Prance

by scifipony

Rating: everyone
Tags: Fluttershy, Slice of Life, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Original Character
Length: 6030

On a bright spring day in Manehatten, Fluttershy taught me that if you put yourself out and do an extraordinary thing, extraordinary things happen to you.

On a bright spring day in Manehatten, Fluttershy taught me that if you put yourself out and do an extraordinary thing, extraordinary things happen to you.

Contains minor spoilers for Sunset Shimmer Goes to Hell, but can be read standalone.

The magazine in the cover art is from the My Little Pony Collectible Poster Book.

Published 2017-04-13 02:20:01 UTC
Last updated 2017-04-13 02:20:01 UTC

The Power in Kindness

My life turned out to be nothing like I'd planned back when I'd been a 10-year-old foal. Back before I'd entered Celestia's School for Gifted Unicorns, I'd imagined I'd grow up to enter the Fillydelphia Constabulary like my father, but then I literally and figuratively traveled to hell and back. Multiple times. That kind of horse apples changes your perspective. Add that I lost both my family and a friend along the way in the worst of circumstances and you'd agree it changes... everything. My mistrust of all who contributed to the situation prompted me to make unplanned decisions. I made do. I made the best of my talents. I survived and found joy in what I could.

Like today. Spring in Manehattan. Bright sun shining down the valleys made by the buildings. Brisk, not humid. Every pony uncharacteristically pleasant. Can't get much better unless you find a gold bit on the sidewalk.

"Even you feel it, don't you, Sachet?" I asked my Siamese cat who deigned to purr from his perch on my back as I trotted down Fifth Avenue.

He replied with a half-hearted snooty hiss.

I was on my way to an interview with an "unspecified" celebrity. As a fashion reporter, that happens more often than you'd think. Designers like Eve Laurel N, Westwood, Rarity, Low Rent, and the up and coming Coco Pommel wanted to control their contact with the public carefully. Top models were notoriously secretive so as not to tip off paparazzi who essentially stole their likeness to make a bit. Having been raised in Canterlot, I had met real celebrities; popular culture produced nothing as real as the ponies who protected Equestria from the very real dangers of which most ponies remained oblivious. In the face of a stable of pandering auteurs, my neutral attitude made me the freshest voice and the most in-demand stringer on the fashion beat, despite being two years out of school. I saw them as regular ponies with an unusual business or a job, and treated them like—gasp—normal folk. Most liked that. A lot.

It paid the bills and helped me establish myself as a young stallion in expensive Manehatten, far away from the bad memories of my past. I might not be reporting real news, but I had my reasons to be happy with the small bite I took from the Big Apple. The hoof traffic was light. The sidewalk cafés bustled with the late breakfast crowd; whiffs of coffee and cocoa filled the air. I smiled and began to whistle.

"Oh my!" cried a sweet voice. "Aren't you the most precious little prince!" A lithe yellow mare trotted up from behind me, her hooves barely making a (dainty) clatter as she paced me. I saw a large elegant sunhat that shadowed a face hidden by exceptionally large, round rhinestone sunglasses.

Had I had a physical whistle, I'd have inhaled it. As it was, I coughed and looked in surprise as I came to a halt.

The pegasus halted also, her wings fanning upward. She was as tall as I. Her luxurious pink mane and tail waved in the breeze. And she nuzzled—

My cat!

Surprisingly, Sachet touched his black nose with the mare's muzzle. He ramped up his purr to a startlingly loud roar. His eyes closed in bliss, then a blue almond-shaped eye popped open for an instant to regard me as if to say, "You ruin this moment, I'll scratch you where it hurts most."

She wore a gauzy green dress with white-lace details about her neck. Tiny, understated diamonds dotted the hems, as if diamonds could understate anything, even as they implied a wave of air passing over a beautiful green dewy meadow at dawn. Something, undoubtedly gem dust, refracted light in the lace, projecting rainbows where a bit of sunlight touched the sheer fabric that hung down from her collar.

