Chapters My Little Pony is the creation of Lauren Faust. Agatha Heterodyne is the creation of Phil and Kaja Foglio. No claim is made to either parties' intellectual property. Just playing around in the sandbox here...
*****
Being an ancient being of chaos trapped in the prison of a stone statue sucked.
Being an ancient being of chaos trapped in stone while delicious, hilarious strife was happening not far away was suction to the billionth degree.
Discord seethed as he sensed the battle raging in Canterlot Castle between the changelings and his "beloved" ponies-cum-favorite targets. Oh, how he wished he could join into the fun. Queen Chrysalis and her ilk would have been perfect allies--well, until he had them eaten by marshmallow parakeets--to teach Celestia a lesson about doing this to him. Instead, he had to stay in this calcified form on the sidelines. It wasn't fair!
Wait.
The magical barrier around Canterlot was weakened.
He couldn't do anything impressive. It wouldn't be focused. But Discord was not the only being that truly terrified a nigh-immortal avatar of the sun for no reason. Subtle mischief would do when fancier tricks failed. He had just enough power--
--to SHOW THEM ALL!
++++
Chaos writhed and slipped through the cracks in the fabric of reality.
Not quite sentient, the impulse of a trickster abomination obeyed the dictates of its creator: SHOW THEM ALL. It flitted through thousands of different realities in nanoseconds.
In a direction not comprehensible to most beings limited to three-dimensions, it found the agent of chaos that would fulfill its creator's wishes.
"Alright do it! And get back!"
Such madness! Such potential! And that was the HEROIC personality dominant at the moment. The one suppressed within her mind was even better!
"Got it!"
The spell sensed the wonderful evil come free of its shackles. It reached out and--
Discord's spell was imperfect. It activated just on the cusp of transition. The wrong personality was copied into its structure and sent back to Equestria.
Well. Perhaps not. Certainly Agatha Heterodyne would serve to create more than enough chaos by herself...
Deep in the mountains northwest of a small town in Equestria, a small form shimmered into being.
Green eyes opened.
"Ow."
++++
Agatha's mind whirled with confusion. One minute, she had been strapped down into the Si Vales rig while Violetta tore away the locket. The idea was for her less-than-beloved mother to take the psychic stress and agony of the hideous resurrection procedure; Agatha's own psyche would have been safe from the shock of untold amounts of current blasting her. Well, that was the intent. It would have worked. Probably it did. But she certainly wasn't in the Great Movement chamber of the Castle.
Glasses, glasses, where were her glasses?
Ah! Good. Agatha fumbled with her hooves to hook her glasses behind her ears. The world came into focus. How in Europa had she ended up here? "Here" being a steep-sided mountain valley barren of trees save for a few conifers. The Castle and the town itself were nowhere in sight. Had there been an explosion? No! Gil! Tarvek! The others! After all that she had gone through, only for them to--
Er.
Agatha held up her arms.
Correction: her forelegs, at the end of which were aforementioned hooves.
She had the only reasonable reaction under such circumstances.
"YOU HAVE GOT TO BE KIDDING ME!"
++++
Standing shakily on four legs, Agatha reviewed the modified quadrupedal locomotion script she had fixed into her consciousness. It turned out that whatever mind transfer technique had put her into this body had not granted her the instinctive knowledge of how to move it. Her first few attempts at walking had been rather painful. She had given up relying on her own instincts, instead drawing upon her clank programming skills. Modern clanks were collections of modeled animal behaviors acting in a subsumption architecture. Presumably the same synthetic behaviors could be applied to the organic form they had been originally based upon.
Right foreleg like this, left like that, don't think, let the script run and the brain adjust for outside variables.
Clip-clop.
Hmmm. It seemed to be working, perhaps she could try a trot ARRRGHHHH--
Agatha groaned as she lay on her back, legs twined up in a Gordian knot.
Simple steps. Very simple steps.
++++
Okay, that was an improvement. Agatha walked up and down the valley without adding to the many bruises all over her body. It had only taken her about three hours. She rewarded herself with cropping at a sparse patch of grass by the banks of a stream. At least she wouldn't starve, though she assumed she was restricted to the vegetarian option. She didn't sense any evidence that she could sprout tentacles and fangs like that dreaded horse beastie.
There was no question the new abode of her mind was a construct. Agatha studied her reflection in the surface of the stream. Features that were equine yet subtly anthropomorphized stared back at her. Real ponies did not have muzzle structures so rounded, or eyes so large. The effect was that of a child's idea of what a horse looked like. The strawberry-blonde mane was much longer than any horse's that she had seen. Equines generally also didn't have cowlicks that stuck up from between their ears. Experimentally, she swished the flowing tail at her rump. Such an odd sensation! Agatha tested the range of motion in her limbs. They had an almost human dexterity. Horse anatomy wasn't her strong suit. But she was sure no real one could tap a hoof to their chin.
Her mother must have thought this quite the joke. Tears shimmered behind her glasses. They had lost. Somehow, Lucrezia had broken free and transferred Agatha into this ridiculous organic prison. Who knew what had happened to Moloch or Violetta or Tarvek? As for Gil-- Oh, yes, Mother Undearest would have Big Plans for the heir to the Wulfenbach Empire. Agatha stamped a hoof. Joke? She'd show Mom how funny it was. A flush of rage glowed through the light-brown fur covering her cheeks. She still had her mind. She still had Zeetha's training. She would track down Lucrezia and smash in her own former skull if need be. Snarling, Agatha kicked at a sapling with a back hoof.
*SNAP*
Make that a stump. This body certainly was strong. Excellent muscle to mass ratio.
Yes. Not helpless at all.
++++
It wasn't too bad, actually.
Agatha had managed a slow trot an hour into her walk. Normally, she would have been breathing hard at such a pace. Her pony body had increased stamina as well as strength. She wouldn't bet on her condition handling a gallop. But a steady, distance eating pace suited her form rather well. Her senses were so much sharper! Her nose picked out smells that her old form might have missed. She could swivel her ears about to catch sound coming from all directions. Perhaps she could find a way to keep these abilities when--not if, when--she copied a new human body for mind transfer.
Because there was no way in Hades she was going through life without hands.
Agatha spotted the mine entrance when she came around the curve of the river. She had elected to follow the path of the stream. Zeetha's instruction hadn't included just savage stick beatings. There had also been basic survival tips. A stream meant a water source. Water was far more important than food. Agatha's body could deal with starvation for much longer than it could dehydration. As well, water courses also meant the potential for human settlement along their banks or boat travel. Ha! Zeetha had been right. Agatha would thank her personally for it! Her advice had lead her right to other humans--
Agatha Heterodyne lived in a Europa where the weird was commonplace. Ponies coming out of mines? Quite understandable. They were used all the time to pull ore carts or work in treadmills. The unusual variation of coat colour in these pit ponies was odd. Not too odd considering vitalism science. That they wore miners hats with electric lamps on top could be explained. As could the fact several carried pickaxes and other tools that were perfectly sized for pony use. Sparks came up with the weirdest ideas at times. That they could talk perfect English wasn't anything conclusive. Her chief political advisor and sovereign was a hyper-intelligent cat.
So why did she have a horrible suspicion matters were very wrong?
Ah. Yes. The pony with the horn sticking out of its brow, with a blue radiance surrounding the lunch bucket floating beside it. The unicorn.
Oh, scheisse.
++++
Agatha shook off her paralysis. Dealing with the sheer insanity of a British telekinetic unicorn would come later. They were intelligent. They had the trappings of technological civilization. That meant they might have some way for her to get back home, mein Gott where had she ended up, this couldn't be--
Fifteen equine heads turned as one.
Agatha froze. The last time she had seen expressions of that sort had been in the audience during "The Sprocket Wrench of Prague".
"A MARE!"
++++
Raindrops streaked down Agatha's glasses. The expression of cliche pathetic fallacy in terms of weather and mood fit perfectly. Now she had absolutely no idea where she was. The chase over hill, dale, chasm, and sundry geographic features from a herd of lust-crazed stallions had gotten her more lost than ever. There hadn't been time to apply Zeetha's lessons in landmark memorization while alternately galloping and lashing out. That last unwanted suitor had gone down to a rock clumsily wielded between both forehooves. She had finally climbed up onto this crag to find some way of gaining her bearings. Then she had seen the night sky. None of the stars were in recognizable constellations. The moon's few markings were different.
Either she was in a nightmare, locked in her mind while Lucrezia free or--
--or she was in another world.
Lightning crashed.
Wait, if she could see the sky all around her, then why was it raining right atop her?
Agatha stared up at the tiny raincloud perfectly sized to drench only her.
Oh, come on!
A small object bonked off her forehead. A bone? It was raining bones. Oh lovely, she might as well be back in Der Kestle already. She absently noted the bloody skull was either lapine or a field rodent. She would have to do a closer examination to be sure. Craned over the side of the cloud was an over-sized avian head. It had the majestic white plumage and golden beak of an eagle. Easing out from under miniature cumulonimbus, she studied the creature further: golden raptor's claws and brown feathered legs and wings, set upon a lion's body. In short, she was looking at a classic griffin. It didn't have the cobbled-together look of the example of one she had seen in the TPU Biological Sciences Museum. It has a natural appearance.
Also, it was sitting on the cloud as if it were a couch.
"What, never seen anyone eat meat before?" the griffin said.
