Welcome Home

Chapters

Embarkation
The First Remove
The Second Remove
The Third Remove
The Fourth Remove
The Fifth Remove
The Sixth Remove
Welcome Home (Or Just Another Remove)

Embarkation

Author's Note

For context, read the prequel first. It's very short.

Embarkation

You feel tired, but shrug it off and begin reading another fanfiction story. Your mind starts to wander almost immediately. The text is shifting before your eyes, growing blurrier by the second. Your eyelids feel heavy. You squint and try to focus, but it isn't helping.

Adrift in a confusing compromise between waking and dreaming, you're barely lucid enough to notice some odd sensations in your body. For one, you're not certain whether you're seated or standing. Your legs are wobbling a little (all four of them), so you must be standing up while daydreaming about... something. Wasn't it a story of some sort? You don't remember.

For another thing, there's a curious tingling sensation right there in the middle of your forehead. The sensation feels like... language? That's strange. How can something feel like language? It must be possible, because that's what you're feeling. You can even direct your thoughts into the thing. It feels like a hand—sorry, you meant a hoof, obviously—or perhaps a leg or a muzzle, except you don't control it with muscle or sinew. You control it by imagining into it, in a carefully focused manner. It feels very strange, yet familiar.

Right now, that special part of your body is echoing your thoughts back at you. It feels like you're shouting into a very small canyon—except the canyon lives on your forehead, and you don't have to shout. Hearing the echoes of your own thoughts is very distracting. This must be why you were confused in the first place! You try to wall your thoughts off from the echo chamber, and it works.

In the periphery of your vision, just above your eyes, you can see a stiff, conical stick—no, it's a horn. That must be the tingly thing on your forehead that you can think into. Where did it come from? No... that's dumb. You don't need to ask where it came from, because it's a part of who you are. There's nothing strange about having a magical horn. Why would that feel strange? You're just tired from the all-night studying binge last evening, so you're daydreaming about having weird feelings, and you... you, um...

Hold on. Who are you?

The First Remove

You are Ruby Pinch.

After a momentary dissociative fog, you snap back to reality. The horn is there because you're a unicorn, of course. Why were you imagining that you were somepony else? That's a weird thing to dream up, but your mind wanders a lot, especially when you're tired like this.

That horn is also why you're currently in the Carousel Boutique, standing next to the Princess. You're here for magic training that she's been gracious enough to supply for free (since you couldn't possibly afford to pay). As you stretch your neck, you glance down at your cutie mark: three large red rubies. What are the odds, you wonder? If Mom had named you Amethyst Pinch, would they be purple instead?

"Did you get all of that, Pinchy?" your tutor asks you.

"Oh—this is embarrassing," you say, and punctuate the sentence with a long, deep yawn. "I totally spaced out there... I'm really sorry, Princess." You blink a few times and put on a stalwart face, resolving to stay awake. It helps.

"That's fine," she says. "But as I've mentioned several times before, please call me Rarity. There is more than one princess in Greater Ponyville, after all. Besides, darling, you don't want me to call you 'Ms. Pinch', now do you?"

The Princess of Generosity smiles with the warmth of a hundred Suns, and you smile shyly in return.

"No, ma'am—I mean Rarity. I like Pinchy," you say, rather assertively. Well, assertive for you, at least. You realize that an act which feels assertive to you probably wouldn't feel quite the same way if you were somepony else. But you're not somepony else, so that's a strange thing to think about, and then Rarity starts talking again so you stop with the silly thoughts altogether.

"I've hidden six gemstones in this room. I want you to find them using the gem location spell I've taught you," says Rarity. "You have been practicing, yes?"

You nod vigorously. "Oh yes! I've been using it to find gems outside, actually."

"Good! But please, be very careful about wandering too far from Ponyville without an escort. The outskirts are a dangerous place these days," she says.

As you nod in agreement, you decide not to tell her about getting kidnapped by Diamond Dogs and then being rescued by the Princess of Loyalty (who, true to her title, promised not to tell anypony else what happened). Obviously, Princess Rarity would never let something that dumb happen to her! You probably shouldn't have been out there alone, anyway. Mom wanted to come with you, of course, but she'd probably have run away screaming at the first sign of danger. Mom means well, but it's not like she has any...

"Some of the gemstones are smaller than others," says Rarity, "and one of the six in particular will be exceptionally difficult to find. I shall sit here and read, and watch you from time to time." Rarity takes a seat and begins reading from an issue of Cowsmoopolitan.

You're sure the magazine is a ruse so you won't think you're being watched when your back is turned. Everypony is always doing terrible things behind your back, you're certain of it. It's just like Mom used to do, back when you were much younger. She was always doing stupid things to hurt herself, and then she'd hide it from you so you wouldn't know about it. If she had been open about her problems, maybe it would have been easier to forgive her (which you've done, nevertheless). At least when you think Rarity is hiding something, she seems nice and straightforward about it. It isn't like she's making fun of you, or lying to you about anything important. (You hope.)

You look over your withers back at Rarity, who is currently pretending to read the magazine. It's a very convincing act. You return to your task. Standing from a vantage point that captures most of the room, you cast the spell and squint.

You immediately see your aura shining with three separate signatures: one large, one mid-sized, and one small. The large one is behind the sewing machine under a tiny piece of fabric. You probably could have found that one without the spell. The medium one is hidden inside a bolt of fabric, and the small one lies beneath a warped rug. The rug wasn't here last week, so it was kind of obvious. Still, the small gem's signal was very faint, so it was a little more challenging than the other two.

You retrieve the gems. All three are rubies, of course. Rarity has a flair for poignancy. She also has a flair for pretty much everything else she does, and you secretly admire that in her. You head back with three rubies levitated beside you, and set them down on the desk. "That's the first three," you say.

Rarity smiles very wide, and her face looks like Mom's does whenever she finds your report card and discovers you earned straight A's. Unfortunately, you've never been able to hide it well enough to keep her from finding it altogether. Mom works from home so she has plenty of time to snoop. You aren't sure what the look on Rarity's face means, because it doesn't make sense to you. It looks like a mixture of happiness and sympathy. Privately, you call it the Mystery Look. Mom makes that face a lot, not only when she finds your report card. "Excellent work, and very fast!" says Rarity, with a clop of her front hooves.

"Not really. That's only half of them," you say, frowning.

Rarity sighs deeply. "Pinchy, you must learn to take pride in your accomplishments. Your progress has been incredibly rapid for a unicorn your age!" she says, and a pair of vertical creases appear between her eyes. "These three are the only ones I expect you to locate. The others are very tricky. Don't stress yourself over whether or not you'll find them. Just relax, and take your time."

She's clearly patronizing you. But you'll prove her wrong. You need to. Other ponies must respect you. You need to be useful to other ponies so that you can finally stop all this self-doubt. You need to be worth something.

You can't end up like Mom.

The spell has faded, so you turn around and recast it. You look thoroughly around the room, squinting. You can't see any other glowing signatures. Wait...

You walk slowly toward the bolts of cloth. Something is glowing inside the orange bolt. It's almost impossible to see because the orange bolt exactly matches your aura color. You reach in and pull out a gemstone.

"Excellent!" says Rarity, almost shouting with exuberance.

"That was very clever," you say, as levitate it over to her. "Where in Equestria did you find a bolt that matches my aura so well?"

"Well, I had to dye it," she says. "But I can use it to make a dress for you later."

You know you have a puzzled expression on your face, but you can't help it. Why would Rarity, a bonafide princess, spend so much time on a simple test like this? Why would she offer to make you a dress? You're not that important. You dismiss your confusion and look around the room. The spell is still active, and you don't see anything. You spend a few minutes carefully peeking from every steradian on both sides of the room, but see nothing. Rarity certainly wasn't joking about the difficulty.

