1. These animals don't listenView OnlineSlice of Strife1. These animals don't listenThe piercing, rattling shriek of the referee's whistle ground its way above the cacophony of growls, squeaks, warbles, twitters and other animal sounds filling the little sod-roofed cottage. The hubbub lowered to a marginally less disturbing level while acquiring a distinctly indignant tone. "All right critters, stop whatever you're doing and fall in right here. Eyes and ears on me. Move, move, move, move, move." A pony with a coat of sky blue and a mane and tail streaked with the colours of the rainbow flew to every corner of the cottage interior, her rasping voice reiterating her marching orders in no uncertain terms to every creature she encountered. Signalling their displeasure in tongues unintelligible to the pony, the animals made their desultory way towards the centre of the living room and assembled in ragged files. Rabbits, mice, squirrels, chipmunks, cats, ferrets, badgers, a lone brown bear, goats, bats, cardinals, jays, woodpeckers, owls, swallows, lizards—all had made their home in and around the cottage under the stewardship of Rainbow Dash. The cottage stood near the boundary between Ponyville—a semi-rural township within the pony-ruled principality of Equestria—and the untamable wilderness of the Everfree Forest. Rainbow Dash cast her eyes over the assembly before scowling and focusing on the stairway leading to her bedroom. Wrapped around the wooden framework at the base of the stairway was a tree snake, paying no attention to the pony. The pony darted into the serpent's line of sight. "Hey! You got a hearing problem? Need a written invitation? Move it." Nicoil could indeed not hear a word Rainbow Dash said but the pony's impatient glare and pointing of her forehoof towards the gathered animals conveyed her meaning sufficiently. The reptile slid her forked tongue out and flicked it up and down, giving an expression that seemed to say "I'm just sniffing the air here and totally not making a face at you." Loosening her grip on the stairway, Nicoil eased to the floor and undulated towards the assembly. Rainbow, too, had descended to the floor. She preferred to spend her time in the air but right now she needed to place herself on the critters' level, to show she meant business. Head held high, chest thrust out, muscular legs working like pistons, she paced back and forth in front of her motley audience, conveying the most imposing figure she could and silently wishing her hoofbeats made a thunderous thudding sound instead of an adorable little clip-clop. "You critters have pushed your boundaries for the last time, understand? Now, I like to think my leadership style with you has been pretty chillaxed, and I don't mind falling for a good prank now and then. The job you woodpeckers did on my bedposts was pretty sick, I'll admit. "But this time you've gone too far. Ripping up my Wonderbolts posters and using them to line your birdcages and litter boxes. You didn't just destroy my property, you know. Treating images of Equestria's most awesome flying team like that is practically sacrilege. "Now I'm not gonna take that kind of disrespect from anyone. But the last thing I want to do is punish any innocent creatures, so I'll give the ringleader a chance to show some guts, step up and take their medicine." A few tense seconds passed as several creatures glanced at one another. Eventually, a small white rabbit with black beady eyes shuffled forward from the front rank. "Angel. I wish I could say I'm surp——" Rainbow whipped her head around at a glimpse of movement to her right. A ferret had stepped forward as well. So did a gerbil. Birds hopped towards the pony, mammals walked, reptiles crawled, insects crept, until the entire menagerie had rolled forwards. Rainbow narrowed her eyes and resumed her pacing. "So, that's the way you wanna play it, huh? Well if you're gonna take advantage of my good side, then get ready to meet my bad side. The time for fun is over. What I say goes. And I'll be keeping a close eye on all of you to make sure you stay in line." The pony stopped in front of Angel Bunny and pivoted her body to face him. "A very close eye." She stretched her neck down so that she engaged the rabbit in a long, close glower of menace. Too long, in fact, and too close. For Angel took the opportunity to blow a fat, wet raspberry straight into the pony's face. Rainbow Dash recoiled and let out an involuntary yelp of disgust as a chorus of amusement rippled through the assembled animals. Burning with ignominy, she wiped her muzzle dry on her foreleg and lunged at the rabbit, only to jerk to a halt and fall flat on her belly. As the laughter from the surrounding creatures increased, she turned to see Nicoil's tail wound tightly around her left rear leg, the serpent having anchored her head end around the leg of a sofa. More movement in her peripheral vision caught Rainbow's attention. The animals to her right had parted to make room for the brown bear, fearsome teeth bared in an ursine grin, lumbering towards her. The great beast had never shown any signs of seriously harming her but if her body were to end up under his enormous paws she would be at his mercy. Such an indignity would take considerable living down. With a flash of movement, Rainbow Dash sprang to her free hooves and shot towards the ceiling. She was strong; the power and suddenness of her ascent allowed her to slip with relative ease from within the smooth, dry scales of Nicoil, who was not a constrictor and was used to much smaller prey. The pony stopped short of the ceiling in time to see Angel give an insolent wave of his forepaw before pushing open a pair of glass windows and bounding outside. "Don't move 'til I get back." The pony was already outside before her shouted command was half-complete. She doubted whether the critters would pay any attention. She was thinking of the bigger picture. If she were to keep the animals under her care from becoming pests, she had to win back their respect. Her best chance of doing so would be to make an example of the most troublesome of their number. Which meant catching him before he disappeared into a burrow. Few creatures in or around Equestria could attain a speed approaching Rainbow Dash's aerial velocity. More importantly, despite her considerable inertia, she could change her trajectory at a sharp angle in an instant, allowing her to mirror every dodge and weave of her quarry that her keen eyes could perceive. Keeping pace with Angel was the easy part. Rainbow's real challenge lay in restraining the little bunny without harming him—her destiny was not merely to control Ponyville's fauna, she had to protect and care for them as well. A pegasus pony, she lacked the magical spiral horn that allowed the unicorns to hold and levitate objects remotely. Her wings were unsuited to the task: even soft, fuzzy little Angel could inflict too much damage to the feathers or light bones in a struggle. Her tail wasn't prehensile enough. And the one time she tried to fasten her teeth around the scruff of his neck sent him into a state of near-panic. Her only option was to use her hard, blunt hooves to gather him up in her forelegs, and even that procedure could damage a small obstinate creature if done too hastily or forcefully. It required great precision and delicacy, and Rainbow Dash didn't do delicate. She didn't face this problem the day she first discovered her true calling. The creatures had literally thrown themselves at her, clinging to her hide, mane and tail as she raced back and forth to rescue them from the rising floodwaters and guide or carry them to safety. For those too big to ride on her body, she crashed through tree trunks to make floating logs and pushed them, labouring mightily against the currents, until their passengers could reach higher ground. Her outstanding exhibition of speed, power, quick thinking, courage, determination and selflessness in the teeth of natural disaster had saved the lives of dozens of animals and earned Rainbow Dash her cutie mark—the symbol of a pony's destiny, adorning each side of their hindquarters. Those same critters didn't throw themselves at her anymore, except to torment her. She tried her best to take care of them but it wasn't good enough. They gave themselves the run of Rainbow Dash's property and disregarded all of her efforts to rein in their havoc. It was as if her heroic rescue had never happened at all. In fairness, it had not. The true source of her triple butterfly motif was the unfinished spell of the legendary unicorn wizard, Star Swirl the Bearded. Princess Celestia, oligarch of Equestria, had assigned the completion of Star Swirl's spell to Twilight Sparkle, her beloved magic student whom she had sent to Ponyville to undertake a practical course in the most important magic of all: the magic of friendship. Twilight, bright and prodigiously gifted but overly eager to please her mentor and acquire knowledge, cast the spell to determine its effect and deduce what needed to be done to rectify it. Noticing nothing, the youthful unicorn decided the incomplete spell was merely ineffective. Little did she realise the incantation had switched the cutie marks of her five closest friends, who thereafter had no reason to suspect that their marks had ever been otherwise. Instead, their subconscious minds had created false memories to rationalise their apparent destinies. Rainbow Dash was one of those friends. "No! Not the briars." Angel shot his pursuer a glance of pure malevolence and bolted towards a small depression barred with a tangle of bramble bushes. "Please, not the briars." Rainbow shot through the air, aiming for the shrinking space between Angel and the thicket. "Anywhere but the briars." She was fast but Angel was too close. She landed just as Angel's long, skinny rear paw disappeared into the depression. There was little room to move, even for a creature as small as Angel, but that was of no concern. He was in no hurry. Rainbow Dash could not wait long for him to emerge, not with a cottage full of critters to attend to. Ensconced behind his thorny barricade, Angel turned to face the pony, his expression one of insufferable triumph. His smirk faded when he noticed that Rainbow was wearing a similar look herself. * * * Emitting a stream of enraged squeaks, Angel squirmed and kicked, seemingly not caring where or how far he would fall should he succeed in breaking free. Rainbow Dash flew on, the crook of her right foreleg maintaining its grip on the writhing bunny. Steering was more difficult with only one free foreleg but Rainbow was a highly skilled flier, and not one to let a little awkwardness—or pain—faze her. Several ragged red lines decorated her face, with even more on her front pasterns and fetlocks. Yet her hard, tough hooves took most of the exposure to the wicked briars when she had barged and slashed her way with brute force to the rabbit cornered within. Rainbow Dash didn't do delicate. The wind aggravated the pain of her wounds but she didn't care. The sting would fade, the scars would heal. The pain of letting Angel thwart her would have lasted far longer, and set an unwelcome precedent for the other creatures in her care. Swift, decisive punishment of defiance: that would show them who was boss. Filled to bursting with pride and anticipation, Rainbow kited through the open windows of her cottage, ready to flaunt her prize to the other animals. Her legs went slack, allowing Angel to drop harmlessly to the sofa. The bunny blew another raspberry and scampered off, while Rainbow Dash darted to every possible hiding place of her cottage and repeated the word "No" with increasing frequency. She had been prepared to let the animals do their worst to the dwelling in her absence; they would answer for it later. What she didn't consider was that they would leave en masse to wreak chaos elsewhere in Ponyville. Whether they had played her or simply taken advantage of the opportunity, she had failed, and somepony else would most likely be paying the price for her blunder right now. Rainbow flew back out of the cottage and rocketed high into the air, scanning the town from above for any gatherings of rampaging creatures. Within seconds she spotted them. Sweet Apple Acres. * * *