"Vell, yes," Agatha said, carefully constructing her response. She was literate in English, though rusty in spoken form. "I've just never seen anything quite like hyu."
"What kinda hick burg are you from, sister?" the griffin said.
"Very far away from here," Agatha said, trying to parse the creature's idiom. "Have you ever heard of Transylvania? Mechanicsburg?"
"Never heard of 'em," the griffin said, tearing the flesh off a half-eaten rabbit. "You're in the mountains south of Canterlot. Nice job with those stallions."
"That vas not the first--" Agatha narrowed her eyes. "You were vatching that travesty and didn't help?"
"Didn't want to spoil the show." It screeched in laughter. "Funniest thing I saw all year. 'A MARE!' Those miners don't get much female companionship, yanno. You could've let 'em catch you. Would've gotten some gems out of it."
"I am not a wo--uh, mare of easy virtue!" Agatha said, stomping a hoof.
"With those colts, wouldn't have been easy." The griffin pinched her beak. "Peee-yu. Bet they haven't bathed in months."
"Glad I entertained hyu." Agatha trotted off. "The show's over."
"Hey, I'm not done with you yet." In a flash, the griffin had landed in front of her. Its beak somehow curved into a cruel smile. "Tell you what. Eat this, and I'll give you a hint where to go."
"I'm not in the mood for games." Agatha jerked her head back from the bloody rabbit corpse. "And I've already eaten."
"Just a little bite." The griffin waggled its half-eaten meal. "Bet you can't, you dumb blank-flank mare."
Dumb?
Dumb?
This impertinent little bully had called her an idiot?
Agatha clamped the shredded lapine in her mouth. With a wrench, she pulled free a large chunk. Her herbivore teeth made poor progress with the meat and bones, but she had little problem grinding her jaw together with enough fury to make it palatable. She knew she would regret it later. She swallowed it anyway. The griffin's air of amused superiority faded to shock as Agatha took another bite. Then another. Agatha smiled through bloodied teeth and lips after she had left her tormentor with only half a hindquarter left in its claws.
"If you'd had a fire," she said, "and some spices, I could haff cooked up a decent hassenpfeffer. As it is, I'm still feeling hungry. I feel an urge for poultry tonight."
The griffin blinked.
"Okay. You are officially not lame," it said.
"Eh?" Agatha checked her legs. "No, I don't think I hurt myself during the chase."
"I mean, that was awesome." The griffin curled up one set of talons. "Only pony I ever saw eat meat ended up puking up a mouthful after she had to pay up a dare."
"Give me time," Agatha said, her stomach already sounding warnings. "Is there something I'm supposed to do? A custom?"
"Tap a hoof to mine." The griffin screeched, this time in laughter. "For that, I'll put you up in my aerie. 'Snot far. Don't worry, I won't gobble you up. That's old mare's tales about us griffons."
"Ah--" Agatha considered. Her life to date had taught her never to turn down help. "Alright. But no more of that. I've had a very, very hard day."
"Nah, we're cool. Name's Gilda."
"Agatha."
"Kinda, huh, chunky," Gilda said, gasping a bit. "You might want to lay off the hay fries."
Agatha bit back the urge to snap back at the griffon's remarks about her robust figure. There was no sense in alienating the sole halfway-friendly person she had found in this world. In truth, Gilda had put herself to some trouble. Her aerie was a cave several meters above the ground with no path leading up to it. The griffon had had to fly Agatha up clutched between her front legs. She noted in the back of her mind that Gilda was very strong, and that there was no way out of her home that didn't involve a dangerous plunge. A bit of Krosp's cynicism had rubbed on on her after two months.
The cave was much better appointed than she had expected. Gilda lit several candles placed in niches in the cave wall. The candles didn't have the distinctive scent of tallow. If this world were dominated by ponies, Agatha guessed they would choose beeswax or some sort of plant extract over rendered fat. More importantly, Gilda lit the candles with matches. There were other signs of technology: an iron stove in one corner, rough yet serviceable wooden furniture with nails, and an icebox. The huge nest at the back of the aerie had fluffy pillows and a cheery white-and-red checked blanket. It was further evidence that this world wasn't primitive. It had science.
There was a chance she could find a way home.
Her stomach rumbled.
One amenity Gilda's home lacked was a water closet. Rushing to the cave mouth, Agatha suffered the consequences of a herbivore eating most of a rabbit. Gilda handed her a mug full of water after the assault on her digestive system was finished. Clumsily, Agatha held it between her forehooves as she drank. The earthenware cup had a quite human handle. It was of a piece with the oddities in the furniture: it wouldn't have been out of place in a Europan peasant's home. One might have thought a society of intelligent animals would have built things differently. Agatha was able to sit comfortably enough while Gilda roasted sausages in a skillet. It turned out they were vegetarian, though well-spiced with pepper and salt. Gilda ate with knife and fork. She didn't bat an eye when Agatha tucked in sans utensils.
Hands. Oh, this would be a problem!
"So what are you doing out here?" Gilda asked.
"I just woke up in a valley not far away," Agatha said, before cautiously grasping an opened bottle on the table in her mouth. "mmmppphh...nnnphhhh...verdamnt!"
"Wow, you're like a three-day-old cub," Gilda said. "Complete spaz."
"'Spaz' as in 'spasm'?" Agatha mopped up the spill with a napkin. "Ach, danke."
"Donkey? Where?"
"Very funny." Agatha sighed at Gilda's confusion. "Sorry. It means 'thank you' in one of my native languages."
"So you're an egghead, huh?" Gilda snapped up another sausage. "I didn't think those could buck stallions so hard they never wished they were born."
"Where I come from, you learn to be quick. Or dead."
"Weird hearing a pony say the D-word." Gilda flicked a talon dismissively. "Most of them are goody horse-shoes. So, a smarty-pants."
"I'm a scientist," Agatha said. "I make things, if I have the tools and can learn how to use them with these ridiculous things on the end of my legs."
"Don't have anything like that here." Gilda paused. "Only places near here that've have stuff like that is Canterlot or Ponyville. I get it. You probably want to head out to be with the rest of the lame-o's."
Gilda preened her feathers as if nonchalant, but Agatha had seen that expression before.
She has worn it much of her life, before finding her friends.
"I couldn't enjoy better company," she replied, "while I get my hooves under me."
"No pressure." Gilda shrugged. "Don't mind if you want to hang for a while."
"Well, I should pay back your hospitality somehow," Agatha said, noting that "hang" in this context meant socializing rather than execution. "I don't see a piano about. At least I can tell some stories from my homeland, if you're interested."
"This isn't going to be sappy fairytale stuff, right?" Gilda sounded more disgusted than when Agatha's pipes had been backing up.
"Minimal sap. Unless you object to tales of high adventure."
"You don't say?" Gilda grabbed a book on an empty stool with her tail. "I love the Daring Do series. Get a new one every time I visit Cloudsdale."
"Something like this, yes." Agatha hesitantly flicked the pages with the pointy front edge of a hoof. These creatures had printing presses and books. Libraries... "Let me tell you a tale about the Heterodyne B--Colts."
"This had better not be stupid."
"Trust me."
+++
"Gilda?" Agatha looked down from the table where she had assumed a dramatic pose.
White feathers were all that were visible from where the griffon had hidden behind her nest.
"Ach, I forgot I really get into the role sometimes," Agatha said, hoof to face.
"Are you nuts? Don't stop!" Gilda popped up, golden eyes wide in wonder. "That was sheer, complete, Sonic Rainboom with an Immelman finish cool! I have to hear the end of it!"
Agatha smiled. If she had to be Sheherazade again--
"One cannot be corrupted by science, and science alone is my master. "
++++
Assume wingspan is approximately 1.5 meters--
The chalk between her front teeth scraped over the cave wall.
--weight estimated at 140 kilograms, based on what can be recalled from encyclopedia entries back home of similar examples of genus Panthera, although Gilda's avian characteristics may include hollow bones--
The rock was covered with calculations, free-hoof mechanical diagrams, and stranger things.
--must ask if there are any anatomical models of her species for examination of skeletal structure and muscle arrangement, the combination of avian and feline morphology must be fascinating--
Hooves flicked the beads of an abacus.
--starting figures are likely wildly inaccurate, but based on my assumptions, the lifting force a griffin can produce in order to fly a pony weighing mumble straight up for a distance of five meters is--
The figure that emerged at the end of a calculation that took of a square half-meter of rock made no sense. If Gilda was capable of that much lift with her wings, then her chest muscles would be roughly the size of Castle Wulfenbach. Ordinary scientists would have sat down and wept at the impossibility. Agatha didn't. The phenomenon existed. Therefore, a theory explaining it could be made once enough observations and variables were factored in. She already had several hypotheses. Unicorns were apparently capable of telekinesis. Griffons might have that ability in some form--mass reduction, gravitic manipulation, amazing potential --that didn't manifest as an aura.
As once was said, a bumblebee couldn't possibly fly under then-current aerodynamic models. Which had lead to several Sparks creating clockwork half-living bumblebee clankstructs, much to the regret of everyone when the inevitable weaponization occured. The Apiary Wars of 1811 had been one of the less pleasant periods during the Long War. The honey produced had been inedible, though some interesting plant species had arisen as the bees had obeyed synthetic pollen-gathering instincts.
"Whoa." Gilda blinked sleepily, head rising from her pillow. "What the hay is that?"