"You shouldn't feel required to keep trying, because the last two gems are incredibly hard to find," says Rarity. "I'm impressed you found the fourth one."

"No," you say, shaking your head decisively. "No hints, and I will not give up."

Rarity's lips pull inward for a moment. "Alright then, Pinchy. Just try to relax. Believe me, it will help with detection."

Like hay it will, you think. You don't need to relax, you just need to be smart—and you are smart. You pause and think carefully. If you can't detect the gems when the spell is on, maybe you can detect their absence when the spell is off...?

You stand on one side of the room and turn the spell on and off several times in a row. You're not seeing anything, but the light overhead is flickering just a little.

"Ah!" you say, suppressing a smile. You look up at the overhead light, which is very bright, so you have to squint. Turning the spell on again reveals the tiniest boost to the glow, on one side of the light. You reach in with your magic and remove a large ruby.

The gemstone is very hot, so hot you can even feel it with your aura. You didn't know that such a thing was possible before now. You're certain this an intentional lesson Rarity embedded within the test.

"Let me take that one from you," says Rarity. You feel her touch your aura as she plucks it from your magical grasp, and the sensation is strangely intimate. You blush. Rarity sets the ruby on a ceramic plate she recently added to the desk, obviously to allow the gem to cool.

"Okay, one more," you say. "Unless you've hidden seven gems to test me further?" You eye Rarity with high suspicion.

Rarity rolls her eyes. "Heavens, no! I'm being forthright with you, Pinchy," she swears, making the same motion that the Princess of Laughter uses. "There is but one gem remaining. I don't expect you to find it, and in all honesty I think I made it much too difficult, but the fact you found all of the others is amazing! You should be very proud of yourself."

"No. I'll get it," you say flatly, and you see her frown. She looks worried.

You spend the next fifteen minutes searching for your aura everywhere in the room, with no luck. You try turning the lights off, but nothing is visible. You suspect the ruby must be very tiny. But even if it were infinitesimal, you would still be able to see your aura around it...

"Darling, it's okay. I made the last one too difficult," says Rarity, and her face looks sad. "Your mother is coming to pick you up soon, so we should stop for now. There are some lessons about using spells I haven't taught you yet, and to be fair, you need that information to have any chance at this one. You've done an amazing job."

"Not yet," you say. You want to ask why your mother is coming to pick you up, but it doesn't really matter. All that matters is finding that last gem. Lessons you haven't been taught, you wonder? Maybe you're going about this the wrong way. You can't see the aura, that's obvious. So... what if there's no way to see the gem at all?

You're uncertain if this will do anything, but you turn off the lights again and close your eyes. Rarity is whisper-quiet. You cast the spell, and as you complete the casting you get the idea to hold the magic—like a singer stretching out a note. It's exhausting to do, but you focus on listening, smelling...

Wait! Somehow you sense something, but not with your five senses. It's like a sixth sense, one you never knew you had. You can feel it inside your mind, gently making contact with the all six gems in the room. It feels a lot like when you use telekinesis on an object to grasp it from a distance, but it's much more subtle. You walk toward where you intuitively know the sixth gem is, keeping your eyes shut tight. It's right next to the table where the other five are lying, but slightly lower. The gem is inches from your face, you're sure of it. You open your eyes, and Rarity is seated right in front of you. She flips on the light switch. The princess has a convincing poker face. You realize you have a look of surprise on yours.

"Can I help you, dear?" she asks.

"It's... it's inside you," you say, then you burst out with a brief laugh. "You put the gem inside your body, so that your living aura would block my ability to see my own aura! But, I guess I can sense it anyway?"

Rarity gets the Mystery Look on her face again, and she hugs you tightly before you have a chance to recoil. "You are beyond incredible, darling," she says. "Yes. Our magic can indeed penetrate living auras, but you can't see into flesh. You have to use your magic sense to feel in the places you cannot see. While normally you can see your aura through objects, there are a few things that can block that ability—I'll review them with you next week. Your magic sense, however, will always function as long as your magic is available, which is why it's essential to practice it."

"Huh. I guess it really was too hard," you say. "But I did it anyway, so... go me?" you add, with a gentle smile.

Rarity hugs you tightly again. It's weird, but you do kind of feel good about yourself for once. You also suspect the Mystery Look is on your face.

"Oh, wait. Do I have to, well, get the gem out of you?" you ask.

Rarity's eyes widen. "Goodness, no! I'd rather not have you open me up. But I will return it to you, ahem... perfectly clean, of course, in a few days." She blushes.

"Oh. Returned to me? Do I need to find it again?" you ask.

"All of these rubies belong to you now, Pinchy," says Rarity. She places the five rubies into a pair of saddlebags and levitates it onto your back. The saddlebags are very well-made, and they have your cutie mark embroidered on them, so it's clear they're yours as well.

"You, you can't be serious," you whisper. Those gems weren't just boring old rubies. They were rare and flawless, just like everything Rarity uses. Even each of the little ones must be worth a hefty pile of bits.

Rarity grins. "Of course I'm serious, dear," she says. "At this point, you've learned everything about gem location that I can teach you. You can practice your magic sense on your own now. Next week we'll start working on the basics of illusion magic. I'll have to start preparing now, because I fully expected getting you this far would take at least another month."

You sit down and rest for a while, feeling even more fatigued now than you did when you started. Rarity gives you a glass of juice, and that helps. Using magic can be very tiring, just like heavy lifting or painting or solving a hard puzzle. Your brain takes more energy than any other part of your body, after all, and magic takes a lot of brainpower. But this thing you've done today? It's good, you think. You can't deny that you did well, even though you try to deny that most of the time. This is good, yes. You smile.

There's a knock at the door, and Rarity answers. "Ah! Perfect timing. Welcome, Berry Punch," she says. They do an air-kiss and giggle. You really don't understand that.

"Pinchy!" says Mom, and she turns and gallops past Rarity, picks you up, and squeezes you tight. You smell something on her cheeks. It smells a little like wine, and you wince.

Dammit, Mom.

"Honey, you can go outside and get in the cart. I'll be right out, after I talk with Princess Rarity." Her breath smells like mouthwash, but that isn't fooling you. You probably know Mom better than she knows herself. You've lived with her your whole life, after all. Well, except for the couple of times they took you away from her for a while.

"Oh. Why are we taking a cart?" you ask.

"You'll find out soon enough," says Mom, and she grins.

You go outside, and there's a small haycart loaded with several boxes. You climb in next to the boxes and rest while Mom and Rarity gab it up. You feel kind of sleepy because you stayed up late last night doing homework, but you resolve to stay awake for a few more hours. It's your birthday today, which Mom usually remembers. You're not counting on that, but you should at least be prepared.

You fall asleep in the cart anyway, but a few minutes later you're awakened by the motion of the cart. Mom has latched herself up and is trotting into town.

Since Mom is an earth pony, this load won't even make her break a sweat. "I see the saddlebags, and Rarity told me how well you did today!" she turns back and briefly peeks at you with the Mystery Look, but she keeps trotting. "She didn't give me any details about what you did, though, so you'll have to tell me all about it. We're going to have a lot of fun together celebrating your awesome magic."

You smile. "Oh, cool," you say, and you mean it. Yeah, you do love Mom. It's not her fault she has a drinking problem—it's a physical addiction she developed when she was a little foal. She tries her best, and everypony makes mistakes.