2. Help me fix this messView OnlineSlice of Strife2. Help me fix this messSearing light and remorseless heat flooded from the great yellow orb as it made its steady journey across the immaculate blue dome. Not far above the horizon, it scanned the landscape like an eye, glaring, taunting. You think this is tough? I'm just getting warmed up. Get it? Still, there was no sense complaining about the weather. She had specifically requested it, after all. Grunting through her clenched teeth, Applejack arched her neck back to ease her aching muscles, then drew her foreleg across her poll to wipe away the glaze of sweat and dust. After a sufficient stretch, she let out a hearty snort and bent down to clasp her teeth around the handle of her pickaxe. Squinting her eyes against stray grit, the orange-coated earth pony hacked at the barren, rocky ground, her plaited blonde mane whipping from side to side as she swung her powerful neck. Seeing only more rock beneath, she persisted in her methodical action, falling into a rhythm. Applejack always found rhythms helped her work. She could keep her pace and power consistent, maintaining her effort without tiring or losing focus. Sometimes she even caught herself humming to her beat, giving herself even more motivation. Finally her diligence was rewarded. A flash of yellow-orange heralded the presence of amber. She chiseled at the surrounding rock, trading power for precision, until she had fully uncovered the glittering stones. She released the pickaxe from her mouth and, with practised movement, tossed the amber specimens into the wagon behind her. Applejack scanned the sky, taking care to keep the broad brim of her Stetson hat in front of the sun until the first glint appeared. That time already? She glanced at the assortment of gemstones in her wagon. Not her best haul but it would have to do. She hitched the wagon to herself and set off. Her arsenal of tools jostled against her flanks as she trotted towards Ponyville, trying to keep her spirits out of the dirt. It wasn't the early starts or arduous labour she minded. It was what she had to show for it. * * * Her caregiver, Granny Smith, had cautioned the brash young foal to be patient. Yet as the last in her school class still without her cutie mark, Applejack could barely contain her curiosity. Any time she had a break from her chores at Sweet Apple Acres, she would investigate new and exciting activities that might lead to her discovering her destiny. One such experiment was in the field of prospecting. She read up as best she could on the subject, then set off one afternoon to the outskirts of town, where she explored and dug while her imposing older brother kept watch for would-be thieves. She came away with her hindquarters still unadorned but a decent if unspectacular haul of jewels. She was proud enough of her day's work that that she kept her booty in a special box in her bedroom. There it stayed until one fateful day when she offered to help her grandmother prepare outfits for a barn dance with some of their extended family. The frocks were sturdy, and fluid enough to allow even the most rambunctious fillies to kick up their hooves. Yet their colours were a little homely, in need of a special touch. With a flash of inspiration, Applejack raided her jewel box and attached the gems to the frocks, patterning them by size, shape and colour. The frocks were a hit. The visiting fillies adored them and the grown-ups spoke admiringly of them; pretty but not gaudy was the general view. One well-to-do mare from a rather large property even gave the jewel decorations a fancy name: appliqués. Applejack was tickled to learn she had employed a proper fashion technique without even realising it. More importantly, she had used the fruits of her labours to make the family event special. With this realisation came, on each side of her hindquarters, an emblem of three blue diamonds, signalling her destiny at last. Well, fancying up frocks for a barn dance was one thing but the customer base of Ponyville demanded a little more sophistication for those occasions that called for formal dress. They were also considerably less forgiving than Applejack's kinfolk of any drab designs or shoddy craftsponyship. Going to the trouble and expense of having an outfit made so that they would look their best, they were entitled to a certain professional standard. And Applejack found to her mounting frustration that her own imagination and flair for design were not up to that standard. Furthermore her forehooves, broadened and cracked from her formative years of farm chores and rough-and-tumble outdoor play, lacked the delicate touch that a seamstress needed. There were times when she wondered whether she was truly cut out for the fashion business at all. Still, there was no arguing with destiny. So she persisted, offering bargain-basement prices and extra services for her dwindling customer base to try and dissuade them from venturing farther afield—Manehattan, Canterlot, Marelan—for their couture. One such service was free delivery. So it was that she trotted off from Carousel Boutique, towing a clothing rack holding a dozen filly-sized party frocks. Each outfit sat in an envelope of transparent sheeting. This covering protected the dresses from particles wafting up from Ponyville's dirt roads. Finishing the outfits had taken longer than Applejack had expected—just as she had expected—yet she dared not rush in case the wobbling castors hit a snag on the uneven roads and toppled the rack over, slowing her down even more. Instead, she concentrated on keeping a brisk yet steady pace. So intently did she focus on her gait that she failed to register the shadow looming overhead. "LOOK OUT!" Applejack's blood froze. She knew that cry. All of Ponyville knew it. She didn't bother looking up to see what kind of element—sleet, hail, lightning—was about to descend on her. She tensed her powerful limbs and bounded off. Alas, her clothing rack was not designed for such sudden, rapid movements. It rocked, tipped and lurched, a capsize imminent. Applejack slowed, tried to reposition herself to steady her load... The few droplets of mud that splashed up from the drenched path did no harm, spattering against the frocks' plastic coverings. Yet the flimsy sheets, open at the top to allow for the hangers, were not enough to protect their contents from the mass of rainwater that dropped from the cloud in a single, sudden deluge. Applejack might have screamed, had another pony not beaten her to it. The same prim, ladylike voice that had alerted her to the oncoming downpour was now unleashing a howl of anguished self-reproach. The cry drew nearer as a white-coated unicorn pony mare, with purple mane and tail styled into helixes, galloped towards her. A cloud of telekinetic energy enveloped the frocks one by one, lifting them closer to the whimpering unicorn's muzzle so she could inspect the damage. Applejack watched in wonder. Rarity's efforts at controlling Ponyville's weather caused setbacks for everypony, yet she usually just got a little flustered. For some reason, spoiling clothes made the unicorn particularly upset. "Ohh, how simply dreadful. Your poor frocks." If she were honest with herself, Rarity believed the dresses would have looked rather poor in any case, but she could hardly let one of her few friends know that, especially not at a time like this. Besides, what did a bungling weather pony like her know about fashion? Applejack slumped. She was done. She couldn't even summon the energy to get mad. "Rarity, yew promised me clear skies this mornin'." "I know, I know!" Rarity winced, her voice wracked with regret and frustration. "But Pinkie Pie desperately needs some rain at Sweet Apple Acres——" "Oh, no." Applejack's troubles flicked from her mind in an instant. It had been several years since she left her fillyhood home, yet she still felt attached to it. The thought of the family farm being at risk alarmed her. "And this was the only suitable cloud for miles around and-and technically it is afternoon." "Afternoon?" Applejack squinted up at the sun. "Heavens to Betsy, ah'm later than ah thought." "Late?" Rarity snapped out of her funk. "Then why are we standing around nattering? We need to fix this at once." "It's no use, Rarity. They'll never dry out in time." "Uh-uh-uh." Rarity held up her dainty forehoof. "None of that. Your clients are counting on you. We mustn't let them down." She thought for a second. "Does this fabric dry in sunlight or shade?" "Uhhh..." "We'll use shade to be on the safe side." Rarity cast her eye around until spotting a broad, densely foliaged tree with a long, thin yet strong-looking branch jutting out horizontally. "Aha." She generated another telekinetic field, this one enveloping all twelve frocks as a whole. She lifted the frocks off the metallic horizontal bar of the rack and adjusted her magic to strip them of their coverings. The unicorn draped the sheets over the top of the rack, then trotted towards the tree, bearing the frocks mid-air in front of herself. She guided the frocks to the long horizontal branch and hung them on it, positioned herself with the deliberate care and focus of a dressage horse, and closed her eyes. "Rarity, ah ain't got all day." "Hush, darling. I need to concentrate." Vast surges of energy flowed from her spiral horn, spreading and pressing against the mass of air above her. Air was even more difficult than condensing vapour to control by magic, its billions of teeming molecules