of nighttime eternal, a mortal pony entered the Castle for the first time in ten centuries, her breath misting under her nose as she took in her otherworldy surroundings. The night air hung thick with anticipation, the ruin’s mystical past defying its mundane present. The last time two ponies had walked into this room, only one of them had walked out—a fact the Nightmare haunting it now knew all too well. As the stars had aided in her escape from the moon, so too would they grant her strength enough to rectify her greatest failure, and vanquish this little interloper who saw fit to stand in her way. If ghosts could be conquered, the young unicorn must’ve thought, then so could gods. As Sunset Shimmer would soon discover, though, gods tended to look a lot less conquerable when you were standing right in front of one. In their first moments together, neither pony moved—although calling the creature at the hall’s far end a “pony” bordered on insulting. Nightmare Moon resembled a mare in technical name only, standing twice Sunset’s height with an alicorn’s horn and wings, an ephemeral starry void in place of a mane, and razor-sharp fangs glistening in her maw. Beneath her jet-black torso, five rough-hewn stones orbited her armored hooves, each an ancient vessel for one of the mythical Elements of Harmony. When Sunset’s eyes flicked towards them, the Nightmare's face split into a vicious grin. “Looking for these?” she crooned, the opening notes of a cackle dripping from her words. Sunset met her gaze and held it, her brow rising as she sank into a fighter’s crouch. “Looks like I found them,” the young mare replied. Now Nightmare Moon laughed, throwing her head back with a manic gleam in her eye. “You little foal… thinking you could defeat me?” Sunset smirked, nursing a knowing glint of her own. “You know what they say: there’s a second time for everything.” A twisted scowl bent onto Nightmare Moon’s face, making her look even more monstrous than ever. “Your impudence will be your doom! What madness makes you think you could face me alone?” “She’s not alone!” From the archway Sunset Shimmer had entered through, a second young unicorn emerged. Physically, Twilight Sparkle stood in stark contrast to her companion: thin where Sunset had curves, lavender in color instead of dusty amber, and with a close-cropped blue-violet mane that looked rather plain next to Sunset’s flowing crimson and gold locks. Standing together now, though, the two mortals could scarcely be told apart. Their eyes burned with the same tenacious spark, nothing in either mare’s stance suggesting a hint of insincerity. “And we will defeat you,” Twilight said, pawing her hoof against the floor as she too readied herself for battle. Faced with the prospect of fighting two mortal mares instead of one, the Immortal Queen of the Night couldn’t even work up the effort to act impressed. “You’re kidding,” she assured them. “You’re kidding, right?” Evidently, they weren’t. Cued by a nod from Twilight, Sunset charged a spell into her horn and released it—not towards Nightmare Moon, but down into her own upturned hoof. Her magic flickered as it spread from her sole up to the base of her knee, then ignited into a seamless sheath of flames with a sound like hammered steel. Beside her, Twilight summoned a translucent shield the same fuchsia shade as her horn’s aura, holding it in midair as an ad hoc shield. Nightmare Moon rolled her eyes, then took a languid step forward, positioning herself between the Elements of Harmony and the two upstarts so desperate to die for them. For a single electric second, the night and its children all held their breath. Sunset struck first, swinging her hoof in a wide arc and flinging a melon-sized ball of flame towards Nightmare Moon. By the time the fire reached her, only a pair of glowering eyes remained, the rest of her body dissolving into a midnight-blue cloud that parted around the flaming wad with ease. Sunset’s second attempt missed its mark as well, splattering harmlessly against the chamber’s far wall, but the Nightmare’s counter fared no better. Before a tendril of her essence could squeeze around Sunset’s throat, Twilight heaved her shield into its path and drove it back, joining the assault with sizzling beams of her own magic. Without a window to return fire, Nightmare Moon collected herself and fell back, her adversaries advancing two steps for each one she retreated. More so than she’d expected, Sunset and Twilight attacked with masterful precision, alternating offensive volleys as Twilight’s defensive spellwork kept them both safely out of harm’s reach. Their barrage did little damage to anything but the masonry, but that—the Nightmare soon realized—was no accident. This seemingly coordinated assault was nothing but stagecraft, a pyrokinetic light show meant to push her away from the mortal mares’ real goal: the Element Stones. Within the compacted smog that comprised her body, Nightmare Moon scowled. If these infants thought she could be outwitted so easily, they would find themselves sorely mistaken. In the span of a momentary lull in their onslaught, the Nightmare left the Stones behind and shot up into the air, only to swoop down on the mares with a roar like an oncoming train. As if two halves of the same mind, Twilight and Sunset split apart in perfect sync, each diving away from the other and already casting the moment they rolled upright. The former widened her shield around the Nightmare’s haze, forming a semicircular wall that corralled her into the latter’s sights. Instead of chaining separate blasts, Sunset unleashed every ounce of her magical strength at once, channeling immeasurable energy into a blistering torrent of white-hot flame. The result was an arcane flytrap, Sunset’s firestorm buffeting Nightmare Moon from one side and Twilight’s shield reflecting it back at her from the other. No matter which way the Nightmare turned, Sunset followed, her every move balanced with Twilight’s to maintain the airtight cocoon in which they’d ensnared their foe. A clever move, and one clearly well-practiced. Nightmare Moon had underestimated these young mortal mares. She wouldn’t make the same mistake twice. It took several seconds for Sunset to realize Nightmare Moon was gone, long enough that Twilight had to shout to draw her attention to it. The two wasted precious time rooted in place, dripping sweat and squinting at the cherry-red circle their spells had melted into the floor, before Sunset snapped out of her reverie. With a jerk of her head, she led Twilight towards the Element Stones, the one thing they knew could defeat the Nightmare once and for all. Which made them the perfect place for Nightmare Moon to strike, her essence seeping out from the Castle’s undercroft through gaps in the shattered floor. Her horn flashed as she rematerialized, and her throat burned with a searing screech. “Enough!” The mortals’ minds were fast, but their bodies not quite fast enough. The pitch-dark bolt hit Sunset square in the chest, blasting her back into Twilight hard enough to send them both sprawling. As they slid to a stop in a tangled, dazed heap, Nightmare Moon reclaimed the Elements of Harmony for her own, wrapping them in her magic to hold aloft above her head. “How pathetic,” she sneered. “And all for naught. Now you will never see your Princess again, or your sun!” She raised the Elements high, all the better to smash them to pieces against the dais beneath her. “The night… will last… forever!” “I… wouldn’t say that just yet.” Framed by beautiful moonlight streaming through the broken roof, Twilight Sparkle pulled herself up onto wobbling hooves, supported by her partner’s equally shaky shoulder. The mare's pitiful retort stayed Nightmare Moon's hoof, but only for a moment. With how cocky the two mortals had been just minutes ago, she couldn’t resist savoring this moment of pointless rebellion against the inevitable. “Oh, shouldn’t I?” she wondered aloud. Her magic looped under the mortals’ barrels, and with a simple flick upended them both. As they slammed onto their backs, Nightmare Moon spread her wings and swept over them, leering down from above as they squirmed and gasped for breath. “Tell me, foals, what could possibly give you any hope of stopping me? Your friendship? Your precious Elements of Harmony?” Twilight’s eyes darted towards the ceiling, and the endless night sky beyond it. She might as well get used to seeing it, with what little time she had left. All of Equestria might as well too. Nothing would ever end it. Nopony would ever take her kingdom away from her again. “Well, yes, primarily those,” Twilight said. “But also the mare supercharging an electrokinetic pulse spell into her forehooves and descending towards this location at three-hundred-forty-three meters per second.” Nightmare Moon blinked, shook her head slightly, then blinked again. “Which in our defense,” Sunset added, “was entirely her idea.” The two mares stared up at Nightmare Moon, not a trace of irony in their expressions. Mouth agape, Nightmare Moon stared back. “The… what?” She never got a chance to ask again. Twilight brought up another shield—a dome this time, big enough to cover her and Sunset both—then shut her eyes and braced herself. Nightmare Moon felt the hairs on her neck rise, then the stones underhoof tremble, then the whole castle vibrate all around her. The air sizzled in her nose—crackled with electricity—gleamed in the light of something brighter than the moon. The Nightmare turned around just in time to watch what remained of the great hall’s ceiling implode. She saw a smear of pink and purple, a great blue flash, and then... It wasn’t a pony, like Twilight had said. It couldn’t possibly be. Nothing alive could have impacted the earth with such titanic force, detonated like a meteorite with a hurricane trapped inside. Thunder pealed and lightning flashed, air turned to fire and stone to ash—and over the chaos, a voice emerged, loud and wild and a little bit hoarse. “Yeeeeeeah, baby! How’s that Second Law of Motion taste?” === Nightmare Moon drew herself back together at an agonizing pace, seconds dragging into minutes as she collected bits of her essence from what felt like miles away. When her body finally became whole again, head pounding and throat burning with the metallic scent of ozone, she cracked her eyes open to a smoking, debris-choked warzone where once her castle had stood. The great hall had been obliterated, simply wiped away as if there had never been anything there but a glassy crater ten feet deep and forty across. What the blast hadn’t incinerated, it had razed to the ground, shin-high skeletons all that remained of the barbican and bailey’s once towering walls. Only by the grace of good fortune did the far wall of the throne room still stand, charred black with soot and supported solely by the cropped foundations of the Twin Sisters’ Spires. It was all gone: her castle, her grip on the night… the Element Stones. They’d been the last thing she’d seen before she blacked out. She’d lost them in the explosion—felt them crack apart with the last of her magical senses. And neither Sunset nor Twilight—now joined by a third unicorn mare as they clambered out from the crater together—appeared at all concerned about it. In fact, even as she heaved for breath with smoke still rising from her static-frizzed mane, the newest member of their crew looked more satisfied than any of them. “Not to ruin the moment or anything,” Starlight Glimmer said, her head swiveling from Sunset to Twilight and back again, “but you guys have got to try that sometime.” The Nightmare fell to her knees, her strength at its end and her resolve not far behind. Who were these little rats? How in Equestria could they be so powerful? “The… the Stones…” she rasped, shuddering with the effort of swallowing back a cough. “You…” “Blew ‘em up.” The third mare finished the sentence for her, rocking on her grimy hooves as she failed to suppress a giddy grin. “And before you ask: yes, it was totally worth it.” For several seconds, shock stuck Nightmare Moon’s tongue to the roof of her mouth. Discounting a sigh from Twilight, the mares still seemed utterly nonplussed. “But the Elements… t-they’re gone. You won’t be able to…” “Use them anymore?” This time Sunset cut her off, flanked by both her friends as she stepped forward. “Well, that’s where you’re wrong. The Elements of Harmony aren’t something you can see or touch, and the spark that activates them isn’t just some spell you can read about in a book. You were so obsessed with using them against us that you never saw what was right in front of your nose.” Where Sunset left off, Twilight jumped in with barely a moment’s pause. “Even if you had understood what the Elements really were, you never could’ve wielded them. Their power isn’t meant for tyrants or princesses, or even most regular ponies. It takes a special bond, one so deep that nothing, good or evil, could ever break it.” “The kind of bond,” Starlight