"Some time-wasting." Agatha gestured at the table. "I helped myself to some of your breakfast things. I put the milk back into the icebox."
"Must have found my old school stuff." Gilda traced an exploded diagram. "This looks like one of those airships the Canterlot 'corns are making. They're just big balloons with boats or baskets hanging from them."
"You've developed non-rigid airship technology?" Agatha washed her mouth clean with a sip of milk. Note--invent fountain pens. Further note--invent hands. "We've had those for centuries in Europa. It was the Montgolfiers and De Roziere who perfected the first dirigible with internal framework."
"Is this--" Gilda peered closed. "Something about griffin claws and a saw and...sewing...needles..."
There was a significant pause in which Gilda edged ever so slightly towards the cave mouth.
"I don't conduct vitalism experiments on my friends." Agatha considered her words further. "Correction: I don't conduct unauthorized vitalism experiments on my friends unless they're in mortal danger, or random vitalism experiments at all unless on cadavers. So you won't be waking up to me with a saw in my mouth and a crazed smile."
There was a further stretch of silence.
"You have a clear line of escape." Agatha stepped clear. "I'll show myself out of you're too afraid to be near me."
"Fffffft. Like you're psyching me." Gilda fluffed her head feathers with talons that only shook a little. "Nice try, sister."
"Lucrezia Mongfish from the story was my mother," Agatha replied flatly. "She was a Spark, and not a nice one. So am I, though I hope I take after my father Bill instead."
Another long silence.
"So, did I pass the test," Gilda finally said, "by sticking around? Or fail by not flying off when I could?"
"Pass and fail." Agatha twisted a hoof in a halfway motion. "Sparks like me get somewhat obsessed when we become involved in our work. That leads to, er, a little bit of madness. Actually, a lot. If you hear me humming, don't interrupt. It's like interfering with a sleepwalker who might fly into a homicidal rage."
"Yeah, total fail," Gilda said. "Why are you telling me this?"
"You come across as arrogant and a potential bully," Agatha replied. "You also gave hospitality to a stranger in need. You may become a friend. If you'll be spending any time around me, this is what might happen."
Gilda narrowed her eyes. Then she screeched in wild laughter.
"You're seriously wacko, pony. But you're alright!"
++++
The important thing was to remember that Gilda could fly in defiance of known physics models.
Agatha jerked one of the ropes comprising the improvised flight harness a little tighter. She was sprawled on Gilda's back with hemp linking them at chest, belly, and haunches. Her four legs clamped tight around the griffon's leonine body, eliciting an annoyed grumble. Gilda's front talons scratched the cave floor. Her back paws propelled her from a crouch with the power a mundane lion would use to leap upon a gazelle. Air rushed, the bottom fell out of Agatha's stomach, feathers rustled as wings ended to their full span. Then they were out in the sunlight and flying.
So this was why Gil had been obsessed with heavier-than-air flight. Agatha grinned as her mount executed a deft bank no airship could do. The two of them spiraled up upon a thermal which brought them clear of the mountaintops. One could see for tens of kilometers all around. Below them was a mountain range mirrored by another, separated by a broad and fertile valley. Agatha could make out fields and houses and-- Ah, perfect! A town at the southern end of the valley at the edges of a great forest. A railway line ran along the eastern edge of the valley; a locomotive puffed far below, pulling a train. North was an even more impressive sight. A great city of white stone clung to a mountain at the northern mouth of the valley. It rose to a fairy-tale castle.
Glorious!
Gilda's wings flared as she landed upon a cloud high above the landscape. It sank a bit beneath her weight like a featherbed beneath a sleeper. Agatha waved a hoof through the apparently solid cloud. It was so much water vapour to her touch. Gazing about, she noticed other figures flying about the airspace. Her eyes widened behind her glasses. Ponies with improbably small wings actually pushing clouds about, they must be able to interact with clouds in some way. If they can manipulate clouds then they can affect meteorological conditions, ach look at that, a pegasus was bouncing on a black cloud to rain upon a field. Oooooo, her brain was spinning at the insanity this meant for this worlds physics. It also implied huge advantages in regards to agriculture and country-wide climate control--
A wing smacked the side of her head.
"That the humming I should be worried about?" Gilda asked. "Thought I'd smack some sense into you in case you stepped off. You'd fall right through and go splat if you did."
"You're learning," Agatha said, head swiveling like a devil dog seeking a target. "How do you do this?"
"Magic."
"Magic." Agatha frowned. "Is this 'magic in that we have no explanation and it works because it does', or is there a set of articulated theories--"
"Slow down, I was all about the practical in school," Gilda said. "Weren't kidding about being a nutty egghead. Anyway, magic's magic. Big force that lets sky creatures like us control the weather and stand on clouds, Princess Celestia make the sun rise, yadda yadda."
"Pardon me," Agatha said, "but are you implying this Celestia can actually telekinetically control the movements of a star?"
"Yeah, she used to do both sun and moon," Gilda said, "but then her sis Luna came back after a thousand years. Some kind of big fight between them. Luna's not evil anymore, so she's taking care of the night."
Wind whistled past them.
"Agatha?"
"I'm having a massive existential breakdown of my paradigms." Agatha was surprised that she was as calm as if hit by Cookie's nutmeg-laced pies. "Don't mind me. Oh, is that an entire city in the clouds over there? Quite impressive."
"That's Cloudsdale." Gilda shifted beneath her. "I better get you back to the lair before--oh, no!"
A sound akin to an engine's roar broke through Agatha's shock. Something blue flashed past them with a polychromatic light flaring in its wake. Gilda crouched in an attack posture. Verdamnt! This world seemed so peaceful. Was this creature a rival predator species of some kind? And her without a handy--er, hoofy--death ray. Mmmm, if and when she had a chance, working out the trigger and stock ergonomics could be tricky. The griffin snarled when it backwinged into a hover in front of them.
It was a pegasus. The sky-blue mare's mane and tail were tinted in the classic colour progression of a rainbow. Clan markings? Or natural hue? Up close, her wings were absurdly small to support a creature of her size and weight. The analytical portion of Agatha's mind calculated how much this magic would compensate for mass, aerodynamics, and velocity. The pegasus had streaked by incredibly fast. Faster perhaps than Gil's flyer, which had an engine which she still thought could be much more simplified once they had some free time. Odd markings on each flank at her hindquarters depicted a rainbow lighting bolt arcing down from a white cloud.
Cerise eyes glared at them hurt anger.
"Gilda."
"Raindork."
Agatha realized she was high above the ground, attached to a creature confronting another who had assumed a classic territorial-protection aggression response.
Uh-oh.
"What are you doing around Ponyville?" the pegasus said.
"It's a free sky, 'Crash'," Gilda replied. "Not like I'm waiting for you to come back from Lame-o-Town. I'm up here with my new best friend, who's fifty times cooler than you ever were. Make that a hundred!"
"Ah, if there's an argument you two need to settle," Agatha said, "it might be best--"
"So you found another pony to fool," the blue pegasus spat out. "You gonna treat her like you did me? Be nice while you steal and yell at my friends?"
"Used to like you because you were better than all the earthworms," Gilda replied. "All you ended up doing was wasting my time. So make like a fly and buzz off!"
"--to discuss your differences calmly, on the safe--"
"Like you said, free sky." The pegasus crossed her forelegs over her chest. "I've got my eye on you. I'll be watching you all day, to see you don't shove your weight around."
"--solid--"
Talons swiped at cyan fur.
"HEY! Watch it, you nearly cut me!"
"Meant to, 'Dork!"
"--ground--"
A hoof lashed out, punching Gilda in the beak.
"Try that on for size, birdbrain!"
"It's on!"
*TWANG*
Gilda and the pegasus froze in mid-fight at the sound of rope parting under stress.
++++
Air whistled past Agatha's ears.
"I've got you," the pegasus said, forelegs twined around Agatha's midsection.
Agatha still had an excellent view of the ground. Which was looming ever closer.
"No, I've got her," Gilda said, talons clutching her forelegs.
"Anyone's going to be doing the saving here it's me, Rainbow Dash. Best flyer in all of Equestria."
Agatha did some calculations in her head involving gravity, air resistance, and impact velocity.
"She's my friend, you lame featherduster!"
"Jerk!"
Mmmm. They should be all be able to survive impact with the--
"Loser!"
"Bully!"
*SPLASH*
--river.
++++
Well, she had been hoping for a bath.
Agatha dragged Gilda onto the river bank with teeth clamped around the griffin's tail. A smack with her hoof to where fur met feathers on her companion's back send a torrent of water out of her beak. Rainbow Dash had managed to crawl out by herself. The pegasus wobbled in circles, eyes rolling crazily in their sockets. Shaking her head, she struck her head several times with a back-hoof. A small fish popped out of her left ear. Agatha noted that the concussed flying pony nosed it back into the river. It waved a fin back in gratitude before diving beneath the surface.
Agatha looked around the surrounding landscape. When not trying to kill her, it was idyllic in a way she had never seen in Transylvania. Split-rail fences and stone walls delineated the bounds of farms with produce that seemed to burst from the ground. The agriculture here was a mix of ploughed fields and orchards. The barns and farmhouses gleamed with paint, rather than the often dilapidated appearance of peasant holdings back home. The air of this land was peaceful. That was a fortunate thing, as it kept Agatha's thoughts away from such notions as ovens and carving knives and stuffing.