widespread and disordered. Yet she sensed the pressure and countered it with her own ephemeral power. As she pushed, more air rushed in to fill the void left by the displaced molecules. This led to a hot, dry wind gusting from the southeast. The localised, concentrated wind billowed the hanging frocks, which thankfully were dampened rather than wringing wet. Steadily, the patches of water soaking the fabric warmed, and evaporated. In a matter of minutes they would be dry enough to wear. Unfortunately, that was not soon enough for the townsponies. Rarity could not prevent the wind from blowing clouds of dust from the surface of the town's roads. Shielding their eyes and spluttering dust, several of Ponyville's residents converged on her to register their displeasure, none too gently. "Dreadfully sorry for the inconvenience, mares and gentlestallions," said Rarity, her eyes still closed. "I'm afraid we have something of a wardrobe emergency." A plummy-voiced unicorn mare spoke up. "With Applejack's outfits? What else is new?" A chorus of derisive laughter rippled through the crowd as Applejack averted her eyes from them. "Those frocks don't need wind, sweetie, they need fire," added a sassy young pegasus, to more chuckles. Rarity's rising tension, coupled with her concentration on the wind spell, hardened her voice to a near-growl. "This matter is not Applejack's fault. Kindly leave her alone." "Oh, we'll leave her alone all right," sneered a light pink-coated earth pony filly sporting a diamond-studded tiara. "Her and her tacky boutique." The laughter had mostly subsided, replaced with annoyed murmurs of assent. "Rest assured I shall end this squall as soon as I feasibly can. Thank you all so much for your patience." Realised there would be no arguing with her the townsponies dispersed, mocking and grumbling. Rarity opened one eye to her mortified friend. "Pay no attention to them, Applejack." "They're potential customers, Rarity. Ah kinda have to pay attention to 'em." "You're an artist, darling. You cannot expect your creative vision to please everypony every time." "Shur would be nice to please somepony sometime, though." Rarity was heartsick at the thought of her friend feeling so undervalued, especially in terms of fulfilling her destiny. There had to be some way to lift Applejack's spirits. Some way that didn't involve flattering her horrid outfits. Yet for now the unicorn had to focus on the task at hoof. Just a few more minutes of unbroken concentration—— "RARITY!" The unicorn shrieked, almost jumping out of her hide as her spell broke. Trembling, she turned to see a pink earth pony who had appeared seemingly out of nowhere. The newcomer's mane and tail, a darker shade of pink, hung straight down. Her breathing was heavy, her teeth bared, her expression irate. "How much longer is this goshfalutin' gale gonna last?" Her voice was high-pitched, her accent a fair approximation of Applejack's twang. "Yer blowin' away mah frostin' soil." "Your ... frosty soil? But I didn't make any frost this morning." "No-o, mah frostING soil. Yew know, like the frostin' on a cake. That's what ah call the layer of soil that lies on top o' the land." "On top? Y-yew mean yer topsoil?" Applejack grew pale and started pawing the ground. She didn't quite know why, but that sounded bad. "Forget the frocks, Rarity. We cain't mess up Pinkie Pie's topsoil." "No need to panic." Rarity was already repositioning herself. "I wasn't expecting my breeze to be that strong, but a sliight realignment aaaand ... voilà! Crisis averted." She began regenerating her magic. "That's more like it." Pinkie Pie turned to leave. "An' will ya hurry it up with that raincloud?" Rarity failed to suppress her guilty start. "Ah." Pinkie spun back to face the unicorn. "'Ah'?" "Uhh," said Applejack. "Huh?" Pinkie traced her eyes from Applejack's pointed forehoof to the mud puddle in the middle of the road, where Rarity had lost control of her nimbostratus. The pink pony threw back her head in frustration. "AAAAAAGH!" "Ahh——" Rarity tried to find the words to explain. "Ugh!" Pinkie stomped off towards Sweet Apple Acres. After a few steps she paused as if in thought, then scurried backwards until she was standing alongside Rarity. "Are we still on for Sugar Shire tonight?" "Oh." Rarity was taken aback by Pinkie's sudden change in both mood and subject. "Um, yes, absolutely, I-I wouldn't miss it." Squealing with glee in anticipation of her favourite confectionery-themed board game, Pinkie Pie launched herself vertically into the air and set off again, pronking gaily. As her thoughts returned to her looming farm chores, her bouncy gait eased to a trot, to a walk, to a trudge. Applejack watched Pinkie's departure for a few seconds, then turned with a sigh back to Rarity. She took a moment to choose her words. "Rarity, ah 'preciate yew tryna fix this but yer makin' too much trouble for other ponies. Maybe y'oughta call it quits." Rarity hesitated. She detested leaving tasks unfinished; that the task in question was to fix her own mistake only made matters worse. Yet Applejack had a point. As Ponyville's weather steward, she had to consider the needs of the town as a whole, not just her friends. Easing her wind speed, she walked over to the row of frocks, adjusted her magic to draw one of them closer to her, and lightly stroked the outfit near the withers with her pastern, taking care to keep the dirt and grass coating her hooves away from the fabric. A smile broke out on the unicorn's muzzle. "Splendid. They're almost dry already. Just one more minute and they should be right as rain." A strangled whinny of alarm emerged from Applejack. "Sorry, darling. Poor choice of birds." "Don'tcha mean, choice o' words?" "Is that not what I said?" "Nope, choice of——" The two ponies exchanged a gape of consternation, then lifted their heads to the source of the melodious chorus that they had just noticed filling the air. "BIRDS!" Several of the birds scattered at Rarity's scream but dozens more remained on their perches, some directly above Applejack's frocks. "Oh, no. Not above the dresses." Rarity guide the drying dresses back to Applejack's clothing rack and set about redirecting her stiff breeze towards the unwelcome visitors. She needed to push the surrounding gases even higher and harder, so that the inrushing air would blast through the treetops rather than below the spreading foliage. Sweat broke out on her poll as she intensified the speed and power of her magical output, aware that time was getting away from her. Soon, the wind assailed the branches with enough force to drive the birds, twittering and squawking in protest, from their perches. Rarity ceased her spell, took a moment to regather her strength, then lifted the frocks from the rack and turned back to see that the birds had returned to the now becalmed tree. With a groan of frustration and fatigue, Rarity replaced the frocks on their trolley. Unable to fly, she began leaping about the base of the tree trunk, flailing her forehooves in a shooing motion and yelping at the birds to begone. She was utterly ineffectual. Applejack grimaced. It pained her to see her courtly friend lose her dignity like this. Also, her delivery was getting later and later. If only there were some way she could dislodge a large number of objects from a tree in one motion... "Ohh, where is Rainbow Dash when we need her?" Rainbow Dash. Of course. "Ah'll git her." Applejack galloped off at a remarkable speed towards Rainbow's cottage. The cottage Rainbow had left for Sweet Apple Acres minutes ago.
3. It's no fun being meView OnlineSlice of Strife3. It's no fun being meMaybe she should have stuck with rocks. Sure, they weren't as much fun as fruit (although she dared not hint as much to her family, especially her older sister Maud). They had no sweet taste or smell, their texture was unsuitable for baking, and juggling them demanded extra concentration because if they were to land somewhere they shouldn't they could do more than just make a mess. But at least they didn't die on you. They were solid, dependable. They stuck by you forever. They didn't rot, nor bruise, nor succumb to mould or insect pests. They didn't bear mute, marescent, discoloured witness to your dismal attempts at cultivation. Yet her destiny was right there, in red and pink, for all Equestria to see. Ever since she left her foalhood rock farm, over her family's protests and sober warnings, firm in her conviction that her true calling lay elsewhere. Responding to a farmhoof want advertisement, Pinkie Pie trekked to Sweet Apple Acres in Ponyville. There, she soon overcame Granny Smith's skepticism by whipping the property's produce—especially their famous apples—into a dazzling array of pies, crumbles, scrolls, tarts, turnovers, popovers and other assorted treats. She combined an innate understanding of optimising flavour and texture with speedy yet unrushed preparation. Word of mouth quickly spread through the small town, sales were unmatched in the farm's venerable history, and a symbol of three red apples burst onto each side of Pinkie's hindquarters. Alas, all the baking expertise in the world could not make quality confections out of inferior crops, and Pinkie's ability to cultivate and harvest the farm's once-renowned apples proved to be sorely lacking. The dawn-to-dusk labour—ploughing the ground, dislodging apples from the trees, maintaining the farm's various structures—was well beyond her physical strength. It also required a considerable degree of focus, and Pinkie often found herself so distracted by flocks of pretty birds, fluffy white clouds that looked like cupcakes or funny-sounding new words that popped into her head that she ended up falling even further behind on her chores. Even the apples not lost to infestation, bruising, over-ripeness or mysterious misplacement were deteriorating in quality. A foalhood spent among rocks had ill nurtured in her the earth ponies' definitive skill of drawing plump, ripe, flavoursome produce from the ground. Pinkie's various imaginative techniques for improving the crops—singing wacky songs, making funny noises, shrieking enraged threats—yielded scant results. Pinkie was not alone on the farm. Big Macintosh, Applejack's prodigiously strong older brother, could normally do the work of two ponies. Yet as the seasons went by even he was buckling under the strain of undoing Pinkie's chaos and picking up her shortfall on top of performing his own chores. Apple Bloom, the youngest of the family, was too young for the more arduous farm duties, and Granny Smith too old. So Pinkie still faced a vast burden of heavy work. And despite the support and companionship of her friends, she was not coping. Yet she had to cope. The Apple family and Ponyville's consumers were depending on her. And as she plodded back to the dwining farm, that knowledge made her feel like she was the most