interjected, “that we just so happen to have.” The Nightmare tried to stand, but still her legs wouldn’t obey. In the meantime, Twilight took over again. “You thought we wanted the Elements so we could destroy you, Nightmare Moon, but more than anything, Harmony isn’t a weapon of war. It’s a construct, a connection between the Elements and the ponies who bear them stronger than any other magic known to ponykind. The Stones, while of not-insignificant historical interest,”—she shot a pointed glance at Starlight, who responded by sticking out her tongue—“aren’t the real Elements of Harmony. The real Elements… are right here.” Nightmare Moon furrowed her brow. Twilight hadn’t pulled anything out into view, nor cast a spell to reveal them. “What?” At first Twilight refrained from explaining herself, but as she fell silent the earth seemed to speak for her. A sudden gust ruffled through her mane, and somewhere nearby a low vibration began to thrum, growing louder with each passing second. “It’s like we said,” she finally murmured. “They’re right in front of your nose. Loyalty and laughter…” The sound coalesced into a colossal pulse. As the ground shook, Starlight Glimmer rose an inch above it—her body wrapped in magic, her eyes glowing like the moon. “Honesty and generosity…” Another pulse, and Sunset rose too, weightless and shimmering with ethereal light. “Kindness… and magic.” Now Twilight herself lifted off, spreading her forelegs as the same unknowable power coursed through her slender frame. When she looked down on Nightmare Moon, it was with the eyes of something not quite just mortal anymore. “The six Elements of Harmony. The six tenets of true friendship. Born as a covenant between the ponies of old, used by Celestia to banish her corrupted sister, hidden away for a thousand years… and unearthed, extracted, and reactivated four and a half months ago, by three best friends with a little too much time on their hooves.” Nightmare Moon raised a hoof to her slackened mouth, grasping for words and finding none. “You… h-how…?” “Serendipity, mostly,” said Sunset, her voice echoing from the influence of her Elements. “I mean, once three of the greatest magical minds in thirty generations ended up in the same dorm room, it was bound to happen sooner or later.” “Not that we’re bragging or anything,” Starlight added in the same resonant tone. “Knowing Celestia, she probably planned it that way all along.” Nightmare Moon slid backwards on her rump, scrabbling away from the crater in a last-ditch effort to flee. “W-Wait, this isn’t… y-you can’t…” A final pulse, the most powerful yet, knocked her flat on her back. Winded and powerless, she watched the three mares float higher into the air, and then heard them speak one last time. “Oh, we can.” “And we’re going to.” “... really, really hard.” The three Bearers convulsed as their Elements flowed through them, their heads forced back by the age-old magic’s unbridled might. Golden ringlets of energy formed around their forehooves, orbiting at blinding speed until they shrunk into bracers adorned with singular gemstones—red and orange for Sunset, turquoise and violet for Starlight, and lavender and pink for Twilight Sparkle. As the Elements manifested, a rumbling white aura enveloped their Bearers, building louder and brighter until it exploded into an unstoppable crescendo. Twin beams of light laced with every color of the rainbow twisted together in midair, then merged into a single keening ray that arced back down to earth at an unavoidable pace. “Nooo!” the Nightmare screeched. “Noooo!” That lone, desolate word was her last. The full force of the Elements swarmed over her, and the rest was darkness eternal. === For only their second time ever using the Elements of Harmony, though, this whole encounter went a lot better than Sunset Shimmer expected. She woke up to the same full-body exhaustion she remembered from trial number one, the kind that felt like her veins had filled with extra-crunchy peanut butter. Her groaning, cursing friends weren’t feeling too hot either, it seemed, but in spite of that she doubted any Bearer of the three really felt like complaining. At least this time they hadn’t demolished their own home in the name of magical friendship. Compared to convincing their insurance rep that an Omega-class Harmony discharge technically counted as an “act of Nature”, a few scrapes and bruises were hardly worth mentioning. A thick cloud of smoke still lingered as Sunset pulled herself upright, filling what had recently been a room inside what had recently been a castle. As she peered into the off-white fog—another hallmark of the Elements, it seemed—Twilight and Starlight picked their way through the rubble to stand with her, the latter still shaking blue sparks out of her fetlocks. For a while they stood together in passive silence, each of them absorbed in their own private thoughts. As Sunset actually was expecting, Starlight was the first to share hers out loud. “Is anyone else hungry?” she asked. “‘Cause I’m kinda starving right now.” “Yeah, I can imagine,” Twilight replied, her tone bordering on terse. “Vaporizing priceless Pre-Banishment artifacts must work up quite an appetite." Starlight cocked an eyebrow, matching the angle of her slanted smirk. “Well, isn’t someone salty she didn’t get to make the plan this time. And also forgetting the whole weekend I spent helping her catalogue the priceless archives and survey the Pre-Banishment grounds.” “Well, you still didn’t have to knock down the entire castle!” Twilight grumbled. “It could’ve had… I don’t know, sentimental value!” “Yeah, and now it has tourist value.” Starlight brandished a hoof at the smoldering wreckage, a salesmare’s glint in her eye. “Ten bits a head to see the wet spot where Nightmare Moon got her big fat face kicked in.” Sunset went without commenting on the matter, but with good reason. Her eyes narrowed as the mist dissipated, and something dark and lumpy within it sharpened into view. Twilight froze as well, her next snippy response sticking in the space between her lips, and Starlight followed suit as the shape started to move. “Or not…” Starlight muttered, charging a spell into her horn with a crackling snap. Next to her, Twilight did the same, her own softer magical timbre layered over by Sunset’s bassy growl. The three mares waited and watched the smoke fade, familiar eager tension purring between their shoulders. Between Sunset and Twilight’s warmup and Starlight’s finishing blow, the Elements of Harmony should’ve wrapped things up with energy to spare—but if the Nightmare still had some fight left in her, Sunset was more than willing to return the favor. Except when the fog finally lifted, it wasn’t Nightmare Moon they found themselves facing. Instead, a waifish cerulean alicorn lay before them, wide-eyed beneath her matte-blue mane and shaking in her spangled hoofshoes. “W-Wait…” she stammered, cowering even lower as Sunset took a tentative step forward. “W-W-Wait, please, don’t do it again! I’m not her anymore, I’m not! I… I-I’m…” Recognition snuffed out the flame in Sunset’s horn. She knew this mare, from fairy tales hidden in history books and legends so old even their authors were lost to time. “Luna,” she whispered, Twilight’s sudden gasp all she needed to know she’d guessed right. Between them, Starlight’s blank look progressed into outright gaping, her eyes darting between Sunset and the poor creature cringing in front of her. “Wait, Luna?” she said. “Like… the Luna?” “The Elements of Harmony… they must’ve purged the Nightmare,” Twilight said to herself. She’d heard the same stories Sunset had, stayed up until dawn combing through the same moth-eaten manuscripts. As a giddy smile grew on Sunset’s face, the same expression twitched onto Twilight’s. “It’s her. It’s really her.” Luna agreed with a frantic nod, straightening back up as relief welled up in her eyes. “I’m so sorry,” she gushed. “The Nightmare, it… I-I couldn’t control it. Celestia didn’t have a… oh, stars above, what have I done?” Step by timid step, Twilight made her way over to Luna’s side, laying a gentle hoof on her shuddering shoulder. “Don’t worry, Princess Luna,” she said, smiling as Sunset came to stand opposite her. “You’re safe now.” “We’re not going to do anything to hurt you,” Sunset added. As Luna ducked her head, both her consolers looked back towards Starlight, who up to that point still hadn’t quite gotten with the program. With a few coughs and a pointed look or two, the message eventually went through. “Sorry I nuked your castle from orbit,” she mumbled. Twilight pursed her lips, but Sunset just smiled and sighed. For Starlight, that was more or less close enough. “Hey, Twilight?” she said next, stepping away from Luna so she could meet her friend’s eyes. “You still have that parchment Spike prepped for you?” Although Starlight remained charmingly immune to subtlety, Twilight was starting to get a handle on it. “Yep,” she replied, pulling the charmed scroll out from voidspace and unfurling it with a practiced flick of her magic. “Think Celestia might like to hear about this?” Sunset popped a feather quill into being and passed it Twilight’s way, aided by a ray of dappled pink light. Off on the horizon, the sun was rising. “Yeah,” she said with a wink towards Luna. “I think she might.”
Not Like The OthersNINE MONTHS LATER Among several other things, Twilight Sparkle considered herself an expert at staying calm under pressure. Not that she couldn’t say the same about her friends too, of course. With all the monsters they’d fought and adventures they’d had together, the three of them had pretty much rewritten the book on courage in the face of overwhelming danger. If such a book were to exist, that is. Was there a book about courage somewhere? Surely there must be a few about the epistemological concept, but what about specific metrics for measurement? Adjustment for situational and sociopolitical variables? How could she call herself brave compared to royal soldiers, or unwed mothers in economically impoverished areas, or postal workers, or… The point was, she wasn’t scared right now. Nervous, perhaps, just a tiny little tad, but that was nothing worth writing a report about. The velvet curtain in front of her hardly compared to a cataclysmic natural disaster, and the shapeless roar wafting under its gold-tasseled rim didn’t sound one bit like a ten-thousand strong army frothing for battle. And while she was at it, the maze of girders and technomagical spotlights overhead did not in the slightest resemble the spindly limbs of a Tartarus-bound hellbeast, lying in ravenous wait for her to make a wrong move or say something awkward that she’d never be able to live down. Besides that—which basically didn’t count—what did she even have to be worried about? Nothing, that’s what. Absolutely nothing. She felt fine. Perfectly at ease. Completely okay with the current state of— “Two minutes, ladies.” Once she landed from jumping about a foot in the air, Twilight rotated in place towards the stallion who’d just spoken, her heart hammering in complete contrast to how pristinely serene she actually still was. “Yes!” she told him. “Thank you. So much. Really, you’re just… awesome job. Is what you’re doing.” Though he looked puzzled for a moment, the stallion seemed polite enough not to look a compliment in the tightly clenched mouth. “My pleasure!” he said, a bashful blush darkening his cerulean cheeks. “Any last thing I can get you three before the Mayor’s done with her speech?” Twilight couldn’t see if Sunset meant to answer him, but she didn’t have to wonder about their other friend’s response. “Actually, yeah,” Starlight mumbled, crumbs spraying from her mouth as she gestured towards a near-empty platter of buttercup-and-banana sandwiches. “Could you tell whoever made these to pack a night bag and just hang out in the carriage till we’re done here? Because I swear to the stars I’m not leaving this town until him, her, or it is catering everything for me, forever.” Over her stiffened shoulder, Twilight heard a low chuckle. “We’re fine, Noteworthy,” Sunset told the stallion. “And she’s kidding.” “Less than you’d think,” Starlight added between bites. Noteworthy just laughed, friendly and cheerful as ever. “I’ll pass on your compliments to the chef,” he said as he left. “And thank you all as well!” With peace restored, Twilight had time for a deep breath and a quick shake of her head. She’d had a good train of thought going before, something about courage and bravery and a screaming mob of staring, rampaging... “You okay, Twilight?” “Mm-hmm,” she hummed at Sunset, pursed lips pushed into a smile. On the other side of the curtain, a magically amplified voice pitched higher with excitement, as did the uncountable throng of listeners cheering at every word. If Sunset noticed the sweat beading under Twilight’s bangs, she did nothing to draw attention to it—or at least was too busy coaxing Starlight away from the refreshments to