Then it hits you: is the Mystery Look what pride looks like? Is that what you've been seeing on other ponies' faces all along? Is your mother proud of you? Is Rarity? Maybe all this time, inst—

Mom yelps and twists to the left, and everything spins upside-down. You fly out of the cart as you hear wood cracking behind you, and you slam into the side of a stone building. It winds you, and painfully.

Hitting the ground, you cry and gasp for breath, kneeling there right next to the wall. Looking up from the ground, you see Mom's legs behind the overturned cart, and you hear her curse. You feel bad, but you can forgive her... even though she's obviously drunk off her rump again.

One of the boxes has smashed open, and party supplies have spilled out. Party supplies? You can't think clearly because you're still struggling to breathe. With a loud THUMP, a large block of granite appears on the ground right next to you. What in Equestria is going on? You hear loud hoofsteps striking the ground at a galloping pace. They're getting close, and fast. You feel worried for some reason, but you don't k—

Suddenly you jerk upright in bed, throwing your covers across the room and screaming loud enough to wake everypony in the house. You're drenched in sweat. You're confused about where you are, and everything else too. Were you in a dream? No, it felt too real to be a dream. You were gaspin' for breath, and... didn't it have something to do with Mom? No, Ma wasn't there, cause you'd remember that thing, even though you can't hardly recall her face no more. You ain't sure about the rest.

The door to your room bursts open, sending fractured pieces of wooden lock flying right out the open window. "Y'okay?" says a large alicorn who reminds you of one of your sisters.

Wait. Sisters? What were you just thinkin' about? How come dreams gotta fade so quick...

And who are you, anyway?

The Second Remove

You are Big Macintosh.

Officially, your name's 'Prince' Big Macintosh, but you don't take to that title. You must be thinkin' about the whole prince thing at the moment cause your sis got her wings spread real wide right now.

"Mac?" your sister says, and then she walks into the room and places a hoof on your shoulder.

"I, um, I'm okay," you say, trying not to sound nervous, but you're pretty sure you failed at that thing. "Nightmare."

Applejack rassles her arms all the way round your bod, which ain't easy, even for a mare of her generous size. You can see Apple Bloom right there in the door with an equal helpin' of concern on her own little face. Then again, you guess her face ain't all that little no more.

"You need somethin' to getcha back to sleep, Brother?" asks Apple Bloom, stepping into your room. You feel very foolish and dumb for screaming from a nightmare, because stallions ain't supposed to do stuff like that. You also don't like having your sisters in your bedroom with you, cause it feels cramped. Bein' around too many ponies in a place too small to give 'em all some breathin' room makes you mighty iffy—even if they're kin. You really hate bein' blocked in on all sides.

You look at the clock beside your bed. "Nnope," you say. "Might as well get to moseyin', almost dawn now." You hope they'll get the hint, and you're pretty safe there cause they ain't dumb. Bless the Stars, Bloom's the smartest Apple you ever known, and you've known a passel of 'em. You can't even believe you're related, to be honest. Thinkin' about smart stuff always sends your brain hurtin'. But wait a sec, weren't you just thinkin' all about magic and clever stuff when you woke up? No, must have been the dream. Maybe it wasn't all that bad after all.

AJ releases you, then she steps back and smiles. "Must have been one humdinger of a dream!" she says, and whistles. "It's been a few years since I had one that bad. Remind me to scold Princess Luna next time I see her."

Despite how your innards are all a-twist, you smile a tad. "Luna ain't got nothin' to do with it," you say. Deep down, you're grateful to have kin who care so much about you. You got a good life, 'cept the hard work. Wait, what are you thinkin'? You love hard work! You done got yourself a perfect life. All's well at Sweet Apple Acres, maybe except the prince thing of course, but that don't matter for real. Now you smile a lot more.

Bloom catches the smile from you and AJ—that stuff's like a bad cold—and then they leave you be. You head off to take a shower and exfoliate. You wish there was a different word than 'exfoliate' because that one sounds so floofy. You don't like things that sound floofy cause you worry what ponies'll think. You worry about that a whole lot, even though you know it's silly. On your way to the shower you make a note in your head to wash your sheets before hittin' the hay tonight.

Usually you shower in the evenin', but today you're gonna need two: one now, and one after chores. It's kind of a hassle, cause it takes a long stretch of time for somepony like you to shower your bod. But you got stuff to think about, so it ain't bad. You start by thinkin' about your marefriend, which happens a lot in the shower, though you don't never tell nopony that. You been visitin' her a lot, and she seems to tolerate you good enough. She been keepin' up her end of the bargain, too. Pretty soon you're gonna have to make her an honest mare. None of this woulda happened except Twilight came stickin' her muzzle where it don't belong to make a match, and like usual she was right. Twilight knows that kinda stuff, what with Friendship and all, so it seems cut and dried, but the idea of finally poppin' the question still gives you the willies. You're brave enough to handle a 'nnope', but you don't wanna make her feel bad if she don't want you.

It ain't always been like this, though. A long while back you had your heart set on Shy (though the two of you since parted ways all mutual-like). Now that you're a prince and all, the fact Shy's a princess didn't matter to you no more because you can't become a prince two times. At least, you don't think so. You wish you could go back to zero times, but no matter what you do, with sis's Honesty and all, you're stuck a prince, even though your new honey ain't royalty from any angle. You take a big sigh while washing your tallywhacker, and try to accept what life gifted you.

Still...

Sometimes? You actually think about bein' a princess. Not for the title, obviously, cause that ain't no better than prince. You just like to think about bein' smart, and havin' magic to do stuff with, and bein' able to fly around, like your sister and her friends get to do. Maybe even wearin' fancy gold shoes, or somethin' wild like that. Course you ain't never told nopony none of it, except for Shy and the mare you're datin' now.

At the end of the day, it's just a dream. That kinda stuff don't happen to colts, and you ain't smart enough by a country mile, and your daydreams don't matter a lick. But simple facts don't stop the dreamin', and maybe someday if your dreams drift the right way you'll have your own wings and a horn for a while. You might be afraid of what ponies think, but you ain't afraid to dream. Now that'd just be silly.

You finish your shower and towel off, then head out to face the day.

It's all bright out today, nice and sunny and hot, just the way you love it. You also love it when it rains and when it snows, just not quite so much. Today's a sweatin' day, and there's plenty of work to be done, so you trot down to the orchard and get to workin'.

Your mind wanders a lot, even though you ain't got much mind to wander. Mostly about stuff that can't never happen. You reckon most ponies probably got fantasy thinkin' goin' on at least part of the day, but it's mostly all day long for Mac. The stuff you gotta do is simple and most folk'd be bored stiff by it, but it's great exercise. It feels good all over your body, and especially in your gut—and you don't mean the flesh part neither, even though that part feels good too. There's a warmth in your heart that won't ever vamoose when you're doin' your part for the family. You want that warmth to be in you every day.

Then it's about noon, so you start thinkin' about puttin' grub in your muzzle, and you head on back to the farmhouse to do that thing. Normally AJ'd be ringin' the bell for lunch, but she got somethin' to do today so it's just you and Bloom. When AJ ain't around for lunch, Bloom usually goes and eats with her friends. So you rassle up some vittles by your lonesome and stuff your face with them, then get back to work haulin' apples from the orchard to the root cellar.

Several more hours pass, so it's gettin' a little late in the day. Normally, you'd continue workin' until just before Sundown, but today there's somethin' important you gotta do instead. You got a party to get to. Now, you ain't really into shindigs outside of kin, but this one still counts as kin because your marefriend is gonna be there, as well as the little—well, not quite so little anymore—filly whose birthday you'll be celebratin'. So you rub a little soap on your bod and hose yourself down in the yard. It's faster than a shower and you'll be mostly dry by the time you make it into Ponyville.

