No One For the Gallows But Me

Chapters

2. Trial by Stone: Stillness and Orbits; Sculptures, Moonlight, and Shadows.
3. Trial by Wood: Sunlight and Wind; Bell, Book, and Candle.
Intermission One: Spike and Sunset.
Intermission Two: Trixie the Great.
4. Trial by Wood: Stillness and Shadow; Ash, Oak, and Thorn.
Intermission Three: Luna.
5. Trial by Water: Ebb, Flow, and Crash; Power Versus Influence.
Intermission Four: Spike and Twilight.
Intermission Five: Rainbow Dash and Sunrise.
6. Trial by Air: To Inherit the Wind; Words and Wisdom.
Intermission Six: Trixie the Powerful.
7. Trial by Spirit: Words of Farewell; Souls of Light and Shadow.
Epilogue One: Hearts Twined with Dreams.
Epilogue Two: Memories Beneath a Hidden Moon.
Epilogue Three: The Damsel and the Dragon.
1. Trial by Fire: Hearths and Pyres; Oaths, Spoken and Implied.
Epilogue Four: Home is the Rising Sun.

2. Trial by Stone: Stillness and Orbits; Sculptures, Moonlight, and Shadows.

She sat alone in her concrete cell and tried not to be afraid.

It was Sunday morning in Canterlot Courthouse and Corrections, and she was very lucky. That’s what the cops had said. Lucky that she could speak English. Lucky that she hadn’t resisted arrest. Lucky that Canterlot didn’t keep scum like her in prison while awaiting trial, like a lot of places did. Lucky that, at her age, the judge would probably go easy on her. Lucky that the girl she’d shot had survived.

Lucky that she was only looking at a few decades in a cage, instead of life.

Lucky that her life was over.

But her mom was going to be okay, she reminded herself. And if she was shivering, she thought, it was because of the cold. They had the air conditioning cranked up too high or something.

She’d be fine. She’d get through this.

Covering herself with her blanket, she rolled onto her side, facing the wall. And, unseen by any who might peer in, clutching her knees to her chest, Aurora Borealis silently wept.

“Sunny! Slow down!”

The bike wove madly between lanes, between cars and trucks. Twilight hoped no one noticed the glow of her magic, desperately maintaining her position on the bike's seat while she held her phone in one hand and clung to Sunset's waist with her other arm.

Sunset was shaking her head, shouting over the wind. “No! We’ve got to get there before—”

“I just heard back from Rainbow Dash! She’s got this!”

“How does she—oh.”

“Yeah! So slow down!” Twilight squeezed a little tighter. “Please?”

Sunset began easing off the accelerator, bringing their mad weaving in and out of afternoon traffic to something Twilight considered at least bearable.

“Sorry, honey,” Sunset said.

“It’s okay. I get it. Just don’t get us killed. Kinda makes it all pointless, you know?”

“Yeah, okay. Though, it looks like we’re almost there.”

“Great,” Twilight said into her girlfriend’s mane. “Wonderful. Outstanding. Which means we can go back under the speed limit, right?”

Sunset smiled a little sheepishly as she continued to decelerate. “Yeah, I guess so.”

“Thank you.”

“Sorry, hon.”

Another squeeze. “It's okay.”

Rainbow Dash looked at the sky, the school, the damaged plinth. She sighed. Sure it was great to be there early, for just in case. But… what were they hoping to accomplish, exactly?

Twilight had been pretty vague on that part. Sure, the other Sunset was coming back to face the music. Somebody else was taking the fall for her, and she was going to make it right. Or, at least as right as she could. That only made sense. For all that Rainbow didn’t like the girl, it wasn’t like she was evil.

I mean, after all, she did the crime, she thought, absentmindedly kicking at a tuft of grass. Whatever the courts hand her, it’s not like she doesn’t have it coming.

Then she sighed, her mouth thinning, and looked up again at the clouds.

The again, we were ready to do the same, she admitted to herself. Worse, really. After all, Twilight survived. She almost didn’t. If Sunset had made a different call…

Rainbow shuddered a little, despite the summer heat, and started pacing. That night, at the beginning of summer, she’d had no questions. ‘How’ hadn’t mattered. Neither had what would follow. Only retribution, revenge for the friend they’d nearly lost. Only Fluttershy'd had doubts.

But since then, the blue girl with the rainbow hair had given the matter a lot of thought. It had been a dark time for all of them. She’d never thought it possible to feel that kind of hatred. She’d never thought she’d had that kind of… thing within herself.

But it turned out that she did. They all did, in fact. And that night their shadows had taken them all by surprise, all but Fluttershy, swept them up and carried them away.

Many times since then she’d wondered, could they have gone through with the aftermath of something like that? Dump the body in a pig pen, maybe in a land fill?

And after that just… what? Pretend they’d never done it?

And then, what about when Twilight woke up?

Rainbow grimaced, hugging herself and spinning to lean against the plinth. One of the first things Twilight had wanted when she’d awakened the second time was to talk to the other Sunset. Her scary brain had already figured out who her assailant had to have been. And of course, Twilight had wanted to know why. Why a crying, human-born Sunset had tried to take Sunny’s life. And, true to form, Twilight had wanted the other Sunset to know it was okay.

What would they have told her, if they’d gone through with it?

She’d never have looked at us the same way, Rainbow thought. Even Sunny. After all, Twilight had faced her own inner shadow before, back in the Friendship Games. Maybe they could have stayed together after that. Maybe not. But no matter what, something between them would have died along with the other Sunset.

She tried to imagine what that world would have been like. Assuming they’d never be caught, they themselves never suspected for their crime. Which, considering how messed-up records were between Sunset and Sunrise (as Sunny said she was called now), wasn’t an impossibility. Assuming the body was never found, no one would know she was even missing.

So, assuming all that…

To live with that always looming over you, she thought. Not just the possibility of being caught, even twenty or thirty years later, or more, but just the fact that you’d done it at all.

Rainbow Dash let out her breath in a huff, sliding down the stone, still thinking about that other timeline of what-if. Forget about years or decades. If they had murdered the other Sunset, would they all still be friends today?

She made a sour face. Maybe. Fluttershy would’ve been as supportive as she could, but they’d have crossed a line she couldn’t really forgive. Rainbow could imagine Twilight and Sunset heading to different colleges in the Fall, using the distance as a passive excuse for what they’d both know was coming. AJ would do her best to live with it head-on; Rarity would do her best to forget. So, anything between them would probably be shot, too.

But above all else, they’d all be powerless to help the girl under arrest right now, accused of the other Sunset’s crime.

Which brought her to today.

Rainbow pushed herself off the plinth, stood, started pacing again. Twilight had said that the other Sunset was coming back to turn herself in, because the cops had grabbed the wrong girl and squeezed a confession out of her. And, despite her personal dislike for the girl, Rainbow had to admit that at least she wasn’t a coward.

At the same time, what were they supposed to do about it? If the cops already had a confession, would they listen to a bunch of kids who were almost in college? Even if one of them also confessed?

She snorted. Probably not.

And even if they did, what then? Save the other Sunset somehow? From something she probably deserved anyway?

But once again, hadn’t they all been ready to do far worse?

Rainbow Dash sat down in the grass with her chin on her fists and sighed. She wished she’d brought her soccer ball or something, anything to distract herself from the thoughts that kept spinning inside her.

As if on cue, the cracked stone before her started to glow with an otherworldly light. That was fine; better to be angry than conflicted any day. Rainbow Dash stood again, eyes narrowed and mouth thinned into a determined line. With clenched fists, she strode towards the ancient plinth and the figure emerging from it.