bother. That was good. The more attention Sunset and Starlight paid to each other, the less anyone would point towards her. A few smiles, maybe a wave or two, and then this would all be over. Simple as that. Certainly no worse than a cave full of monsters. “... without further ado, I proudly present: the bearers of the Elements of Harmony and Equestria’s resident heroes… Celestia’s Angels!” Honestly, though, if she’d had the choice, Twilight really would’ve preferred the monsters. At the Mayor’s booming command, the curtain rose and the spotlights fell. Half-blinded by the sudden glare, Twilight stood paralyzed, blinking and blushing as the deafening approval of hundreds—no, thousands—of ponies crashed over her. Ponyville was a small town by anyone’s standards, quaint and quiet with residents friendly as any Equestria had. On an ordinary day, Twilight rather liked the place—but today was the opposite of normal. Today had been planned out for weeks, every infinitesimal detail checked and double-checked by every mare and stallion who’d helped set it up. Today was being talked about from Manehattan to Los Pegasus, radio-broadcast from Cloudsdale to Appleloosa, and simulcasted via an unprecedented network of long-distance scrying spells—half of them Twilight’s own design, for pony’s sake—all the way to Vanhoover and Trottingham. Today marked the end of Harmony’s Run, a goodwill tour around the kingdom sponsored by and starring its three most idolized, adored, and distinguished citizens—one of whom was starting to reconsider this whole world-famous-magical-supermare thing. Oh, stop it, Twilight scolded herself, swallowing hard as the audience undulated before her. There’s nothing to be scared of! It’s just a pep rally! And technically speaking, it really just was. Concluding the tour here had even been a concession on the part of Celestia’s advisors, chosen over a larger city like Manehatten or Canterlot primarily for the Angels’ sake. After all, this was kind of where it all began for them: where they’d first encountered Nightmare Moon before the Elements’ public debut, and where they’d stopped countless times since on their way to one mission or another. After six straight weeks in the public’s ever-present eye, a low-key visit with allies and acquaintances here had sounded like heaven to Twilight’s ears. So really, could anyone blame her for being tense when quaint, quiet little Ponyville drew the single biggest crowd of the entire Run? Could she have ever anticipated word of their connections here spreading to every corner of the nation, or even the locals being treated like minor celebrities just for knowing the three of them by name? No, they couldn’t, and she really couldn’t have, but that hardly made her feel any better about it. It certainly wasn’t a problem for the other Angels. Sunset looked positively radiant at center stage, greeting her fans with a regal wave and basking in their adoration. Ahead of her, Starlight took to the crowd with all the moxie of a rock star, kneeling at the stage’s rim so she could pass out hoofbumps to everypony in reach. It was only Twilight who hated this: all the attention, all the mindless praise she couldn’t help feeling like she didn’t deserve. Protecting Equestria was just what she did—what anypony would’ve done if they were an Angel instead of her. It felt wrong to brag about being special, especially when the whole kingdom already seemed to think they were. “For the record, you still really suck at lying.” All at once, the ruckus ceased, like someone had flipped a switch and simply turned the rally off. Until she looked up and saw Sunset in front of her, Twilight thought her eardrums had finally ruptured. Instead, a transparent dome surrounded them both, tethered by a wispy strand of magic to the tip of Sunset’s horn. “In case you were trying to think of something you’re not good at,” Sunset went on, putting on a wry smirk to match her tone. Bit by bit, the tension seeped out of Twilight’s chest, along with the breath she’d been unconsciously holding in. “Thanks,” she sighed, meeting Sunset’s stare with her best effort at a brave face. “And sorry. I know we’ve done this a million times, but…” “But the venue’s overbooked and you thought this one would be calmer anyway, and you still don’t feel like you deserve all this even though you know way better than to think that by now, and the fact that you still do anyway just makes it worse.” Sunset flicked her eyes up in thought, shrugging her shoulders as she added on one last thing. “And on top of everything else, I messed up the Subtle Silence spell and didn’t make it invisible, and that’s honestly bugging you a little bit too.” Twilight flushed an even deeper shade of red. “Are you that good at reading ponies, or am I that bad at lying?” “Little of column A, little of column B.” Another sigh ballooned in Twilight’s chest, as six weeks’ worth of fatigue forced her eyes shut. “I just don’t know how you do it,” she groaned. “I’ve never known. You and Starlight always know what to say and how to act, and I just… make it up as I go along.” “And you don’t think we do too?” Beyond the blackness of Twilight’s eyelids, Sunset stepped into range for a friendly nudge in the shoulder. “We’ve been doing this nonstop PR thing for a month and a half, Twi. I’m a train delay and a couple nasty looks away from burning down a post office. Hell, Starlight probably has burned one down already, and we’ve just been too busy to notice yet.” Still blind to the world, Twilight leaned into Sunset and accepted a one-legged hug. “It’s okay to be tired,” Sunset told her, “and it’s okay to be nervous too. Remember how scared Starlight was her first night at school?” Twilight nodded. Of course she remembered—it had been her first night at Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns too, and the first she’d ever spent away from her parents. She’d lied awake for hours, utterly petrified but too embarrassed to tell anypony, until she heard somepony sniffle in the bed next to hers. On that bed’s other side, Sunset had heard it too, and so it was the three most famous mares in Equestria first met: huddled around a stub of a candle, facing a pigtailed filly who’d hardly said a word through all of orientation, and holding her hooves as she softly sobbed about missing her family and wanting to go home. “And look at her now.” Outside of the bubble, Starlight bounded across the stage, whipping the crowd into a frenzied, inaudible chant. “None of us would be the ponies we are now without each other’s help, and even if you don’t think you’re special, the rest of us all do. So don’t worry about rubbing in how amazing you are. That’s me and Starlight’s job.” Twilight bit her lip, trying to hold back a grin. “Now you’re just being mushy.” Sunset huffed in mock offense. “Oh, I’m the mushy one, Miss Element-of-Kindness?” she growled as she pulled Twilight in for a powerful noogie. Twilight couldn’t help but giggle as she squirmed away, so much that even the damp, squishy sound of somepony intruding on the Subtle Silence spell couldn’t ruin the moment. “‘Sup, nerds,” Starlight said, the dome rippling around her neck where she’d stuck her head through it. “Whatcha doin’?” “Braiding each other’s manes and talking about our feelings,” Sunset replied, prompting Starlight to make a face and gag. “Ugh, please. Not on a full stomach.” She glanced at Twilight, her blue eyes suddenly piercing as her brow lifted ever so slightly. “You good, boss?” Smiling at Sunset, Twilight nodded again. “I’m good. Enjoying yourself out there?” “Nope,” Starlight said through a toothy grin. “Friggin’ miserable. Wanna jump in?” Even with laughter still glowing in her cheeks, Twilight’s stomach turned over at the thought. Encouragement notwithstanding, she didn’t feel quite that good yet. “I… think I’m good there too.” Starlight’s brow shot up again. It seemed she’d been hoping Twilight would say that. As Starlight ducked away again with a wet schlorp, Sunset looked at Twilight again, gesturing with her head towards the dome’s crest. Once Twilight gave her implicit permission, she lit her horn again and let the Subtle Silence spell run out. The clamor hit Twilight’s ears like a runaway train, but this time it all felt exciting—even a little exhilarating. When Sunset strode forward to meet it, Twilight went with her, adrenaline blazing in her chest and Starlight’s call-and-response chant booming in her ears. “What do we think of monsters?” “HORSEAPPLES!” “What do we think of horseapples?” “MONSTERS!” “Thank you!” “THAT’S ALL RIGHT!” All things considered, she’d fought Tartarus-bound hellbeasts a lot worse than this. === Compared to the morning’s mainstage event, the private party that followed it seemed oddly subdued, despite said party’s best efforts to the contrary. Not an inch of Sugarcube Corner had been spared their host’s overeager touch: streamers, balloons, and welcome banners plastered every wall and even the ceiling, all of it laid over by thumping blasts of music and the sweet scent of the pastry shop’s famously delicious wares. The attendees were just as chaotic as the decor, packed shoulder-to-shoulder as they laughed and danced together. If the event had a theme, it was “death by sensory overload”. Anywhere else with any other ponies, Twilight would’ve been wracking her brain for an excuse to escape. But here, for the first time in the whole Run, she finally felt like she could relax. All the cameras and tourists had gone, ushered away with a friendly wave and a raincloud from the local weather team trailing behind them. Only the cheerful occupants of a sleepy little farm town remained now, their presence alone enough to leave her wonderfully at ease every time she and the Angels visited. As a sip of punch spread over her tongue, Twilight leaned back in her seat and let the sights and sounds of the party wash over her. She’d lived in Canterlot since she was born and would always consider the Royal City home, but more than once she’d wondered how settling down someplace like this might suit her. There’d be no crowds, no politics, only occasional monster attacks. She’d even noticed a open listing on the Town Hall announcement board, for a two-room apartment above a library housed in an oak tree. What could possibly beat living above a library? A sudden bray of laughter reminded her of at least one thing. Across the crowded room, Starlight’s horn showered blue sparks into a tub of water, an impish grin stuck to her face along with smoking flecks of the apple she’d just vaporized. She took aim again as another target flew into her sights, and drew another snort out of the sky-blue pegasus hovering above her when she blasted it apart with a sizzling magical bolt. Ponyville might fit Twilight to a T, but Starlight would stick out here like a sore hoof. If a few hours here got her riled up enough to start exploding produce, Twilight shuddered to think what a few years would do to her. Truth be told, Starlight had always been a bit of a wild card, even as a gunshy little filly. She’d stuck to Sunset and Twilight like glue for weeks after they first met, silent as a mouse until the day a particularly bratty bully on the playground induced a memorable lesson in diplomacy. Of course, in Starlight’s case, “diplomacy” involved headbutting the poor colt in the muzzle and loudly promising the same to anypony who ever picked on her friends again. The years—plus a few gentle reminders from Sunset and timely Full-Body Freeze spells from Twilight—calmed her down a little, but Starlight’s identity never faltered after that. She’d traded her pigtails for a messy, tomcoltish mop, and grown into a fantastically confident mare with a healthy penchant towards explosions, not to mention—her professors begrudgingly admitted—a preternatural gift for bodily-kinesthetic magic. Near the shop’s front counter, a trio of mares had noticed her putting that gift to good use, among them the scowling, Stetson-bedecked earth pony who’d stocked the apple-bobbing tub in the first place. True to form, Sunset quickly intervened on her friend’s behalf, grabbing the cowmare’s attention again with an inaudible comment that neither she nor the stunningly dressed unicorn next to her could help chuckling at. The way she went about it, Sunset made persuasion and flattery a veritable art form, one she’d perfected through a childhood spent talking Twilight into their classmates’ social favor and Starlight out of their teachers’ rather consistent ire. As long as Twilight had known her, she’d been the beauty to her brains and Starlight’s brawn: the filly every colt dreamed of winning over, the young mare who won by a landslide when she ran for class president, and now the public face of the Angels beloved by every one of Celestia’s star-struck subjects. In private, though, Twilight also knew her as a sensitive, steadfast friend who still struggled to keep her ego in check despite her phenomenal magical dexterity, and who’d lay down her life for any