As you canter into town, your dumb brain keeps wanderin' as always, first about how you ain't never gonna be a princess, then s'more about Berry. You worry she might see you before you dry out, 'cause you're still drippin' wet at the moment, but then again some mares are supposed to like that kinda thing. Besides, you ain't gonna be ashamed of your work, cause work's what makes life worth livin'. That and family, and maybe friends too. But that don't make no...

Wait.

Somethin's wrong. A cart just crashed down the hill by that stone house what's still bein' put together, and it looks like a little somepony flew out of the cart and into the wall. You hear some loud naughty words, too, and they sound like Berry. She got a mouth on her, but she tries real hard not to use it, so she must have gone and hurt herself somethin' bad. On accident this time, you hope.

Berry needs your help, and you set to canterin' lickety split. You'd gallop full bore, but you gotta eyeball the situation to know what's right, and so you do that thing. You notice a bunch of stones way up there on the roof of that there house, and they're in a pile what's too narrow and tall and too near the edge, and they got a wobble goin' on 'em already.

Now you're in a gallop before you even tell your hooves to pick up the slack, which you think is kinda neat. You reckon you know what's right so good that you can do it without thinkin' first. That's good for you, cause you don't think too good. And now you need it because that's a filly right under them stones, and she gonna get smashed if you can't go fast enough to get her. Dear Sun above, you hope that ain't Pinchy. Not that you want any filly to be in danger, course not.

As you race, you look at the rocks, and you puzzle real hard. In a farmer's minute (that means real fast) you reckon out the exact moment each one gonna hit and the exact spot each one gonna land at. The first one'll hit next to the filly, and the second one square on her. You only got seconds to spare, so you turn up the juice past the breakin' point.

You wish you was fast as Rainbow Dash right now, with every muscle you got in you. You don't need to be no princess (even though that'd be mighty nice), just as long as you can get to that little filly in time. You can't even see Berry, if she's there, because your vision goes into a long, dark tunnel from how focused you are. The first stone falls right beside her, exactly where you done knew it was gonna. Your hooves just keep movin', and it's hard to breathe. You ain't never run this fast before. You see more stones fallin' toward her, and you jump real hard...

You land a few hooves away from the filly just in time to see stones come smashin' down on her. It looks real bad, but you stand u—

No, hold up. It turns out you don't do that thing.

Several big stones hit your back and there's a real loud crackin' sound and the stones ain't the thing what cracked. You think you're pinned under 'em, but you can't tell 'cause you can't feel a goldurn thing south of your withers.

You don't wanna admit it, but you reckon even if you do come outta this, you ain't never gonna move those back legs of yours again. And that ain't good, 'cause it means you'll be a big-sized burden on your sisters' saddle. You almost hope you don't make it outta this one, even though you're sure that's ain't the right thing to hope, and you know your sisters and Berry don't want that neither.

Then you look up and see a big grey mass gettin' bigger fast, and all of a sudden you feel this overwhelmin' sense of peace. You done right, Mac.

The stone hits your shoulders nice and square, and they crunch like dried applewood and you can't hardly breathe no more. You don't feel no pain, but you feel warmth flowin' right out of your mouth, kinda wet-like, and the warm parts in your chest are gettin' mighty cold.

And that's okay. It's just gut warmth, is all. The physical kind. It ain't the important kind. That ain't ever gonna leave.

You feel so very cold and sleepy, and things get all dark, then there's this ringin' in your ears as ev—

Hold up, now.

Slowly, real careful-like, you see a light. It's a white light, and it starts to feel warm again deep in your innards, and you gasp for breath because your lungs still ache. You blink repeatedly, and you flex your legs, all four of those. You can feel them again, as a tingling sensation covers them. You stretch, and look yourself over as you start to breathe normal. Okay, this is interesting...

Where in Tartarus are you? You're sitting in a comfortable chair next to a bottle of pills, but how come? This house looks very familiar. Weren't you trying to help somepony? Didn't you feel broken and cold? What the buck...

For that matter, who are you?

The Third Remove

You are Berry Punch.

You're certain you were being crushed... or maybe it was pulled apart? You can't remember, but it was some horrible kind of hallucination. Or was it? What in bucking Tartarus is going on? You're still gasping for air.

Were you drinking? You remember having a drinking problem...

No, you weren't drinking. You wouldn't dare drink again. You've been sober for twelve straight months, and you'll be sober for the rest of your life. That last time you lapsed... you almost lost your daughter. Thank the Stars above, the Princess of Redemption saved you from yourself.

So, no. You don't drink anymore. Pinchy means everything to you. She is your reason for existing. You need her to know you care about her, and you need it more than you need to flowers and grass to eat. And you certainly need it more than hard cider or wine.

Your hooves are shaking and you're still a little dizzy. You stand up and examine the pills beside the tattered easy chair you were seated in.

Oh no.

"I took the wrong ones?" you whisper to yourself. You can't believe it. You realize your new anti-anxiety meds, which are still experimental, look a lot like the pills you thought you were taking! The pills beside your chair are the experimental ones. You just took six large doses of an anti-anxiety drug that had only been tested for a single dose per day. Earth pony sized doses, to be precise.

Horsefeathers. You feel guilty, and you punch yourself in the side of the head, which hurts a lot. But it should hurt. What would have happened if you'd died? You're a mother. Maybe you're not a good mother, but you're still a mother, and Ruby depends on you to take care of her—even though she's getting close to the age when she'll finally leave you forever and probably never look back. But for now, you have a responsibility, and taking care of her means you need to take care of yourself. You love her too much to do something this stupid. You can't be this stupid again, you just can't.

You try to calm down. You shouldn't be hurting yourself, because that's almost as wrong as drinking. Fortunately, it isn't difficult to calm down because you have a ton of anti-anxiety medication in your bloodstream right now. That's a silver lining, you sarcastically think. You try to focus, and look over at the clock.

"Oh horse apples, I'm late!" you say. You're glad Pinchy isn't here to hear you cuss out loud, but you were supposed to pick her up five minutes ago. The Carousel Boutique isn't far from here, but you zoned out instead of delivering the party supplies to Sugarcube Corner, so you'll have to take them along with you.

You run into the bathroom and quickly dab some cheap perfume under each cheek. It smells more like kerosene than flowers, but you can't afford the good stuff, and appearances are important. You want the Princess of Generosity to know you're grateful for her time, and for her willingness to teach Pinchy for free because she knows you can't afford to pay for her lessons. But more importantly, you want Pinchy to know you take her abilities seriously. You may be an earth pony, but you don't have to be a unicorn to appreciate magic, for buck's sake. You quickly rinse your mouth out with mouthwash and canter outside.

As you load the party supplies into the cart, you wonder why things always need to be so bucking complicated. If only Pinchy realized what incredible talent she has, you think, as you hook yourself up to the cart you borrowed from a neighbor. But then again, if your daughter didn't have these issues, she probably wouldn't push herself so hard all the time. It's a deep irony, and it makes you feel conflicted. You're so proud of her, but you're pretty sure you'd rather have a C student who felt good about herself. She doesn't need to do all this to impress you! You've always been proud of her, even when you were unable to show it properly.

You take off at a canter, but to be safe you'll slow to a trot after you pick up Pinchy with you. She could just walk beside you, sure, but today is her day. She'll get a wagon ride to her fifteenth birthday party, and you'll both have a blast. You start to relax a little more. Things are going to be okay.