miserable pony in Equestria. Then she spotted Rainbow Dash. Pinkie was still a considerable distance from the blue pony, alone in one of the farm's apple orchards, but the desolation Rainbow conveyed was unmistakable, and heart-rending. Instead of hovering above ground with that proud, fierce determination Pinkie remembered, she was slumped on her haunches like a rag doll sat at a filly's tea party. Her rainbow-maned head hung low, her eyes were unfocused, her wings sagged from her flanks into the dust. Now there was a pony in need of cheering up, thought Pinkie Pie. An exuberant hug, a sweet treat, an upbeat ditty, a cluster of heart-shaped smiley-faced balloons. Something to show her that her happiness mattered to somepony, that whatever was troubling her a friend would be there to lift her spirits. It might not solve her problems but at least it could put her in the right frame of mind to deal with them. If only Fluttershy were here. Pinkie barely even noticed the whimper of sorrow that fluttered from her own throat. Rainbow Dash winced at the sound, then gulped and heaved a sigh. "I tried." Still facing the barren ground, Rainbow spoke in a voice riven with bitter self-reproach. "You gotta believe me, I tried so hard." "Tried what, Dashie?" "My critters. They all got away from the cottage at once and came here. I managed to herd the fliers into a ball but that just left all the ground animals on the loose. I tried to drive them out but they just split up into a hundred directions. Then the birds got out of control and ..." Rainbow flicked a limp, aimless gesture around the bleak orchard. "Well, just look at this place. It's a disaster. No fruit, no leaves, bark falling away. It's completely ruined and it's all my fault. I just keep failing at my own destiny." Pinkie gazed openmouthed around the orchard for a few seconds, then zipped from one tree to another, frowning, peering intently at what was left of them. Rainbow kept her eyes averted, silently preparing herself for Pinkie's reaction. She was not prepared for snickering. For the first time, Rainbow Dash risked a look at Pinkie Pie. The pink pony removed her forehoof from in front of her mouth and threw back her head in glee. "Oh Dashie, yer a crack-up." "Wh-what do you mean?" asked Rainbow. "Yer critters didn't do any damage here, silly," said Pinkie between titters. "This orchard looks just like it did when I left it." Her hysterics overcame her and she collapsed, rocking on her back and kicking the air. "So, this isn't my fault?" "That's right." By this time there were tears in Pinkie's eyes. Rainbow launched herself into the air, her forehoof pumping with excitement. "Yes! I didn't destroy all your hard work." "That's right." "I just ... insulted your hard work ... the work that represents your destiny ... in the cruelest ... possible ... way." Rainbow's voice faltered to a hoarse near-whisper as she sank back to the ground. "That's right." Pinkie's mouth maintained its smiling shape but her tears were flowing more freely now. "So quit mopin' around like a mopey old moropus an' buck up because yew are not failin' at yer destiny." She heaved an almighty sob. "Unlike some ponies around ... here." Twin geysers erupted from Pinkie's eyes as she lifted her voice in a pitiful lament of pain and powerlessness. Every wail and whimper was like a kick to Rainbow's belly. Of course she felt heartsick at any of her friends being upset, especially if she was to blame, but seeing Pinkie Pie in such a state of despair just seemed wrong somehow. She tried to think of something comforting to say. "Uh, you might wanna take that inside. I don't think salt water is too good for soil." The sound of galloping hoofbeats pre-empted Pinkie's response. The two ponies glanced towards the path from the front gate and saw the urgent approach of Applejack, surrounded by clouds of dust kicked up from the parched pathway. "Rainbow Dash! There y'all are. Ah been lookin' all over fer——" As Applejack took in the wretched state of the orchard for the first time, her voice began to tremble with horror. "What in thunderation has hapblumph——?" Rainbow Dash shot towards Applejack and plugged a forehoof in the earth pony's muzzle. Grimacing, the pegasus shook her head and drew her other forehoof in a cutting motion across her own throat. Applejack nodded, and Rainbow withdrew her hoof from the newcomer's mouth. "We gotta bird emergency in town," said Applejack. "Ah'll explain on the way." As the orange pony galloped back up the path, Rainbow Dash shook off her weight of remorse. She didn't know where to start restoring matters with Pinkie Pie but for now she had a job to do. The blue pony flew off after Applejack, while Pinkie Pie slunk towards the barn to finish her crying in a safer place. She wanted nothing more than a great big rock to crawl under. Should have stuck with rocks.
4. A bit of a disgraceView OnlineSlice of Strife4. A bit of a disgraceShe couldn't stay in hiding forever. Ponies were counting on her. She had to live up to her true self. She had to overcome her fear. Not the sharp, brutal shock of the bursting balloon that had sent her squealing behind the lounge. Again. That, thankfully, had dissipated. This was a far deeper and more paralysing dread. One that penetrated every corner of her psyche, taunting her. She had to perform for other ponies. In this instance, for the most implacable, unforgiving and unashamedly blunt audience of all. Foals. Trembling, trying to stifle her whimpers, Fluttershy slowly emerged from behind the lounge. The sight of the little pony faces almost sent her cowering straight back down. Yet the pale yellow pegasus reminded herself that she had a duty to perform, and walked as if through a lake of oil to the front of the lounge, in front of the audience whose collective gaze struck such terror into her. Not that all of the birthday guests were even looking at her. Some were glancing around the living room in bored distraction, or murmuring to one another with frowns of annoyance. Yet most were staring at the party pony with muted expectation. One pegasus filly with a coat the colour of a fresh, deep spring sat front and centre of the group. She wore a silver-coloured crown with a bright blue jewel at its centre atop her golden-maned head. Her disarmingly pretty face bore a pleading expression, punctuated with anxious glances at her friends and young relatives. "Um, maybe we can leave the balloon animals aside for a moment." This part of Fluttershy's act had gone much better in rehearsal. She had assembled the long, thin, balloons of multiple colours into an assortment of adorable animals—bunnies, poodles, snails, behemoths—with little difficulty, despite her lack of telekinetic magic and opposable digits. Yet the pressure of having all those pony eyes trained on her, boring into her as if collectively willing her to fail, shattered her confidence and with it her dexterity. One balloon after another either popped or zipped deflating around the room like an angry wasp before she could even tie it off. Both outcomes startled Fluttershy into cowering behind the lounge. At first the foals thought it was part of her act and tittered accordingly. Yet the apparent running gag quickly ran itself into the ground. "Oh, I know! I have a little story to tell that I'm sure you'll all just love." Fluttershy cleared her throat. "Once upon a time, there was a beautiful pony with a long, golden, flowing mane and a coat that shone like polished silver. She lived in a magnificent palace surrounded by pretty flowers and every day adorable critters would come to visit her." Several of the assembled fillies had begun to groan in dismay. "A fairy tale?" cried one earth pony. "It's not bedtime." "Then why do I feel like falling asleep?" replied a mauve-coated unicorn, eliciting more laughter than anything Fluttershy had said or done so far. "Stop it you guys." Wildest Dreams, the filly of honour, turned back to Fluttershy with increasing anxiety. "Fluttershy, do something." "Um," Fluttershy rummaged around in her props and found a mask with round, lensless eyeglasses, a pink fright wig and a wide, toothy smile with thick lips. "Look at this, everypony." She hooked the mask over her own face. The ponies looked at her, waiting for the payoff. Alas, Fluttershy thought that the mask itself was the payoff. "It's a funny face." She pointed to her mask, as if that would help her audience understand. "Great," said the mauve unicorn. "A fake smile. Can't you even pretend you're happy to be here?" "Can't you?" Wildest Dreams implored through clenched teeth to the unicorn. "Um, let me just ... oh wait, I just remembered a really funny story. You—hee-hee—you should have seen what Pound Cake did with Pumpkin's toy butterfly the other day..." * * * As Applejack approached Wildest Dreams's home, her hasty trot ground to a desolate stagger at the realisation of her worst fears. Two pony fillies exited the house and stomped with an unmistakable air of disappointment to their waiting parents. There were no squeals of merriment from within, no joyous songs, no animated chatter. The party was over. Next to emerge was Fluttershy, having caught sight of her friend from the living room window. Her head hung low, her eyes were downcast, her hooves barely left the ground. Stains of various thrown foodstuffs marred her hide and her dishevelled, candy-pink mane. Applejack felt her stomach churn at the sight. Fluttershy was the gentlest, most tender-hearted pony she knew. There was nothing she wouldn't do for her friends if she could. She'd do it with a smile, too. And she'd let her down. "Fluttershy, ah am so, so sorry. Things took longer than ah thought to get ready, then ah ran into some trouble on the way and, well, ah guess none of that matters now. All that matters is mah tardiness ruined yer whole party." The pegasus slowly turned her head from the frocks to her friend. "It's okay, Applejack. Somehow I don't think those frocks would have saved this party." Applejack grimaced. "That bad, huh?" "Awful. Just awful." The earth pony was taken aback at this blunt assessment. So much for gentle and tender-hearted. "Well, ah'm sorry things weren't more to yer likin'." "Thank you, Applejack." And the hits just kept coming. It was bad enough having her creations denounced so brutally—from a friend, no less—but Fluttershy standing there all meek and humble as if she was just passing the time of day was intolerable. Applejack gulped down her pain and spoke with a slight break in her voice. "Guess ah'll just take these awful frocks back to the boutique then." "Wait, what?" "Maybe next time y'all can get yer fancy party outfits shipped in from Manehattan." She turned to leave. "I never said your frocks were——" Realising to her horror what Applejack must have thought she meant, Fluttershy flew with rare (for her) speed past the earth pony and prostrated herself