mare, stallion, or foal who needed it—most of all the two mares who’d stood by her side every step of the way. More to the point, she adored Canterlot as much as her hometown of Manehattan, and took to the big-city lifestyle perhaps even more than Starlight did. Though she knew her friends would support her decision if she chose to move away, Twilight couldn’t bear the thought of leaving them behind just yet. Besides, in terms of coffee shops per square foot, the Royal City beat Ponyville by a mile and a half. It wasn’t a deal-breaker by itself, but it certainly dulled the fantasy a bi– “Omigosh… it’s really her!” It took Twilight a few seconds to shake herself back to the present, and a few more on top of that to attach the voice she’d heard to its owner. She didn’t recognize the unicorn filly her gaze eventually fell on, but the curly-maned foal sure as hayfire recognized her. “I told you they were here!” she squealed over her shoulder. “Apple Bloom, Scootaloo, it’s Twilight Sparkle!” From within the mob crowding the dance floor, two more fillies popped into view—one of whom Twilight did know. With a name like Apple Bloom and a mane as red as her namesake, the earth pony could only be Applejack’s little sister, so the pegasus shoved up against her shoulder must be Scootaloo. And now that she thought about it, she remembered seeing the unicorn somewhere around town before—probably with Rarity, if their matching off-white coats were anything to go by. Hadn’t she mentioned her name once, and something about a club or a secret society… “We did it, girls! We’re in!” On Apple Bloom’s cue, the fillies jumped up in the air and slapped their hooves together, their shrill cheer loud enough to drown out even the music. “CUTIE MARK CRUSADER PARTY CRASHERS! YAAAAY!” Oh, yeah. Rarity had definitely brought up Sweetie Belle before, right after talking about the migraine she was liable to have later. In retrospect, that anecdote made a lot more sense. “Is Starlight here? She’s gotta be here, right?” Scootaloo bounced in place as she spoke, her wings fluttering with unrestrained elation. “Rainbow Dash swore she’d be here!” “Forget about Starlight! Where’s Sunset?” Apple Bloom propped herself on Sweetie Belle’s shoulders, shading her eyes with a hoof as she frantically scanned the crowd. “What kind’a party is it if Sunset Shimmer ain’t here?” “Omigosh omigosh omigosh…” Sweetie Belle mumbled, gaping up at Twilight with wide, glassy eyes. “I’m in celebrity heaven…” “Um…” said Twilight Sparkle, craning her neck up to look for Sunset and Starlight. Help, said her eyes once she found them, her meaning more than clear enough to remain unspoken. As her friends excused themselves from their own conversations, Twilight smiled at the fillies and tried to look dignified—or at least, as dignified as one could look with a cup of lukewarm punch in hoof and almost two months of sleep deprivation packed under their eyes. “Oh!” Yet another voice joined the fray, tinged with soft notes of melodious panic. “Oh my, oh goodness… girls, please, where did you–” Fluttershy reached Twilight just as Sunset and Starlight did, already stammering out an apology by the time Applejack, Rarity, and Rainbow Dash followed their respective companions over. “I’m so sorry, Twilight!” she gushed. “I told Applejack and Rarity I’d keep an eye on their sisters, but I just turned around for a moment and then they were gone! I hope they’re not disturbing you, o-or ruining your party, or…” “It’s fine, Fluttershy,” Twilight said, opting to interrupt the poor mare rather than wait until she hyperventilated to get a word in. “They’re–” “Can we have your autographs?” the Crusaders screeched in unison. Sunset bit her lip, and Starlight started rooting around for a pen. “... they’re fine.” Swaying with relief, Fluttershy pointed a meek smile at Applejack as her runaway wards piled over each other to reach Starlight first. “Thank goodness,” she said. “This ponysitting thing is harder than it looks.” “Believe me, darling, you don’t need to tell us twice…” Rarity muttered, backed up by Applejack’s defeated sigh. “Once again, Miss Shimmer, I envy your patience.” Sunset leaned over to catch the permanent marker Starlight tossed her way, the Crusaders following underneath it like kittens chasing a butterfly. “It comes with the territory,” she said over them, laughter twinkling in her eyes. “And it’s always nice to know we’re appreciated.” “Well, of course you are!” Scootaloo squealed, mesmerized by the glossy scribble Sunset had left on her safety helmet. “You guys are the coolest ponies in Equestria!” “Oh really, squirt?” Rainbow Dash landed with a thump, winking at Twilight before Scootaloo could turn around. “So what am I, chopped celery?” Scootaloo’s ears fell flat as she realized what she’d said. “W-Well… okay, maybe second coolest,” she mumbled as Twilight gently floated her helmet into writing range. “But that’s still pretty awesome!” Twilight smiled as she signed, finishing her name with a loopy heart like she always did. Sunset had said it best: feeling like a celebrity did have its perks. Once she’d left her mark on Apple Bloom’s hairbow and Sweetie Belle’s flower-patterned notebook, Twilight moved to put the marker back wherever Starlight had found it, but found her path blocked by a mass of frizzy pink hair and an ear-to-ear grin. “Ooh, ooh, me next, me next!” the mare shouted, thrusting a photograph of the Angels up on the Harmony’s Run stage into Twilight’s face. Twilight blinked in surprise, then snorted as she uncapped the marker again. “Don’t we sign something for you every time we visit, Pinkie Pie?” she asked once she was done. Pinkie Pie bobbed her head in agreement, cackling with glee as she bounced over to Sunset. “Yep! Fifteen times and counting! You guys should visit more often so I can get more!” “Hey, you keep throwing down like this, and I’ll open a Tartarus gate down the road just for the excuse,” Starlight said, leaning over the picture as it reached her so she could scrawl her name into an open space. “Seriously, killer party, Double-P.” Pinkie shined her hoof on her chest and held it in front of her, blowing imaginary smoke from her sole. “What can I say?” she intoned. “It’s a blessing and a curse.” “Truth be told, we all chipped in for this one,” Rarity said. “You’ve been so awfully busy this past year, we thought a more… intimate event might lift your spirits.” “Just our way of sayin’ thanks, I suppose,” Applejack added. “For all that y’all do for Equestria, and for bein’ so good to us little folks in Ponyville.” “The pleasure’s all ours,” Twilight assured her, Sunset and Starlight chiming their agreement. “You’ve been wonderful hosts, and I’m so glad we’ve all gotten to know each other so well.” A chorus of “Same here!”s and “Absotively posilutely!”s made its way through the group, and ended with Fluttershy’s sudden gasp. “Oh my goodness, I almost forgot!” She took to the air for a moment to get a better view of the party, her eyes lighting up when she found somepony out of Twilight’s view. “Over here!” she called out to them. “Come and join us!” As Fluttershy settled back down, she leaned in close to whisper to Twilight. “She just moved to Ponyville a few weeks ago. She’s a little… eccentric, but she’s been dying to meet you and your friends. If it’s not much to ask, would you mind if I introduced you to her?” Without the Crusaders screeching in her ear, Twilight felt her nerves settling down and her good mood returning. “Of course I wouldn’t,” she said, confirming her answer with an amicable shrug from Sunset. “I’m sure it’ll be a pleasure meeting, uh…” The mare caught Twilight’s eye immediately—or rather, it was kind of impossible for her eye to catch on anything else. She stood frozen at the party’s edge, a cobalt blue rock in a blurry sea of bodies, eyes bulging and mouth popped open like the whole crowd had kicked her in the gut as the gap in it closed behind her. She didn’t seem to respond to Fluttershy’s cheery wave, nor look at any of her other Ponyville friends. Mostly, she just stared, unblinking and unbroken, long enough to make even Sunset crinkle her brow. “This is Trixie,” Fluttershy told them, seemingly accustomed to her friend’s comatose state. “And Trixie… well, I suppose I don’t have to tell you who Celestia’s Angels are!” Twilight swallowed hard and put on a wan smile, her hoof halfway lifted in greeting. Trixie still didn’t move, or—as far as Twilight could tell—breathe. “Actually, I may not even be introducing you at all,” Fluttershy continued, now speaking to Twilight again. “You probably didn’t see her much, but she actually went to Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns too, just a year behind you three! Isn’t that right, Trixie?” A small noise escaped Trixie’s throat—a cough, perhaps, or at most a winded moan. Her jaw quivered in sync with her legs, and beneath her pale two-toned mane, her face flushed from white to scarlet red. “She’s, um…” Fluttershy murmured. “She’s kind of your number-one fan.” As the Angels’ number-one fan graduated from wheezing to outright babbling, Starlight cleared her throat and stared pointedly at Sugarcube Corner’s front door, matching Twilight’s sentiments exactly. Had she been a religious mare, she would’ve prayed to Celestia for any way out of the single most awkward moment of her sapient life—and in light of that, would later remember what happened next as among the most ironic. Before Fluttershy could drag her dumbstruck friend within drooling distance, Twilight felt a familiar pulse of magic vibrate through her flank. When she looked at her fellow Angels, she saw exactly what she hoped she would: their cutie marks flashing like lighthouse beacons, chiming with each pulse like divine bells of heaven. The three of them shared a look in the time it took the Crusaders to gasp in awe, and just as quickly came to a unanimous, all-too-welcome decision. “Well, that’s our cue!” Twilight said, her disappointment much less feigned once she turned to face the rest of her Ponyville friends. “Thanks for the party, but we’d better get going!” “Awww!” Pinkie Pie’s face fell, almost as far as Trixie’s shot up like a firework. “But you just got here!” “Sorry, guys,” Sunset said, no less firmly than Twilight. “Wish we could stay longer, but, well… duty calls!” For the first time, Trixie spoke in something approaching Equestrian. “Twili… thastwilisperk…” “Literally,” Starlight added. “Calling right now.” Not for the first time, Twilight thanked her lucky stars for the unflappable ally she had in Applejack. “Say no more, y’all,” she said, a knowing smirk perched on her lips. “Don’t leave the world unsaved on our account.” “Do come back in one piece, though,” Rarity reminded them, herself just as understanding. “Good company is hard to come by.” Sunset nodded her appreciation, and Starlight threw in a wink for good measure as they clustered around Twilight’s sparkling horn. The moment the teleportation spell was ready, Trixie found her voice again. “Ohcelestiawaitpleasedon’tgoyetIdidn’tevengetto–” For the good of all Equestria, Twilight didn’t let her finish. With a pop and a flash of light, Celestia’s Angels left the building. Author's Note mfw still frantically fixing a borked Gdoc transfer as the new season premieres FIMFIC WORKING AS INTENDED Also, re: Starlight's chant: it's exactly the reference you'd expect from me.