"Awwwwk." Gilda staggered upright. Her once-majestic plumage was now more bedraggled chicken.
"Good to see you awake," Agatha said. She clopped her forehooves together. "Are you alright?"
"--dumb--Crash--all--her--" Gilda slumped down. "Ugh."
"Have a history around here?" Agatha asked with apparent sweetness.
"Who are you going to believe," Gilda said, back paws clawing the grass, "that dork or me? Thought we were friends."
"I'm not making any judgements," Agatha replied. "Can I tell you a story? Three months ago, a bullying soldier thought it would be funny to trip up a klutzy town girl and steal her locket. It was petty cruelty and petty theft.
"Because of that, it started a chain of events that ended up with my parents ripped apart like that rabbit you had for dinner. "
Gilda froze, beak open in horror.
"Actions have consequences," Agatha said. "Whatever the truth is between you and Frau Dash, I won't tolerate bullying or thievery among people I call my friends."
"Air under my wings," Gilda replied. "They were only pranks. You know, if I did them."
"Let's meet at sunset here tonight," Agatha said, "after I've calmed down enough to not give in the urge to drop a house on someone."
"Good one." Gilda blinked. "Did you really--"
"Yes." Agatha bared her teeth. "Of course, it was just a small one. While I'm away, you might want to talk matters over with Frau Dash. Work out any differences."
Agatha turned and headed for the dirt road a few meters away. It was a well-maintained thoroughfare rather than the rough tracks she had navigated with Master Payne's Circus. That was of a piece with her impression of this Equestria. It was at peace. The government had the means and--more importantly--the will to maintain infrastructure. Having the sheer power to fling around celestial bodies no doubt helped in warning off foreign armies. Agatha couldn't take Gilda's statement at face-value. The supposed powers of these princesses could be religious superstition. But--well, this was a world where creatures could stand on clouds. She shouldn't have such a flexible mind that she could tie it under her chin. She also couldn't afford to dismiss anything as impossible.
As a Europan Spark, what was possible was much broader in scope than the usual definition.
Agatha broke into a jaunty trot as the noises of angry argument and shoving broke out behind her. Gilda and this Rainbow Dash would no doubt sort things out one way or another. The strawberry-blonde maned pony nodded to farm-ponies working in the fields. How strange. They smiled at first, then stared in shock at her hindquarters. What on earth had brought on that reaction? She paid more attention to the others. Every single one had those flank marks by each hindquarter, except for the children. Correction: fillies and colts. Keeping to the proper terminology was important. She couldn't afford to stand out too much.
It must be some sort of caste or tribal mark, although there wasn't any consistency among them. Gilda had referred to her derisively as a blank flank. This might cause unwanted comment. Agatha pressed a hoof to the golden ring of fur around her neck, with a patch that reproduced the trilobite sigil. She had assumed at the time the mark had been a dire joke on the part of Lucrezia. It might be enough to convince Equestrians it was her land's equivalent of a flank mark.
Suddenly, she froze.
None of the ponies were wearing clothes. Many of them were quite obviously stallions.
More to the point, she wasn't wearing clothes.
Oh, sweet lightning--she WAS NAKED!
++++
Refined unicorn ladies did not do anything so common as get drunk, nor did they suffer hangovers the following morning. They became giddy, and later felt delicate. Nestled deep her bed, Rarity was a glass slipper being tapped ever so lightly. The ting resonated through every cell of her body with the finality of the world's doom. She had been so elated at catching the bouquet at the wedding in Canterlot that she had celebrated. First champagne with Fancy Pants and Fleur, where she had secured many requests for her haute couture. She was bound to remember those. Eventually. Then wine with her friends. And then there had been a grinning Applejack holding out a Mason jar decorated with a triple X. The contents were notorious throughout Ponyville as "Zap Apple Horse Liniment".
Yes. Very, very giddy. The last she recalled before being hustled on the night train back to Ponyville was singing a hilarious song with Fluttershy about....hedgehogs?
Rarity did not possess Pinkie Pie's eerie precognitive ability. However, in her own sphere of influence Rarity had considerable powers. Blue, slightly bloodshot eyes widened when her horn glowed. Someone was in trouble! She was in a fashion crisis. No, a fashion catastrophe! No! Worse than that--more depraved than Discord, more insidious than a changeling invasion! It was a FASHION APOCALYPSE! TO ARMS, SHE MUST BE SAVED!
Rarity did a quick mirror check.
But not, she decided upon seeing the horrors inflicted upon her mane, like this.
Thankfully, a champion had returned home with her.
"Spikey-wikey!"
++++
A purple dragon with green spikes stepped outside the Carousel Boutique. Dangling from one claw was a spool of thread with a needle thrust through it. The enchanted needle spun before settling in one direction. Spike slipped on a pair of shades. Somewhere, on the mean streets--well, pretty cheerful if one was honest--was a lost soul in need of rescuing. He had a full belly of gems and doughnuts, he was on a mission from Rarity, and he was wearing sunglasses. Time for Spikey-Wikey to do what he did best.
Yeah.
Hit it.
Just not too hard, because that'd be mean and everything.
++++
The slightly bustling metropolis of Ponyville had the naked mix of normal and whimsy that characterized this world. Agatha stood naked naked naked in the central square of the town. All around her naked naked the inhabitants went about their business naked. The architecture was similar to Transylvanian villages: half-timbered houses with thatch roofs. They were spaced farther apart and naked than the close-packed streets she would have seen in Beetleburg. There were decidedly naked strange takes on the Europan architectural vernacular. One shop was shaped from the second floor up as a jester's hat. Another building had been designed with confectionery on the brain. A tree with doors, windows, and naked balconies integrated into its structure was a fascinating naked example of bio-artificing naked naked naked.
Agatha was aware that she was preoccupied. Nay, even obsessed. It did not help matters that Equestrian ponies did wear clothes. Most were like her MEIN GOTT NAKED. But several of the traders in the market stalls wore aprons. Several customers sitting at haystack chairs at a nearby cafe had fetching hats which would not be out of place on a Parisian boulevard. The general custom when it came to fashion seemed to be a garment which covered the front half of the body, leaving the hindquarters bare and naked. Agatha's sickly smile became ever more frantic as she cast about for something--ANYTHING--to cover herself with. Oh look. A rain barrel! She sidled over to it. It wouldn't be stealing. She was a pony in need--
"Are you the pony I'm looking for?"
Agatha looked down. Purple scales, green spikes, lizard morphology.
It was a dragon, with a spool dangling from its claw.
"Are you here to announce," Agatha asked, "that I have a great destiny which will decide the fate of thousands, while those who oppose me will hunt me down should I fail?"
"Uh....no?" The dragon scratched its head. "I was sent by Rarity out with this magical fashion compass. You have some kind of clothes related problem?"
"I'M COMPLETELY NAKED!" Agatha screamed, shaking the little dragon between her forehooves.
Crickets chirped.
"Ah-heh." Agatha grinned at the now-staring crowd. "This Rarity--she sells clothes, then?"
"Only the best fashion designer in Equestria!" The dragon puffed out its less-than-impressive chest. The effect was of a scaly pigeon. "Name's Spike. Hey, are you Germane? I head that accent up in court when Twilight and me were living in Canterlot."
"Sprechen sie?" Agatha said.
"Ja." Spike continued in...Germane? Ach, the pun! "There's also some Maregyar in your accent, too. Pretty cool combination."
Agatha followed Spike through the morning throng of Ponyville. The others didn't pay her much attention despite her outburst. Perhaps they were used to crazy pony outbursts? Several did react to her unmarked flanks. Well, if pressed, she could say that she came from a remote region of--Germaney?--where flank tattoos weren't practiced for religious reasons. The dragon lead her a short distance to another of Ponyville's whimsical buildings. It was akin to a castle keep constructed of wood, with a festive paint scheme of blues and violets. A yellow carousel horse was painted above the doorway; several more were mounted on the posts surrounding the narrower second storey. It was quite cheerful, really. As if it were out of a child's storybook.
Agatha's thoughts about public nudity were shunted aside by the realization.
Talking ponies. Mythological creatures. The fairy tale nature of the land.
It really was as if she was in a young girl's fantasy. Well, not the ones she had had. They had involved gears and steam engines--
The interior of the dress shop more than matched the outside. Violets and purples dominated the colour scheme, including the drapes covering the arched ceiling from top to above the windows. The effect was akin to standing inside the royal pavillion of the House of Valois. Rococco gilt frames around the mirrors and the ornate designs about the changing screens enhanced the French motif. Or was it, in this world, Prance? As her Hassidic aquaintances back home might say: "Oy". Carousel ponies acted as dress dummies. Here and there were salon tables and racks of clothes. It was all much more haute couture than usual for Agatha. Lilith had usually sewn the family's clothes herself from bolts of cloth bought from the market.
With a flourish, a delicately-framed unicorn with a pearl-grey coat and limpid blue eyes stepped into the main room of the boutique. Her eyelashes and the flowing, curled purple mane and tail were a decided contrast to Agatha own tousled mane and stubborn cowlick. Oh, no. Was this another Zulenna? The shop owner's demeanour was far friendlier than the haughty princess of Holfung-Borzoi had been on first meeting. With a studied flourish--as an actress, Agatha recognized the signs of a dramatic performance--this Rarity waved a foreleg with grace at her sole customer.