in front of her. "No, no, no, I wasn't talking about your frocks. I would never...I was just...I..." The stress of her verbal mix-up weakened her suppression of the ordeal of her failed party. Her words devolved into pitiful, unintelligible squeaks as her emotions obliterated her composure. The sight of Fluttershy's breakdown quickly overcame Applejack's own hurt. She unhitched herself from her rack, knelt down on the dusty path and gathered the quivering pegasus in her forelegs. Fluttershy's sobs were muffled as she buried her muzzle into Applejack's side. Even as she gave vent to her misery, Fluttershy found herself drawing comfort from Applejack's strong yet gentle embrace. She felt a calloused forehoof patting her on the back, giving further balm for her suffering. Then the pats became harder and more rapid, and it dawned on Fluttershy that the earth pony had been trying to get her attention. "Hey, Chuckles!" Fluttershy winced, then turned towards the source of the irate male voice. A bronze-coated pegasus, moderately tall yet powerfully built, stood before her. He jerked his blond-maned, square-muzzled head towards the house. "Our living room isn't gonna clean itself up, you know." Keeping one foreleg around Fluttershy, Applejack took off her Stetson hat and held it over her chest. "Please Mr Hard Bargain sir, won't y'all give Fluttershy a minute to collect herself first? She's upset." "Upset?!" Veins bulged on Hard Bargain's neck as he turned his scowl from Applejack back to Fluttershy and jabbed a forehoof towards the upper storey of the house. "My daughter is devastated. She's been looking forward to this party for years. You heard. We can't afford a big fancy celebration for all our foals' birthdays every year, so for Wildest Dreams this was supposed to be the big one. The one she could invite all her friends and favourite cousins to. And what did she get?" The brawny stallion began mincing and fidgeting about and spoke a hesitant, flustered, high-pitched whimper. "'Oh, um, oh my goodness, um, that wasn't supposed to, aaieee, um, oh, please laugh'." Sadly, this was only a modest exaggeration of Fluttershy's performance. "You ruined Dreamy's special day. You humiliated her in front of her friends. You...you just...have you even met any foals before? Do you have the first clue what they think is fun?" Turning away to try and calm himself, Hard Bargain caught sight of Applejack's trolley. "I take it these are the rental frocks I ordered as part of this sweet package deal you two offered me. The frocks that should have been here hours ago." Applejack rose to her hooves and bowed her head. "Ah'm powerful sorry about the delay, sir. It was unavoidable." "Unavoidable, huh?" The stallion walked a steady ellipse around the rack, his look of distaste growing with every step. "Maybe you could have sped things up a little by actually using those sketches you showed me as a guide. Or if you'd spent less time making the outfits look extra ugly." Applejack swallowed heavily to keep silent the retort that came to her mind. "Again, sir, ah can only apolog——" "Oh, put a bridle on it. I take it I'm not paying for these." Fluttershy, meanwhile, was beside herself with guilt. She had been so preoccupied with her own shame and sense of failure that she had given no thought to how this afternoon might have affected Wildest Dreams. Her destiny was to bring joy; instead, she had wrought only boredom, misery and humiliation. There was only one way to salvage something from this disgrace. She would have to return Hard Bargain's deposit in full and waive the balance. It wouldn't give Wildest Dreams her birthday party back but at least her family might have the means to do something else special for her. Even as Fluttershy made up her mind, a slew of anxieties beset her. The bills for her various party supplies—balloons, banners, party hats, paint—would be arriving before she knew it. With no revenue from Wildest's party, squaring her accounts would be tough. She could not face the thought of begging her vendors for extensions again: they had their own bills to pay, after all. Putting in more hours at Sugarcube Corner—the local patisserie where Fluttershy worked part-time as a live-in apprentice baker—was unlikely to help either. Mr and Mrs Cake, the proprietors, had already indicated that since the arrival of their twin foals, Pound and Pumpkin, there was little in their budget for extra shifts. The only option Fluttershy could see would be to dig into her savings. That would probably mean living on grass and water until she could restore her accumulated bits to more secure levels. It was a grim prospect but she had only herself to blame. Rising to her hooves, she steeled herself to put forth her proposition, silently, desperately hoping it would pacify her client. "As for you, Fluttercry, what kind of discount are you gonna offer me for that fiasco?" "Um...I...um..." Hard Bargain swivelled his right ear towards Fluttershy and flared his wing behind it. "Hmm? What's that? Fifty percent? Hmm." He cocked his head and scratched his lower jaw with his forehoof, pretending to consider the un-offered discount. "Um, actually, I was thinking, um——" "Um um um tell you what, if you can get our living room back to how you found it in fifteen minutes starting now, I'll take it. Every minute longer means another five percent off." "Oh-o-okay." Fluttershy had never dreamt that it might sometimes pay to be unassertive. "Done." Feeling somewhat mollified by his imaginary triumph, Hard Bargain spun around and stamped back to his house. Relieved at the mitigation of her financial loss but no less ashamed, Fluttershy prepared to slink after him. "Need some help, Fluttershy?" "Oh, I couldn't ask you to do that. You must be behind in your own work as it is." "Ah can spare fifteen minutes. Come on now." Thanks to the strong, hard-working earth pony's assistance, Fluttershy had the living room cleaned and straightened well within her deadline. The pair crammed the bags of collected trash into Fluttershy's red party wagon, along with her still-usable party supplies. Hard Bargain made a show of checking every corner and furnishing of the room, then left and re-entered moments later with a clinking sack of bits. Their value, combined with his deposit, totalled half of the quoted price for Fluttershy's party. With no good grace, the stallion hurled the sack straight at the cringing pegasus mare—Applejack intercepted it just in time, catching it in her teeth—and sent the pair off with an emphatic declaration that he had no intention of doing business with either of them again. As the two friends slunk shamefacedly out, Wildest Dreams's parents headed upstairs to her bedroom to try to deal with the other mess that Fluttershy had left behind. * * * For several minutes the ponies made no sound except for their slow hoofbeats and the trundling of Applejack's clothing rack and Fluttershy's party wagon along the dusty pathways. Eventually Fluttershy spoke up. "Um, sorry for all that bawling back there." "Ain't nuthin' to be sorry about, sugar cube. Y'all know yew can vent to me about anything." "I'm glad to hear you say that." Her ears pricking up, Applejack turned to her friend. "Go on." "Do, do you ever wish that, um, you had a-a different...destiny?" "Sure do." Applejack jolted to a halt with a snort of alarm. "Ah mean, uh..." Her widened green eyes darted every which way as she tried to think of some way to walk back her unguarded comment, to make herself sound less like a quitter. Yet her mind was blank; indeed it seemed to be actively blocking her. "Aw shoot. It mighta crossed mah mind once er twice." "When I first got my cutie mark, after I'd organised that high tea for the Ponyville Birdwatchers club, I thought all my dreams had come true. Now it feels like I'm in a nightmare and I can't wake up." The pegasus turned away. "It must sound silly to you, getting all panicked over a lot of birthday cake and party hats." "Ah'd never think anythin' like that," said Applejack, who sometimes privately wondered about the importance of her own vocation. "But there's so much more to parties than food and decorations. I have to entertain the guests. I have to be the centre of attention. I hate that. I hate mingling with and talking to strange ponies when I don't even know what to say to them, and all the time I have to act like I'm really happy about it. I feel like I-I don't even know what I'm doing." She groaned in powerless frustration. "Can't Twilight just wave her magic horn and make everything all right?" Her forehooves shot to her mouth, causing her hindquarters to drop to the ground, as she registered what she had just blurted out. Twilight Sparkle was one of her dearest friends. The unicorn mare from Canterlot had stuck by her, and her four other friends, through their many tough times, when few other ponies would even give them the time of day. Fluttershy had no right to take out her frustrations on the unicorn. Her inability to live up to her own destiny was hardly Twilight's fault, after all. She risked a timid glance at Applejack and saw to her relief that there was no reproach in the earth pony's eyes. "Ah get it, Fluttershy. But even if we asked we both know what she'd say." Fluttershy heaved a sigh and spoke mechanically, by rote. "That a cutie mark reflects a pony's true inherent nature and no unicorn magic can change it." "Yes ma'am. An' that's just the way it oughta be. Think about it. Can you imagine a pony, even one as smart and good-hearted as Twilight, bein' able to change other ponies' destinies?" Fluttershy gaped in horror. Not even Twilight was immune from making mistakes. Worse, the power to control ponies' true selves could corrupt even the most innocent of souls. Ponies could wind up trying to do all kinds of crazy things. Rainbow Dash making dresses, Rarity working the Apple farm, Pinkie Pie controlling the weather. "It could be a catastrophe." "Exactly. So don't go whittlin' yer life away wishin' an' hopin' fer somethin' that ain't never gonna happen. We just gotta put our heads down and do what we're destined to do." "I know. I just don't think I can cope for much longer. I don't have your strength." Fluttershy began to sag in chagrin. She felt Applejack's forehoof gently lifting her lower jaw and guiding it until the two ponies faced each other. "Yew will always have mah strength, no matter what. So keep yer chin up." "Um, and my head down?" Applejack frowned in puzzlement for a moment, before the mixture of her own metaphors dawned on her. "Heh. Yup, that too. Heh-heh." A laugh. An unmalicious, honest-to-goodness laugh. Just a little chuckle but, considering its source, undoubtedly genuine. And Fluttershy had made it happen, however inadvertently. The joy that flooded into Fluttershy's heart brought forth a trickle of dainty titters from her own throat. Her mirth infected Applejack, making the earth pony chuckle some more, and the two resumed their journey in somewhat higher spirits.