Her Right Hoo(ves)In every sense of the phrase, there truly was no place like home for Celestia’s Angels. Standing eighty feet tall and carved into a perfect resonance spiral for casting work, the order’s trademark ivory-white tower had bookended Canterlot’s landscape for nearly a millennium, a magically engineered exclamation mark on the royal city’s skyline. Mandated though her residence in it was, Twilight Sparkle could hardly complain about her new home, and after a year of living there frankly couldn’t imagine who would. Haven had just about everything: a great location, plenty of breathing space, and—most importantly right now—a grand semi-circular balcony perfect for aiming a long-distance teleportation spell at. As she and her friends blinked back into corporeal form, an involuntary shiver rolled down Twilight’s spine. Even in mid-summer, the air took on a biting chill this far up the mountain—but in fairness, the view more than compensated for the cold. From this vantage point she could see for miles in every direction, from the rolling green carpet of Hollow Shades all the way to the tiny matchbox houses of Ponyville. Sometimes she felt like she’d dissolve into the scenery if she stood out here long enough, just a tiny smudge of purple ink on a painting as big as the world. A similar sensation filled her head now, but for a much less existential reason. It’d taken fourteen cities and the better part of two months, but Harmony’s Run had finally and unequivocally fried her, and all Twilight could do about it now was wobble a bit and wish desperately for a shower and a nap. Preferably both at the same time. “Didn’t expect her to have something for us so soon,” Sunset mused, ambling towards the floor-to-ceiling window separating the balcony from the rest of the tower. She managed to pull the door open with a sputtering burst of magic, but even that small motion seemed to drain her just as much it would’ve Twilight. “Think it’s important?” Starlight flopped onto a reclining couch the moment she stumbled inside, her face buried in a pillow and forelegs dangling off either side. “It could be an order to pick up her dry-cleaning, and I’d still be happy,” she groaned. “I don’t know about you guys, but I’m kinda all extroverted out at the moment.” Twilight swayed in place again, but for the moment stayed upright. “You said it. And that was before Fluttershy’s friend showed up. What was her name, Tracy or…” “Close enough,” Sunset said from behind a hoof rubbing at her eyes. “No kidding, though, that was weird.” There was really nothing else to say on the matter after that. If you could manage to throw Sunset Shimmer off her social game, “weird” was a colossal understatement for what you were. “Okay, girls, game faces,” Twilight said, shaking the cobwebs from her head as she trotted forward. “Let’s see what the Princess wants.” Sunset answered with a jaw-cracking yawn, and Starlight grunted as she yanked her pillow over her head. Twilight thought about repeating herself, but in the end just shrugged and kept going. If Celestia had seen fit to call them in the middle of an afterparty, surely she wouldn’t mind a little magic-lag. The temperature shifted again as she walked, the setting sun’s warmth fading a bit as she moved away from the window. Instead of separate floors, Haven’s interior opened up into a single cylindrical rotunda, ringed with three stacked mezzanines connected by spiral staircases and topped with a stained-glass depiction of Celestia’s Royal Seal. Directly beneath it stood a round crystal table, translucent and sparkling in the evening light. Beyond that, a pair of towering gemstone-studded doors secured the tower’s front entrance—as did eighteen inches of magisteel fortifications and a six-layer security spellweave, but the shiny gates usually came off better in speeches. All told, Haven more resembled a fortress than a home, which to be fair that was more or less intentional. In spite of that fact, the newest Angels had managed to make themselves comfortable here. Besides the cluster of chairs and coffee tables near the balcony, a small kitchen and dining area lightened up one side of the ground floor, while its opposite side had been overtaken by a combination laboratory and research library. As for living space, they’d all claimed one floor of the three above for their own, each outfitted with its own bedchamber, private study, and excessively lavish bathroom. Twilight’s just so happened to be the highest one, so far up she had to crane her neck and squint just to see the web of girders nestled underneath it. Next item on the home-improvement shopping list: an elevator. Or, it occurred to her now, at least a bell or something to let Haven’s fourth resident know they were home. “Spike?” Twilight called out, her voice scratchy and dull until she raised it enough to reach the tower’s summit. “Spiiiiiike!” As her shout’s echo faded, the distant clack of baby dragon footsteps grew to replace it. Sixty feet above Haven’s living “room”, Spike popped into fuzzy view, his head squeezed through a gap in the balustrade. “Oh hey, Twilight!” he replied, waving a clawed hand as he grinned down at her. “When’d you guys get back? I thought you were staying in Ponyville tonight.” Twilight tilted her head towards her still-flashing flank. “Change of plans,” she told him. “Come on down and help us get set up.” With an obedient nod, Spike pulled back out of sight and started the long trek downstairs. In the meantime, Twilight approached the crystal dais at Haven’s core, and from underneath its rim pulled out a gold-banded wooden chest, its lid embossed with the current Angels’ cutie marks. As Sunset joined her, Twilight flipped the case open and passed her a translucent melon-sized ruby, perfectly round save for a narrow crevice the precise size and shape of Sunset’s horn. Keeping the amethyst stone for herself, Twilight floated the sapphire towards Spike, who caught it in midair on his way over to the couch Starlight had passed out on. Steadying herself with a deep breath, Twilight lifted her gemstone over her head so she could gently slot her horn inside, bringing violet motes of magical energy swirling to life within. Sunset did the same with her own crystal a moment later, but across the room Spike spent several more prodding at Starlight without provoking a response. After biting his lip in thought, he tilted her slackened head back until he could spear the stone on her horn himself, then flashed Twilight a grin and a thumbs-up. Once all three Angels were present and technically accounted for, Twilight activated the contact charm. With matching brilliant flashes—and a little extra nudge from Spike—the three orbs rose from the Angels’ horns to hover above the crystal table, connected by three wispy strands of pure-white magic. A fourth tendril danced between the others, searching for a matching signal in a place beyond mortal comprehension—and finding it after a few seconds with an electric flash of light. The stones sank down again, embedding themselves in a trio of indentations along the table’s edge. Shuddering with the force of a freshly woken spell, its crystal surface reshaped itself before Twilight and Sunset’s eyes, jagged peaks rising and rounded valleys rolling across its once unblemished face. In less than a minute, a gleaming map of the entire Equestrian kingdom lay before them, scaled and accurate to every last topographical detail. Instead of the magnificent display, Twilight focused on the humming ovoid veil that filled the empty space above it. Portal magic was always a tricky business, but Twilight had never known this instance of it to fail. Sure enough, a motherly voice soon wafted through, warm and wonderful to hear after so much time spent away from it. “Good evening, Angels,” Princess Celestia said. “Good evening, Celestia,” Twilight wearily replied. “Thank you for responding on such short notice,” Celestia continued, an ethereal echo trailing each word. “I trust you all are well?” “Well enough, Your Highness,” Sunset told her. “Just a little short on sleep.” As if on cue, Starlight jerked awake with a muffled yelp of surprise, her horn flaring by reflex as she tumbled onto the floor. Her gaze drifted to the portal as she pulled herself upright, comprehension dawning with each blink of her bleary eyes. “So I can imagine,” Celestia said through a chuckle. “My apologies for disturbing you, then.” Starlight yawned in response, sniffling as she rubbed at her nose. “No big, Princess,” she mumbled into her fetlock. “‘Sup.” Twilight kept her sigh quiet so the portal wouldn’t pick it up, but Celestia probably wouldn’t have minded hearing it anyway. Of all ponies, the Princess knew all too well how exhausting public service could be. “I know I’m keeping you all from a well-deserved break,” Celestia said, “but if it’s any consolation, what I’d like to discuss with you today won’t prevent you from taking one.” Twilight couldn’t help but squint at that. “Pardon me, Princess, but what exactly do you want to discuss, then? From the way you contacted us, we assumed it was something… well, serious.” “No need for pardoning, Twilight. In your position, I’d be curious too. While this matter isn’t as urgent as most, it is delicate and somewhat complex, so I thought it’d be best to give you some time to prepare. As for the exact timing…” Celestia chuckled again. “Diplomatic responsibility does have its perks. Among them, the occasional excuse for an unplanned exit.” Sunset shook her head and grinned. “You could at least eavesdrop on us in person, Your Highness.” “And miss my weekly municipal budget meeting?” Even without seeing her, Twilight could hear the wry smile on Celestia’s lips. “Were I only so uncourteous, Sunset.” Before she could ask it, Celestia answered Twilight’s next question too. “In four days’ time, Canterlot Castle will host over five hundred dignitaries, dear friends, and diplomatic envoys from twelve allied kingdoms for the grandest royal event in modern Equestrian history. As a matter of course, the comfort and security of our expected guests will be of utmost importance, and all necessary precautions to that end have already been put in place. But without our kingdom’s three most beloved guardians in attendance, I fear this most regal of ceremonies could end in abject disaster.” Twilight nodded to herself, her mind already racing through every relevant detail and data point she could think of. Canterlot had stood as a beacon of harmony and royal strength for hundreds of years. A threat to any part of it was a threat to all of Equestria. Even with a few days to prepare, they’d need to work nearly around the clock coordinating its defense—exactly the kind of job Twilight Sparkle lived for. “We’re your mares, Princess Celestia,” she said. “What’s the occasion? Trade negotiations? An international peace conference?” For a moment too long, Celestia didn’t respond. When she did speak up, Twilight could’ve sworn the Princess was smiling again. “Something like that,” she mused through the portal’s mystic veil—just before it pulsated in the wake of a thunderous belch. Over by Starlight, Spike doubled over as a powerful hiccup nearly knocked him on his rump, his eyes watering and cheeks already bulging with a sequel to his first interjection. Once he let it out, a jet of green fire spurted from his maw, condensing in midair into a pair of wax-sealed scrolls just like the one smoking in Starlight’s lap. After a few coughs and a quick pound on his chest, a fourth scroll emerged as well, small enough to fit perfectly in his adolescent claws. “I hate when she does that…” he muttered, grimacing through a rather hoarse groan. While Spike rubbed at his throat, Starlight broke the seal on Celestia’s letter—which, Twilight noticed, didn’t bear her usual insignia. Instead of the Royal Sun, a faceted crystal heart adorned the messages, blue as the sky and bordered by swirling golden brackets. Twilight had seen that seal before. In fact, she knew for sure they all had. “The Crystal Empire?” Sunset murmured. “‘Dear friends’?” Twilight added at the same volume. They turned to each other and spoke with one voice. “Princess Cadance?” “Will be married this coming Saturday, right here in Canterlot,” Celestia confirmed. “She thought you might like to come.” The truth washed over Twilight in waves, each one tinted with a different emotion. The Angels had seen and conquered horrors immemorial, from a rogue Ursa Minor to the malevolent spirit of Chaos incarnate… but a royal wedding? In just four days? There’d be names to memorize, gifts to buy, corsages to surely grow by horn if they wanted to avoid the late rush—and stars above, what in Equestria were they supposed to wear? They’d be lucky to find any designer on such short notice, let alone one worthy of Crystallian royalty. And Tartarus forbid they skimp on the standard prep work: profiling guests, performing structural analyses, plotting communication networks and emergency escape routes… And it was all for Cadance. Princess Cadance of the Crystal Empire: Celestia’s protégée and adopted “niece”, newly crowned Princess of Love, and the youngest Angel—not to mention only alicorn—to ever join the order. She’d been everything to them when they were growing up, from babysitter to mediator to irreplaceable mentor once they’d succeeded her in joining the Angels. Twilight owed half of all she’d ever be to Cadance’s guidance and encouragement, and now she was getting married. And this cross-kingdom song and dance was how she’d found out. Twilight blinked once, twice, then held her eyes shut as she dragged her hoof across her face. With every passing day in this job, she understood more and more why Cadance retired from it in her prime. “For the record, Your Highness,” Sunset said, “the next time you summon us, we’re definitely sleeping through it.” A hoof held over her mouth wasn’t enough to hide the grin beneath it, though, nor the tinge of laughter in her voice. Before Starlight could catch it, Sunset tugged an unopened scroll out of her grasp with her magic, sliding it into one hoof while the other held Starlight firmly at foreleg’s distance. “With the heartfelt blessing of—there’s three letters, go get your own!