The fabric spoke in Miss Rarity's design language... as if talking to an animal wasn't clue enough! With an unprofessional quaver in my voice, I blurted, "You're the Element of Kindness—"

She said, "Oh dear, please keep it down—"

Sachet hissed.

I whispered. "—Fluttershy?"

Fluttershy looked at Sachet. He meowed, then became downright loquacious. She brought a hoof to her lips and tittered. "Oh really?"

Sachet meowed more.

"Oh, my! Are you sure?"

My mouth dropped open as I narrowed my eyes at the beige turncoat perched at my hip. Whilst it is hard to characterize a cat as smiling, his swishy black tail and the set of his ears implied it. Then he showed me teeth and raised his nose.

"Really? Okay, then." She chuckled.

"I don't speak cat," I said in a monotone.

Her face colored; I would have wagered that she looked down behind her sunglasses. "He said you are a fan of Princess Twilight and the Element Bearers, but otherwise very professional."

"Uh—"

"And, oh yes, you refuse to be happy." Now she did look away.

"Sachet!"

Sachet hissed.

Fluttershy gasped as we both looked at Sachet. "Such unprincely language!"

For his part, he ducked his head.

"Sorry," I said. "It is nice to meet you. I never imagined I would."

"You could always visit at the castle in Ponyville. If you wanted to, of course."

"You can do that?"

"It is the Friendship Castle, after all. And nice to meet you," she said and started trotting away.

I rushed and paced her as she crossed Saddle Row Boulevard. "I—I—"

She glanced at me as we stopped at the corner.

I reflexively looked across Fifth as wagons and buses rolled on by. "Um—" That's all that came out.

"You've never meet one of the Element Bearers before?" she asked as the light turned green and she crossed headed east.

"No—yes, never. I missed my one chance to meet Miss Rarity. And I know the Tree of Harmony took the Elements back."

She stopped before Patisserie Rouge and lowered her sunglasses on her muzzle to reveal startling blue eyes.

I added breathlessly, "I have met Princess Celestia." And defied her. I didn't say that. And we still had issues. I sighed. "I'm blathering, sorry."

"I thought I was the shy one here. And I understand. After Rarity met her idol, Trenderhoof, she later said that it was as if she had become a 'blithering idiot.'" She grinned widely, then gasped, shaking her head. "I didn't mean to imply—!"

I waved a hoof. "No offense taken... though I am demonstrating the idiot part is true."

She gave a little scrunchy face then smiled. "And it was Twilight who gave the Elements back."

"Oooh! I've never read that."

"Some things about Lord Tirek's rampage aren't well known. Nopony seemed interested in asking."

"I'm interested."

"So Sachet said."

"A fast talker isn't he?" I glanced back at the cat who sat ignoring me, washing his face with a paw. "A real prince."

That elicited a mere tiny hiss in passing as he licked his shoulder.

I reached into my messenger bag with my magic and floated out my card and my press credentials to show her. They were lean on real news publications. Missing any, really. Of Fashion Monthly, Pony, Chevalier, Cosmo, Fashionable Rags, and Playpon3, only Playpon3 did investigative reporting—rarely—and they never gave me that type of assignment. "I'm a reporter. But you knew that."

She nodded and said nothing.

"And I know you quit modeling because you had been pressured into it and disliked it and that's your choice. I wouldn't ask you about that—"

Now she smiled and waved a hoof before mouthing the card to stuff it into an amazingly concealed pocket. As I put away my credentials, she said, "I wouldn't mind if you did. My problem was performance anxiety and stage fright. It's been four years. I've gotten over that. Mostly."

"Right! The Ponytones Quintet?"

"I have a lot of really nice friends who help me even when I would rather not be helped because they know I need it."

"Ponies who think you're wonderful and make you want to be your very best? I had a friend like that once." She'd been a golden mare, too, but her mane had been flamed with red. She had gotten her cutie mark because she'd insisted on helping me—defying Celestia to do so. I could never forget that. I'd spent many dark nights thinking how her knowing me had changed her life not entirely for the better.