"Welcome to the Carousel Boutique," Rarity said in a plummy British accent, "where every garment is chic, unique, and magnifique--OH DARLING, I'VE RESCUED YOU JUST IN TIME!"
Agatha yelped as an aura surrounded her, picked her up, and plopped her at a salon table.
"Spike! Tea and biscuits!" Rarity commanded, eyes full of concern. "Sit still, it will be alright. Rarity will take care of everything. What tragedies you must suffered!"
"I did fall in a river--"
"Shhh!" Rarity pressed a hoof to Agatha's lips. "Say no more. We will not discuss such painful horrors. No, there is only the future. I am sure Aloe and Lotus can accomodate you at the spa at short notice."
"Spa?" Agatha shook her head. "Frau Rarity, I have no money--"
"Don't speak of lucre, darling," Rarity said. "This is my duty! I cannot, will not let a fellow pony suffer!"
Behind her, scissors and curry combs and hair brushes rose into the air.
It was eerily similar to Der Kestle's personality fragment in the kitchen, levitating all manner of sharp objects to julienne the cook.
"First," Rarity said, eyes becoming blued steel, "your hair!"
The earth ponies of Applelachia were renowned for their skill at distillation. The product of the family still was never sold. It was made for those special occasions when a hoe-down needed a little extra buck. Each matriarch of a family had their own secret recipes, handed down from elder to filly. The specialty of the Apple Family of Ponyville was Granny Smith's Zap Apple Horse Liniment. Known ingredients of the mash included the year's best barrel of cider, molasses, zap apple jam, and literal moonshine. Granny's still was only fired up on nights when the wind was blowing away from the town.
Applejack tugged her Stetson lower over her eyes. She reckoned that Twi's insistence that Princess Celestia could only exist on a high pedestal, perfect and darn near holy, was a mite off the mark. It had been the Princess herself who had asked Applejack to bring a couple of mason jars of Granny's finest. Whoa nelly. That stuff certainly helped blow off the tension after that tussle with those nasty changeling critters. Worth having Chief Thunderhooves stampedin' through her brain. She was taking the slow way back home in the back of a hay wagon drawn by one of her cousins. Twi and Pinkie were taking the train home later in the day. Twilight because she was visiting her folks. Pinkie was sleeping off a cupcake eating contest with Princess Luna.
Some party. Last memory from that was her, Rarity, and Fluttershy singing-- Uh. Just like biting into an apple and seeing half a worm, Applejack realized that she'd been singing That Song that Granny always did whenever the fumes from the still made her more peculiar than usual. Applejack's understanding of certain things usually covered by taking a filly behind the barn and explaining that those dogs weren't fightin' had been expanded considerably.
Yup. Def'nitely a-goin' to Tartarus.
++++
Agatha had never expected her second day in another universe to include tending to a catatonic pegasus. Tea towel in her mouth, she flapped it at Fluttershy while Spike attended to brewing tea in the library's kitchen. A small retinue of woodland animals chafed the traumatized pony's hooves and chittered what appeared to be words of encouragement. They included three squirrels, a badger, two birds, and a white rabbit. The rabbit waved smelling salts by her muzzle with little effect.
Spike came out with a fine tea service that wouldn't have been out of place in Lilith's parlour. Strangely enough, the teapot and cups had curving handles better fit for human hands rather than hooves. Unicorns could levitate such objects with no problem, but it pointed to a human influence that was out of place in an equine world. Right out a children's book, indeed. The dragon poured a cup of a light herbal tea that smelled of spices and flowers. Fluttershy roused somewhat as the steam drifted past her nose. Her reaction was to flip her mane over her face and cower into a tiny ball.
"I should leave," Agatha said.
"Oh, don't leave on account of me," Fluttershy whispered. "I'll go into a corner and tremble in shame very quietly. I don't want to put you to any trouble."
"Had a bit...much, last night?" Agatha asked, mindful of times when student were rowdy in the streets after tavern-crawls.
"All I did was sniff the jar," Fluttershy said. "And then Applejack was singing, and I didn't want to be rude, and then I said all those words in front of everyone."
"It can't be that bad," Agatha said, stroking the girl's mane.
Fluttershy mumbled out two lines involving a platypus and an act of advanced contorsionism.
"Ha." Agatha tugged a non-existent collar. "Well, I once had to perform in a play involving amusingly oversized tools. My lines were recited out of context to prevent spontaneous combustion."
"You're a showmare?" Fluttershy peeked out from her pink locks. "You're so very brave. I couldn't imagine standing in front of everyone."
"The first time is the worst," Agatha said. "In my case, I thought someone in the audience would run out and stab me on stage."
"So how do you do it?" Fluttershy asked. "I was so clumsy when I was a filly that I hate performing in front of other ponies. My animal friends are more understanding."
"For me, it was losing myself in the story," Agatha said. "It helped I'd been reading Heterodyne B--Colts stories since I was a girl. The audience disappeared while I was in character."
"Listening to stories during sleepovers is fun," Fluttershy said. "But you must think I'm a terribly naughty mare for saying those things."
"I've heard worse," Agatha said.
"Oh, you couldn't have," Fluttershy said, cringing. "Begging your pardon, I don't mean to say I doubt you--"
Nothing for it.
Agatha repeated what she had heard her first time as Madame Olga.
"Um." Fluttershy cocked her head. "That's much worse."
"I know--" Agatha gulped. "Ah, Herr Spike--"
*FWOOSH*
"I don't have any idea what you were talking about," the little dragon said, the scroll burnt by his flame becoming a sparkling green mist. "Maybe the Princess or Twilight can explain it to me. Are the Heterodyne Colts stories any good? Never heard of them."
"You'll find them stimulating," Agatha said. "Unless you're too disturbed by thrilling tales of adventure, Fluttershy."
"I'll be brave." Fluttershy shuddered. "No dragons, please. Especially big, growly, hungry dragons."
"'The Heterodyne Colts and the Turbines of Atlantis' it is."
A creak came from above. Agatha glanced up at one of the windows high above. A cloud had obscured the light from that direction. Fine. She was under surveillance. Stubborn verdamnt flying irritant. Well, if she was going to introduce this world to the exploits of Bill and Barry, a library was most appropriate. Spike had quill and parchment ready to record her tale. Agatha wondered what sort of spell he had cast on the other parchment. Hopefully for all concerned it had been consumed utterly.
++++
Princess Celestia was in the midst of mid-day court when the scroll puffed into existence before her. Hmmm. As far as she knew, her most faithful student was still in Canterlot. Perhaps Spike had sent along a friendship report from one of the other Element Bearers of Harmony. With her usual tranquil smile, she unrolled the scroll.
Her ethereal mane exploded into a fair impression of a dandelion clock hit by lightning.
"TEA COZY? FORTY THREE HOURS? ONLY ONE SPOON?"
++++
"Mornin', Dash," Applejack said. "Ah don't suppose you've seen Fluttershy? Ah owe her one big--"
"Shutupshutupshutup!" Rainbow Dash said, head stuck through a library window. "She's getting to the good part!"
"What in tarnation are you talkin' about, sugarcube?"
"You've got to listen to this!"
"Whoa," Applejack said, after several minutes of eavesdropping. "Where did she come from?"
"New mare in town. Found her hanging around with Gilda." Dash rose up from her crowd. "And I wasn't here and listening to her! Still think she's evil."
"Dash always was a stubborn cuss," Applejack said, opening the library door to say howdy.
++++
*tock-tock-tock*
Agatha hid her unease of nails being pounded into her hooves. Applejack was a competent farrier. Well, it would make sense for a pony to know best how to shoe themselves! Still, the comparison with sharp metal objects smacked into a body part was disturbing. Agatha was not religious--at best, a vague Deist--but she had attended enough church services for certain comparisons to make her uneasy.
At least it was a chance to see a pony at work with tools. She watched the orange, freckled mare wield hammer and rasp in her mouth. Several nails were held between her teeth and tongued into place when needed. Every so often, Applejack would wipe her face with a rag. She balanced it on her hoof in a deft manner. Fine motions like this would take a lot of practice; simply turning a book's page was an exercise in mild frustration. Applejack's skill was a promise that Agatha really wouldn't have to resort to ye olde saw. That would be awkward. She would have to ask Rarity for help with the stitches.
The final nail was tapped home. Agatha tested out the second-hand horseshoes. It wasn't any more noticeable than wearing boots. She took a turn around the barnyard to check for any problems. All around her was the abundance of Applejack's farm. The mare had invited her to Sweet Apple Acres after apologizing to Fluttershy over her song choice from last night. The great orchards spread out over the fields and hills that dominated Applejack's property. Smaller only by comparison, gardens were planted with other crops doubtless intended for the table of the large barn-like farmhouse. Chickens pecked and pigs rooted in a sty.
Hmmm. Either ponies could stomach bacon, or else the swine were garbage disposal.
"Apple tart?" Applejack offered a treat balanced on a hoof. "Right out of Granny Smith's oven."
"Danke!"
"Donkey?" Applejack tipped back her slouch hat. "Where? Ah swear, if them mules are rustlin' from our trees--"
"Never mind." Agatha's taste buds danced in delight. "This as good as my mom's papanasi."
"That's home-cookin' for you," Applejack said. "Nothin' better'n hoof-made, Ah say. Nothing better'n hoof-made with Sweet Apple Acres apples."
"Ponyvillians seem to be so generous," Agatha said, licking her lips. "I'll pay you back any way I can."