—Her Majesty Princess Celestia of Equestria, yadda yadda, pomp and circumstance… Princess Mi Amore Cadenza.” A low whistle punctuated Sunset’s recital. “Remind me never to call her that.” Even as Sunset nudged her away, Starlight leapt right back up, an unusually airy giggle bubbling out of her throat. “C’mon, you’re leaving out the best part!” she shouted, bouncing in place as she waved a second folded paper in Sunset’s face. “We’re not just going. We’re gonna be frickin’ bridesmaids!” A crease formed in Sunset’s brow. “And you’re excited about that?” “What, is that too girly for me? Am I not allowed to be girly?” Starlight shot back, her mood no worse for wear. “Of course I’m excited, it’s a royal wedding! This is, like, thirty percent of everything I’ve ever wanted in life.” “What’s the other seventy percent?” “Life-threatening and/or illegal to do in public. The point is, I’m stoked.” Twilight had a good idea of what Sunset’s face looked like after that, but at the moment she couldn’t know for sure. As she’d unsealed the last invitation and read it for herself, a fuzzy black shutter had fallen over her eyes, screwed into place by a splitting headache beneath her horn. She heard someone approaching—maybe Spike, maybe a rabbit in a petticoat slurping down the dregs of her sanity—but for now elected not to join them back in the real world. Between the rally this morning, the party this afternoon, Celestia summoning them all the way home to Canterlot just to pass on a wedding invitation, and now this, she and reality were ready for some time apart. “Twilight?” Sunset asked from the other side of the earth. “Twilight, you’re being weird. She’s being weird again, Starlight.” “So sue her,” came Starlight’s echoing retort. “It’s just Twilight being Twilight. Whatever she’s freaking out about, there’s no possible way it can make this any better than it already is.” And that did it. That was the last straw. With a sputter, a cough, and a last crimson-tinged look at the parchment crumpled in her hooves, Twilight Sparkle finally snapped. “Princess Cadance is marrying my BROTHER?” Twilight’s voice carried all the way to Haven’s peak, her screech shuddering through the walls like the opening notes of an earthquake. Sunset glanced at Spike, who looked at Starlight, who stared at Twilight with gleeful madness sparkling in her eyes. “Never mind,” she said. “You just made it better.”
Low-Grade HumilityBy any passerby’s account, the house at the corner of Millennium Avenue and 7th Street didn’t look like anything special. It stood a modest two stories high, neither dwarfed by its neighbors nor towering over them. Its exterior consisted of only a smooth sandstone facade and a brown tiled roof to match. Every facet of its presentation—from its drab iron fence cast to the patch of close-cropped grass it contained—seemed specifically tailored not to draw the eye, to convince anyone in eyesight that their gaze was better off wandering elsewhere. But if somepony ignored their better judgement and did look through the front gate and past the yard, they might have noticed a rounded red door with brass hinges, a small central depression shaped like a crescent moon—and no keyhole or knob. That pony might then wonder how you were supposed to enter a house through a door you couldn’t open from the outside, when in fact the real question they should’ve asked was why the mailbox just shuddered with a dizzying flash of light, and then why they suddenly couldn’t remember how they’d ended up in front of it. So it was that the little house remained unnoticed and unremarked upon—just how its new owner preferred. After all, when it came to Celestia’s Angels, there was no such thing as being too careful. And when it came to their Seraphim, the one and only pony outside of Celestia herself entrusted with every secret and strategy they possessed, that went double for staying too far out of the public eye. Unless, of course, said Angels needed a full mission requisition arranged within seventy-two hours of a Royal Wedding. When it came to that kind of scenario, all bets were off. “Starlight, time check.” Somewhere behind Twilight, Starlight took a moment to process the request. Twilight could’ve turned away from the mailbox to face her, but that would’ve wasted valuable seconds that—until she got an answer—she wasn’t sure she had to waste. Her post-prep readiness checklist had taken over two hours to get through last night, and the final items on this morning’s pre-pre-mission list weren’t going to check themselves off—or what the hay, maybe they would if Starlight quit slurping at her iced coffee long enough to pay attention. “Check what to the where now?” Starlight finally replied. “The… what time is it?” “Probably about time for you to relax, Twilight.” Sunset stepped up onto the curb next to Twilight, smiling to herself as if dozens of successful operations couldn’t be chalked up to Twilight’s completely manageable verification system. “And maybe get half-caf next time?” “I will drink decaffeinated coffee when I’m dead in the ground and when this wedding is over, in that order.” Twilight said, the mark she made on her list as firm as her reply. “Now on to item #143-b: ‘Ask Starlight again, louder this time, what time it is’.” “Couple minutes to noon, and this is why Spike hides the bean grinder every morning,” Starlight told her. “Just in case you ever wondered.” Another checkmark graced Twilight’s list, accompanied by a tight-lipped frown. “Well, excuse me for wanting to make sure my only brother’s wedding isn’t ruined by his little-sister-best-friend-forever’s failure to plan ahead. Which brings us to item #144…” Before she could keep going, Twilight’s checklist floated out of her reach, guided away by a teal tendril of magic slightly more forceful than her own. “Seriously, Twilight. It’s gonna be fine,” Sunset said once she’d folded the list inside her saddlebag. “I know this is your thing normally, but even for you this is getting a little out of control. Especially since, and this isn’t the first time we’ve said this–” “Seventh, including now,” Starlight added through her straw. “–but we’re not even really on duty for the ball tonight or the ceremony tomorrow. All we have to do is show up, wave to a few upper-crust types, and have a good time.” “Exactly!” Twilight said, swiping at Sunset’s bag to no avail. “Something bad happening at the wedding is the definition of a bad time! How am I supposed to enjoy myself at a complete and total catastrophe?” “Whatever you’re gonna suggest, don’t,” Sunset told Starlight first, waiting for her mumbling pout to peter out before continuing. “Twilight, this isn’t like you. You’re never this jumpy before a job. Please talk to us… or just to me. Starlight’s optional.” Twilight just shook her head, every muscle in her body tensed with the effort. “Nothing’s wrong, okay? I just… I’m a little stressed, that’s all. Which is normal. This is a stressful thing we’re doing. So… I’m fine. Gimme my list back.” A few pedestrians ambled by in the silence that followed, each tacitly ignoring the three famous young mares crowded around a wholly uninteresting yard fence. In the meantime, Sunset stayed put, counting off the seconds with drawn-out blinks of her eyes: one, two, three, four… “He could’ve at least told me himself...” Twilight mumbled, slumping down onto the curb with a weary sigh. Sunset’s stony look melted away as fast as it had come, every part of her softening as Twilight finally let her friend’s hoof reach all the way around her shoulders. “I haven’t seen Shining Armor in months, or Cadance. And now they’re getting married and I’m supposed to be their bridesmare and I don’t even really know what a bridesmare does…” “Teases the groomstallions, mostly.” Starlight’s contribution came out a little muffled by the last dregs of her drink. “I mean, that’s my plan, anyway, but feel free to branch out.” Much as she tried to fight it, Twilight felt a smile tugging at her lips. Leave it to Starlight to make saying the wrong thing somehow the right response. “It was really sudden,” Sunset granted her. “And I’m sure he did try to tell you. We were probably just still on the road when the invitations came out.” A powerful voice in her head demanded she argue otherwise, but for the time being Twilight held her tongue. As much for her friends’ sakes as her own, she could keep her cool for now. She was an Angel, darn it, and Angels did not negotiate with her inner psyches about when or when not to start flipping tables. Besides, if Starlight’s account was right, she had more important—and timely—things to focus on. At precisely one minute past twelve o’clock, Twilight stood up and pushed the house’s gate open. After confirming she still recalled their reason for being there, she led the Angels up the narrow walk to the front door, taking care not to step off the path and readying a reactive shielding spell just in case a hoof went misplaced. While Sunset and Starlight muttered indecipherable codewords into the flowerbeds flanking the doorway, Twilight climbed the front stoop and knocked three times as she’d been instructed, holding her hoof flat against the door’s crescent insignia after the third hit. The wood pulsed and grew warm beneath her sole, a chorus of echoing clicks and buzzes wafting out from within the house. The moment they ceased, a low distorted voice followed up. “You’re late.” Twilight glanced back at Sunset, who egged her on with a silent nod. “Syrup spill on Halter Street,” she answered as clearly as she could. “Had to stick around.” With a final grinding clunk, the house opened up for them. The front door thudded shut again as soon as the Angels passed through it, leaving them sealed inside an austere marble foyer. Across the spotless floor, a pale, skinny-legged unicorn mare glared at them from behind a pair of thick-rimmed black glasses. Twilight met the curt greeting with a warm smile, and sa their host’s icy facade melt a bit in response. “It’s good to see you again,” Twilight told her. “Always a pleasure, Seraphim,” Sunset added. “Hi, Moondancer!” came Starlight’s ear-splitting shout. “Thanks for not killing us!” What little affection had snuck into Moondancer’s posture vanished in the span of a flustered shudder. Teeth clenched and glasses askew, the Angels’ quartermaster blew a hissing sigh out through her nose, shrinking even farther inward as Starlight skipped her way. “Good Celestia in the West-ia, though, this place is tricked out! A legimental timegate, tripartite passphrases, arcomagnetic locks… and were those balefire mines buried under the rhododendrons? And to think, all the last Seraphim had was a residential cloaking spell and a post office box…” Her empty cup cast aside, Starlight threw her hooves around Moondancer’s shoulders and sniffled with joy, hanging off her like a monkey swinging from a faintly twitching rock. “Oh, it’s the little things, MD,” she gushed into her ear. “It’s how I know you care.” A thought of apologizing worked its way through Twilight’s mind, only to exit as soon as she saw the look on Moondancer’s face. “Nice to see you too, Twilight,” the Seraphim said tonelessly. “And your… friends.” As Starlight nuzzled their cheeks together, Moondancer’s flushed yet another shade darker. “Please get off of me.” Prompted by Sunset’s pointed cough, Starlight heaved herself onto her hooves and cleared her throat with gusto. “Right as always, compadre. No time to waste.” She swept her foreleg into a bow towards Moondancer, wiggling her brow for emphasis . “Apres-vous, mon cherie.” “That’s not even the right…” Before she could finish, Moondancer shook her head and seemed to think better of trying. “The lab’s downstairs,” she said to Sunset and Twilight. “If anything gets broken, I’m not notifying your next of kin.” With a guiding jerk of her head, Moondancer led the Angels down a spiraling set of stairs, stopping at each landing to dissolve a transparent security wall with a spark of salmon-pink magic. Halfway through a much longer trip than she’d been expecting, Twilight decided to get rid of the awkward silence as well. Even though she’d promised they had the Elements of Harmony under control now and apologized a thousand times since, she got the sense Moondancer still hadn’t totally forgiven them for her old lab’s rather exciting end. “We really appreciate you doing this on such short notice, Moondancer,” Twilight said. “I’m sure you must be busy with your own plans as well.” Another blockade fizzled beneath Moondancer’s horn, her brow sinking a little lower with each passing step. “Oh, you know me,” came her terse reply. “The life of every party.” Ever the optimist, Sunset gave peace a try next. “So besides the wedding prep, what have you been up to lately?” Moondancer stopped without casting any spells, only turning her head to level a blank stare at Sunset. “I was being sarcastic.” “Well, I’m sure you’ve got a few projects of your own you’re working on,” Sunset went on, hardly missing a beat. “As I recall, you were pretty handy with a soldering torch even back at CGU.” The Seraphim shrugged—or it might have just been the final step in the staircase jolting through her shoulders. Instead of opening up, Sunset’s friendly demeanor seemed to make Moondancer withdraw even more. “Not really. Nothing important. Just a few case studies, material tests… boring stuff. You