“Okay, let’s get one thing straight right now,” she started, jabbing one finger at the figure emerging from the gate. “You’re doing the right thing. I respect that, and I’m here to help. But don’t read too much into that, got it? I am not your friend. I’m… I’m…”

Her voice trailed off as she stopped and stared upwards at the figure gracefully straightening herself. The overhead clouds seemed to swirl, embracing her arrival in a depth of shadow uncharacteristic for the summer morn, even as the gateway illuminated her in a cool silver light.

Perfectly poised on black stiletto heels, black fishnet stockings against midnight blue skin. The figure’s mini dress was ebon-coloured leather, covering her from just above her knees to mid-sternum, emphasizing her figure without embellishment. Her jacket was loosely woven black silken lace, allowing the contrast between clothing and flawless skin to dance before the eye as she moved, even as it gave somehow the impression of both mist and gossamer wings.

Her hair cascaded past her waist in varying shades of sapphire, azure, and Persian blue, coiling and dancing slowly in the late summer wind. Across her throat, a black leather collar, bearing in silver the varying phases of the moon. Her cyan eyes taking in and measuring all the world against an eternity of wisdom.

There was nothing regal about the woman who stood before the astonished teen, drowning her words into silence with her very presence. Rather, this was a deity, a goddess before whom the kings and queens of old could have knelt and worshipped with neither hesitation nor remorse.

Then, as the magical light faded and the clouds parted again, the moment passed. The towering, divine figure was merely a woman, although a beautiful one, only slightly taller than the teenager before her, her agelessness settling into something akin to her early twenties.

Princess Luna’s smile was warm as she stepped forward into the late August sun, taking the younger woman’s hands in both of her own.

“You must be Rainbow Dash,” she said.

Thanks to most of the band living closer to CHS, the remaining six friends arrived at about the same time. Approaching the school, they’d been expecting to see Sunrise, of course. And regardless of their varying opinions of her, they were all, more or less, expecting to see her uncertainty. She was, after all, looking at taking a prison sentence to keep someone else from taking the fall. And they’d been expecting Rainbow Dash to already be there. Because, well, Rainbow Dash.

The elegant woman with Sunrise, however, had not been expected.

Pinkie Pie was the first to recover, of course, leaping forward happily with her arms open and a “Hiya, Princess!”

“Greetings, Pinkie Pie!” the princess laughed, catching her in mid-air and spinning her around. Then, setting the teen on her feet, she turned to the rest, saying happily, “And now I get to meet all of you!”

Sunrise and Rainbow Dash made the few remaining introductions needed, and there were hand clasps and smiles exchanged while they did. Meanwhile, Sunset simply stood, staring, her mouth hanging open. With a knowing smile, Twilight reached over and lifted her jaw, closing her mouth with an almost audible click.

Then, the pair of them stepped forward, and for several moments no one spoke as there was a long, comforting embrace between the four family members. The breeze picked up again, and a few early leaves rustled quietly along the sidewalk. Eventually, almost as one, Twilight, Luna, Sunset and Sunrise sighed and looked at one another.

“Would that this meeting of ours had a happier cause,” Luna said, her smile tinged with sorrow.

“Yeah, well,” Sunrise said, looking down, “we might want to get in as much time together as we can.”

“We’ll figure something out,” Sunset replied. “We just need a plan.”

Then, looking around, “Who’s for our place?”

“Actually, I know someplace that might be more ideal,” Twilight said thoughtfully. “Who’s for coffee and research?”

At Sunset’s quizzical look, she explained, “I used to hang out at this place, back in Crystal Prep. The owner knows me, and it has about a million books. Well, okay, technically closer to ten thousand. But we can order whatever isn’t already there. And I think we’re going to need to do a lot of reading on this one. None of us are lawyers. Or know any.”

“That all sounds perfectly splendid,” Rarity pointed out. “But it’s also Sunday. Are you quite sure they'll be open?”

“I, um, kind of texted ahead on the way here,” Twilight said uncomfortably. “He said he could have the place open for us if we wanted. And he’s got books there that you can’t find on the internet or in a library. And if we’re going to do this…”

“We need to do it right,” Rainbow Dash nodded. “Yeah. Good call, Twilight.”

“We might also want to ask Principal Celestia and Vice Principal Luna if they could join us,” Rarity pointed out. “And Shining Armor as well. The more friendly minds we have working on this, I think, the better.”

“Shining’s on shift right now,” Twilight said, “I’ll have to fill him in later. As for the Two Sisters…”

“They did say t'call 'em if we ever needed help,” Applejack pointed out. “I think this qualifies.”

Twilight nodded. “Yeah. That was my thought, too.”

There was a chorus of general assent, and they all began their way along the sidewalk, back towards the front lot. Then Twilight frowned and turned to Princess Luna.

“Hey, it just occurred to me,” Twilight said. “I don’t know how much things have changed since you were here last, but what kind of technology did they have then? Are you, um, culture shock proof? This might be a little jarring.”

Princess Luna cocked her head, saying, “It was within our counterparts' lifetimes, so I should be fine. But tell me, how did you know I’d been here before?”

“You’re walking on heels.”

A slivery laugh. “Ah! Of course, I should have realized.”

Sunset arched an eyebrow. “You were wearing heels on your first visit?”

Luna grinned. “Tragically, horrifically, and against my consent… yes.”

“Wow,” Sunset said. “I am so sorry.”

There was some more welcome laughter at that, and the group began to meander towards the front lot. But Twilight hung back slightly, and, curious, Sunset matched her pace. After enough space had grown between the pair and their friends for privacy, Twilight gave Sunset a teasing look.

“So… Vice Principal Luna, huh?”

Sunset blinked. “What?”

Twilight gave her a friendly elbow. “You know.”

“What? No! C’mon, I was all… you know…” Sunset gestured awkwardly. “World-conquesty and stuff.”

At her fiancé’s increasingly amused look, she rolled her eyes, adding, “Okay, maybe I did have a little crush when I first got here. A little. But I was, what, fourteen?”

Then she looked away, quickly adding. “And anyway, I didn’t have time for any of that. Like I said, I was busy.”

“Uh-huh.”

Sunset turned back to her with a sly look. “So… what about you? Any crushes I should know about?”

“You mean, besides Timber Spruce?” Twilight smiled and blushed, taking Sunset’s hand and squeezing it. “Only one.”

Sunset squeezed back, also blushing. “Aw…”

Upon reaching the lot, they found their friends still waiting for them. Most of them were good-naturedly leaning on vehicles, while Pinkie Pie sat cross-legged on her car’s hood.

“Don’t do us much good leavin’ if we don’t know where we’re goin’,” Applejack grinned.

“Oh! Right! Sorry,” Twilight said, whipping out her phone. “I’ll Eris you the address…”

“You could just tell us the name of the place, darling,” Rarity pointed out. “We’ll find it on Bazillion Map.”

There was the slightest pause as Twilight recalled that other people did, in fact, sometimes use maps to get around their own city.

“Sure, no problem,” she said with a sheepish smile. “It’s called Lectern’s New and Used Books.”

Rainbow Dash grinned. “Oh, yeah! I know the place!”

“Well, alright then,” Applejack smiled as she opened her truck’s door. “We’ll see you there.”

3. Trial by Wood: Sunlight and Wind; Bell, Book, and Candle.

Surprisingly, Rainbow Dash chose to ride in Pinkie Pie's car along with Sunrise and Princess Luna instead of simply running to their destination. And while she'd said it was just to keep Pinkie from getting lost (which had earned her a good-natured raspberry in response), Sunrise had observed that the blue girl had gone out of her way to keep her window down on the way there, and was now quietly combing her newly dried hair as the humans emerged from their various vehicles.

Rarity, meanwhile, was appraising their destination with an approving eye.

“How utterly perfect,” she said. “A perfectly charming counterpoint to its surroundings.”

Turning to her friends with a smile, she added, “Rather like finding a rose in a field of marigolds, isn't it? A little out of place, perhaps, but hardly unwelcome.”