"Shucks, weren't nothing," Applejack said. "Couple of mah old shoes, is all. What the hay, I count bits more'n anyone Ah know. That don't mean you have to be stingy. Kindness paid is kindness returned. We could use another mechanic 'round here."
"I suppose this is a good enough place to stay," Agatha said, looking around the landscape. "I'm used to small towns. I spent most of my life in Beetleburg."
"Big cities mean big problems," Applejack replied, with the certainty of one who's found her place in the world. "Now, Ah ain't speaking against city-folk. Takes all sorts. All Ah know is that places like Manehatten are lonely for a single pony trying to make her way in the world."
"I'm less lonely with each hour I spend here," Agatha said.
"Mmmmhmmmm." Applejack munched an apple. "Hear you're staying with Gilda. Don't like folk who cause problems."
"I insisted that she be on her best behavior." Agatha's tail drooped. "She showed me hospitality, Applejack. She took me flying. I owe her."
"Mebbe you're her second chance." Applejack flicked her tail at a cloud lurking behind a nearby hill. "Mebbe there's someponies who want her to have one. Time'll tell. Tell you what--mah lil' sister Apple Bloom's coming home on the train. She's fixing to be a right good carpenter, if she ever listens to herself. You spend some time with her--"
"I will do my best," Agatha said.
Applejack nudged over a bright red toolbox. Inside were used tools, though cared-for. Most of them were for carpentry. She tugged out an adjustable spanner with her mouth. The taste of metal wasn't too bad. Placing a nut and bolt on the ground, she carefully set the span of the head with her tongue on the screw adjuster. Ach, this would take weeks to get used to! She be as much Apple Bloom's apprentice as teacher. Once she learned how to use tools--more specifically, the fine ones used in clockwork--she could make her little helpers again. In the meantime, she could earn bits through performing plays or playing the piano. Time with Master Payne's Circus had taught her that small rural towns were starved for entertainment.
I had a castle.
Agatha dropped the wrench. I had a town and a title and a destiny. Now? What do I have? Yes, these ponies are friendly. But they don't need me. The ones who do are across an unimaginable gulf. By the time I managed to learn enough magic or science to return--if I even do--then either Lucrezia will have won or the Baron will have destroyed the town. They're dead. They're dead because I failed and I've lost and what is there for me here? A life eking out a career of fixing farm machinery. Or worse: I succeed as only a Spark can do. This is a peaceful land. Othar said all of Europa's troubles came from Sparks. Europa was used to centuries of warfare. If I go bad or lose control of an experiment, these ponies will have no idea of what horrors I can unleash upon them. It's all gone wrong. Mein Gott! She had forgotten about Lucrezia. The pressure of her mother within her was gone. If there was the slightest chance Mother was in there and escaped--
A great form embraced Agatha with one leg pressing her close. Agatha leaned in against him, as she had against Adam that last day they had been together. Adam and Lilith had held her in a circle of warmth and strength and silent love. Blinking away the tears, she stared up at the shaggy red stallion who stood beside her. He was far taller than any other pony she had ever seen. He wore the heavy yoke around his neck as if it were a cravat. His embrace wasn't intimate. It was comforting--the comfort of someone offering succour to a stranger. On any other day, Agatha would have flushed and stammered at such improper conduct with a naked--
--shut up, you wittering idiot, he's a horse just like you are now--
Agatha relaxed.
She wasn't alone.
+++
"Y'alright, big brother?" Applejack asked.
Big Macintosh puzzled the straw between his teeth.
"Eeeeyup."
"New mare headed off?"
"Eeeeeyup."
"Ah wish she wasn't palling around with that griffon. Well, long as that troublemaker don't bother Apple Bloom or the town, Ah'll live with it."
"Eeeeeyup."
"You really alright, Big Mac?" Applejack squinted at him.
The red stallion stared down the road at the dust raised by a newly-shod pony.
"Purty."
Twilight Sparkle allowed herself a glow of pride as a pegasus guard escorted her into Her Radiant Majesty's private chambers. Princess Celestia must have had so much to do in the wake of the changeling attack. Yet she had taken time to invite her most faithful student for afternoon tea. Twilight had cherished that privilege in the time she had lived in Canterlot Castle. To think that Celestia would give her such attention when she obviously had much more important matters to attend with. Twilight had vowed with each visit that she never, ever fail her sovereign.
Celestia's inner sanctum was more subdued than one might expect of the Sun-Mare. Twilight had wondered about that while under her tutelage. After the defeat of Night Mare Moon, Twilight had an inkling of why the princess' apartments were in subdued violets and blues. A thousand years was a long time to wait for a beloved, angry sibling to return. The only bright colour was the golden bolster at the head of pillow-couch where Celestia sat. A plum pillow was at its foot. The tea service was set. Twilight sat down with her beloved ruler and teacher.
By one of Celestia's hooves was one of the parchment scrolls which bore Spike's messages.
--don't be foalish, this wasn't a sign that she had done anything wrong--
"My most faithful student," the Princess said, her ethereal mane waving as if in a breeze, "you have grown so much since I sent you to Ponyville."
"I've learned a lot," Twilight said, horn lighting up to pour a cup for the Princess. "I don't know if I'll ever finish my studies of the magic of friendship."
"It takes a lifetime," Celestia said. "Even I have never finished my own studies."
"Don't be silly, you must know everything." Twilight choked on a mouthful of tea. "Aheh. Not that I'm contradicting you. I'd never do that."
"At heart, Twilight, I am a pony like any other." Celestia coughed delicately into one wing. "And as a pony, I understand when fillies become mares. They might become involved in advanced studies of friendship."
Twilight had to be wrong. It looked at if Celestia glanced at the scroll with disquiet.
Oh, no! Spike has sent a secret report and somehow, some way, Twilight had been a bad pony!
"Very advanced." Was Celestia-- She was blushing. "Experiments."
"Experiments?" Twilight gasped. "Oh! Sorry, your highness. You're talking about sex. I know all about that."
"You do." Celestia smiled faintly. A tiny, aristocratic drop of sweat appeared below her tiara.
"Sure. Health class was a mandated subject in school." Twilight frowned. "Although the teacher assigned talked about blossoming flowers and bees. I had to do extensive research on my own to find out anything useful."
"Was it practical in nature?" Celestia asked.
"Well, practical meant dating, which was such a waste of time," Twilight continued. "I was thinking of using the Want It Need It spell to skip right over that part. But it felt like cheating, so I stayed with the theoretical."
"Like this?" Celestia edged the scroll over to Twilight. "Perhaps young Spike found your research notes by accident."
Twilight opened the scroll.
Um.
She narrowed her eyes. That wasn't right at all. By instinct, Twilight's magic reached for parchment and quill. The nib scribbled equations and anatomical diagrams. Half-hidden under the bolster was a small book with a plain brown cover. Ah! Twilight had read that one: Harlequin's Helpful Hints on Horseplay and Harlotry. Getting access to that section of the Canterlot Castle library hadn't been easy; it had taken a teensy fudge of the facts to explain that Celestia wanted her personal student to study biology to budge the librarians. For some reason this copy had a small red bow stuck to the spine. Twilight tossed it aside as she flipped to Exercise 37, Plates 6A-7C (In Colour).
How silly! Celestia wouldn't lower herself to talking about mating with Twilight. This was clearly a cover for a far more disturbing situation. Quills blurred while Twilight furiously worked out her proof in detail. Complete with diagrams, of course. A task set before her by Celestia couldn't be done without meticulous, perfect work. Proudly, Twilight laid out her analysis out before Princess Celestia.
"You must have spotted it yourself, your highness," Twilight said. "We may have a spy."
"A spy?"
"Sure. Look at this." Twilight summoned a wooden pointer. "See? What Spike described is impossible for an equiniform."
"A relief to us all," Celestia said.
"Yeah, a pony would need a full tea set, five spoons, a strainer ball, and an oven mitt along with the tea cozy."
"And you provided detailed illustrations," Celestia said, gaze flicking over same.
"To pull of this," Twilight said, tapping at Spike's message, "you'd have to be--um, I think the closest would be a minotaur. Spike didn't mention anyone exotic, so that means whoever described it looked like a pony."
"I see." A stern expression drifted over Celestia's features. "Twilight, I charge you with investigating this situation."
"I won't fail you!" Twilight said. "Should I take along some of the Royal Guard?"
"It would not do to be hasty." Celestia inclined her head to her subject. "Twilight, have I ever told you that among all I have known for my long life, you are among the most unique minds I have ever encountered?"
"I don't know what to say." Twilight blushed.
"Oh yes. So very...singular...indeed."
++++
Nigh-immortal alicorn rulers have unusual entries in their appointment books.
Such as "Expected Apocalypses."
A quill hovered over "Twilight Sparkle Discovers Mating" and scratched it out.
Phew.
++++
The locomotive's whistle blew as it pulled out of Canterlot Station. Twilight closed the door of the private cabin she had taken for the trip to Ponyville. It was a luxury that usually she would only have used for a long overnight trip. She wanted the privacy, though. And, of course, it was the Princess' bits that was paying for it. All on official business, of course.
