All My Chess Pieces

Applejack holds tight to her boyfriend Trenderhoof's hand as they walk through the castle gardens. It's one of their typical Sunday dates, and if Applejack wasn't Applejack, she'd be enjoying it.

"Are you okay?" He asks.

"Huh?" Applejack asks.

"You seem a little... tense," he says.

"Oh," she responds, "I guess it's just the Republic's getting stronger."

Trender stops walking. "Well, I know what you need to de-stress," he says in a flirty voice.

"And what's that?" Applejack says in what she hopes is a convincing and equally flirty voice.

Trender smiles, leans in, and presses his lips to hers, wrapping his arms around her waist. Applejack smiles and kisses him back, winding her arms around his neck. It's a picture-perfect sappy love story at its best. If it was another girl kissing Trender, and Applejack took a picture, she would have said that they were a perfect couple, the epitome of love.

But pictures only reveal so much.

When people ask her about Trender, she always says she needs him. They ooh and ah over this answer, but they don't know how literal and how far from what they think the meaning is. She can't tell a lie. She can't say she loves him. She doesn't love him, desire him, or even like him, but she does need him. She needs to feel wanted and loved. She needs to know that people feel for her, even though she's incapable of feeling even the slightest emotion towards anyone but herself.

"I love you," Trender murmurs against her lips.

She smiles and kisses him harder. He never seems to notice that she's never once told him that she loves him back. As mentioned, she can't tell a lie.

And elsewhere in the same castle, Rainbow dances around her room for the first time in years. She has music turned up and her windows open. She picks up a picture of her and Flash and whips it out the window as she spins around. The picture flies out the window and lands in a pile of Flash memorabilia already thrown out the window. Rainbow whips an assortment of other objects out the window too. Gifts, pictures, memories, all thrown out her window. She hasn't felt this happy in far too long.

She keeps digging through her stuff, looking for more things to throw out, when she notices the picture. She thinks it's a picture of her and Flash until she lifts it up. When she does, her smile fades. She stares at the picture for a long while before angrily chucking it at the wall.

And very far away in the Republic, Fluttershy sits in the ground, leaning into Mac's shoulder.

"I'm a bad friend, aren't I," she says.

"What makes you say that?"

"I still haven't found Rarity! I mean, she's my best friend, and I still haven't found her! I'm a terrible friend!"

Mac turns to face her and grips her shoulders, "Don't say that. I mean, Don't you know how great you are? You're soft and sweet and gentle and you're like a fairy in a way. All graceful and flowy and filled with light. You light up the lives of everyone you know. Flutter, you light up my life. You're perfect and amazing and you're like an angel that's too good for this dirty world."

Fluttershy giggles, "That's sweet. You really think so?"

"I do!" Mac says.

Flutter looks in his eyes for any trace of a lie, but she only sees pure truth and honest belief. She lucky, she thinks, to have such an amazing friend.

She lies back down on his shoulder and hums contentedly, "Thank you."

And elsewhere in the Republic, Soarin' sits on his bed holding a picture in his hand, staring at it. It's his favorite picture, and he looks at it almost every day. It's of her. Rainbow. The first and last girl he will ever love. He took this particular picture. It's of one of their many dates to the fro-yo place near her house. In it, she's wrinkling her nose, her tongues stuck out at him, her brown eyes twinkling playfully. God, he misses her. But he knows in his heart that she doesn't miss him and that hurts him all the more.

He remembers every detail of their relationship. He'd first met her when she was trying out for the Wonderbolts, Equestria's national track team. She'd gotten in to the team, and he'd immediately liked her. He'd like her spunk, her fire, her determination, everything. He'd finally kissed her after they'd won the international championship, and they'd started dating. He remembers buying an apartment together and having a blast living together. And of course, Soarin' remembers the decline of their relationship. He remembers his many nights coming home late and drunk. Her remembers the night she got fed up with him and kicked him out. He remembers missing her every day after.

And so Soarin' lets himself dream. Dream of her. He fingers the picture. He has it on him at all times. It's a picture of a dream. A dream that will never be reality. He know it isn't healthy to hang on to a dream. A memory, but he can't persuade himself to look at any of the girls in the Republic.

He's tried. He's tried so hard. He'll romance a new girl practically every day, trying to convince himself that he could love this girl if he tried. He tries, and when he fails, he tries harder, kisses her harder, romances her harder. And every time he does, he is numb, and he pushes it all the way until the next morning, he'll wake with a girl in his bed and a numbness in his heart.

The playboy of the Republic. That's what they call him these days. The girls are all warned to stay from him, but each one takes a look at his blue eyes and his black hair and falls right into his arms. They all do. If only Rainbow would fall the way they all do.

"Soarin'?"

Soarin' turns to look, thinking for one ridiculous moment that it's Rainbow calling for him, but it isn't. It's Fluttershy. Soarin' tries not to feel disappointed.

Fluttershy's eyes drop down to the picture in his hands, and he hastily stuffs it in his pocket. She looks up at him with a pitiful look. Sam clenches his fists. He can't stand that look. He hates her pity

"What did you need?" He asks, a bit harsher than he needed.

"Oh yeah," Fluttershy says, "Luna wants to see us."

Soarin' sighs, pats his pocket to make sure that the picture is in there, and follows Fluttershy out the door.

And once again, in Celestia's castle, Twilight lies in the floor of a cellar, covered in bruises.

"This is what happens when you disappoint me, Twilight," Celestia says, bringing her hand down on Twilight's cheek again, "I asked you to capture this new murderer that's been killing Empire soldiers weeks ago."

"I'm sorry!" Twilight squeaks, "Just give me one more chance! I won't fail again!"

Celestia stops hitting Twilight and smiles gently, "I'm a merciful person. You have one week."

Twilight sighs in relief, "Thank you!"

Celestia bends down to kiss Twilight, "Don't fail me."

Twilight practically skips out if the cellar, giddy form the kiss. The minute she's out, she starts calling her best men in her communicator to organize troops.

She must catch and kill this murderer. She's the woman for the job, she knows it. Why? Because, Twilight knows this murderer better than anyone. Yes, Twilight knows well, very well. This murderer is Rarity Belle.