You arrive at the Carousel Boutique. You detach yourself from the cart and walk up to the door, then pause before knocking. The princess said she had a difficult test planned for Pinchy. Your foal might be inconsolable if she didn't pass. Of course she will pass, but that's never good enough for Pinchy. She'll expect her performance to be perfect. You sigh deeply. You need to take her with you to therapy someday. She says she doesn't want to go, but maybe if you beg her like a jackass or something...

You knock on the door, and you bite at your lip as you wait.

A few moments pass, then a smiling princess opens the door. "Ah! Perfect timing. Welcome, Berry Punch," she says to you. You giggle and fake an air-kiss, ironically. Rarity's always talking about how ridiculous ponies are in the world of fashion. Initially you used to think she was trying to show you up, but eventually you realized her friendship for what it is.

Then you see your perfect daughter sitting down inside, and you smile.

"Pinchy!" you shout, then race into the Boutique, pick Ruby up, and hug her like you mean it—because you do.

You look into her eyes, and she looks disappointed, which is how she usually looks. You don't think that will last for long, though.

"Honey, you can go outside and get in the cart. I'll be right out, after I talk with Princess Rarity," you tell her, and set her back down. You notice she's wearing saddlebags with her cutie mark on them—obviously another gift from Rarity.

"Oh. Why are we taking a cart?" she asks you.

"You'll find out soon enough," you tease, then walk over to Rarity. Your daughter walks past you and climbs into the cart.

You smile at Rarity. "Did you give her those beautiful saddlebags?" you ask, already knowing the answer. "They're perfect for her."

Rarity grins back, a bit sheepishly. "Oh, there's a little more gift-wise, but I'll let her tell you herself." You don't know what that means, but you have the suspicion Rarity has outdone herself.

"You're too kind to us both, Rarity," you say. It took you a while to learn to call her Rarity, but you've known each other for a couple of years now. She's been a great source of strength. You figure all of this is why she's a princess.

"No, you deserve better than you've had in life," she says. "I'm proud of you both, but especially Pinchy. I cannot believe that darling girl! She masters everything I throw at her, thrice as fast as I ever learned magic. She's like a young Twilight Sparkle."

You smile. "She's something special, alright. I only wish she knew that."

"We'll teach her, don't worry. It just takes time," says Rarity. "You know," she adds, dropping her voice to a whisper, "I never much cared for children. At all, really, except for modest doses of my little sister. But I think I see the rewards inherent to motherhood, and for being able to share that experience with you in some small fashion, I am forever grateful."

You feel misty eyed. Horsecrap, you hate this kind of sentiment. "You're coming to the party, yes?" you redirect.

"Wouldn't miss it for the world, darling! But to avoid spoiling the surprise, I shall be 'fashionably late', as they say," she says, vainly holding a hoof to her chest with her nose upturned, before we both break into giggles again.

"See you soon," you say, and you head back to the cart.

Pinchy looks tired, and you're tempted to tell her that she can nap in the cart, but you're pretty sure she'd just take that as a challenge to prove you wrong. So you quietly latch yourself to the cart and begin to trot toward Sugarcube Corner. You'll keep the destination and party a surprise. You've scrimped and saved so you could give her a very special experience today.

After you're on your way, you look back at her, beaming with pride. "I see the saddlebags, and Rarity told me how well you did today!" you say, then put your eyes back on the road. "She didn't give me any details about what you did, though, so you'll have to tell me all about it. We're going to have a lot of fun together celebrating your awesome magic."

"Oh, cool," she says, and it makes you feel like you just won a marathon.

Out of nowhere, a baby rabbit jumps right in front of your hooves and freezes! You move your left forehoof to the side, and it catches in a small rut in the road. Your ankle twists painfully and you fall to the ground.

Unfortunately, you're still harnessed to the cart, and as an earth pony, you weigh at least twice what the cart and its contents weigh. This means even a slow trot carries with it a tremendous amount of momentum.

The cart flips sideways and the boxes fall all over the place. One of them cracks open, and one of the wooden wheels is shredded. And then you see Pinchy hit the wall. For a unicorn, that really had to hurt. Oh, buck it all to Tartarus!

"Horsefeathers!" you shout, your voice filled with an even mix of anger and guilt. Your ankle seems unbroken, so you try to stand up, but then you notice two of your legs are caught through one of the undamaged cart wheels. Of course you could snap the wood to splinters as easy as chewing through unrefined sugar, but you'll have to pay for the damage the cart has already taken. You don't have the money for this, and you don't like to lean on friends like Rarity for things you should be able to do on your own. It's not like you have a pile of gems sitting on your dresser.

You try to pull your legs free without damaging the cart any more than it's already damaged. You hear a 'thump', followed by a few 'thump's with a little 'crunch' in there. Then you see Big Macintosh racing and jumping toward where Pinchy fell—

You utterly destroy the cart as the most horrible feeling of your life grips your chest. There are enormous blocks of stone falling off the wall. You'd have to be a genius to calculate where those stones would land, which means nowhere along the wall is safe.

You don't see Pinchy anywhere, and you're starting to panic. There are stones littering the area by the wall where she was. Big Macintosh has stones covering his back half, and then you see a stone land on his shoulders and flatten him thinner than anypony could possibly be flattened, let alone a pony his size. You realize you just watched your coltfriend die, but you remain in denial because that doesn't matter right now.

You don't bother to look up. Your safety is not important. You rush to the pile of stones where you last saw Pinchy. No, no, no! There's a lot of red, and you throw one of the boulders over your shoulder and you scream and you fall to the ground and pet the part of her head still holding together. This is the end of the world.

At some point you run out of voice to scream with, and you turn and gallop away, ignoring all of the horrified onlookers. You're barely able to breathe through the tears and the pain. You feel a momentary numbness grip your body, and you realize you're watching yourself act, almost like you're reading a story rather than participating. You're not in your own body right now. A mind can't live inside of that body right now, you realize. Nothing can live there. It can only be empty.

When you reach your home, you run inside and slam the door behind you. Naturally, your instinct is to go for booze, but you've removed all of that from the house. You're tempted to try drinking the vanilla and almond extract, but you realize you can't even do that. Even now, with your soul fractured into a million pieces, you can't betray Pinchy. You cannot drink.

And then you see the pills.

You know Ruby Pinch would want her mother to live. You know she would try with all her might to protect you from yourself. But there are limits, and you've gone well past any rational limit. Besides, you don't know the pills will kill you.

You just really, really hope they will.

Around two dozen pills go down your throat, or as many as you can swallow dry before you begin coughing. Most of them are getting stuck in your esophagus, but the pony body is designed for digestion and it's only a matter of time. In the meantime, choking is a welcome distraction. You lie on your bed and cry and choke and rip your covers to shreds, then you start to destroy the mattress as a very heavy weight presses down on your neck. Your body tingles and goes numb and you just want to go somewhere else, anywhere else, even nowhere if it means... you're sleepy all over and blessed confusion sets in. It's all tight and warm and floaty and you think thinininnk thhhh—

You abruptly wake up next to a moonlit lake, surrounded by magical flora created from your own imagination, and after a brief moment of terror, the sweet embrace of serenity comes. You smile, because you already know exactly where you are. This is your realm, after all.

Where you are is, oddly enough, asleep within a dream in which you are physically located.

As for who you are?

The Fourth Remove

You are Princess Luna.

You stretch out on the imaginary bed stationed within your own false dream, and you close your eyes for a moment to focus. Like many ponies, you have developed the ability to remember dreams. But unlike other ponies, you can do this not only with your own dreams, but also with the streams of consciousnesses who enjoin with yours. You are aware of the constant stream of minds that enter your consciousness and become you, as well as the constant stream of you splitting off into other minds.