Twilight spread out the reports Spike had sent to the Princess after she had asked where he had heard about the Tea Cozy Technique. Huh. Well, it couldn't be a changeling missed by Shining Armor and Cadence's banishment spell. As Twilight knew all too well, changelings were scarily-good mimics. Clumsy, obvious foreign accent, stories about heroes who weren't part of Germane folklore: not what a spy would do to fit in. She hadn't had the smoothest approach if this "mare" were trying to sneak out information on transdimensional harmonics and aetheric manifold transforms.
What the hay? Twilight re-read that. That was advanced. Extremely advanced. It was at the gleaming tip of unicorn magical theory. Actually, it was the subject of a dissertation Twilight had been plugging away at for years, and she really really had to meet this mare. Darn it, no! Focus! This was a huge clue! Maybe not a spy. Maybe it was a refugee from somewhere else--inside, Little Twilight was backflipping in glee at the idea--who had cast a transformative spell to appear like a pony. Or it might be a glamour.
She couldn't assume this mare-whatever was a threat. She might need their help, instead. That changed everything. Should she tell the other girls? It was a huge secret. This mare might be ashamed of the situation. Twilight steepled her hooves. No. This needed finesses. This needed delicacy. This needed a light diplomatic touch.
Her cabin door slid open.
"The last cream-cheese-icing-and-hot-sauce cupcake," said Pinkie Pie, still dealing with cake overload, "was my doom-- Ooo! Someone new in Ponyville! Let me get my party cannon! Woo hoo!"
This was doomed before it started, wasn't it?
++++
"Lodging won't be a problem," the Mayor said. "We're always glad when somepony wants to settle here. For a day or for life, it doesn't matter."
"Again, I have no money," Agatha said. "I don't even have a job."
"We have a few tents the town uses," Mayor Mare said, "for festivals. I'll have one of our smaller ones set up in the park."
The tan-coated older pony turned to talk with a functionary while Agatha finished nailing her notice for piano lessons--"piano must be supplied"--on a public notice board at Ponyville's rathaus. The town hall was impressive for a small community: a three-storey tower with the air of an estate's garden gazebo. It was of a piece with the whimsy of this world. Sitting down on the circular balcony, Agatha munched a golden delicious from Sweet Apple Acres as she watched the ponies at their business.
She could live here.
It was a terrible thought. It was a betrayal of everyone at home. She wouldn't stop searching until she were sure--absolutely sure--there was no way back. But she could live here and be happy. No great destiny, no enraged tyrants seeking her death. A house of her own, a small dungeon dug underneath for experimental purposes. She would have to control her Spark very, very carefully. If tranquility was so prevalent, then the ruling princesses must have considerable powers to ensure there was no threat. Although Agatha hoped they wouldn't mind some free civic improvements. Applejack had warned her about the Everfree Forest south of town. Honestly, not even any defensive walls?
Her ears perked at the sound of a steam engine. Tossing the apple core into a public rubbish basket--er, make at missing, then picking it up with her mouth to drop it in--Agatha trotted over to the train depot. The afternoon train had pulled into the town's neat little station. The train with its 4-4-0 locomotive and its toy-like carriages weren't the armor-plated affairs run by the Corbetite Monks of Europa. Imagine--not even any machine-guns! Passengers were often asked to man weapons stations if a guard-monk on a Europan train was injured at their duty.
Oh, so it did have a cannon. Agatha saw a primitive muzzle loader being wheeled out out and pointed right at her.
Two months of hell-on-Earth training and two days in Castle Heterodyne had honed her combat instincts to a fine edge. Agatha blurred past the shot which--glittered?--as it missed her. There was a surprised "oof" when a back hoof rammed the gunner in the flank. A swipe with her right hoof sent the attacker right across the station platform. Her left was already raised in a blow that could cripple or kill when-- A party favour blew in her face. Agatha looked down into the terrified blue eyes of a mare whose pink coat could not be found in any natural colour wheel. A bouncy pink mane deflated with an audible hiss to become almost flat.
"Surprise!" the pink mare squeaked as if she has inhaled an airship's gas cell's worth of helium. "Welcome to Ponyville."
The mare twirled a rattler and grinned nervously.
"Please don't kill me?"
++++
Bored.
Boring.
So very bored.
All this mare was doing was sitting around Ponyville. She could at least finish that story.
Great--Pinkie Pie was back. Hah, newbie gets a Party Cannon to the face. That never got old.
BOOM!
Rainbow's wings flared when she saw Pinkie fall beneath Agatha's rush.
"I KNEW IT! I'M COMING TO SAVE YOU, PINKIE!"
Scissors snipped.
Combs teased out knots and tangles.
*SPROING*
A cowlick sprang back, marring the perfection.
++++
*SSSSSS*
Agatha coughed as several pressurized cans sprayed a substance which solidified her mane into a style akin to one of the Zumzum Town Guard's helmets.
*SPROING*
++++
Rarity removed the last of the curlers, revealing a flowing cascade of curls which--
*SPROING*
"Grrrrrrrrr."
++++
"Is that a Vohlman Class Three Resurrection Circuit?" Agatha asked
"Now just sit still," Rarity said, attaching several alligator clips, "while Spike plugs this into the lightning rod. We'll have the pegasi summon a teensy little lightning storm so this WILL NOT DEFEAT ME--"
Agatha had spent enough time around Sparks--and herself--to spot certain telltale warning signs.
"Hold it."
+++
Before her time with the circus, Agatha had never paid much attention to primping rituals. Cosmetics were verboten. Only the lowest class of jezebels would use such things, according to the rigid dictat of Lilith. Agatha herself was usually too busy rushing to class to do more than a token pass with the hair brush. Even her experience on stage had been with quick, deft applications of lip rouge and blush between scene changes. So lying on a fainting couch in the middle of the Carousel Boutique was rather decadent. Three of her hooves were immersed in green liquid, while Spike worked away at a fourth with a farrier's file. Lime wedges had been placed beneath each eye. Her mane and tail were bound up in towels. Her coat had been brushed into a lustrous gloss.
Rarity herself was in the midst of what she called Her Art. Bolts of fabric were draped over the dress dummy horses. Quill and parchment floated in mid-air as Rarity drew tens of sketches. It was very much like Agatha's own idle doodling at the start of a project. Nothing concrete. Nothing settled. Simply the brain buzzing on the cusp of the Madness Place, idly doodling out a gearbox design or steam-powered ballista. Rarity was quite like a Spark in that way. In others, too. Every so often she draw a cowlick being attacked by ever more emphatic methods of hairdressing--including sickles and axes--until a harrumph from Agatha derailed that train of thought. It appeared talking pony fashion designers had a certain obsessiveness shared with the mad rulers of Europa.
"Oh, I see several possibilities," Rarity said, floating a tape measure over. "Such a robust earth pony physique. Enough of a barrel to be substantial, with an underlying tone to your muscles to lend definition. It would be so boring if everyone was like moi."
"I had a determined personal trainer," Agatha said, submitting to the scrutiny of a floating tape measure. "And dodging rotary cannon fire burns off the calories."
"I've never heard of that exercise routine," Rarity said.
"It's specialized."
"For you, muted yet rich colours." Rarity whipped off the towels, revealing a mane and tail combed into flowing glory. "Magnifique! Yes, you are most definitely an autumn. Lawn green, perhaps we might risk a seafoam for formal outfits. Yet simple must be our watchword."
"You are very perceptive, Frau Rarity," Agatha said.
"It's your hooves," the unicorn explained. "You work with them. There's a--I hesitate to use the word, no offense intended--coarseness to them that is distinctive. It is common among earth ponies. Not that one must sacrifice sophistication over function!"
"I'm a mechanic," Agatha said. "Frills and such are dangerous when one is deep in the guts of a machine."
"With the--" Rarity's right eye twitched. "Grease. And oil. And--"
"Rarity? Deep calming breaths," Spike said.
"Of course." Rarity reared back. "I-DEEE-AAAAAH! Inspiration comes! Oh, you will adore it, darling.'
"You're quite good at that," Agatha said to the dragon. "Are you a trained minion?"
"Twilight'll love that. 'My number one minion'." Spike smiled ruefully. "She's my adoptive big sister and head librarian over at the Books and Branches. She can also get a little bit twitchy--"
"Say no more," Agatha said. "I've been a minion myself."
Head librarian? That would be most useful. Agatha had been musing about her predicament in between MEIN GOTT NAKED thoughts. What had happened to her was not possible even under the scope of SCIENCE! Transmission of consciousness across the barriers separating universes? Just on the edge of probability, given what she suspected may be the mechanism behind Lucrezia's summoning engine. Time was technically a dimension. But energy-to-matter transformation that could create a complex host body for that consciousness out of thin air? That had to be magic. At least, it was the most likely cause Agatha could think of. If magic were as studied here as SCIENCE! back home, then there was a chance she could return there.
If her friends weren't already dead or wasped or on the run--
Tarvek would have really liked Rarity.
A triumphant shout brought Agatha out of her funk. Rarity gestured at a carousel horse with the aplomb of Master Payne performing one of his grand tricks. Sweet lightning--in her own field, the elegant unicorn was a genius worthy of comparison with any great Spark. The outfit posed on the dummy had the slightly rough appearance of a prototype model. Yet it fulfilled the unicorn mare's promise of fashion and function. The green boiler suit offered coverage from the tops of her hindhooves to halfway down her forelegs. Dozens of pockets with flaps secured with snap-closures offered storage space without being safety risks. Integral bandoliers around chest and flanks and a belt around the midsection were hoofy places to keep tools for immediate use. What appeared to be leather patches were actually some sort of analogue that reinforced key areas. A matching flat cap with a trilobite badge embroidered in gold completed the ensemble.