Fulttershy smiled quietly as several brightly-colored birds swirled around her, singing happily as they shared their avian news.

“I do like it here,” she said. “The animals all seem happy.”

The others were inclined to agree. Leaving their vehicles in a small curbside lot (which was surprisingly free of charge), they made their way along the sidewalk, the old neighborhood showing them its history in the faces of its buildings.

On one corner, they passed a bungalow converted into an upscale martial arts studio. Farther along, a small hair salon, similarly transformed. Across the street, an antiques store, coexisting next to a real estate agency. Once a regal residential district, and then apparently having fallen on hard times, the entire block had been converted into upmarket businesses... a few of them also featuring small signs announcing them as historical buildings. All of them with beautiful yards with trees and flowering shrubs, all of them carefully and lovingly preserved against both the elements and the ravages of time.

“Hey, Dashie,” Pinkie chirped, “How did you know about this place?”

For her part, Rainbow Dash shrugged a little uncomfortably as they continued their walk.

“Remember what I told you guys before, about changing my major? Well, I've been coming here for a while now. Just, y'know, trying to get ready.”

Sunrise frowned. “Ready for what?”

“Law degree,” Rainbow explained. “I mean, I've got a free ride from the athletic scholarships, so I may as well use it. But there's no sense in going for the Olympics anymore when I can outrun a plane, you know? So...” her voice trailed off and she gave a vague gesture into the air.

“Aw, don't let her fool ya,” Applejack drawled. “She's gotta plan. Our girl's goin' for the ECLU. Gonna be a defense lawyer fer them as need it most. Like Leo Wineglass, Welara Kunstler, that Darrow fella, an' whatnot.”

Sunrise stared. “That's... awesome.”

Coloring slightly, Rainbow Dash jammed her hands in her pockets as she stumped ahead. “Well, y'know. I had to have some kind of plan. In case we, um, --oof!”

Rainbow Dash staggered forward as Pinkie Pie tackled her from behind in a full-strength friendship hug.

“Oh, Dashie!” Pinie cried dramatically, one hand upraised to the sky. “We'll never um!”

There was some good-natured chasing and laughter then (Pinkie using the other Rainbooms as unwilling cover, desperately dodging the suspiciously human-speed vengeance of her friend), and a quick wrestling match between the two girls, and after a few minutes the humans' spirits had been restored.

Behind them all, Princess Luna quietly squeezed Sunrise's hand.

“We'll be home again soon,” she said quietly. “Both of us. Mark on my word.”

For her part, Sunrise looked down and said nothing.

Their destination was on the far corner, with a variety of flower beds in its front yard, along with an old oak flanked by two well-maintained bushes. The birds that had been accompanying Fluttershy chirped their farewells and flew into the oak's dense foliage, which immediately began rustling with excitement. As they approached, they could make out some more trees in the back yard, sheltering what looked like an old furnished patio. In the front yard, meanwhile, stood a rough-carved and brightly-painted wooden sign board, proclaiming to all who might approach from either direction of traffic:

Lectern’s New and Used Books

When placed against against the surrounding old-world dignity and high-income businesses, the white bungalow-turned-used bookstore certainly seemed out of place. As Rarity had observed, it was certainly not what one would have expected. Yet, at the same time, it seemed to absolutely belong exactly where it was. Stubbornly remaining in defiance of whatever so-called progress might try to uproot it, weathering whatever changes the neighborhood might undergo.

The bell above the door jingled merrily as Rainbow Dash led the way into the place, calling, “Hey, Mister Lectern, we're here!”

“Rainbow Dash!” Twilight hissed, aghast. “This is a book store! It's like a library!”

“Oh, I think my delicate nerve endings can survive Miss Dash's exuberance,” the proprietor smiled.

The shop owner was an older man, the halo of his remaining white hair crowning his brick red face. With his bow tie and white button-up shirt, his well-pressed slacks and oxford shoes, he might have stepped into view from a back room, or from a century prior. But his frame was still strong and spry, and his green eyes were bright, shining merrily over his round reading glasses as he took in the sight of Twilight, Sunset, and Rainbow Dash.

“I confess, when Miss Sparkle said 'we' in her text, I had been hoping that she'd finally made...” He stopped as the rest of the group filed in behind Twilight, last among them Sunrise and the princess. His eyes went back to Sunset, with her arm around Twilight's waist, and then back across the other members of the group.

His smile broadened, and he gestured towards the book-filled expanse behind him.

“Well,” he said to them all. “In any event, welcome to my little kingdom. All you see is at your disposal. I have iced coffee ready, if you'd care to take it here or on the patio. And if you need help finding anything, or there's something you need ordered, just let me know.”

He nodded slightly to twin plaques near the stairs that led up towards even more shelves filled with books. Next to the one saying, We Reserve The Right To Refuse Service To Anyone, was Please, No Food Or Drink Beyond This Point Or Upstairs.

“And I have been appraised that this is a matter both urgent and sensitive,” he concluded with an upraised hand, “And of course I respect your privacy. But on that one percent chance that I can somehow help with whatever you're dealing with, I hope and trust you will let me know.”

“We surely will, sir,” Applejack nodded. “And thank you.”

“No, thank you,” he replied, his smile returning. “Any friend of Miss Sparkle is most welcome here.”

As the other girls moved forward into the various rooms and their shelves, Mister Lectern looked back to Twilight. He gestured towards Sunset, asking, “And if you have time for introductions...?”

“Oh! Right! Sorry!” Twilight blushed. “Sunset, this is Mister Lectern. He owns the world's best book store. Mister Lectern, this is Sunset Shimmer.”

Blushing deeper, she added, “We're engaged.”

Sunset extended her hand and Mister Lectern clasped it, his keen eyes giving her a once-over before shining with approval.

“So, I'll admit I'm curious,” Sunset asked. “How long have you and Twilight known each other?”

“Oh, she and I first met when she was about nine,” Lectern smiled. “When I asked her why she didn't just go to her school library, she said she'd already read all the books there. I thought she was exaggerating, of course. But then, I didn't really know Miss Sparkle yet.”

Sunset grinned. “Yeah, that sounds about right.”

The two of them exchanged a pleasant chuckle, while Twilight looked at the ceiling and good-naturedly waited for the moment to pass.

“Well, while I look forward to speaking with all of you more, I mustn't keep you,” the older man nodded. “Miss Sparkle, will you be working in the front room or outside?”

“Outside.”

“I'll bring out some coffee.”

While their friends began their search, the two young women headed out back and began to arrange the tables and chairs. After a few minutes, Sunset shot her lover a teasing look.

Twilight gave her a puzzled glance. “What?”

“Just wondering.”

“What?”

“Well, you know. Backing you up when you need help, childhood anecdotes, coffee for your homework, appraising the fiancé... and the guy lives in a book store... so, I'm just wondering.”

She gave a slight pause, cocking her head before asking, “Did I just meet your dad?”

Twilight gave an exasperated sigh, shaking her head as she smiled. “You're terrible.”

Sunset grinned and gave her a quick kiss.

“Always,” she said, putting her arms around Twilight.

“And a bad influence, too,” Twilight added, returning the embrace.

“Can't be helped,” Sunset added, touching Twilight's forehead with her own.

“Nothing to be done,” Twilight agreed happily.

For a few seconds they simply stood in the shade of the tall oak trees, enjoying the sunlight and the breeze.

“Well, time for me to ruin the moment,” Sunset sighed.

“Yeah,” Twilight agreed, walking towards the table. “I've got some research to do first, I should probably get on that.”

Sunset gave her a brief, puzzled look, then nodded. “Okay, cool. I'll grab some books.”

Twilight nodded as well, already setting up her phone at the patio table. Sunset smiled to herself despite the stakes.

Because, seriously, was there anything more beautiful than Twilight geeking enthusiastically on something that had caught her interest?