You can feel the minds which merge with your own, frequently from states of altered consciousness such as dreams, but most commonly from death—when the physical basis of a conscious pattern cannot support the pattern, so the most likely leap is somewhere else, such as within another pony waking from a nightmare. This happens to everypony, but unlike most ponies you are intuitively aware of the probabilities. At any given moment, every possible mind enters yours with some probability, but some connect with much higher probability than others—and those provide you with details.

Just now, a very curious stack of high-probability consciousnesses became you. It is not unusual that the past three came from death (that is very common), or even that they all came from Equestria (also common, since you live there and tend to daydream about it). What is unusual is that all three came from the same reality, the same time period, and beyond all reasonable measure of probability, fell victim to the same, shared event.

The odds are simply impossible. But impossible things happen everyday, so you just smile and feel the warmth of life inside you.

Welcome home, you think to yourself, and you embrace the collective pasts flowing into your consciousness. You hope they do not mind being a princess for a while, but you are rather certain they would not. Besides, they cannot mind: they are already you, and you currently do enjoy being who you are.

However, the situation still feels tragic to you.

It was a preventable disaster from a plausible future directly connected to the world in which you currently dwell. Yes, you could visit Ponyville and take steps to ensure such a tragedy should never occur, and you shall do that in the morning. But that feels too impersonal. Each of these three lives were on the cusp of a promising future. It feels like a waste of potential, even if you do enjoy being you.

Aha! You have an idea. You are most pleased with yourself!

Perhaps you cannot alter such probabilistic circumstances yourself, but you do know somepony who can, and you have a special way to send a message to your friend. You lay back onto your imaginary bed, close your eyes, and carefully imagine that you are that pony.

Most of you (including the lives who have joined you) shall remain Luna. However, a very tiny probabilistic piece of yourself will end up becoming your mentor, and in doing so, your memories will send a clear message that you would like this event to be properly patched up, if it would not be too much trouble.

As your mind fades into a dream-within-a-dream, you idly wonder if, against the odds, you shall end up being the Luna who becomes him. You allow your mind to drift...

...and what do you know? You are that Luna! (Though not so much anymore, of course.)

But who are you?

You chuckle to yourself. What a silly thing to ask of oneself! As questions go, it's virtually meaningless, no matter who one thinks oneself to be. But, if one must put a label upon it...

The Fifth Remove

You are Star Swirl the Bearded.

At the moment, you occupy the Void between worlds—not to be confused with Limbo, which is a place you'd rather not visit again. As an older iteration of Star Swirl than the one who returned to Equestria in 1004 Anno Solequus, this plane of existence has become your usual haunt: casually surveying all dimensions tangentially related to ponykind. You note that "surveying" does not mean "seeing". None of your five senses are sufficient for comprehending the Infinite about you. You exist as a part of everything, and you feel the probabilities. It's similar to what young Ruby Pinch was learning to do with her magic sense (which you remember quite clearly), except that it doesn't require a horn. Or a physical body, if one must be entirely accurate.

One specific version of Princess Luna just now sent you quite a tall order, and you're not immediately certain whether her suggestion is a good idea. There are dozens of other tasks upon your withers of far greater import. Nonetheless, you decide you shall grant her request. As luck would have it, you already have business at that particular time and in that particular dimension.

But of course, this is hyperbole. There is no such thing as "luck". It is the magic of friendship that would have things one way or the other, and it is your only master. That, and perhaps a piping hot cup of oolong tea, now and again (well, when you have a body to drink it with).

A brilliant white aura illuminates your zone, and just like that, you're physically there. You've appeared in the middle of a crowd of mournful onlookers. Twilight Sparkle is with them, weeping over a pile of stones. She looks up and sees you, and she leaps to her feet, wide-eyed.

"Star Swirl?!" she shouts. "Please—"

With a deft application of prohibere tempus, you cut her off mid-plea. This is less rude than it appears: you're going to minimize the probability of this thread anyway.

You could begin the laborious process of rewinding time right now, but you might as well wait a few minutes for your guest to show up. She should be in Ponyville today, so she's bound to stop by sooner or later. This is where the largest crowd is gathered, and she'll probably wish to investigate why time itself has frozen all around her.

You don't want to disturb your guest more than necessary, but you know she is a capable mare and you'd like to observe how she responds to a crisis. (You can't remember this particular part of your past. You previously blocked the event from your memory so you could have a more natural conversation with her half of yourself without creating paradoxes.) So, you hide behind the overturned cart. Every motion of your body makes soft jingling sounds due to the silly bells that line your wizard's hat and cape, so you'll need to keep perfectly still for a while. At least breezes won't be a problem.

You peek through a crack in the wood, and wait. After several minutes, you begin to wonder if you'll need to go fetch her, but then you hear a cantering in the distance. Somepony is approaching.

An alicorn mare rapidly canters around the corner of the building, then freezes. She gasps at the sight of blood. "Oh dear Celestia, no! Oh... oh, no. Big Macintosh, you poor thing," she whispers, holding a hoof over her mouth. Then she turns and sees the remains of the foal, and her eyes fill with tears.

After the first few tears fall, Starlight Glimmer shuts her eyelids tight, takes a deep breath, and wipes her eyes with a fetlock. "No. I can't let emotion get in the way of my judgment," she says to herself, and puts on a resolute frown. "Ponyville needs me right now."

Eyes now closed, the princess takes several long, meditative breaths, and most of the tension leaves her muzzle. You can't help but enjoy a brief moment of personal pride. She lacks the discipline and insight of her friend Sunburst, but she's come such a long way from foalhood. (Hence the wings.)

Starlight opens her eyes and exhales slowly. She walks up to a frozen Twilight Sparkle and scrutinizes her, waving a hoof in front of her face. "Weird. Aside from myself and possibly Pinkie, you should be the only pony in the vicinity powerful enough to stop time. But you're clearly in no condition to cast spells, and your horn would be radiating magic if you were the source," she says.

Her lips purse in thought for a moment, and she stares skyward at a motionless cloud. "Maybe you reacted out of raw emotion, and this was the result of a magical backfire. Given the circumstances, that seems plausible. But then why wouldn't I be affected along with the rest of Ponyville?" She turns and follows Twilight's gaze toward the crowd. "Now... what were you staring at?"

You wrinkle your nose at an itch, and the bells on your oversized hat jingle in response. The sound is muffled due to the nature of the time spell, but still audible.

"Who's there? Show yourself!" Starlight shouts, as her wings snap open and her horn lights up like the Sun. Her fiery aura is so bright it's painful to stare directly at it. The color is seafoam green, just like your aura used to be back in the early Pre-Classical Era, before fading to white. Your innate magical prowess comes from her side of the union, after all.

You step out from behind the broken cart and clear your throat. "You know," you announce, "talking to yourself is often the first sure sign of mental illness." You walk forward to a comfortable speaking distance, then stroke your beard with a hoof. You try to gauge her reaction. She seems to have missed the subtle joke, probably due to the stress. Alas.

Starlight breathes a sigh of relief. "Oh thank goodness! You're here to fix this," she concludes, and her eyebrows wrinkle together fearfully. "That's why you're here, right? Please tell me you're here to fix this, Star Swirl..."

"You tell me," you say. You step forward with a grin, lift a hoof to her face, then thrust it forward so that it...

*BOOPS*

The Sixth Remove

You are Starlight Glimmer.

...you right on the muzzle.

"What in Tartarus did you just do?" you ask, shaking your head to clear out the odd sensation. You can vaguely remember being Star Swirl, but his memories quickly fade.