"I know."

What had that cat said? "Sachet!"

"He didn't say. It's just I'm a bit older than you—"

Well, no she wasn't. Not exactly.

"—and I've solved a few friendship problems. You know… with the Elements of Harmony, the Friendship Castle, the Cutie Map—"

"About that," I interrupted and pointed at the sidewalk café just beyond the bakery. "Could I offer you a bite to eat and some tea? The Rouge has excellent medialunas."

"Sure," she said without hesitation. "You may even take out your notebook and pen."

I quickly approached the greeter of the busy eatery, the purple mare who wore an incongruously immaculate white baker's uniform complete with a pastry chef mushroom hat. I ended up slipping her a silver bit to snag a reserved sidewalk table under an umbrella at the railing. I tried to hide the move, not wanting to be taken for a big shot, but I think Fluttershy saw. I absolutely hadn't wanted to waste her time waiting in line.

Some time later, over Typhoon tea and orange candied Scones (not medialunas), with a saucer of cream for Sachet, I still jotted away. Now she related how it happened that Rarity discovered Coco Pommel, getting her the job on Bridleway that launched her career. "The gift Coco gave Rarity turned out to be one of the keys to the Tree of Harmony chest—"

"—that helped defeat Lord Tirek! I didn't know any of this."

"I didn't think anypony cared."

"I care."

She raised a decorated china cup between her hooves and sipped. Over the rim, she gave me the gotcha! look and asked, "Why?"

I put down my pen. It wasn't as if my history wasn't part of the public record. Fluttershy was the type of pony who'd consider it rude to look into another's past, but I knew she had the authority to do so. "I learned as a colt that many things happen behind the scenes to protect Equestria. You see, my mother was a terrorist and I worked with Princess Celestia to bring her to justice. My father, a constable, was originally framed for a bridge collapse and I corrected that mistake." The fall-out from all those horse apples, basically un-framing my father, was what ultimately put me at odds with Princess Celestia. It didn't mean I didn't respect her for protecting Equestria. I just had problems with her means of doing so.

"Oh!" She put down the cup with a clink in the saucer. "I'm so sorry to hear that."

I shrugged. "Ancient history." Literally. "I've seen plenty. I wasn't around for Nightmare Moon, but I actually lost my magic to Lord Tirek when Discord helped him on Bridleway. I was interviewing Prim Hemline in a nearby hotel lobby. The first piece I sold freelancing was covering the fashion scene for Princess Cadance and the Prince-consort Shining Armor's Canterlot wedding. You'd be surprised how few ponies are even aware that changelings exist, let alone that they are a threat."

Fluttershy pressed her lips together, smiling with a tinge of embarrassment at a stifled head shake.

"They're not?" I asked.

"Um. Yes and no, and the Princess asked us not to talk about it."

"My point, exactly! I think the vast majority of the public don't appreciate what you ponies do for Equestria because they don't know."

"Or care?" Fluttershy offered, then suddenly stood. "What time is it?"

I saw a clock inside over the pastry counter and we both looked. In unison, we said, "I have an appointment!"

Everypony in Manehatten always did. Fluttershy insisted on paying, saying I didn't need to be a big shot since she had a perfectly good stipend from the crown she rarely used. As she cantered east on Bridleway, I paced her. She said, "I'm already fifteen minutes late. Not your fault. I should get a taxi."

I thought to ask why she didn't fly, then thought better of it. "I'm about to be late, myself. Where are you headed?"

She answered the exact address I was headed to. Interesting.

"I can help you with that!" My special talent really only worked dependably when I was helping somepony. Helping me? Pfft! As she scanned ahead for taxis, I added, "I can get us there on time. All you have to do is touch me on the shoulder when I turn transparent, then close your eyes and hold your breath for a couple seconds."