5. ConcernsView OnlineSlice of Strife5. ConcernsJust one morning. What she wouldn't give for just one long, glorious morning to herself. To luxuriate in her warm, dry, comfortable bed, silk pyjamas caressing her hide, until she was ready to rise. To lower herself into a delicious, steaming bath, scented candles lining the rim, lathered shampoo oozing from her mane and tail as she slowly submerged. Then, with the dust, mud and grit of the outside world purged and before the first hint of wrinkling could manifest, to rise like a mythical benefactress from the cleansing water and envelop herself in a trio of soft, fluffy, gently heated towels. Once the excess moisture had been padded from her body she would ease downstairs, mane and tail still enwrapped, for a leisurely breakfast. Nothing too indulgent, of course, she had her physique to preserve. A couple of lightly poached eggs with shredded carrot on the side, some crepes with mixed berries, vanilla oat smoothie—— Oh for goodness' sake, Rarity, pull yourself together. Even if you were in a position to bargain some fantasy of yours into existence, there are a few other desires that would somewhat take precedence over lolling around and stuffing your muzzle. Some clue as to how to live up to your cutie mark, for starters. The white unicorn lifted her frilly pink-and-yellow eyemask to gaze out the window of her parents' spare bedroom. The sky was as dark as her mood. Princess Celestia was not yet due to raise the sun. Preparing the day's weather meant Rarity had to be up and about well beforehoof. For all the good that did. Rarity half-climbed, half-slid out of bed, dashed her eyemask somewhere or other, shuffled wearily towards her dressing table—why did last night's Sugar Shire game have to go down to the wire?—and enveloped her hairbrush in a blue telekinetic aura. As she gave her mane, coat and tail her usual perfunctory morning grooming—no sense in a full treatment since by day's end she'd look like something her cat dragged in—she cast her mind back to that glorious night she discovered her destiny and pondered, again, how things could have gone so wrong since then. It was an evening she had planned for moons. Ponyville's Fall Equestrianox celebration had never seen the likes of it before. She started with the clouds. A dazzling array of cumulus, cirrus and cirrostratus, arrayed so that they surrounded the setting sun without obscuring it, and caught the fading light so as to paint the sky in the most spectacular hues of orange, pink and lavender. Like a conductor before an orchestra, Rarity swept the clouds in all directions, so that the colours glided and flowed across the sky as if alive. Not too swiftly, like paint rolling across a wall, but with a steady, stately grace. As the sun eased lower, Rarity blasted the clouds into oblivion except for a vast sheet of cirrus. Her eyes closed, her focus on touch and proprioception, her magic drew the sheet down and dispelled into an uncountable cluster of ice crystals. She opened her eyes and cast the crystals to the western horizon. The scattered crystals gave the sun a charm bracelet: a bright, golden halo studded with three gleaming parhelia equidistant around the arc, one at the top and one on either side. The air rang with cries of awe and admiration. Rarity waited until the bejewelled orb drifted almost out of sight, glanced with a smile back to the east, then concentrated her magical energy on the ice once again. Taking care to keep the multitude of crystals within her aura, she guided them in a steady arc towards the eastern sky. There they united with the rising moon as if embracing an old friend, giving the lesser light its own silvery halo. The assembled ponies once again voiced their approval, several of them thumping their hooves on the ground in applause. Yet Rarity was not done yet. It was time for her pièce de résistance. Once the applause had died down, she sent the ice crystals skyward, up, up, until they caught the reflections of both sun and moon and gave the evening its crowning image. An aurora. The enormous, shimmering sheet waved like a flag in the darkening sky, as ponies gasped and cheered. Never had they seen such a breathtaking synthesis of light, colour and movement. It was a tribute to the beauty of Equestria's natural elements, and to the artistic vision of Rarity: a vision that manifested a white cloud with a rainbow-hued lightning bolt on each side of her hindquarters, sealing her destiny as steward of the weather. How long ago that seemed now. Managing the weather of an entire town throughout the day, prioritising and fulfilling the differing needs of temperature, moisture and air pressure, was a vastly different proposition from a localised light show. Rarity's true gift was in aesthetics so when beauty conflicted with practicality, she erred on the side of the former. Furthermore, when it came to managing multiple volatile atmospheric elements simultaneously, her ingrained approach of organised chaos was less than optimal. Rarity's resulting attempts to maintain Ponyville's climate quickly turned ugly. Crops were ruined, construction and public works delayed, sicknesses spread. There was scarcely a resident in the town who did not snarl their disapproval at the unicorn, and there was not a single word she could utter in her defence. Had this been merely a profession she would have quit long ago in pursuit of something more attuned to her innate talents. Yet ponies simply did not give up on their destinies. Their callings chose them, not the other way around. She was not completely friendless, of course. Fluttershy even offered to help but her halting, timorous efforts to soften the citizens' anger and brighten their moods bore less fruit than Pinkie Pie's apple trees. Far worse to Rarity than the abuse she endured or her own sense of inadequacy was the misery inflicted upon her family. Hondo Flanks and Cookie Crumbles, her parents, were unable to venture outdoors without somepony making their feelings known: indignant complaints, dirty looks, overt shunning and passive-aggressive cooing about of course it isn't their fault and how so very hard it must be knowing they had brought such a failure into being. They withstood it unflinchingly, drawing on their unshakeable, unconditional love for their daughter. It was Rarity's little sister, Sweetie Belle, who truly suffered. Every recess and lunchtime spent huddled in the weather shed, every field trip and special school visit cancelled due to inclement weather, and the little white unicorn would find herself the focus of dozens of pairs of eyes , withering, accusing, as if she herself were responsible for the conditions. When it eventually was safe enough for the pupils to venture outdoors, they would inevitably pelt Sweetie Belle with slush, drench her from all sides with puddles of rainwater or shove her into pits of soaking mud ("Oops, didn't notice you there. It's so hard to see with all these dark clouds around"). Things might have been more bearable for Sweetie Belle had she acquired a cutie mark of her own. Yet she was still, in the schoolyard parlance, a 'blank flank'. Not only did she have no apparent special talent to set her apart from her sister's ineptitude but her classmates wondered none too quietly whether she would be just as hopeless as Rarity at her destiny when it finally did manifest itself. It was a question that Sweetie had asked her parents, and herself, several times. Sweetie Belle's attempts to shield herself with her under-developed magic only provided her classmates with another source of mockery. Protesting her innocence had also proven to be worse than useless. "So whose fault is it then?" Diamond Tiara, the tiara-wearing, pink-coated ringleader of Sweetie Belle's persecutors, had taunted. "Uhm..." "Go on, we're listening. Tell us all in a nice, loud, clear voice, exactly who is the hopeless, bumbling pony who keeps ruining everything for us and for everypony else in this town, and is such a total loser that she can't even fulfil her own destiny?" She could never vocalise the answer, of course. Sweetie Belle deeply resented Rarity for the ostracism she and her parents faced, and made no secret of her feelings within the confines of home. Yet disparaging immediate family in public to appease a mob of schoolyard bullies would have brought more ignominy upon herself than a hundred unsolicited mud baths. At least in the latter case, the mud would wash off. So she endured it, day after wretched day, her sense of injustice and powerlessness boiling into a rage that she would vent with a foal's intemperance on poor Rarity the moment she saw her. It had reached the point where Sweetie had begun begging her parents not to send her to school. Hondo and Cookie were sympathetic, and did agree to look into the feasibility of homeschooling the little pony. However, they also cautioned her that she could not spend her life fleeing from her tormentors. Sooner or later, she had to learn to take a stand, to fight back. "I don't WANNA fight!" As characteristically happened in moments of high emotion, Sweetie Belle's emphasis lifted her voice into a high-pitched squeak. Normally, Hondo and Cookie found this tic adorable; on this occasion, it broke their hearts. Sweetie Belle sank into the living room lounge and clutched a throw pillow to her chest. "I never looked for any trouble." Hondo knelt down to engage his daughter at eye level. "Sometimes trouble looks for us. We can't hide from it forever. We have to deal with it." "But they're the ones doing the wrong thing. Why am I the one who has to change?" "Change is how we grow, Sweetie Belle," Cookie replied. "We can't be responsible for other ponies' actions, only our own. And you can stand up to bullies without changing who you are." The filly's eyes widened with fear and imploring. "What if I get hurt?" "Remember when you first learned to ride a bike?" asked her father. "Yeah." "Remember how many times you fell off?" Sweetie Belle's cheeks burned red at the memory. "Yes," she snarled. "Did it hurt?" She looked away and said nothing, not wanting to follow the direction she knew her father was taking her. "All those bandages, all those tears, and still you kept getting back on and trying again," said Hondo, stroking Sweetie's flowing pink-and-lavender mane. "Letting ponies push you around hurts too, doesn't it? Maybe not as much as falling off your bike, not at the time, but it's the kind of pain that never goes away, even after the bullies do." Sweetie Belle whined in concession, and in anticipation of what she was sure would be some tough lessons that would take a long time to learn and even longer to implement. Rarity, lurking in the hall, stifled her own moan of anguish at the overheard conversation. She should have been