Sunset shook her head, her smile growing as she re-entered the store to join her friends in their search.

No. Absolutely not.

As the women spread out to begin their hunt, it was difficult to determine whether the place felt more like a business or a home.

The front room, for example, was definitely a home. To the right of the entryway, a fireplace added to the cozy ambiance despite being unlit due to the summer heat. On its mantle, a pair of ancient brass candle holders, each with a long white candle, also unlit. The area before it was well furnished, with a few round coffee tables and a baker's dozen restored overstuffed chairs arranged into two semi-circles flanking it.

Behind the far set of chairs, oak stairs led to the upper floor. Behind the nearer set, sunlight cheerfully streamed in through the picture window, providing a view of the front yard, its sheltering oak trees, and the elderly neighborhood beyond. A trio of corner lamps supplied additional light, softened and absorbed by the dark wood and earth-toned walls. Meanwhile, three overhead fans rotated slowly, their own lights off. Various maps from across the centuries adorned the walls, ranging from a modern map of Canterlot to hand-drawn medieval maps of Europe.

To the entryway's left was an antique bar converted into a cashier area. A pair of digital tablets rested comfortably upon it for sales and returns, book-ending their technological ancestor, a huge antique register of brass. Upon it hung a placard reading, Time Marches On. Behind the bar, a glass-enclosed case contained the more valuable treasures. Among these were a boxed set of Anne McCaffrey 's Dragonriders of Pern, autographed by both author and cover artist, and an original printing of Miguel de Cervantes' Don Quixote.

But as the women passed by the stairs and further into the store, the business face of the little shop presented itself, and they were quickly surrounded by the aisles of their host's wares. What walls could be seen here were earth toned, accented with the building's original wainscoting and crown molding. But for the most part, they were rendered all but invisible. The store's shelves stood proudly as they had for decades, covering most of the walls from floor to ceiling with books of all subjects, neatly dusted and organized, supported and protected in their oaken frames.

While their hunt went on, the front door jingled again, and they could all hear Mister Lectern happily welcoming the Principal and Vice Principal as well.

Eventually, one by one, the teens returned to the patio table with the first round of their treasures. There they saw that a tray and several coffee pots, along with creamer, sugar, and a set of durable earthenware mugs had somehow materialized during their search.

The two sisters were already sitting with Twilight, sharing a look that was difficult to read. Twilight, meanwhile, was working on something furiously on her phone, tapping on the holographic keys it projected onto the table before her, even as it created a three-dimensional screen out of light above.

Princess Luna and Sunrise were the last to arrive, arms loaded with tomes from a legal encyclopedia. As gently as they could, they arranged their finds in several stacks beside the others, and sat at the foot of the table, with the Rainbooms sitting on both sides between them and Twilight herself.

Seeing that the rest were seating themselves and that the book store's back door was staying closed, Twilight hit a holographic key, prompting the illusory screen to rotate and face the others. Slowly, the screen began to scroll through its images and text.

“Okay, so,” she began, “This is the girl the police picked up. Her name is Aurora Borealis. She’s sixteen.”

Sunrise stared at her friend in horrified dismay. “Sixteen?”

Rainbow Dash's eyebrows arched. “Holy crap. She looks just like you guys.”

The other friends had to agree. Granted, there were some striking differences. In most of the pictures, for example, the girl in the photos favored long t-shirts worn over long skirts, usually with a leather jacket she’d worked over with white paint and decorated with fantasy pins. One picture showed most of the jacket’s back as it scrolled past, which featured the phrase Stop The Fucking War splashed diagonally across it in white. And, unlike either Sunset or Sunrise, she wore a lot of rings.

But her skin color, if not identical, was amazingly close to theirs. And her hair was a strikingly similar clash of red and gold; the left half shaved off, the rest shoulder length. Her eyes were green instead of cyan, but her mugshot was in black and white, hiding that difference as effectively as the mall security cameras had.

Rainbow Dash frowned, standing and leaning forward. “Waitaminute,” she muttered.

As the security footage scrolled past, there was an arrest record, witness accounts, a search warrant for her home and the results of said search, notes on Aurora’s family…

“Seriously?” Rainbow Dash demanded, staring at Twilight. “You hacked the cops? I mean, yeah, totally awesome, but… seriously?”

Pinkie Pie leaned farther over the table for a better view. “Oooooooo! Anybody else getting Iron Maiden Two vibes?”

“It’s not that big a deal,” Twilight said, growing more uncomfortable by the minute. “And it’s not like the police were going to cooperate. Besides, if Shining tried to get me that information, it could be traced back to him.”

“But not to you?” Rarity asked, one eyebrow raised.

“No, not to me,” Twilight admitted. “Back when I was a kid, I designed a lot of the technology law enforcement uses today. I knew Shining wanted to be a policeman, and I wanted to help out.”

“What kinda stuff?” Applejack asked.

Twilight slumped a little self-consciously. “Oh, just basic stuff, you know. Tracking technology, alarms, automated drones, infra-red cameras, data assimilation and sifting programs, internal security programs, triple-redundancy firewalls, um, that kind of… thing…”

Her voice trailed off as the others stared.

Smiling, Principal Celestia and Vice Principal Luna exchanged a glance. Then, each of them moved behind her and put their arms around Twilight's shoulders.

“Twilight, please don’t take this wrong,” Luna said. “But times like this...”

“...when you're performing maybe a dozen felonies for the sake of the greater good...” Celestia continued.

“...we’re very glad to be your friends now, and not your teachers,” Luna finished with a wink.

Twilight managed a weak smile while the others chuckled, and then the meeting went back to business.

The key, Rainbow Dash explained as she started passing out books, was not merely to show legal cause for charges to be dropped. The key wasn't the law almost at all, per se. The key was that there were people involved. And people had, many times in the past, completely ignored witness testimony and physical evidence in the face of a confession. Add to that the accused's physical resemblance to Sunrise herself, and they would have a very difficult time convincing anyone, especially a judge or district attorney, to even listen to them. Much less rule in their favor.

The district attorney, Rainbow further explained, had been running ads for his re-election for a while now. Ads that had been doubling down more than usual on his traditional 'tough on crime' message.

So, it wasn't going to be just a matter of legally admissable evidence. The stakes were too high to just hope that the DA and/or the judge would listen to logic in the face of a signed confession. They had to find an argument that was legally airtight. A precedent that would not merely justify Aurora's release, but actively demand it.

But over time, as the stacks of books on the old table continued to grow and the sun continued its slow journey across the heavens, the breakthrough they were looking for never emerged.

“We still have evidence, though,” Fluttershy began. “We--”

“Sure, sure, but how do we even get her in front of a judge?” Rainbow demanded to the sky. “As far as they're concerned, they've got the bad guy! No offense,” she added with a glance towards Sunrise.

Sunrise gave a resigned shrug. “None taken.”

Rainbow Dash sighed. “Look, my point is, how do we keep the cops from just tossing Sunrise out as a crank? Why should they believe her, or any of us?”

“Shining's a police captain,” Twilight pointed out. “He can get Sunrise into the system, no problem.”

“We also have the gun,” Fluttershy said softly. “That should be pretty, um… convincing…”

Her voice trailed off as her friends stared at her. Then, Rarity cleared her throat.

“H-hm! I’m sorry, darling, but… we what?” she asked.

“Um, well, you see, we were in a park,” Fluttershy explained quietly to her lap. “And I didn’t want someone finding it the next day. Especially a child. So, while we were leaving, I picked it up and, well…”

Again, she lapsed into silence, staring at her hands in her lap.

“Okay. So. Once again, Flutters saves the day,” Sunset smiled. Putting a hand on her friend’s shoulder, she added, “You know, you ever get tired of saving our bacon, we may be hosed.”