In my mind, I imagined the address I needed to go to. It helped that I had actually been to that warehouse that had been converted into a studio, and could see the blackened pine plank flooring, open beamed ceiling, and creosoted walls. Unlike when I did magic, I didn't have to think about balancing mathematical equations or have to murmur a spell mnemonic. All I needed to do was visualize the destination to feel numbers swirl around me subliminally, and for her to touch me to convince the magic that I was helping somepony in order to trigger it.

She touched me.

The world went absolutely black and frigidly cold. We were in-between for about two heart-beats, then cantering on a wood floor in Prance's Corral Loft & Saddle Row studio. Frost steam rose from our hides as we slowed and Fluttershy stood with an amazed O on her lips. She said, "I though only Princess Celestia could teleport half-way across town like that!"

"I call it Helpful Traveling." I smiled while Sachet dug his claws in to indicate his displeasure.

A white mare with a lime-green frizz for a mane turned to face us, two camera bodies around her neck. Her name was Telephoto. A heartbeat later, Sangre, the Prance editor in charge, turned in response. She was a red nightwing pony mare who'd dyed her blue coat and darker mane red to match her name—and wow had things changed for the Nightwing pony race since Princess Luna had returned from the moon. I knew, being half-nightwing myself. Sangre waved over two stallion assistants in black jumpsuits. Their rainbow hair confirmed they were the famous Gaffer Twins.

I added, "It's like Teleport but silent—" It had been our hoofsteps that alerted the ponies in the loft, not the exit pop a teleport made.

Sangre said, "Fluttershy! Good! You're a half-hour early—"

"But I'm not—"

"Shh! My talent lets me travel to a place and a time. See that compass on my hinny? That's why it looks kinda like a clock."

"Oh! Twilight's so going to want to talk to you. She likes time spells, though it makes Princess Celestia crazy. She'll become your new best friend!"

"It's not a spell. And it doesn't work if you'll meet yourself, or go more than a couple hours one way or another…" I shrugged and whispered, "More of a curse."

Sangre came closer and cleared her throat. "Fluttershy! Good. The photographer arrived early. Let's get makeup on you and check the fit of Rarity's garments—"

I shook my head so hard, my brain felt like a bean rattling in a can. "Wait? What? You're modeling?"

Fluttershy smiled and lifted a hoof at Sangre, saying "Um, a moment please." When Sangre stopped mid-word, Fluttershy spoke to me. "Of course. It is my choice, like you said, earlier. The Cutie Map sent Rarity and I to Manehatten and I knew Rarity had a new line she was about to launch and..." She took a deep breath, visibly calming herself. "I knew how much everypony liked my modeling, and I have all those beautiful pictures of Photo Finish's to remind me why. So, I told Rarity I was giving her a gift. My choice—though I asked the photographer to go easy on me until I got used to it. She is going to go easy, isn't she, Sangre?" She gave the editor puppy eyes.

The nightwing flared her bat wings and in turn gave the photographer a strict look. I'd been around Telephoto; the mare was wound as tight as a clock. "Right?"

Looking set upon, Telephoto sighed loudly. "I'll do my best. Remind me—"

"Don't make me remind you."

The photog sighed again. The unicorn wandered off to check the reflectors and measure the brightness of the draperied stage with a crystal wand. I heard her mutter about someponies not understanding art.

Fluttershy said sheepishly, "I really do not want to make any trouble."

"And no trouble will be made!"

"And... please, no audience—"

"The makeup specialist will stay in the dressing area—"

"—except for my friend here." Fluttershy winked at me.

Sangre gave me a sly glance as she led Fluttershy to the dressing area behind white fabric screens. It was if she were saying I was too clever a colt by far. Fine by me, even if wasn't true.

Sachet purred.

"What?" I looked at him and would have sworn I saw him roll his little blue eyes, but cats don't do that. Do they? The yellow pegasus was reminding me of my lost friend and it was all sorts of disconcerting.

Distracting.