accompanying her sister on bicycle rides under pleasant, balmy skies. She should have been helping teach her sister how to carry herself. Yet there were few balmy skies anymore, and Rarity would sooner try to take a bone from a bulldog than approach Sweetie Belle with any advice lately. The grievous memory spurred Rarity to snap out of her funk. It was time to change. Time to restore her family's standing in the community. To make them proud instead of ashamed. To be the weather pony this town needed. To fulfil her destiny. The question was, how? She could start by clearing all the clouds. Yes, bring back those pleasant, balmy skies. Keep the rain, hail and lightning from tormenting the townsponies. Except Pinkie Pie still needed that rain for her farm. Even more so, since Rarity had failed to deliver yesterday. Her soil could probably use some well-placed lightning too, to boost her nutrients. So too the other farms in the semi-rural township. Oh, who would have thought controlling the weather would be so complicated? As she sagged her head away from the window her eyes fell on her dishevelled bedclothes. She should probably straighten them before she left. She enveloped her quilt in a magical aura, lifted it from her bed and held it upright in front of herself. Her mind drifted back to her foalhood, to a time when she and Sweetie Belle were sisters in more than just genes. To the quilt they used to snuggle under together to share their stories, jokes and dreams. She remembered the design on that old quilt cover... "I-de-a!" * * * So simple, yet so elegant. How could she not have come up with this before? A patchwork. Instead of galloping this way and that, trying to maintain a dozen conflicting climatic conditions scattered about the town, she could keep them all together in one comparatively small area. Then she could draw on them as needed and keep them replenished. Like those fabric samples Applejack kept in her boutique. Standing at the edge of the main bridge out of the town centre, Rarity guided together into the sky overhead a host of different clouds. Some were filled with rain, some with snow, some cracked with hail, some flickered with lightning. Some were wisps and sheets that split the sun's rays into breathtaking colours. Some were just fluffy white bundles of shade. She couldn't leave them as they were, though. Different shapes, sizes, densities—no matter how tightly she drew them they looked like a lopsided, haphazard mess. Rarity adjusted her magic to shear through the edges of the clouds, cropping them into neat square prisms, then arranged the prisms into a tessellated pattern. She gazed astonished at the fruits of her inspiration. The sun's rays shone down like spotlights through the cloudless squares, as if Ponyville herself were the star of a stage spectacular. Rainfalls of varying intensities caught the intervening sunbeams and split their light into a troupe of rainbows. Delicate snowflakes twirled and drifted to the ground, the surrounding shafts of light showcasing the unique, precise designs of each flake. Her intention had been to make the elements more manageable. She never expected the outcome to be so beautiful. Yet it still lacked something. A little fog perhaps, to give the arrangement an air of mystique? No, something bolder, to add a little contrast to the mostly pale pattern. Where was that great big storm cloud she had pushed aside to keep from blocking her sunlight? Oh. Did she really move it that far? She had been so deeply 'in the zone' while creating her weather pattern, she had swept away the monstrous cluster of condensation without noticing the tremendous weight, the wild inner draughts, the ominous crackling of the electricity. Failure to keep the cloud under control could lead to disaster, dumping the entire mass of water onto some unsuspecting pony below. Or jolting them with lightning. Or, far worse, both. Her muscles taut, her teeth clenched, Rarity heaved the massive thunderhead through the air above the bustling main street. She wasn't good with the thundery ones.
6. Seeking answersView OnlineSlice of Strife6. Seeking answersThe purple unicorn stood in the centre of the room, a time-worn parchment lying flat before her. She grimaced with effort as magical power flowed from her spiral horn. To her side watched a baby dragon, squat, with purple scales, a pale yellow underbelly and green, curved ridges running down his back and tail. His name was Spike. Standing bipedally, his forefeet balled into fists, he pumped his forelegs like the connecting rods on a steam locomotive, trying to drive the pony to success. A gentle breeze began to swirl around the unicorn. Sparks crackled and spat from the tip of Twilight Sparkle's horn until they formed a point of white light. She grunted, merging her will with the incantation written on the parchment. Wind, voice, words, will—all gathered and intensified into a blend of sorcerous power. The ball of light grew larger as the power built to a crescendo ready to convert to a chronic force, tearing through the barriers of linear energy and sending the unicorn back in time. It burst. With a ferocious bang, the ball of light atop Twilight's horn shattered into a firework of sparks and a plume of light grey smoke. She collapsed with surprise and fatigue, coughing. Dragons could not inhale smoke indefinitely but they had a vastly higher tolerance for it than ponies had. Spike scurried over to his mistress and used a sheaf of loose papers to fan the fumes away from the unicorn's muzzle and streaming eyes. Spike turned to the entrance of the Star Swirl the Bearded wing at the sound of cantering hoofbeats. Eagle Eye, one of the library's guards, had overheard the noise from within. "Twilight? You okay?" Still hacking out smoke, Twilight pulled herself to her hooves and wiped her eyes. "Ahem. I'm fine. Ahem, ahem." Sensing the lingering smoke in the wing, and noticing the fire-breathing dragon at Twilight's side, Eagle Eye could not help but dart his eyes around at the shelves of books and parchments in the secure library wing. As a private magical pupil of Princess Celestia, Twilight commanded no little respect in Canterlot. The unicorn stallion had to choose his words well. "You'll take care casting in here, right? Some of these works are irreplaceable." Her throat finally cleared, Twilight forced a smile. "Of course. Wouldn't want to go casting a spell willy-nilly, not taking the right precautions. The consequences could be disastrous. Hehehe." "Okay, then. See you around." Eagle Eye set off to continue his rounds, leaving Twilight to hang her head and heave a sigh. "It's no use, Spike. I had a feeling it was too good to be true." It would have been so easy. Send herself back in time, back to before that fateful evening when she received Princess Celestia's assignment, and tell her past self that, whatever she did, she must not cast that spell until she studied it thoroughly and finalised a suitable fix. Thirty seconds would have been ample time to convey that message. Especially now that she knew to listen without interruption to warnings from her own future self. Alas, she had learned that lesson the hard way. For Star Swirl knew the inherent risks of interfering with one's own time line. Even the slightest change to the past could have unexpected impacts. Therefore he had designed that backward time travel spell to work only once, as an emergency measure. Twilight was doomed never to execute the spell again. Spike rested his forefoot against Twilight's side, trying to comfort the pony. "It was worth a try." Twilight soughed and gazed around the wing. "Guess I'll have to do this the hard way." * * * Dust Jacket peered over the rims of her half-moon spectacles at the mound of books and scrolls on her desk, then turned to Twilight, who was levitating her library card in mid-air and wearing a slightly-too-wide grin. Spike, his sharp-toothed grin even more broad, poked his head out from behind Twilight's hindquarters. "Twilight, there may have been the odd occasion in the past where I let you exceed your borrowing limit by a scroll or two but there must be three dozen works here." "Actually there are thirty-seven. See——" A flick of Twilight's tail to the side of her assistant's head silenced his unhelpful clarification. Twilight, still grinning, had not taken her eyes from Dust Jacket. "I wouldn't normally borrow this many at once——" "Indeed not," said the off-white, lavender-bunned unicorn mare. "Other ponies use this library too. You aren't the only one in Canterlot with a love of reading and research, you know." "I know, and that fact gladdens my heart no end. But the thing is, I'm working on an extremely important assignment for Princess Celestia." The dropping of the Equestrian oligarch's name had the desired effect. The librarian's eyes widened a touch and the firm expression on her late middle-aged face softened noticeably. "Yes, it's proving to be quite the challenge. If I am to complete this task to the Princess' satisfaction I will need a lot of advanced material." "Twilight?" The voice turned Dust Jacket's conflicted look to a gape of awe. Princess Celestia was on one of her visits. Drawn by the sound of her star pupil's voice and what sounded like the mention of her name, the snow-white alicorn, or winged unicorn, approached the check-out desk, her mane and tail waving like banners behind her despite the lack of breeze in the building. "Princess Celestia," the two unicorns chorused as they and Spike bowed before their ruler. "I'm so glad you're here," said Twilight. "Can you please confirm to Dust Jacket that you've entrusted me with fixing an ancient spell?" Dust Jacket hastened from behind the desk and bowed again before the ruler. "Please forgive me, Your Highness. I merely sought to apply the lending limit that you yourself passed down. But of course I could be flexible if Twilight Sparkle's assignment is a matter of urgency." "Urgency?" Twilight's smile acquired a few properties of a cringe as her mentor turned to her. Celestia bore just the barest hint of reproach yet it was enough to strike unholy terror in her student. "Technically, I didn't actually use the word 'urgency'." She dared not let on to the princess that there was any problem with her work so far. "Twilight, I haven't even set you a deadline. Do you truly need to borrow all of these works at once? Right now?" Yes. Yes, yes and yes. All of these and more. "I just want to make sure I do the best job on this assignment that I can. I always want to do my utmost for you. And I'd hate to dishonour the memory of the legendary Star Swirl the Bearded by taking any half measures." Celestia's eyes smiled but her faint air of reproof did not dissipate. "Your work ethic does you credit, Twilight Sparkle, but be cautious. Untempered desires can corrupt the best of us. That includes desire for accomplishment and approval