"Ta-dah!" Rarity winked. "What do you think, darling?"
"SQUEEEEE!"
"Of course you're delighted," Rarity said. "Now, fabric choice will be a challenge. I've never worked in this area of design. Oh, this will be fun. There has to be a balance between strength, stain resistance, and freedom of movement. And it must breathe, you have such a lovely coat that it would be a crime for it to suffer a rash."
"I can't accept this, Frau Rarity," Agatha said. "I have no money."
"Tut! What is money when it comes to art?" Rarity flipped her mane. "I charge my elite customers many bits so that I may have the resources for those in need. Why, this might even be the start of entirely new line: Smart Clothes for The Working Pony!"
"Ooooo." Agatha's smiled of delight widened in a way that would have sent any of those who knew her scurrying for safety. "Do you do...labcoats? "
"I do now!" Rarity's grin widened in a way that definitely sent Spike backing away.
"We must start immediately," Agatha said, mind whirling at the potential intersection between textiles and chemistry. "Together, we shall shatter the bounds of fabric design. Nopony knows what will be wrought-- "
*DING DONG*
"Pardon me, mail calleth." Rarity opened the door. "Why, Derpy, what have you brought me today?"
There was a brief scream as dozens of scrolls buried her alive.
"Rarity? Speak to me!" Spike frantically dug the unicorn free.
"Ptooo." Rarity spat out a rolled parchment. "Ah, it seems that I've solicited a few more commissions at the wedding last night than I expected."
Rarity's ears drooped as she took in the sheer number of orders, and the rough work awaiting her attention on the dress dummy.
"I can do this." Her voice lacked sparkle. "It make take some--oh, this is so much, Fancy Pants wants an entire ensemble for Fleur--"
"Not again," Spike said, wincing.
"It's fine, Rarity." Agatha laid a reassuring hoof on one pearl-grey shoulder. "Attend to your paying customers. My outfit can wait."
"I'd hate to disappoint you." Rarity's eyes had shrunk to pin-points. "I really really would."
"I came here nervous and terrified," Agatha said. "I'm leaving calmer than I've been in a long time. I'm leaving your shop having found a new friend."
+++
Agatha studied the exterior of the Carousel Boutique as the sound of a sewing machine running at high speed came through the windows.
Sewing machines. Gears. Steam engines. Pascal's work on automated weaving machinery.
A complex hum escaped her lips.
"You were pretty good in there yourself," Spike said, interrupting her reverie. "Rarity's the most generous mare I know. That's got her in trouble at times when she promises too much."
"I've been known to do the same myself," Agatha said. "Perhaps you could assist me. Do you have any books in your archives on Equestrian textile technology?"
"Warp and Weft: A Loom Compendium, " Spike replied a split second later. "I am Twilight Sparkle's number one minion. Any reference you need, I'm your dragon."
"Excellent," Agatha said. "Now, do you have any information on transdimensional harmonics and spontaneous teleportation in regards to aetheric manifold transforms?"
"Uh." Spike paused. "I might have to send out to Canterlot for an inter-library loan. Or check Twilight's personal collection--"
*THUD*
Dust rose several meters away. Out of it came an equine form with a polychromatic mane, ruffled wingfeathers, and a blackened left eye.
Oh, dear. It seemed Rainbow Dash and Gilda had decided to resolve their differences with what appeared to be an emphatic approach to reason and tolerance.
"HEY YOU!" The pegasus snorted and stomped her hooves. "Gilda's friend! I've got my eye on you too! Don't even think of trying anything in my town!"
++++
Agatha had lived under a cloud for most of her life. Her reputation for clumsy ineptitude had been legendary at Transylvania Polygnostic. This was the first time that the cloud had been literal. Rainbow Dash followed them on a small cumulus that hovered a few meters above the rooftops. The suspicious pegasus had somehow found a pair of field glasses, and for some reason had applied brown-and-green streaks of war paint on her face. None of the other residents of Ponyville gave her antics much notice beyond a few puzzled glances. Agatha herself had earned some whispered comments of disapproval. Lovely. Gilda had not made many friends here.
"Will you do something evil already? I'm getting bored up here."
Note to self: develop anti-air cannon at earliest opportunity.
Her draconic guide seemed to take it all in stride. Either he was more trusting than the others, or Agatha's behavior towards Rarity had offset Rainbow Dash's accusation. He lead her to the library with no obvious concern. Up close, the Books and Branches was even more impressive. The tree-house's balconies and windows seemed to have been grown into place rather than added by saw and hammer. There were few examples of such exacting arboritecture in Europa. Magic must be especially suited for working with organic materials. Had an existing tree been reshaped? Or was this the work of decades of attention, growing it from an acorn?
Opening a door emblazoned with a lit candlestick, Spike ushered her into the main room of the library. Charming! The circular reading room occupied most of the space within the trunk. Shelves full of books lined every available wall-space; they clearly were part of the library's structure rather than hollowed out. Most of the furniture rose out of the wooden floor. A large over-sized knight's chess piece occupied pride of place at a table in the center. Stairs projecting from the inner surface of the trunk lead up to what seemed to be the librarian's personal quarters on the second floor.
"Warp and Weft ," Spike said, climbing a ladder up to a high shelf. "We also have a copy of the Steers and Roebuck catalog in Circulars, if you want to order tools. I don't think Twilight will mind if you look at her scientific supplies catalog."
"Your mistress sounds like quite the intellectual," Agatha said. "Excuse me for asking, but why did she come to this village?"
"Oh, Princess Celestia ordered her," Spike said. "You probably heard the story of how they banished Night Mare Moon from Princess Luna. Part of the plan was for Twilight to study the magic of friendship. It's how she ended up meeting the others."
Agatha pondered this.
"It took a direct order from the sovereign of this country," Agatha finally said, "to conduct a formal scientific study of friendship for her to engage in social interaction?"
"Aheh." Spike ran claws through his spines. "Twilight's focused on her studies. Really, really focused."
"Mmmm. Like Rarity and tiny flaws?" Agatha regarded the books. "I see your mistress has everything carefully organized."
"Reshelving Day is the highlight of each month." Spike shook his head. "She's loosened up since she came here two years ago, though."
"I had a lot of trouble making friends," Agatha said. "In my case, we moved around a lot. And I was considered a freak and failure."
"Because you don't have a cutie mark?" Spike asked. "Ponies are usually friendly. They can get scared of the out-of-the-ordinary. Ask Zecora about that."
"My Equestrian is still limited." She hoped this would work. "Could you tell me what a cutie mark is?"
"I know there's words for it in Germane and Maregyar," Spike said, taken aback. "You know--the symbol that appears on a pony's flank whenever he or she finds out their special talent or passion?"
"Ah." Agatha touched the golden sigil at her throat. "Then this is where my 'cutie mark' appeared."
"A cuttlefish?"
"It's a trilobite," Agatha explained. "It's the symbol of my family. It represents the legacy of my father and uncle. Everything I've suffered, and everything I will overcome."
"All that by one bug," Spike said, examining her mark with renewed interest. "By the way, are you going to be staying in Ponyville? It'd be great if Twilight had another school-pony to talk with."
"You're not concerned that I may be an agent," Agatha said, "of a devious plot by Gilda to take over Ponyville?"
"That's Dash for you. She can hold a grudge." Spike shrugged. "She's probably also keyed up from the fight against the alien horrors that tried to psychically eat Equestria-- Ooops, gotta go, I had to leave Fluttershy here when we brought her back."
Alien horrors?
Circulars was in a second room off the main chamber. Agatha flipped through stacks of back issues of the Ponyville Express . The most recent edition revealed that creatures called changelings had attempted an invasion at a royal wedding. Posed on the front page as the local heroes who had aided in the defense were six mares. Rainbow Dash posed self-importantly hovering above them, forelegs cocked to show off her muscles. Aggressive and a braggart, it seemed. But this Dash and her friends were clearly heroes. Flip. "Parasprite Invasion, Local Baker Saves Town with Music". Flip. "Local Mares Negotiate With Sleeping Dragon". Flip. "Discord Sealed Away by Elements of Harmony". Flip. Two things became clear. One, Twilight Sparkle and her circle were incredibly important. Two, she needed to add some defensive measures to the planned renovations of the Carousel Boutique.
Equestria was a bit more like home than she had thought.
Hooves clip-clopped down stairs. Agatha looked out through the doorway Spike was helping a much-worse-for-the-wear mare down from the bedroom at the library's second story. She was one of the ponies in the group picture--the one hiding behind her long mane. Red fire, she was the most adorable creature Agatha had ever seen. Her mane and tail were a pale pink, with her main coat the yellow of a buttercup. Three butterflies fluttered on her rear flanks. Ah--this must be "Fluttershy". Appropriate name. Agatha wondered what her talent was. Leptidopterist? Or was it metaphorical? Rarity's three diamonds hadn't steered her into a life as a jeweler.
The brave mare must have suffered a terrible shock in the--
"The song," she said in a voice barely louder than a butterfly's flapping wings. "I sang the song in front of everyone."
Limpid blue eyes suffused with existential horror gazed at Agatha.
"Even the verse with the platypus."
Fluttershy fell over on her right side, cataleptic, with a goat-like bleat.