While a blushing Fluttershy returned Sunset’s smile, Rainbow ran her fingers through her hair.

“Okay, so we’ve got our in,” she said. “And proof besides just another confession. That's good. That's really good. But it still leaves... well, everything else.”

She sighed, and continued, “Making anybody in authority listen to us at all is still gonna be a challenge. And I mean, at all. Much less getting the charges against Aurora Borealis dropped when she’s already confessed.”

“We did find those presidents—” Pinkie started.

“Precedents,” Rainbow Dash corrected with an eyeroll. “And sure, there’s a few. But nothing that's a guarantee.”

“Also, there’s getting Sunrise out again later,” Sunset added.

“That’s not a priority,” said Sunrise.

“Bullshit,” Sunset snapped.

“Your incarceration is not an acceptable conclusion to this,” Twilight added, eyes narrowing over her glasses.

“You’re my sister now,” Sunset added, half-standing. “And I’ll be thrice-damned to Tartarus before I let you rot in a cell somewhere!”

While Twilight put a calming hand on her lover's shoulder, Princess Luna squeezed Sunrise's hand again.

“Thou'rt outvoted, my love,” she said gently. “Accept it.”

While Sunrise gave a sad smile and squeezed back, the faculty sisters exchanged an uneasy glance.

“We… may know someone who can help,” the Vice-Principal said.

“On which part?” Rarity asked.

“On every part, theoretically,” Celestia said.

Smiling, Sunset cocked an eyebrow. “Oh? You… ‘know a guy?’”

“Y'all got a lawyer?” Applejack asked. “Like, a good one?”

Both of the sisters found anyplace to be looking but at their friends. Finally, Celestia spoke. “Not exactly. Let’s just say our own high school experiences were also…”

“…memorable.” Luna finished.

Adjusting her glasses, Twilight peered at them. “You know, I thought you adapted to our adventures awfully easily.”

“I guess that’s one word for ‘em,” Applejack muttered, leaning back.

“Not to mention, there’s never been repercussions, legal or otherwise, for anything that happened on school grounds,” Rarity mused. “Or even school activities at all, really. It was only when things happened non-scholastically that that anyone seemed to notice.”

“Unless they were magic themselves,” Fluttershy observed. “Like the Dazzlings.”

“I sense a sto-reeeeeee!” Pinkie sang happily, bouncing slightly where she sat.

“So?” asked Rainbow Dash. “Who’s gonna help us?”

“A… former teacher,” Celestia hedged.

“The important thing is, he can help,” said Luna, equally uncomfortable.

“Um, Principal Celestia? Vice Principal Luna?” asked Fluttershy, “What’s wrong?”

“Yeah, what ain’t you tellin’ us?” asked Applejack.

Both sisters shook their heads.

“You aren’t our students anymore,” said Luna. “You can just call us by our names. And when we feel we can tell you, we will.”

“Just please, let us help with your problem first, as friends,” added Celestia. “Then we’ll answer as many questions as we can.”

The two rose then, and there was a slow flurry of hugs and well wishes as the sisters departed. Shortly afterwards, the book store’s doorbell had rung to announce their departure, and they waved again as they began their trek down the street, finally vanishing behind the neighborhood's bungalows and manicured plant life.

A cool breeze wafted among the remaining friends, rustling the leaves above them. Sunset and Sunrise looked at one another across the sea of borrowed books.

“I don’t like this,” said Sunrise.

Sunset shook her head. “Neither do I. But what choice do we have? They’re both adults.”

Then, with a sigh, she shoved a book pile aside, adding, “And it’s not like we had any ideas.”

Twilight gave a helpless shrug.

“I had half an idea, but not a very good one,” she said.

“So? Spit it out,” Rainbow Dash said. “Maybe it’ll inspire something better.”

“Well, it involves getting Sunrise out again,” Twilight explained. “You know how I hacked the police database? I could, um, probably control or shut off just about anything they have. Alarms, locks, cameras, radios...”

For a moment, no one spoke.

“Are you… suggesting a jailbreak?” Rarity asked at last.

“Oh, my,” Fluttershy said. “That does sound dangerous.”

“An understatement, I’m sure,” Rarity agreed.

“Direct though,” Applejack allowed. “I s'pose we'd have the element a'surprise, if nuthin' else.”

“Of course!” Pinkie Pie cheered. “No one expects the Sunny Perp Emission!”

But Twilight shook her head.

“There’s a huge difference between knowing how to control a system and knowing how to use it in a crime,” she said. “Huge. And there would be no margin for error. And none of us know how to be criminals. I think we’d just get caught. If not during the operation, then after. That’s why I didn’t bring it up before. It’s just a bad idea.”

There was a chorus of sighs and nods.

Sunrise looked at Princess Luna. “You’ve been pretty quiet, hon. Any thoughts?”

For her part, Luna took another sip of her coffee, then, seeming to contemplate its contents, began to speak.

“I certainly agree with Twilight that skullduggery is of no use to us here,” the princess replied. “For all that her knowledge of your world’s security may yet prove of some use to us, I’ve certainly no idea how. Even ignoring that her phone is obviously of her own design, the use of computerized telephones and their… applications? …that the rest of you have shown proves that your world has changed much since I was here last.

“As for the Two Sisters of your world, I… have a guess as to who they seek for aid,” Luna said carefully. “But I think it best to respect their privacy. Remember, they have greater knowledge of this world than any of us, if only through experience. Even more importantly, they know themselves. I think we should respect that.”

“Plus, the Sisters’re both right about one thing,” Applejack pointed out. “They’re our friends.”

“And, well, after everything they’ve seen us through,” Rarity added, “all the times they’ve helped us, they’ve more than earned our trust.”

“True,” said Twilight. “But I think we all know that being grown up doesn’t mean you don’t make mistakes. I just hope they know what they’re doing.”

She gave a helpless shrug, adding, “Whatever it is.”

Author's Note

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The ECLU, or Equestrian Civil Liberties Union, is is a nonprofit organization founded in 1920 to "defend and preserve the individual rights and liberties guaranteed to every person in this country by the Constitution and laws of the United States of Equestria."

The ECLU works through litigation and lobbying, and provides legal assistance in cases when it considers civil liberties to be at risk. Legal support from the ECLU can take the form of direct legal representation, or of preparation of amicus curiae briefs expressing legal arguments when another law firm is already providing representation.

Rainbow Dash first found out about the ECLU in grade school, through the movie Inherit the Wind. This, in turn, also introduced her to Clarence Darrow. While she preferred to leave the "egghead" subjects to her friends, it remains that she still possesses a biography of Mr. Darrow, and he was one of her several childhood inspirations towards courage and heroism, along with Dame Lancelot, Sir Magnus, and King Arthur of Eld.

As for the Twilight of this world, obviously she never hatched a dragon's egg, and she was not raised and trained by a powerful alicorn sorceress. But at about the age that her counterpart found Princess Celestia, she found Mister Lectern and his book store. And that surely counts for something.

And, finally, for those who would like to read Dave Bryant's original Lectern’s New and Used Books stories, you can find them here.

Intermission One: Spike and Sunset.

It was afternoon by the time the friends left the used book store. Thus, sunlight was still streaming warmly through the windows as Spike paused in his reading, sniffing the air happily. He leapt from his bed and hopped down the stairs, book forgotten, happily bounding his way to the kitchen.

“What'cha cookin', Sunset?” he called. “It smells great!”

Sunset smiled. “Breakfast for late lunch. Eggs, bacon, frozen waffles. Hungry?”

He grinned. “Always.”

As a dog, of course, Spike's diet was one that Twilight had carefully researched. Before he'd gained human speech and intelligence, dog food had been the standard, with occasional human food snacks.

But now, with Spike being a person in all the ways that mattered, Twilight had calculated and formulated his ideal diet regarding human food with the care and precision of... well, of Twilight.