Sangre had requested me to profile a celebrity with the fame and rumors stripped away—the real pony, not some fashion world zeitgeist. What I got was the most famous top model of the decade. But I was a fan. A fanatic, to get to the root of the word and the matter. And she'd just called me "friend."

Mind-scrambled, thank you very much.

It did present a story angle, however. Fluttershy was a genuine hero of Equestria. Inconsequentially, she was breathtakingly beautiful. And willing to benefit a friend doing something that she didn't really like, modeling, because friends did that. A hero. A model. And all she wanted was to be home "helping the animals help themselves."

I gave a light buck and Sachet jumped off, walking away tail in the air. I had work to do.

I paged through the garment rack, causing the hangers to squeak one after another. All new. All in the green and flowery colors of spring, with clear sky blues added for balance. Like Fluttershy's clothes, Rarity's signature gem encrustation was uncharacteristically subtle. The use of tiny diamonds confirmed my earlier impression of a dewy morning aesthetic. Her lack of use of contrasting colors, even the use of similar colors, swirled together like tie-dye but linear in extent, was very pleasing, possibly mesmerizing, but also very experimental. Then I saw the info sheet, attached by a twisted wire to the rack, and read the name given the clothing line: "Camou-Intrigue!!!" Yes, there were three exclamation marks. Blending-in in style? Of course, nopony wore such fashion on a hike. It would be striking around town.

After Prance had bought my Canterlot wedding piece, I'd spent months studying fabric, fashion design, tailoring, dyes, and gemology, to the exasperation of Princess Celestia who'd always had plans for my talent with battle magic (and Helpful Traveling), but I saw fashion reporting as my ticket out of Canterlot.

The year before, I had returned to Canterlot, after nearly dying, to discover not only had I lost a new good friend, I had lost nine years—everything from minutes after Twilight Sparkle's magic flare to about a year after Nightmare Moon returned to be defeated by the same purple pony, four friends, and Fluttershy.

And.

Oh, yeah.

My father had died two years earlier.

I'd gotten my cutie mark saving him the first time from Celestia's better-safe-than-sorry mentality, proving his innocence; having lost him permanently while trying to save him a second time hurt. He had become a Staff Sergeant in the Royal Guard and my mother would live forever in Tartarus. Celestia, feeling something, responsibility maybe, made me her ward to keep me in school, refusing to let me go off to earn a living as most sixteen-year-old ponies would, and did. Rainbow Dash and Fluttershy had both been way younger when they'd become independent. Becoming a fashion reporter steamed Celestia no end, but not Princess Luna. She'd cautioned me in a dream not to make the mistakes she had made, that it was better to leave a toxic situation behind than to destroy yourself fighting an unconquerable foe, more so if the foe was yourself. The dream had me swimming up a waterfall and trying to blast it into submission with Force.

I blinked, shook my head. Wool gathering.

I took notes on the clothes, examined the taped cue marks on the stage, evaluated the sunlight that defused through frosted clearstory windows to be bounced by a dozen white and gold reflectors on stands. Despite a few short magic lanterns, the theme was natural light. The painted dark forest background guaranteed the photos would be softly shadowed and moody. Not your typical product shoot, and certainly not what Miss Rarity reputably would want. Neither glitz nor perfection was on tap; there would have been tantrums and drama were she here. But she had contacted Prance on short notice and got what she got.

It would be art photos of the elusive top model Fluttershy, incidentally wearing clothing that very much suited her sensibility. Camou indeed!

It would be the sensation of the season, maybe the year.

And I'd have the by-line. Nice.

As the shoot began, I realized I would need to work for my lunch. Because of Sangre's agreement with Fluttershy to limit who watched, Telephoto had no model assistant and the Gaffer Twins zipped around like Rainbow Dash, prisms in motion adjusting reflectors, hoofing about the fans, adjusting lanterns, and fetching lenses. That left Telephoto to adjust the lay of the fabric and to pose the model herself. She was an experienced professional despite almost never working beyond the lens. Fluttershy, on the otherhoof, was a completely inexperienced model.