"Just a bit of recursive fun," he says. Despite how terrible you feel at the moment, you can't keep a dry laugh from escaping your throat. You're not really sure where that came from.

"Well, that answers my next question. The version of you who lost his memories is less creative about being a jerk than you are," you say. "Your sense of humor must come from Sunburst, because you certainly didn't get it from me."

"Surprisingly, it's an even portion of you both," he says. "Like the mixing of reactive chemicals in a heterogenous solution, the swirling serves as a catalyst to unlock the full potential hidden beneath."

"If you say so," you reply, and shrug. Then you put on a serious face. "Enough chit-chat. You're going to fix this now." You try your best to hooftip the line between begging and demanding. You're not very good at that.

Star Swirl pauses and slowly strokes his beard. You've met this version of him on two other occasions (that you can recall). The beard-stroking usually means he's about to pull you into a philosophical argument. Even on your best days, you don't enjoy this sort of thing, and this is definitely not one of your best days.

"I can fix it, yes, and perhaps I will," he says. "But I need you to tell me why you believe I should."

You stare at him for a few seconds. You're certain your face is showing a mix of incredulity and disapproval, because your poker face is only slightly better than the Princess of Laughter's.

"You must be joking," you finally reply. "This is hooves down the biggest tragedy I've ever witnessed with my own eyes! I mean, not counting the ones I've caused, obviously, but that's not really the point."

"All timey-wimey meddling needs to be justified," says the old chronomancer. "Otherwise you risk making things worse. It isn't as simple as finding a tragedy, correcting it, and moving on to the next one."

"It isn't? Why the hay not?" Oh, how you hate philosophy. Dammit, Sunburst.

"Let me offer a hypothetical. Let's say Rarity is devastated by this event," he says.

"Which she most certainly would be, hence the—"

"Shush, Glimglam, I'm getting there."

Glimglam? You narrow your eyes in mild contempt.

Star Swirl continues, "So then, Rarity is devastated. She'd been treating Pinchy there as a surrogate daughter. What if this tragic event inspires her to have foals of her own? It's possible her change in heart on bearing offspring could result in her becoming the foundation mare for an entire breed: ponies whose actions may someday be necessary to keep Equestria in balance."

"Okay, that's easy enough. Save these two, then find another way to convince Rarity to have children," you say. "I don't see why one boon must necessitate another tragedy."

"Sometimes it requires a tragedy to catalyze a reaction, Starlight. You don't get to choose how the pieces fit together," he says. "That isn't a luxury we are afforded by the Universe."

"It still doesn't matter. What's important is what happens in the here and now," you argue. "Save these ponies now, then worry about the future afterwards."

The old stallion sighs. "When you live outside of time, there is no longer a 'here and now'. You must act to benefit of the lives of the majority, and everything in the present affects the future in irreversible ways," says Star Swirl. "Something happening in your future or your past doesn't make it any more or less important than what happens in your present. One day, you must learn to stop thinking so one-dimensionally."

You grit your teeth in frustration. "This is ridiculous. You can spout hypothetical horsecrap all day long and come to whatever conclusion you want to," you say. "Everything good leads to something bad, and vice versa. Nopony has to make these kinds of value judgments in real life, thank Celestia."

Star Swirl raises his brow, but shakes his head. "We do, my dear. For better or worse, it is our job," he says. "And yes, it frequently sucks."

"Then how do you decide what to do? Do you look at every possibility and just decide who lives and who dies?" you ask. "How do we—you—sleep at night?"

Well, that didn't work. You're raising your voice, and your blood is boiling. Sunburst is much better with self-control than you are. The vast majority of ponies are, to be completely honest.

"Even we have limitations, Starlight," you say. "When the waters are too murky to know with good certainty, leaving things alone is the only option that allows us to live with ourself."

You sigh, feeling defeated. You're never going to win an argument with Star Swirl, even if—as your gut somehow tells you—he doesn't remember this debate from your side. He's everything you are, and more... literally. "Look, are you going to fix this? Please say yes. Please, please say yes. I'll do whatever you need me to."

Star Swirl nods, to your immense relief. "I shall fix it, never fear," he says. "However, before I begin, you must do one more thing. I need you to show me you are at least partly capable of appreciating the value of lives such as these which end in tragedy."

You swallow a big gulp of nothing. "What if I can't? I'm not saying I can't, but..."

"No worries, Glimmers. We can stay here for centuries in our crosstime stream if it takes that long. It probably won't, but it would be rather amusing if it did," he says with a smile, throwing the crook of his foreleg around you for a sideways hug. "Then again, if Sunburst is awake right now he's undoubtedly very confused about why time has stopped in the Crystal Kingdom. So, let's shoot for 'soon'."

You take a seat on the earth and sigh. "Alright, let's get it over with. I'm not sure what you're asking me to defend, however," you say. "All life is precious. Of course the lives of these ponies were worthwhile. That's what makes this a tragedy."

"It's what makes this not a tragedy, as well," says your infuriating counterpart. "These three lives were well-lived. The experience of death is unfortunate, but it does little or nothing to reduce the value of a life well-lived."

"Three lives?"

"Yes. The foal's mother, as well."

"Berry Punch? She's not in the rubble... Oh no," you say, wincing. "I get it. Suicide would make perfect sense. Ruby was everything to her. I might be unhappy she'd do such a thing, but I can't say as I blame her."

"Neither can I. As I said, we all have limits," says Star Swirl. "Now, as for this being a 'tragedy', you were saying...?"

"Well, I guess it's the potential that makes it a real tragedy. Ruby is talented and has her whole life ahead of her. Berry had finally gotten herself together. I'm pretty sure Mac and Berry were getting serious about their relationship," you say. "There were countless—figuratively speaking—good experiences ahead for all of them."

"Countless bad ones ahead as well, also figuratively. All lives have an equal mix of both," says Star Swirl. "I agree with the argument about potential unfulfilled, but only because these lives in particular were looking forward to newfound levels of happiness. Their deaths may have been sudden, but apart from the last few minutes, they ended life on a high note. Few can ask for more than this. What would you will for everypony, were you commander of all space and time?"

"I'd have everypony die comfortably in bed after a long life, surrounded by loved ones," you say.

"No stillbirths or crib deaths, then?"

"Absolutely not." Ugh, this is taking forever. Fortunately, you've been thinking up an argument to shut the old coot up since he arrived. Now you're just waiting for the proper moment to strike.

"This is a sticking point for me, you know. We're hard-wired to defend infants, but their lives aren't qualitatively as important as those who have lived and experienced things," he says, staring up at the sky. "This errant idea that 'potential' is everything that is important is predicated upon two misconceptions. The first is the idea that the future is more important than the past. The second is the idea that souls are separate islands in..."

Star Swirl looks down and sees you sticking your hooves in your ears, then rolls his eyes. You chuckle.

"Now missy, we can stay here all century if you keep that up," he chides.

"I call bullcrap, old man," you say. "If you didn't care about the future, you wouldn't be lecturing me on what I should believe. You obviously care about my future, and I doubt it's only because I become a part of you." You grin and narrow your eyes as his expression sours. Ah. Sweet, sweet victory.

Star Swirl frowns sternly, then laughs. "If anything, the fact that I'm making this argument means I haven't learned my lesson, which means my argument is justif—no wait, that's a paradox," he says, and plants a hoof over his face. "You're a real killjoy, do you know that?"

"Yes, I do. Any wonder where you get it from?" you joke.

"Point taken." He clicks his tongue, and his staff materializes in front of him in a rather impressive visual display that would be extremely challenging to describe to somepony else apart from mentioning that 'there were these little overlapping rectangles'.