Sunset, meanwhile, had been of the opinion that an occasional splurge from a carefully constructed diet was generally a fine thing. And Spike had been of the opinion that this made Sunset even more awesome.

Twilight, for her part, had ultimately acknowledged that when Sunset and Spike had argued for Spike's right to autonomy with his new sapience, they'd had valid points. And, reluctantly, she'd admitted that this included control over his own diet. Spike, in compromise, had agreed that the dietary needs of a dog were not identical to a human, and that Twilight's calculations should at least be borne in mind.

Sunset fixed a deep plate with scrambled eggs, a waffle with butter but no syrup, a handful of strawberries, and extra low-salt bacon. Then she filled a bowl halfway with water and brought both dishes into the living room, setting them gently on the sofa. While she re-entered the kitchen, Spike hopped up, sniffing the plate happily.

“Wow! This smells delicious!”

“You can dig in if you want,” Sunset called over one shoulder. “You don't have to wait on me.”

“Aw, that's alright. I don't mind.”

Perhaps a minute later Sunset emerged with her own plate and a glass of juice, sitting in the nearby easy chair, plate in lap. The two of them ate in a contented silence for a while, until Sunset finally spoke.

“So, anyway, sorry we didn't take you along today.”

Spike took a drink to wash down the last of his egg, and sighed.

“It's okay. I mean, sure it stung a little, but Twilight told me why you guys were in a hurry when you got back, so, it's okay.”

“Plus, the timing,” Sunset nodded. “Between heading Sunny off and then getting everybody to Lectern's...”

From where he lay on the couch, Spike sighed again.

“I know,” he said. “Twilight told me the whole story when you guys got back, before she locked herself in her lab.”

“Yeah, she's pretty stressed,” Sunset admitted.

Rising, she gathered their plates, adding, “We all are, really. But seriously, I am sorry. And I know Twilight is, too. But we'll keep you in the loop from now on, I promise.”

“Thanks,” Spike said as he scratched behind one ear. “On that note, though, can you guys put in a landline for me? I know it seems old fashioned, but...”

“...but it would give you a way of communicating with the rest of us, and vice versa,” Sunset finished with a nod. “And an old-fashioned phone you could control with your paws. That's a good idea. We'll get you an answering machine, too. Something with big buttons.”

The dishes went into the sink, with a quick spray of water. Then Sunset smiled, crossing her arms as she leaned on the kitchen doorway.

“So, you got plans for tonight?” she asked. “We're rehearsing later, you're welcome to sit in.”

“I'd love to,” Spike grinned.

He hopped off the couch and trotted to the door. As he reached the screen he paused, adding, “Seriously, though... thanks for letting me in on things. I know it must seem silly, but it means a lot. Before everything changed, Twilight used to take me everywhere, even school. And now... I mean, I don't know how much time I have left, and I just want to be there for you guys. You know?”

Still smiling, Sunset nodded. “Yeah, I know.”

“Great! I'm gonna go chase squirrels. Call me when you're ready, okay?”

“Sure. See you then.”

Sunset turned to enter the kitchen, then froze. Even as the screen door slammed closed after the dog's departure, she turned back, her expression stricken.

“...Spike?”

Intermission Two: Trixie the Great.

Vignette Valencia sat in the outdoor food court and seethed, the picnic table's umbrella sheltering her from the late afternoon sun.

The day had not gone well. Neither had the last month, come to that. Equestria Land's attendance had increased just after the parade, granted. But it had been steadily declining ever since. And with her phone destroyed, well, that was practically her life. Yes, she had technically gotten it replaced. And yes, she had kept backups of everything since the first time her phone...

But no, best not to think on that.

With a moan, she held her face in her hands. People remembered the parade, and the park. But most of all, they remembered the Rainbooms. And they remembered her being shut down by them.

Granted, pretty much everyone had thought that was just part of the show. The amusement park's manager had even congratulated her on such an ingenious use of self-deprecation. But afterwards, people had talked. They always did. And while she would never begrudge Rarity her continuing up-and-coming success...

(Well, the old her might have. But she was better than that now. BYBB, after all.)

...it remained that everything she'd been building for her own life was teetering dangerously towards oblivion. Her reputation was worse than bad... it was forgettable!

Granted, Rarity had agreed to hold a fashion show there next year, but that was next year. And while she'd also said she would talk to her fellow Rainbooms about doing some last-minute concerts at the park to bring the crowds back, Vignette wasn't holding her breath.

Vignette moaned, then sat straight, slamming her palms on the table.

“Someone bring me a stress yogurt!” she cried.

The bowl materialized almost instantly, a freckled lad slowing just long enough to place it before her and then run out of sight. She considered the frozen confection, with its fruit, whipped topping, and nuts. The cherry on top was a nice touch. Technically, she really should have been eating something more slimming. But it had been a wretched summer. And it wasn't just the park; the likes on her Snapgab were descending, her follower count was slowing down...

And, well, frankly she wasn't in a hurry to snap another salad pic, even now.

She brought out her replacement phone to immortalize her bowl of chilled delights (nothing like a thousand likes or so to brighten one's day), and then stopped, letting her camera soak in the vision approaching her.

The blue girl walked across the food court not just like she owned the place, but like the whole park had been built especially for her. With her smiling lips and commanding eyes, long coat and wide hat even in the heat, she was certainly no stranger to the sacrifices one must make for appearances.

And she was coming straight for Vignette Valencia, had eyes only for her.

Vignette returned the smile, even as she captured the young woman's approach on her phone.

“Perfect,” she said, “Just... perfect. Such a daring ensemble! It just screams, 'You haven't met the best because you haven't met me!'”

The other woman smiled as she sat across from her. “Thank you.”

“Are you here to audition for next year?” Vignette asked. “Because if you want the stage or the démarche, it's yours.”

“The Great and Powerful Trixie is not here for employment,” the blue woman smiled. “Only information.”

“Well, suit yourself, but I wouldn't toss an opening like this away. T.O.W.Y.F.T., after all. Take Opportunities Where You Find Them.”

Trixie, still smiling, simply took a piece of paper out of her pocket.

“Trixie could not agree more,” she said, and slid it over to Vignette.

Frowning, Vignette unfolded it, and then stared.

“Trixie knows that you were using magic during the parade,” she said. “Your cell phone--”

“I don't want it back!” Vignette cried, flinging the photocopy away as if bitten.

Trixie plucked it neatly out of the air, pocketing it again.

“Trixie already knows something happened," she insisted. "Something with your cell phone, earlier this summer. Something involving the name on the plaque in that picture. She wants to know what it was. That's all.”

Vignette had gone pale. “My cell phone,” she said. “I'd... I'd lost it.”

Trixie's phone chimed briefly. She took it out, muted it, put it back into her pocket.

“Tell Trixie what happened,” she said.

Vignette looked around the almost empty food court, uncertain.

“You can trust Trixie,” Trixie assured her. “Where did you lose it?”

“I... here," Vignette said uncomfortably. "Somewhere in the park. I don't know exactly where.”

“How did you get it back?”

“He had it. He returned it to me.”

Trixie nodded. “Did he seek you out?”

Vignette shook her head. “No. I... it was so stupid, but you must understand, this was my cell phone. It had everything on it. I had to get it back. My career depended on it! But I couldn't find it anywhere, and after a while, I got desperate.”

“Go on.”

“There are rumors, on the web. I put together where he'd have to be. I… it was...” she shook her head. “I don't know. I don't want to know.”

Then she looked away, arms crossed in resentment, adding, “I'd almost forgotten until you got here.”

From within her coat pocket, Trixie's phone began buzzing repeatedly. This time she didn't bother pulling it out, just reached in and held the power button until it fell silent, her eyes continually fixed on Vignette.

"And he gave it back?” she asked.