Within ten minutes, a very frustrated Telephoto started shouting.

Sangre jumped on the stage and Telephoto rounded on her. When Fluttershy took to the air to be out of reach, I sensed Telephoto about to grab her with Levitation.

"Hey!" I yelled, standing in front of my writing table.

With everypony's eyes on me, I trotted to the stage. "Everypony take a deep breath. Everypony here is doing something that is important to them, the least of whom is Fluttershy who is the key to what we all wish to accomplish. I can be a model assistant if that's the problem here."

Fluttershy had her big blues on me. She nodded. Sachet took to winding between my legs, rubbing against me, something he did when he asserted that I was his pony and was proud of me.

Fluttershy's assent was sufficient for me. My hooves clattered on the stage as I trotted over to her as she landed. "You've told me you can do this and I believe you. Just talk to me about anything you want to know and I'll translate from photographer to normal pony speak."

She flashed a little smile and said, "You are a good friend. That friend you are pining for does not know what she lost—"

The rest of what she said was a buzz in my head. My friend didn't know what she lost, or maybe she did. She was now long gone, forgotten in short-attention-span Canterlot after nine years. I had found newspaper clippings that stated she'd become a teenage drunk for a while, but had gotten over it after having been used as bait to arrest a syndicate crime boss. Recovered, resurgent, she'd become a prima donna, publicly vocal with pretensions of being Princess Celestia's heir.

And then she'd... disappeared.

Something had happened after she returned from the hell we experienced together. By the time I returned nine years later, I could only conclude that she had been dead a long time. If she'd threatened the crown... That I could think that proved I didn't trust Celestia because even she had sent Lord Tirek to Tartarus, twice. I did know my friend hadn't been sent to Tartarus.

I tapped my forehead solidly with my hoof. Concentrate!

***

I did my job.

Despite the cyclone fans that gave Fluttershy's mane and tail a windswept look, the converted warehouse lacked ventilation and the sunshine flooding in made it hot. After an hour, I noticed Fluttershy was overheating. Telephoto clearly liked her looking sweaty and slightly rumpled. It added verisimilitude and gravitas, and brought out the slightly frightened, very sweet and innocent look that made Photo Finish's work pop. I called a break; Fluttershy concurred, preempting any discussion.

I trotted to my table to quickly jot notes about the experience (and to keep from starting to repeat Fluttershy's friend remark over and over in my head) while Fluttershy summarily wriggled out of and threw her clothes to the floor. It was distracting to see her fluff her feathers and swiftly preen before Sangre offered Fluttershy a soda pop bottle with a straw. I looked at Fluttershy's cutie mark of three pink butterflies, then at Sangre's red drops of blood. Two very different ponies, but I respected Sangre's hard-edged tough editorial voice. She ripped even the best article to bloody shreds, but always to the benefit of the article. As for her cutie mark, I understood the savage undertones of Equidorian nightwing culture too well, my mother having taken me back to her country for three years—and being half-nightwing myself. My eyes sometimes did the cats-eye slit-pupil thing. (Mostly, I take after my unicorn father.)

Sangre gave me a curt nod and glanced at my notes before walking off. She had high expectations.

Unfortunately, Fluttershy had the soda bottle between her knees—drops of condensation frosted the fluted glass—and was loudly, adorably, sipping for all she was worth. Very distracting. I did say she was beautiful, right? Working with Photo Finish at eighteen or nineteen, she'd still been a filly. A bit gawky. A bit cute. Long limbed and breathtakingly natural. Now at twenty-three, she was a stunning mare with all the ideal attributes of beauty and feminine athleticism without being skinny or appearing fake. Very distracting, especially with the expression of pure bliss across her face as she sipped through the straw.

A camera shutter clicked in a rapid burst.