wouldn’t be interested.” “Try me sometime,” Sunset said with a wink. “I’m kind of a sponge for boring stuff.” Moondancer’s lips twitched, but other than that she didn’t respond. A few more paces revealed a heavy cellar door blocking their way forward, which instead of opening just evaporated like the other barricades before it. Darkness enveloped Twilight as she crossed the empty threshold, but then a final flash of magic flooded the room with light—and left all three Angels speechless. In a word—and Twilight had real trouble settling on just one—Moondancer’s workshop was literally cavernous. Before her lay a cylindrical underground cave, ringed by knobbly stalagmite formations and wide enough for a whole Royal Guard regiment to stand comfortably in formation. Workbenches and technomagical apparati crowded the room from floor to craggy ceiling, all arranged around a compact central living space complete with table, chairs, and a small foldable cot. Judging by the rumpled state of the sheets and textbooks scattered on top of them, the Seraphim more or less lived down here—and seeing it for the first time now, Twilight had half a mind to join her. “This… this is incredible,” she gushed, hypnotized by one shiny gadget after another as she absentmindedly wandered forward. “Did you make–” “Natural cave system inside the mountain,” Moondancer interrupted. “Offshoots run all over the city. I just cleaned this one up a bit.” “No need to be modest,” Sunset commented, her tone that of someone holding in a low whistle. “It’s really impressive.” Once again, the Seraphim said nothing. When she looked at her, Twilight saw an odd expression on her face: narrow and tightened up, like she wished she had something to hide behind. “Not like I had much of a choice,” Moondancer eventually replied. “What with you three harmonizing my last place.” “To be fair, we got better about that,” Starlight called over to them, entranced herself by a blinking device sequestered on a counter by itself. “In densely populated areas, anyway. What’s this thing do?” “It explodes when you touch it,” Moondancer growled. Starlight blinked once, then let her face split into a grin. “Cool,”she said, forehoof already halfway outstretched. “That means don’t touch it!” Moondancer’s livid expression didn’t fade even once Starlight retreated a step. “Why did I even let her in here?” she seethed to herself, storming off towards another display rack set away from all the others. Faced with Sunset’s disapproving glare, Starlight blinked again and gave an innocent shrug. “Don’t look at me,” she said. “She’s got a point.” After years of knowing her, the near-constant urge to snap at Starlight for something or other had devolved into an occasional weary sigh. While Sunset got hers out of the way, Twilight did her best to pacify the fourth member of their team. “Sooo, getting back to business… is everything ready?” she asked the Seraphim. If she’d had room to do it, Moondancer probably would’ve leapt at the chance to change the subject. “And accounted for,” she said through a sigh, inclining her head towards the table she’d stopped in front of. As the Angels crowded in closer, her tone turned dour again. “Bit of a rush job, but I had a few strings saved up to pull. Wouldn’t mind a little overtime pay one of these days, though...” Moondancer raised her hoof up level with the table—first to smack Starlight’s away, then to point out each item of note. “As per Sunset’s request, I started with the basics: one grappling hook with accompanying nylon line, three all-purpose tranquilizer darts with hoof-mounted launcher, and for emergencies, two crystal fission flash grenades.” She lifted one of the lemon-sized glass grenades from its plastic-and-foam case with her magic, holding it aloft for her guests to examine. “Half-turn the upper hemisphere to arm, three second fuse. Don’t look at it when it goes off if you want to read your own cereal box the next morning.” As Moondancer slotted the grenade back into place, Twilight threw a pointed glance Sunset’s way. “‘Not even on duty’, huh?” she muttered, to which Sunset replied with a cheeky grin. “What can I say?” she whispered back. “I’m a creature of habit.” Moondancer moved down the table, prompting Twilight and company to follow along. “Given the nature of the op, I figured you’d prioritize discretion over utility, so I factored that into the design of these.” Her horn flickered to life again, this time to display a pair of rhinestone-spangled eyeglasses. “When worn, they’ll allow the user to identify any magical anomalies within a radius of forty yards. They’re a bit gaudy for casual wear, but preliminary intel indicates most of the wedding crowd would consider that a compliment, so you and all the hoity-toities should get along famously.” The glasses bobbed in place for a moment, then soared over into Twilight’s forehoof, just barely out of Starlight’s reach. “Do I have to say it?” “We’ll… keep them safe,” Twilight replied, carefully tucking the glasses into her saddlebag while Starlight muttered something about having an itch. “Finally, communication.” Moondancer flipped open one of three velvet-covered jewelry boxes, extracting from within a silver-wired necklace garnished with a violet opal pendant. “Another tricky prospect, all things considered, but manageable enough. Once charged, the stones will act as neuromagical transmitters, allowing you to hear each other speak without drawing any external attention. The matching earrings will help triangulate the signal, so your voice doesn’t end up in the wrong pony’s head.” Moondancer paused for a moment, her hoof still lifted as if she hadn’t expected to run out of gadgets so soon. “And… that’s it, I guess,” she said as it dropped. “Hope it helps.” In Twilight’s mind, that settled it: something was definitely off about Moondancer today. She’d always been on the quiet side, but today she looked outright nauseous every time she opened her mouth, even while showing off her own inarguably impressive work. “I’m sure it will,” Sunset told her. “Thanks so much for doing this, Moondancer. Chalk up another one we owe you for.” Moondancer’s dismissive grimace cemented Twilight’s opinion, and more than that convinced her to do something about it. “Why don’t you and Starlight work on getting all this packed up?” she suggested to Sunset. “I wanna get a closer look at some of the equipment down here.” Starlight needed no further encouragement, the flash grenade case already splayed open in her lap the second her name came up. After sharing a glance with Twilight, Sunset nodded and turned her attention to the tranq darts. “Mind if I get the grand tour?” Twilight asked Moondancer, who acquiesced with a weak shrug. Once they’d put a couple humming chemical analyzers between themselves and the other Angels, Twilight made her first move. “So how was the move-in?” she asked, trailing her hoof along the eyepiece of a microscope. “It must’ve been tough getting all this stuff down here.” “It was fine,” Moondancer said plainly, offering no further explanation or insight. One in-road down, another one up to bat. “I really wish we could’ve helped out. Believe me, after that long out on the road, it’d have been a welcome change of pace.” Twilight let her hoof fall to the ground, a smile creeping onto her face as if her next thought had just now occurred to her. “You did get the birthday gift I sent, though, right?” Even with her lips pulled taut, Moondancer couldn’t hide the satisfied glint in her eye. “I did. It was nice,” she admitted, her eyes flicking over to the velvet-furred teddy bear next to her cot. “Thanks.” “Don’t mention it,” Twilight said, giggling at a joke she knew Moondancer would understand. “You don’t know how many times I’ve woken up to write something down and forgotten what it was before I could dig up a quill. Hopefully the Reactive Recording spell I charmed into that little guy will make him worth his stuffing.” “Mm-hmm.” Moondancer nearly made it to the edge of the chamber before she noticed Twilight had stopped walking. “What?” she asked as she turned around. “I think you know what, Moondancer,” Twilight replied, soft enough that Sunset and Starlight wouldn’t overhear. ‘I just wish I did.” “I’m fine, okay?” Moondancer grumbled. “I never said you weren’t.” Moondancer’s mouth popped open, then snapped closed again without a word sneaking out. “Moondancer, come on. You can talk to me,” Twilight went on, an inkling of an idea directing her final plea. “I’ve been your friend just as long as I’ve been theirs.” And there it was: a crack in the Seraphim’s armor, quickly widening into a chasm. “I… it’s stupid,” she muttered. “I know it’s stupid, you’ve told me it is…” “But you’re not stupid, Moondancer.” Twilight closed the gap between them as Moondancer stared at her hooves. “And neither is feeling the way you do. This whole thing, the Angels… it’s weird for me too. Weird for all of us.” “It’s not just that!” Moondancer snapped, but all that came of her outburst was a flush of color in her cheeks. “It could’ve been… I mean, I could have… y’know, just…” She couldn’t bring herself to say it, but Twilight had heard enough to guess. “You’re right, Moondancer. You could’ve been an Angel with me. A wonderful one. But that doesn’t mean you should’ve been. You didn’t want this. You told me that yourself a year ago, when Celestia first asked me to join.” “But you did want it,” Moondancer said, nearly in a whisper. “And Sunset wanted it and Starlight wanted it and I… I didn’t.” There were no tears, but Twilight could see them prickling behind her old friend’s eyes, feel them threatening to break through the barriers she’d built to match the ones outside her house. Suddenly, finally, she understood—and felt her stomach sink with shame for how long it’d taken her to notice. The least she could do now was mend what she’d left unfixed. “You know when we were choosing our Seraphim, they asked us for a list?” she said. “Seriously. Waited all of thirty seconds after the initiation ceremony to ask, too. We had twenty-four hours to nominate our candidates, and then twelve after that to vet and confirm our pick. You think mythical beasts are bad, try bureaucratic ones.” Moondancer frowned, nudging her glasses up with her magic. “Am I supposed to be flattered that you settled for me?” Twilight smiled, a gesture she hoped came off more comforting than secretive. “I wouldn’t call it ‘settling’ by a long shot.” “Well, thanks anyway,” Moondancer said, sniffing away the last dregs of vulnerability from her voice as she turned to trot away. “Suppose it never hurts to have such a good friend on the inside…” Before she made it ten feet, Twilight stopped her in her tracks. “I didn’t nominate you,” she told her. “Starlight did.” Caught in mid-sneer as she was, Moondancer looked at once like she was baffled and about to sneeze. “She… Starlight? Glimmer?” “Technically, she just beat Sunset to saying it out loud,” Twilight continued. “You know how she gets when she wants to be heard.” “Well…” Moondancer shut her eyes and shook her head. “Okay, great, so I was on their lists too, but…” “We never even made one. You were the list, Moondancer. You were the only pony in all of Equestria that any of us wanted for the job.” The Seraphim deflated like a leaking balloon, her breath leaving her in the form of a winded sigh. Once her lungs emptied, she stood silently in place, shrunk into a crumpled statue with sagging shoulders and twitching lips. “I’ve known you since magic kindergarten, Moondancer,” Twilight said, her smile growing. “We’ve been study buddies, lab partners, research assistants, even target dummies for each other’s spellwork. Just because Sunset and Starlight are my friends too doesn’t make you any less of one. And just because I’m an Angel now doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten how close we were when I wasn’t.” Reaching out, Twilight found a spot for her hoof to rest next to Moondancer’s stiffened neck. “Or how much you deserve this. Regardless of who your friends are.” Moondancer scoffed, but she wasn’t any better now at lying than she’d ever been before. As for Twilight, she’d had just about enough of her oldest friend deflecting her own praise. “Come on, really?” she intoned. “You were valedictorian of the only CGU class in history to have three graduates join the Angels. And speaking as one of said Angels, you were my only nominee too. Because on top of being the most absurdly overqualified Seraphim pretty much ever, there’s nopony else in Equestria I wanted by my side more.” Now Twilight shrugged, though hers was purely playful. “Y’know, just for the record.” At long last, bit by bit, a smile peeked out from beneath the creases lining Moondancer’s face. “Now you’re just being mushy,” she mumbled. An ugly sound escaped Twilight’s throat, one that she’d later generously remember as a snort. “Go figure,” she muttered half to herself. “Sunset’s much better at this than I am.” Once she saw Moondancer’s