Still looking away, Vignette shook her head. “No. No, he sold it back to me.”

“For how much?”

Vignette sighed.

“That was the stupid part,” she said. “He didn't want money. All he wanted was a promise. And at the time I figured, sure, whatever. But later on...”

Trixie leaned forward. “What promise?”

Vignette closed her eyes.

“He made me promise to change the route of the parade to his specifications, and to have it start on a particular date and time,” she said. “It was over a week sooner than I'd planned, which of course just screwed up everything, so I had been going to just ignore him, but...”

Vignette shuddered and fell silent, and for a moment neither of them spoke.

“Do you remember where he was?” Trixie asked at last.

Vignette turned back to Trixie at last.

“No! I don't!” she snapped. “And in fact, I don't want to.”

Then, suddenly, Vignette's demeanor changed, unwanted memories again shoved back into their proper cages.

“But listen, if you ever get tired of chasing after rumors and fairy tales, do look me up,” she smiled. “You've got natural poise, and the camera loves you. But in the meantime I've got work to do, so, B.Y.B.B. - Be Yourself But Better – and T.T.F.N.”

And, with forced energy and cheer, she flounced out of her chair and towards her offices, only briefly zipping back to retrieve her yogurt sundae and give Trixie a last jaunty wave before vanishing into the shelter of the staff building.

Trixie considered the closed door for a moment.

“Be Yourself But Better?” she smiled. “Oh, Vignette Valencia, you have no idea.”

Trixie rose with a satisfied leisure and departed into the main thoroughfare of the park, blending despite her bizarre attire into the thin crowds, vanishing completely from view.

Once in her car, Trixie turned her phone on again, and dialed the familiar number.

“What is it?” she asked.

“You weren't answering my texts,” said Wallflower Blush's voice. “I got worried.”

“Trixie was busy.”

“All day?”

“Yes. All day,” Trixie said, exasperated. “Trixie has been busy all day. All day, Trixie has been busy. The Busy and Industrious Trixie has been all day Busy.”

“Okay.”

“And Industrious.”

Wallflower Blush sighed. “Yeah, I get it.”

“And also Trixie.”

Trixie hadn't been able to keep the grin out of her voice for that last, and she could hear her friend's own smile in her response.

“Okay, now you're just taking the piss.”

There was a moment of easy laughter between the two of them.

“So, Wally, what was it you needed?”

“Oh! Right. Yeah. Um, something came up with Futtershy, and she's really not up to circle tonight. I wanted to get hold of you early so we could either figure on it being just the two of us, or you'd have time to, you know, um... make other plans."

Trixie could well imagine her friend standing against a wall in her home, arms crossed, bracing herself for what she no doubt thought would be the inevitable response. After all, Wallflower had spent most of her life alone. On the outside, looking in. Ignored. Forgotten.

It was simply what she expected.

Trixie looked at the list she'd pulled out of another pocket. Several names had been crossed off, several remained. But she had well over a week left before her self-imposed deadline.

And anyway, now that she had friends, surely the Compassionate and Friendly Trixie could be a good friend herself, could she not? It wasn't as though Wallflower Blush wasn't great to spend time with, after all. And Wally certainly deserved better than to think...

...well, almost anything that Wallflower was probably already thinking.

“Oh, Trixie thinks we could figure something out,” Trixie said, putting the list away. “We could hold it in Trixie's basement. It isn't as good as Fluttershy's back yard, but it's private and there should be enough room.”

“Oh! Great! Really? I mean, you're sure?”

“The Great and Powerful Trixie is positive,” Trixie assured her. “Though that does remind her, Trixie will not be available this new moon. So, it'll be just you and Fluttershy then.”

“We could just start late,” Wallflower suggested.

“Alas, Trixie will be otherwise engaged the entire night.”

“Oh, yeah?” Wallflower teased. “And does this rascal have a name?”

Trixie smiled.

“Not that kind of engagement, but yes, the rascal has a name. That being said, Trixie was thinking that after new moon circle you might take advantage of the opportunity.”

There was a pause.

“Um... what opportunity?”

“The highly empathetic and insightful Trixie could not help but notice that there are sometimes sparks between her other coven-sisters...”

She could almost hear Wallflower's eyes pop.

“What? When? I mean, I... um...”

“Oh, dear, was Trixie wrong?” Trixie grinned. “So then, if Trixie were to ask Fluttershy out...”

“No! Wait! I mean--!”

Trixie's laughter was friendly.

“Trixie was only teasing,” she said. “You're her friend, she would never do that to you. But there are others who might also have noticed that Fluttershy is... well, is Fluttershy. And a new moon is a fine time for new beginnings, is it not?”

The phone was silent, and Trixie was certain that her friend's glowing cheeks could probably have illuminated a dark room.

“Just ask," she said. "Trust Trixie. See a late movie. Get some coffee. Go out for waffles.”

Wallflower's voice was almost inaudible. “That's literally not possible.”

“Well, Trixie is not all-knowing,” Trixie admitted. “And she has been wrong before. But she has reason to believe that if you were to ask, Fluttershy might say yes.”

Silence.

Trixie sighed.

“Wally... she's worth the risk, isn't she?”

Finally, still barely audible, Wallflower's voice: “Yeah.”

“Then follow Trixie's wise and sage oracle-like advice. Ask her out before someone else does. Okay?”

Something even quieter came over the connection, but it sounded vaguely affirmative.

“Good. Trixie has to go now. But she will see you tonight.”

There was another almost silent affirmative, and the connection ended. Trixie put her phone away and started her car, a rueful smile playing across her features as she began to drive.

There was no way of knowing how her own endeavor would ultimately play out, of course. It was a risky venture at best. She might win everything she craved, or she might lose even more. She had to rely on her own strength and brilliance to deal with whatever lay ahead.

But at the end of the day, if Wally and Flutters could just stop taking turns looking at each other, blushing, and then looking away, Trixie would count that as a victory well-won.

She signaled and sped onto the highway towards home, to prepare her basement for the evening's rites.

Author's Note

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Rainbow Dash's confession and Trixie's first investigation.

4. Trial by Wood: Stillness and Shadow; Ash, Oak, and Thorn.

They hadn't visited Canterlot South Mall since their teens.

The sisters' favorite entrance had always been the little one at the side. There, they could get an Orange Julius as soon as they entered, walking the rest of the hallway's length with drinks and hot dogs in hand until they came to the ground floor's main area. Escalators to upper floors and subterranean ones, and shops of all kinds, all surrounding the huge fountain that was the centerpiece of the mall itself. Three slender twining spires, ranging from fifteen to twenty feet tall, with water continually falling from one ornate copper leaf to the next. The gentle series of streams finally swirling into the pool below, golden lights in its bottom glinting against countless pennies from the wishes of children and even young adults that had been made every day.

One of those pennies had been Celestia's, years ago, when Luna had been taken away.

But that had been half a lifetime ago. Now, the old shopping mall was empty, abandoned, an all but forgotten ghost of a bygone age. And across the years, the elements and local flora had not been kind. Overgrowth was everywhere, through the lot’s concrete and even along the outer walls.

The two of them had driven around the massive, decrepit complex until they’d found an unlocked door – the little one on the side, in fact – then made their way inside. Now they made their solomn way into the shadowy place, down the familiar short hallway, a comical devil leering down at them from his citrus throne in the shadows, trident upraised. Past the dead fountain, its spires stretching up like dead branches above an overgrown bowl of weeds, broken tile, and stone. Through huge hallways, with grass and even small trees growing up through the flooring, water dripping from cracks and holes in the ceiling above to fill impromptu pools of sunken earth.

In the distance, what looked like a deer startled and fled. Apparently, there was another way in they hadn’t seen. Then, down they went, down the black maws of lifeless escalators, past stained walls and gated-off stores, beneath forgotten light fixtures, dark, empty, their wires hanging like dead tendrils.