Both of us looked to Telephoto, who shrugged and said, "Some opportunities are too good to miss," and trotted off smugly.

Fluttershy and I looked at each other. She burped (daintily). We both started laughing, her so hard that she ended up rolling on her back. And I didn't miss Telephoto with a long lens clicking away at the scene.

Rarity had stiff competition with this pony. Unclothed, Fluttershy looked even more amazing. She made clothes look good. No clothing could make her look more beautiful than she was now.

Fluttershy righted the bottle she'd dropped before it spilled more as we gasped for breath.

As I started writing again, she said, "Thank you. You really helped."

"I'm glad."

After a long silence, she said, "If you don't want to talk about it, it's okay—"

Uh-oh.

"—um. Do you really miss your friend?"

I swallowed a sudden lump in my throat and lost my levitation spell, causing my pen to drop and roll off the table onto the floor. Fluttershy fluttered and dove to pick it up.

On the face of it, one could impute all sort of meaning to her words, up to and including wondering wistfully whether I could be more than just a friend. I didn't flatter myself, though. This was the Element of Kindness, after all, and she had another agenda all together.

She opened her lips and spat (daintily) the pen on to the table. Closer now, in an almost whisper, she said, "I can see yes in your eyes. How long has it been?"

"Four years, going on five."

"What happened?"

I know she meant how had I lost her, but I said, "She insisted on helping me to save my father, though in the beginning she made it worse. The word that best described her at the beginning was ingénue. She obviously had a crush on me, was uniquely innocent, and was trying very hard to impress me, but she was overwhelmingly impressive already despite her being convinced she had to act a part because she didn't think she was good enough naturally. She learned very quickly in a very bad situation. Then she saved my life when my mother tried to kill me and I suddenly understood I had a friend."

Fluttershy blinked rapidly. "Mother? Tried to—?" She couldn't say it.

"My mother. The nightwing terrorist? Thought Princess Luna had been a nightwing alicorn and that Princess Celestia had murdered her to conquer Canterlot Mountain, and wanted revenge. That mother. Princess Celestia sent her to Tartarus."

"T-to Tartarus?"

"That Tartarus. I found my special talent trying to find my father when Celestia refused to believe he wasn't involved in an aborted attack on the stadium in Fillydelphia and the destruction of the adjacent bridge. My talent of knowing where I am in time and space allows me to incidentally travel to any place I can imagine. I went to Tartarus with Sunset Shimmer trying to save my father whom Celestia had sent there a second time."

"Sun— " She breathed, "Sunset Shimmer?"

The way her voice petered out, I looked up from my notes that I had been staring blankly at, remembering visiting that pocket world—well, twice actually—where I'd nearly died. Her mouth was open, her eyes wide, her ears turned toward me. Wait. What? I asked, "You knew her?"

"I met her once, admittedly not under the best of circumstances. We were at Twilight's first princess summit and Sunset, um, kind of stole her crown. You know, the one with the Element of Magic set in it?"

The crown being stolen was news to me, probably to all Equestria. I nodded that I knew that crown. My filly friend had had a power-crazed alter-ego, all right.

"I corresponded with her last week using Twilight's magic book—"

"She's alive?" I stopped breathing. My heart beat in my throat. A rain of hot tears streamed down my cheeks. Could Sunset Shimmer really be still alive?

"Of course she is. Are you okay?"

I stood, breathing now, stunned, unable to find a coherent thought. When Fluttershy handed me the dress she had worn, I didn't think and immediately wiped my face with the beech and cotton fabric. My eyes were burning and I had a headachy feeling. My world was upside-down. Shaking my head, I said, "Yeah."

I looked at her and sniffed, dropping the dress that seemed to have magically appeared over my hoof and dried a last tear with the knee of my foreleg. "Is she all right?" I asked. "I mean, she stole—?"