brow darken, though, Twilight straightened up again. “You really should give her another chance. I know she comes off a little… magnanimous sometimes, but she really does mean all those nice things she says.” Moondancer chuckled, this time without hesitation. “Element of Honesty, huh?” “To a fault,” Twilight agreed. “And Starlight… well, you don’t have to tell me how abrasive she can be. But if you can, try not to take it personally. Weird as it sounds, all that teasing she does is kind of how I know she likes you.” Moondancer didn’t say anything, and didn’t need to—a single raised eyebrow communicated her thoughts on the matter just fine. Admittedly, she had a bit of a point, but Twilight felt sure she’d come around on Starlight’s good points in due time. After all, Princess Celestia had, hadn’t she? Or so one theory went, anyway. Another was that a thousand years of monarchical control over heaven and earth had given the Princess of the Sun a somewhat twisted sense of humor. And in perfect honesty, there was more evidence supporting that hypothesis than Twilight cared to admit. In any event, Moondancer had made another good point too: perfect honesty was Sunset’s thing, not hers. As long as her friend was happy, Twilight could live with a couple little white lies of omission. And as anypony could see, Moondancer had perked up by half since she’d first pulled her aside. She even stayed that way for a good ten seconds, before a tinkling crash rent their tender moment asunder. In fairness, though, that still counted as progress. “What part of ‘don’t touch it’ didn’t get through?” Moondancer shouted, her voice rising with every step as she tore back across the lab. To her surprise, though—and honestly, Twilight’s a bit too—this mess wasn’t Starlight’s to make. Instead, the Seraphim skidded to a halt in front of the other two Angels calmly organizing the last of their gear—and then staggered back onto her hind hooves as a cobalt-blue blob launched itself into her. “Moondanceeeeer!” shrieked said blob. “Omigosh omigosh I’m so super-duper excited! The royal wedding’s tomorrow and we all get to be there and I think I broke a lamp or something and the Angels are gonna… Twilight Sparkle! You’re here! C’mere and hug me, ya big hero, you!” And so Twilight did, not that she had any choice in the matter. When Minuette wanted a hug, Minuette got a hug, and woe be unto anypony who tried to squirm out of the way before she did. As their former classmate latched onto her shoulders and squeezed hard enough to make an earth pony blush, Twilight did her best to return the favor before she lost circulation in her forehooves. “It’s great to see you too, Minuette,” she wheezed, stepping back so Minuette could bound over to Sunset. “I didn’t expect to see you down here!” After a moment, the full absurdity of that statement sunk in. “How did she get down here?” Twilight whispered to Moondancer. “She cried until I gave her a master spell,” Moondancer grunted, still wincing from her own enthusiastic greeting. “I’m not good with crying.” “Ooh, that’s a good grip!” Minuette’s voice came out a little strangled, a byproduct of her battle with Starlight to see who could crush the other’s ribcage first. “Have you been working out?” “Magic-aided calisthenics, Minnie,” Starlight said once she relented, rolling her shoulders with a proud smirk. “Carves me up like a pumpkin.” “Well, happy Nightmare Night to you too, then! Yowza!” Minuette sucked in a deep breath and held it for a bit, but even still couldn’t keep from wriggling a bit and squealing deep in her throat. “Oh, isn’t this terrific? The ol’ CGU gang, together again! I practically begged Lemon Hearts and Twinkleshine to come down here with me, but they just couldn’t find the time! You know Twinkleshine’s actually working the reception tonight? It’s been all hooves on deck from dawn to dusk the whole week! I mean, she’s thrilled, of course, just over the moon about the whole snazzy setup, but it’s about all she thinks about nowadays. Just talk-talk-talk about this floral arrangement or that hors d’oeuvres display… half the time, I can’t even get two words in! Can you imagine that?” “I do,” Moondancer muttered under her breath. “Often.” “But I don’t have to tell you three any of that, huh?” Minuette went on, giving Sunset a vigorous nudge in the shoulder. “Bridesmaids for a royal wedding… goodness, I feel like half a duchess just knowing you! The fanfare, the dresses, the perfect spot to watch the most perfect moment in a beautiful loving couple’s life…” Minuette screwed up her eyes, waving a forehoof in front of them as a hiccup cut through her spiel. “Oh, horseapples, here I go again. Third time today.” As Minuette’s hard lean into Sunset’s shoulder morphed into a damp hug, Twilight shook her head and laughed. “It’s a big responsibility,” she started to say, “but I’m sure we’ve got everything under contr…” In a single searing flash, the room went blinding white. Twilight’s hearing followed her vision’s example, all sounds snuffed out save for a distant peal like shattering glass. Heart frozen and lungs shriveled into raisins, Twilight gasped, sputtered, and then shrieked aloud. “Dresses! Sun-moon-and-stars, we don’t have dresses!” Sunset cringed as Twilight ripped her saddlebag away, scattering all its contents but the crumpled list of pre-wedding duties. Twilight would’ve sworn she’d triple-checked it. Her lists never failed. They couldn’t fail. In a just and kind world, that wasn’t how checklists worked. But there was the evidence, clear as crystal before her: guest profiles, chapel reconnoiter, flowcharts of backup plans for every disaster scenario imaginable. All were crossed off, and none were “pick up wedding dresses from literally anywhere that sells them”. This was bad. This was beyond bad. This was a meteor strike wrapped up in an alien invasion overshadowed by a tidal wave the size of Canterlot Mountain, which she’d just as soon throw herself off of then serve as a bridesmaid for a royal freaking wedding without so much as a– “–ey, Egghead!” Twilight snapped her head up, her useless checklist sagging to the ground in shame. “What?” she screamed. Starlight dropped her hoof from where she’d been waving it, warding off Sunset with the same motion. “Gimme a break, I tried her real name first,” she griped at her, before returning to Twilight. “Dresses were on my to-do list. We’ve got ‘em. Calm your bits.” “We… but… t-the list…” With the return of her bodily senses came some of Twilight’s short-term memory as well—specifically the bit about her strategic delegation of wedding-related tasks among the three of them. Which she now recalled had been done so she wouldn’t, to quote Starlight four days earlier, “freak out right before it starts exactly like I’m pretty sure you’re going to anyway”. Right. Yeah. “I should’ve gotten decaf,” Twilight whimpered, sinking onto her haunches in exhausted defeat. She didn’t see much of what happened next, but when she looked up again Starlight had produced a rolling metal display rack—upon which swayed three of the most exquisite, gorgeous ball gowns Twilight had ever seen. Each matched their respective Angel to a picture-perfect T, stitched and shaded with such immaculate care that from a distance they could’ve stood for the mares themselves. Starlight nudged her own topaz-lined hem out for effect while Minuette gasped at Sunset’s fiery golden-red train, and between the two works of synthetic art hung a sight for Twilight’s aching eyes. The third dress—her dress—was an iris-violet construction of sleek silk and lace, complemented by a gossamer shawl speckled with a gleaming tapestry of astronomically-accurate constellations spelled out with tiny inlaid amethysts. Mesmerized by it as she was, Twilight almost missed the alabaster square of cardstock tucked underneath its lapel. Extracting it, she saw a note scribbled in looping cursive, and recognized the pensmareship long before she reached the signature at the bottom: Dearest Angels, Consider these a gift from your friends down in Ponyville, and yet another token of our thanks and affection. I only ask in return that you continue your tremendous work in service to our kingdom—and, if you’d be so kind, make me look good at the wedding. Ever yours, Rarity “Funny thing is, I didn’t even have to ask for ‘em,” Starlight commented. “Remember Minnie’s old roommate Lyra? Turns out she lives in Ponyville now, and any word out of Minnie’s mouth travels kinda fast. Rarity had these halfway finished before I could even say ‘thanks’.” Her head still spinning for more than one reason, Twilight took her time mashing a response together in her mouth. “It’s… they’re beautiful,” she managed to whisper, just before Minuette made it clear she was having the opposite problem. “Well, just don’t stand there gawking!” she said. “Try ‘em on already!” She didn’t need to tell anypony twice. When Twilight emerged from behind one of Moondancer’s machine banks several minutes later, she saw Sunset and Starlight already dressed near the lab’s entrance, marveling at their wardrobe just as much as she felt like doing herself. Rarity had taken their measurements a few months back—for “inspirational purposes”, she’d claimed at the time—but Twilight never could’ve expected this as a result. The dress flowed along with her every movement like a second set of skin, flexible where she’d want maneuverability and snug where she’d prefer to be flattered. Instead of awkward or cramped, she felt liberated, like she could take on the world and look fantastic doing it. “So this settles it,” Sunset said once Twilight approached, setting down her conjured hoof mirror with a firm nod. “We need to be much better friends with Rarity.” “Told you I had it covered,” Starlight replied, but her boast rang hollow through the giddy grin on her face. Through Sunset’s mirror, Twilight saw no reason to disagree. For the first time since becoming an Angel, she well and truly looked the part. “They’re perfect,” Twilight declared to Minuette. “We owe you one… or rather, three.” As Minuette nodded and sniffled behind her quivering hoof, Twilight shot Moondancer a smile too. “You too, Seraphim. Will we see you at the ball tonight?” “Doubt it,” Moondancer said. “Got some research to catch up on.” Twilight sighed, but bit her lip when she saw Moondancer doing the same. “Your loss.” “I doubt that too.” Twilight accepted that response with a playful roll of her eyes. She might as well have read Moondancer’s mind with how much she’d expected to hear that—and when she faced the other Angels again, she wondered whether Sunset had done the same to her own. “Care to do the honors?” Sunset asked her, Twilight’s checklist already floating by her side. With a pithy glare, Twilight took her up on the offer, summoning a feather pen to assist her with this sacred final task. “Canterlot Royal Wedding, final prep check. Intel?” She paused a moment to recall all her research, then scratched a check mark next to the appropriate item on the list. “Check. Equipment?” Sunset tapped the two cases stacked by her side. “Acquired.” “Attire?” “Fine as hell,” Starlight confirmed. Twilight scanned down the list with her pen, stopping once she reached the last item. “Transportation…” She looked up, fixing Sunset with a quizzical glance. “Where’s Spike?” She didn’t have to wait long to find out. A few seconds after she asked, a distant rumbling boom reverberated through the ceiling, grit showering onto their heads as a faint whiff of ozone trailed down the stairs. After another moment, an angry shout echoed into earshot, indecipherable as language but certainly not lacking in intent. “Did you really put balefire mines in your front lawn?” Sunset asked Moondancer. “Not in the lawn, per se,” Moondancer replied. In the silence that followed, she made a face and shook her head. “He’s a dragon. He’ll be fine.” Another sigh left Twilight’s lungs, but this one did little to dampen her mood. With great satisfaction, she checked off the last item on her list and rolled it up to tuck inside her saddlebag. “We’d better go meet him,” she said. “And fix his tux. See you tomorrow, Minuette.” “Say hi to Twinkleshine for me!” Minuette gleefully sobbed. With everything taken care of at last, the Angels made their exit. At the top of the stairs, Twilight reached out with her magic to open the front door, revealing a very put-out—but still slightly smoldering—baby dragon on the stoop, and a carriage for four waiting out on the street. The three mares stopped for a moment, all thinking the same thing. “Well, here we go,” Starlight said. “Can’t wait,” Sunset agreed. Both mares looked at Twilight, waiting for an answer to their unspoken question. “We’re ready,” Twilight declared, trotting forward to follow Spike out to their ride. “Let’s rock this thing.” And rock it, they hopefully in all honesty wouldn’t. But for now, at least, Twilight wouldn’t have really minded if they did. And that, at least, was something worth coming home for.