as surely as desire for wealth or power." Twilight tried not to wince. If only Celestia knew what horrors her student's desire for accomplishment and approval had already wrought. As if Eagle Eye's remark about casting with care hadn't been enough of an unwitting kick to Twilight's stomach. "Doing your utmost doesn't mean rushing," the princess continued. "Take your time. Apply your knowledge, insight and skill with diligence and care. That will give you your best chance of succeeding." "Yes, Princess Celestia." Twilight's voice was barely audible. There were few things she found more mortifying than being taught a lesson that she already knew. But what could she say? Her mood did not escape Celestia's notice. The alicorn spread her great white wing around her dejected student like a swan guiding her cygnet. "Don't take it so hard, Twilight. There was no harm done." No, not by this, thought Twilight and Spike simultaneously. Twilight forced herself to lift her head. With even greater willpower, she even managed a slight smile. "There." Celestia turned to the desk and lifted all thirty-seven works, large and small, in her magical aura. She propelled them along a weaving, dazzling trajectory as she examined the titles. "Now perhaps we can go through these and see if we can't put back some of the more ... tangential works. For instance, I'm not sure how much help these books of time manipulation spells will be." As Spike tried to still the tremors that gripped Twilight, Celestia examined the collection a few moments longer before turning to the librarian. "Madam Dust Jacket, I realise this is highly irregular but might it be permissible, just this once, for Twilight to exceed her borrowing limit by a scroll or two?" * * * The bellow signalled Spike's arrival before he burst through the entrance of the Golden Oak library. He slammed the wooden door shut and leaned his back against it, panting and shivering, balancing on his tail and the heels of his hind feet. The dragon shook his head and torso, scattering small lumps of ice from his dripping body onto the floor. He drew his shopping bag tightly to himself for comfort, then instantly dropped it as he realised it was soaking wet. "Spikey-wikey!" shrieked Rarity's voice from without. "Ohh, my precious purple prince, are you all right?" "I'm fine," said Spike, hoping he had kept the annoyance from his voice. In truth, he was recovering reasonably quickly from the shock of the accidental localised shower of hail and rain. His hairless, ectothermic little body felt the cold more acutely than the ponies he had lived with since hatching but his watertight scales dried out far more rapidly than pony hides. "I'm so dreadfully sorry," said Rarity. "Is there anything I can do for you?" Spike froze, and not from the cold. Oh, the times he had longed for Rarity to ask him that very question. The times he had dreamed of it. The desires that had flooded through his mind. Riverside picnics, walks through the park, just being with her, until the exquisite unicorn began to think of Spike as more than just a friend. And who knew what that could lead to? Hugs, nuzzles, maybe even another ... kiss? Or two? On the ... mouth? Spike sensed that his cravings were beginning to consume him and remembered that Rarity was still waiting outside. With a superdragon exertion of will, he banished the thoughts from his mind. This wasn't Rarity. Not his Rarity, the one he had known and adored from the day he and Twilight first arrived in Ponyville. She looked like Rarity—sweet Celestia, did she look like Rarity—she spoke like Rarity, she had the same general demeanour and quirks as Rarity. Yet there was an integral part missing from her. The part that told her exactly who she was and what her place in the world was. Without it she was just flapping frantically around dumping hailstorms on innocent dragons and uttering abject apologies. It would not feel right, either emotionally or morally, to extract favour from this wretched creature. Besides, there were higher priorities on his to-do list. Twilight needed to clean up her mess and Spike had to help in whatever way he could. "No, that's okay Rarity. You'd better get back to your weather duties." Or better yet, get back to making dresses, he added mentally. As the sound of Rarity's splashing hoofbeats faded into silence, Spike retrieved his bag from the wooden floor. He reached in and his heart sank. What had moments earlier been a ream of fresh writing paper was now a soggy, disintegrating mass of pulp, a casualty of the downpour that Spike had tried in vain to escape. He pulled out the contents as if to say a sad farewell to them, then let them and their bag drop back to the floor. He turned to the burgeoning pile of scribble-covered paper and parchments, dotted with black-tipped quills, empty ink pots and open books, in the centre of the library. "Uh, Twilight, are you in there?" A short burst of wind-like kinetic energy erupted from the centre of the mound, blasting a hole in its side. Ink pots and books clattered to the floor, slowly followed by dozens of twirling paper sheets. The hole revealed Twilight lying unmoving in the centre, the right side of her head resting on her folded forelegs. Her pink-streaked purple mane was a frayed mess, her eyes bleary, half-closed and unfocused, her facial hide matted with dried tears. A sullen, incoherent murmur of acknowledgement drifted to Spike's ears. "So, yeah, about that paper you sent me out for——" A drawn-out groan interrupted Spike's confession. Twilight turned her head so that her forelegs covered her eyes. "Spare me the details, Spike. I doubt it would have done much good anyway. This is hopeless." Spike waddled towards his mistress. "Hey, what kind of talk is that?" Twilight lifted her head to face him. "Realistic. I've been reading, re-reading, analysing, cross-referencing, looking for some sort of insight or clue that would help me undo the spell. I'm no closer than when I started." Spike hated seeing such a defeatist attitude in Twilight. He had seen her overcome one challenge and threat after another. But he wasn't the magic expert. Could it be that this was one problem she really couldn't fix? "So there's nothing you can do?" "Sure there is." Spike blinked. "Sure there is nothing you can do or...?" "There is something I can do. There always has been." The little dragon took a few seconds to stop himself from losing his temper with his mistress. "Then what are you waiting for? Get to it." "I can't be sure it will work." "It has to be worth a try, right?" "It's pretty drastic." Spike planted his forefeet on his hips. "Twilight, Pinkie's latest idea to increase her apple yield is to paint smiley faces on the tree trunks. I think we're beyond drastic, don't you?" The unicorn sighed. She pulled herself to her hooves, sending more of the piled papers to the floor. "You're right, Spike. I can't put this off any longer." "Good," said Spike. He waited for Twilight to get started. And waited. And waited. "Uh, Twilight?" Twilight emitted a plaintive whimper. Spike drew nearer, his reproachful demeanour morphing into determination. "Look, whatever happens, I'll be here for you." "That's just it, Spike. I don't know that you will." "We'll see about that. Now let's do this." Twilight took a few deep breaths to steel herself, then used her magic to blow a path through the papers until she uncovered a parchment, a quill and an unfinished pot of ink. She adjusted her magic energy to guide the implements towards Spike. The dragon snatched the parchment and quill with relish, dipped the quill tip in the ink and readied himself to take the unicorn's dictation. "Dear Princess Celestia, "It is with the deepest regret that I inform you that my attempt to complete Star Swirl the Bearded's unfinished spell has resulted in disaster." Spike stopped writing. "Hey, you know what? Maybe I should trust your judgment on this." * * * Twilight related the events from her receipt of Celestia's assignment, their impacts on Ponyville and her inability to begin to figure out how to reverse or mitigate them, leading up to her abortive attempt to send herself back in time from Canterlot Library. "Whether Star Swirl's failsafe prevents re-casting of the time spell for the same pony, or for any pony at all, I don't know. I hope that you can use the spell to enact some way, either by adding a warning to your letter or telling me in person, to stop my past self from switching my friends' destinies. "Failing that I beseech you, with all my heart and humility, to do whatever is in your power to help me undo this spell and all of its effects. "Afterwards, I will be ready for you to deal with me as you see fit. No punishment could be worse than seeing my friends and neighbours suffer on account of my foolishness. "Your faithful student, for as long as you deem me so, "Twilight Sparkle." Spike rolled up the parchment and placed Twilight's seal over it. He held the scroll by one end and pondered it for a few seconds, waggling the free end in the air. This wasn't the first time Twilight had used magic to interfere with ponies' inner selves. Celestia had forgiven her for using the mind control spell but that was after Twilight's friends' confession that their unhelpful behaviour had contributed to the debacle and on the condition that they joined Twilight in recounting the friendship lessons they had learned. Now, the unicorn was about to admit to another gross magical indiscretion, one that was entirely her own doing and might not even be reparable. She would also be living out her darkest, innermost subconscious fear: conceding failure of Celestia's assigned task. Not to mention revealing that she'd lied to Celestia's face about why she tried to borrow all those library books the other day. "Once I send this, there's no going back." He turned to Twilight. "Are you sure you don't want more time to come up with something else?" "You said it yourself, Spike. We're beyond drastic." "Yeah," said Spike. "These are your friends, after all." "You're right, Spike. And they mean more to me than anything." Twilight walked over to a wall bearing a photograph of the six ponies, smiling with shared affection, from before their cutie marks were scrambled (thankfully, none of them had noticed that detail or Twilight would have had some explaining to do). "My friends. There's nothing they wouldn't do for me if I were in their position." She began to stare more intently at the picture. "I am in their position. I'm driven to fulfil a duty and I have no idea how. So if there's nothing they wouldn't do for me..." It wasn't a blinding flash, not at first. Just the tiniest spark in each of her eyes. Yet it built up a force in her mind, a force of love and dedication that surged through her, infusing her, flooding her every fibre with inspiration. "Then there's nothing they wouldn't do for ... each other." THE END