"That's old news. 'Ancient.' Your word. Her plan failed; Twilight forgave her for her mistakes; she's since then become quite a hero in her own right—a savior of worlds. She was Princess Celestia's protégé before Twilight was, and she's proven the princess picked well both times. I don't know what's with reformed ne'er-do-wells recently. Just a couple weeks ago, Starlight reformed the Change— Um, anyway, Sunset Shimmer seems very nice."

"Hey, you two," Sangre interrupted. "A ten minute break means ten minutes. Fluttershy, makeup. You, take some notes. You're doing a good job. Continue it." She picked up the dress, shook it out, and started directing Telephoto with the lighting.

***

By the end of the shoot, I felt emotionally drained, limp like a ragdoll, but practically vibrated anyway. It had taken an incredible effort to concentrate. I'd have done anything Fluttershy asked of me even if it killed me to do it. I owed her.

I kept my mouth shut until we stepped out onto Saddle Way that afternoon. There was a real wind now and the traffic was loud. My subconscious had been processing all I'd heard. It all came out as, "There is so much going on that nopony knows. Had I decided to report on that instead of fashion, would ponies know more about the other Equestria?"

"They might." She looked me in the eye as said, "but, um, what your heart wants to know is what happened to Sunset."

I glanced up at the sun. "I predicated a lot of decisions in my life on her, going against what would make me most happy just to get away from everything tied up in that morass. Knowing she's alive makes all the difference."

"You didn't ask Princess Celestia what happened to Sunset, did you?"

I looked at her, tightlipped. "She's a bit scary for me."

"She was for us all, Twilight especially. Um, but she was also embarrassed about what happened, too."

"About what happened?"

"Sunset Shimmer ran away through a magic mirror into another world that's populated by bipedal gangly ape creatures who otherwise kind of resemble us. When you're there, you become one of them. Twilight's gone back and forth. She's described what it's like. The whole thing seems very strange.

"It was Celestia and Star Swirl the Bearded who built the mirror. At one time, it was tuned to another pony dimension where Celestia fell in love with an alternate Prince Sombra. She's embarrassed about things she won't talk about that happened there—and a bit heartbroken about it, still, after almost a thousand years. I think I understand how you feel. And you now see what happened. Lack of—"

"—communication."

"Essential for friendship."

"Do you think Princess Twilight would let me talk to Sunset using her magic book?"

"Uh-huh."

"I think this is going to be my last fashion piece, at least for a while. I think I have some investigative reporting to do. Do you mind if I write about all that happened today? I think readers would find it very eye opening. Assuming that Sangre agrees to publish it."

Fluttershy looked down and said, "Oh, she'll publish it. I'll talk to Twilight if I have to because she's better about such things."

I looked down, too. I said, "It's time I talked to Sunset Shimmer again. Renew our friendship, or bring it to a real conclusion if that's what is going to happen. It was just a beginning before. Maybe it can be again." I nodded, looked up and smiled at the yellow pegasus. "That's exactly what I'm going to do. I feel like today changed my life."

"I'd be glad to help— Oh!" she squeaked.

I heard a strange buzzing sound as she jumped a little bit, then (daintily) lifted up the hem of her spring-colored skirt to reveal her cutie mark. The butterflies were blurring and buzzing, repeatedly moving toward a center of the mark. Quite strange. Amazing really. And, yeah, very cute.

Fluttershy said, "Well, now we know why the Cutie Map sent me and Rarity to Manehatten. It was for you! Something tells me that something very special is going to happen when you talk to Sunset Shimmer again."

Sachet stepped up to my shoulders and purred in my left ear.

"Yes," Fluttershy said, answering the cat. "I think they'll both be very happy."

***

And so, dear reader, as you can clearly see, this will be my last story on the Manehatten fashion beat and my last published in Prance. I cannot express how fabulous your letters of praise have been over the last two years. I do hope you will remember my name and look for it in future by-lines about what is really happening around Equestria, about how some special ponies protect us and allow us to go about our lives safely oblivious of their good deeds. Well, soon not so oblivious. And that's my story.

Best regards,

Brandywine.