"Thank you," you say. "It's not that I hate arguing philosophy..."

"Don't lie, Glimmer. Everypony with an intact brain hates arguing philosophy," says Star Swirl, as he begins to reverse time. "You might want to stand over there by the right side of the tower. If ponies walk through you, you're going to find it tolerable, but quite uncomfortable."

That's all the motivation you need. You stand where he directs, and watch as time reverses. "How long will this take?" you ask, as you see ponies galloping backwards from the scene.

"Not long, as we're only a few minutes past the event. I can't speed it up, however," he says. "I'm not simply rewinding time, you know. I'm sealing off this branch so the odds of traversing it become negligible."

"I actually look forward to understanding all that," you say. "Not the job of applying it, of course, but the theory sounds fascinating."

You sit down and continue to watch. You feel exhausted. The emotional impact of what you'd witnessed has taken a toll on your spirit, and it isn't going to be 'rewound' in your mind because you'll still remember seeing everything. Thinking of all the endless possibilities... why does anything matter if everything that can happen, does? Star would undoubtedly say that the probabilities are different, and those matter. You're not so sure.

However, you do know that friendship matters, and despite your best attempt to hold them back, you cry happy tears as you see the blood spray re-entering Big Mac's body, back where it belongs. The stones fall upwards onto the top of the wall, Ruby flies backwards through the air, and the cart untopples itself. Then time freezes again.

"That should just about do it. You'll want to deal with those stones. Oh, and this should help," says Star Swirl, telekinetically smoothing out the small rut where the Berry's hoof was about to catch. "I'll leave the rest to you."

You trot back over to him. "Before you go... there's something you refused to tell me the last time we met. This version of you, I mean. I'm hoping you can tell me now," you say, in a soft voice. "How long do I have left?"

"How long until...?" says Star Swirl, and you motion by swirling your hooves around in a circle. He nods solemnly. "You should get your affairs in order soon. Starlight Glimmer's next visit to the Crystal Empire will be her last. Or... is it called the Crystal Kingdom in this timeline? I always get that wrong."

You ignore the comment, but close your eyes and nod. "Is it wrong if I'm afraid?" you ask him. "In a way, I'm going to cease to exist."

He shakes his head and smiles. "Fear is normal. But we cease to exist all the time, and it doesn't stop consciousness, now does it? You may trust me in this: you will love being with Sunburst, Starlight. You both truly will." He raises his staff, then pauses. "I'll need to send you an important memory in a few minutes, just to make sure all of our T's are crossed. Fare thee well, Starlight! When next we meet, it will be within you. Not counting 'halfsies', I have a good habit of avoiding contact with my past selves."

Then he waves his staff and vanishes as the world around you springs to life.

You carefully lower as many stones to the ground as you can see with your telekinesis while Berry Punch trots safely by. It takes a few minutes to get them all down. As you lower the last one, a construction worker leans over the side of the building to see what happened. "Hay, we're using those!"

"The entire build team here is in a lot of trouble," you growl. "These stones shouldn't be hanging off the edge of the building without supports in place, and the area around this wall needs to be surrounded with a crash-proof fence! Your work here is immediately suspended. I'll be back later today to discuss the issue."

The construction worker's eyes widen. "Y-yes, Princess," he says. You smile gently and trot to Sugarcube Corner to catch up with Berry.

It looks like the party's already started. You hear cheers for the birthday girl as she blows out the candles on her cake, and Mac and Berry are nuzzling affectionately at a table nearby the action. Pinkie Pie applauds, then looks your way and winks at you. You're not sure what that means, but Pinkie's kind of inscrutable.

Rarity and Applejack are planning to arrive a bit later, while the remaining princesses (apart from Pinkie and yourself) have obligations. You're glad you can be here today, even though your emotions will probably make it a short stay. Just looking at all the merriment makes you feel exhausted, undoubtedly from the temporary nightmare you just witnessed.

As you walk up to Ruby Pinch, you get a fragment of a memory of being her, and then a memory of being her mother. You're uncertain where it came from, but it must be what Star Swirl promised you. As luck would have it (or perhaps Friendship itself), you have an expensive perfume in your saddlebags. It was intended as a gift for Twilight Sparkle—the best gifts are things a pony wouldn't think to purchase for themself, after all—but this serves a far nobler purpose. Your former mentor would most definitely approve. Besides, you once helped save Berry from her addiction. Follow-up care is a responsibility you're happy to take on.

"Hay, Pinchy!" you say, as she stuffs her face with red velvet cake, her favorite treat. "I have kind of a weird present for you. It's actually for your mom."

She swallows and takes a swig of milk, then smiles. "Sure! I like stuff for my mom," she says. "Sometimes I don't think I do enough for her."

You chuckle, though internally you feel a pang of sympathy. "I think you do much more for her than you realize," you say, then you pull out the perfume. "Here you go. It's a fancy perfume. I don't mean this in a bad way, but the perfume she uses smells a little bit like wine? I don't think she wants to send that impression."

You watch the lights go on in Pinchy's eyes, and the sheen as they water just a little. "Oh. Oh...! Thanks, Princess."

"Call me Starlight," you say, with a smile. You wait until Pinchy is distracted, and then you walk a few paces away and teleport back into your bedroom in the Castle of Friendship.

The familiar wrenching sensation on body and mind feels a little novel this time, oddly enough. You lie back on your bed and sigh. You feel heavily fatigued, but you don't want to miss the whole party. You'll just rest your eyes for a moment or so. Just long enough to clear your head from the recent emotional ordeal.

Half-asleep, your mind wanders and you imagine an impossible future—or maybe a past—where books can be read on bright, shining devices and the words walk along the page like magic. You wonder if you'll encounter anything like that as Star Swirl? You wonder about lots of things: Pinchy, her mother, Big Macintosh... it all seems so indistinct and fuzzy, yet somehow meaningful at the same time. It's a lot like a fable, really...

For a moment, you're surprised to find out you're not where you just were, but should you be surprised? After all...

Welcome Home (Or Just Another Remove)

You are You.

Of course you're you, who else could you be? And of course you've just finished reading a story. You're just not entirely certain what the point to the story was, however. For one thing, it was an emotional rollercoaster with a strange ending. You suppose the ending was happy enough, although a deus ex machina is a rather lazy way to wrap up a story.

But the really unusual part was all of the philosophy. You wonder if the author has her head all the way up her posterior, or maybe the whole narrative was designed to convert you to some kind of cult. Then again, maybe it's just a strange story, and it doesn't matter what the author thinks as long as you enjoyed the ride.

Granted, you're not sure how much you enjoyed the ride, but you were definitely there. You might remember it like a story, but you're pretty sure some part of you was with each one of the characters, experiencing what they were experiencing, in all its joy and agony. What if there truly weren't a guarantee you'd make it back here? The possibility is unsettling, but maybe it isn't that bad of an idea. At least in some small way, being other ponies today has become a part of what makes you who you are.

You briefly wonder if Star Swirl was right. Perhaps it wouldn't have been such a bad thing if the ending weren't happy, because you still could have felt something and learned something. A story can be good even if the ending is bad, because the goodness is in the change it evokes in the read—

No, wait. That's ridiculous. This is all ridiculous. Author Tract, Needs Work, Do Not Recommend. Let's shelve this self-aware garbage under 'I read it' and move on.

Still... even after being shamelessly teased by the author, you think you might be up for another story on Fimfiction soon. After all, you have places to be, and sometimes they'll be worth the trip.

And that's okay, even though you'll rarely know exactly where you're headed next.