Their flashlights served them well as they descended below the ground floor, dust swirling in the beams they emitted. To one side, what might have been a young woman in a stained denim jacket rolled to her feet, startled by the light. Celestia called out to her, but she turned and fled into the refuge of the surrounding shadows. The sisters exchanged an uneasy glance, then continued on their journey, finally locating a familiar maintenance door in the side of a peeling wall. Before, they'd had to pick the door's padlock to gain entrance. But now, the ancient lock that held it shut was rusted open.

Luna removed the lock, and opened the door.

The hallway beyond was essentially as they’d remembered it: long and musty, winding around and between the walls of the ancient mall. They plunged ahead, little realizing that the path they followed from memory was now whispered about in urban legends and internet myths.

Finally, they stood before the portal they’d sought, an ancient ash wood door, completely out of place in what had become a haven for derelicts, animals, and runaways. The gold lettering painted on the ancient door was almost completely faded. Of the top line, only the ‘D’ at the end remained. Below it, barely legible, were the words:
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ANTIQUES AND CABINET CURIOSITIES

And beneath that, in smaller letters:
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LOST AND FOUND A SPECIALTY

Luna stared at the door before them, shaking her head slightly in disbelief. “After all these years, I can not believe we are doing this.”

“This was your idea,” Celestia pointed out. “And I’m open to better suggestions.”

“And if I had them, I would give them,” Luna sighed, holding her temple with one hand.

“Me, too.”

“Yes. Still, I suppose it could be worse.”

Celestia nodded. “True. The door’s actually here this time, for example.”

“Or, perhaps it’s just that we can find it this time,” Luna muttered, crossing her arms protectively around herself. “He does love toying with people.”

“Yes, he does. But he’s still Sunrise’s best hope. And Aurora’s,” Celestia pointed out. “You know what the legal system can be like, once you’re inside.”

Luna sighed, looked away. “Better than most.”

She fell silent. Celestia put an arm around her, and for a few moments, Luna simply leaned against her.

“We can control this,” Celestia insisted, as much to herself as to Luna.

More silence.

“Plus, he’ll still be bound,” Celestia added. “By the compact, and by the debt he owes us.”

Still, Luna said nothing. She just looked at the old, faded door, lost in unpleasant memories.

“He still owes us,” Celestia said again. “He can’t ask for anything. And I can’t think of a better time to call on that debt than now.”

But Luna shook her head. “He’s dangerous.”

“Yes, he is,” Celestia admitted. “But he also brought you back to me. Any risk, any price, would have been worth that.”

“And now, with her otherworldly twin at stake, Sunset has made it clear she feels the same,” Luna frowned, standing fully upright again. “We can’t risk him finding her. And surely, after all she’s been through, all the times she and the other Rainbooms have saved us and our other students…”

“…surely we can be there for her now,” Celestia agreed quietly.

Luna’s eyes narrowed, as other memories filled her mind.

“Even if we weren’t in a better position to bargain than anyone else… in the end, together, we beat him,” she said. “If we have to, we can do it again.”

“Yes.”

“It has to be us.”

“Yes.”

There were a few more moments of silence, and the sisters exchanged a glance and nodded. Then, unified in their determination, they raised their eyes and their hands, and knocked in unison.

From behind the ash wood portal, a man’s voice answered, ancient and strong.

“Come in.”

The door opened easily on its rusted hinges. As they entered, the sisters were met with the mingled scents of old leather, cigars, and moldering tomes, yellowing pages in leather bindings gently stained over the ages by imported tobacco. They looked at one another, each seeing her own unease in her sister’s eyes. The scent brought back too many memories.

That, and… other things.

The curio shop was the size of a luxurious living room, maybe twenty feet long, maybe longer. An oblong place dimly lit by old yellow bulbs in Victorian sconces. The floor, essentially visible as a pathway between furniture, stacks of books, and graven boxes, was a dark hardwood. The ceiling was of similar material, with ornate moulding lining its edge where it met the tobacco-stained walls.

The furnishings, meanwhile, consisted of shelves and tables filled with a random assortment of books, small figurines, knickknacks and forgotten antiques. Agrippa and Crowley freely associated with Goethe, Wagner, and Twain among the more legible spines; the rest of the titles and their respective creators lost to the ravages of time.

Here, a tarnished silver skull, covered with darkened Pictish runes and crowned by a purplish-black candle, the wax coiling down its engravings like misshapen tentacles. There, an old metallic Acroyear figure holding the small, mummified paw of some kind of simian. And everywhere, countless unique treasures and discards, too many to properly note and identify at once.

Crystal spheres, models of planets. An ancient brass telescope, covered in dust. Gnarled wooden wands and staves, fixed with crystals and precious stones. Decks of cards. A ventriloquist’s dummy in formal wear, bound in yew thorns and gagged with black silk, its rage-filled eyes seeming to follow them as they moved through the room.

On the far side, facing them as they entered, was an ancient oak desk. Propped in a corner behind it was a silver-handled cane, its crook in the shape of a jackalope’s head. On a nearby coat rack, a top hat embroidered with mismatched horns along its sides rested next to a patchwork coat and tails of randomly clashing fabrics and hues.

The old man stood slowly from behind his desk, white button-up shirt with grey slacks and suspenders, red-on-yellow eyes narrowing beneath his massive ivory brows. His grin was both hungry and inviting as he drank in the sight of them. Behind him, a small collection of medieval weaponry was mounted on the wall, surmounted by a blackthorn shillelagh.

“Girls,” he purred. “How I’ve missed you.”

In the plentiful shadows of the place, something scuttled.

The sisters exchanged a glance as the door slowly creaked closed behind them.

“Dissonance, we need your help,” Celestia said.

“Of course you do,” the grey man purred, stroking his long, white goatee. “Nothing less would ever bring you to my door. And after all I’ve done for you, too.”

As he continued, he took a trio of snow globes from his collection on a nearby shelf, lifting them neatly from their bases. “Tsk, tsk, tsk. And how is my school doing, by the way? You know, I must confess that, as full as my new life is, sometimes nostalgia does beckon.”

“Canterlot High is not your school!” Luna flared. “Not anymore!”

“But it’s fine,” Celestia interjected, shooting a warning look at her sister. “The grounds and the students are all doing well. Thank you for asking.”

“You’re welcome,” he said with a slight bow. “Still, one wonders what you could possibly need this time of year. There are no summer classes running that I’m aware of.”

“We need your help,” Celestia repeated.

“And?”

“It’s… not a student,” Celestia admitted. “Not exactly.”

“Aha,” he grinned. “The plot thickens.”

“But it is school related,” Luna assured him.

“Well, then,” he said. He gestured to a pair of antique chairs by the book-covered table nearest him. “Let’s talk about that.”

Celestia frowned as they stepped forward. “It’s a long story.”

“Ooooo, those are the best kind,” he said giddily, considering the flawless glass orbs in his hands. “Tell me everything, do. And spare no details.”

“Dissonance, we don’t have time—”

“Wrong!” he snarled, mad eyes huge over his uneven bared teeth. “You’re on my time now, bought and paid for!”

He threw himself into his old oak chair, which creaked and swiveled at the impact.

“I have enough time for us all,” he added cheerily as he rotated, the chair’s wheels moving him back and forth slightly.

He winked. “I have oodles.”

As their revolving host began to juggle his snow globes, the sisters exchanged a helpless look. Then, they sat, and told him the story of Sunset, Sunrise, and the girl named Aurora Borealis.

By the time they’d finished, their host was nodding to himself in the dim light. He was standing, now, his snow globe play having moved from simple throws to complicated contact juggling. He reminded Celestia of nothing less than a rag-tag Goblin King, and she willed herself not to shudder as Luna finished her own narration.

After a few moments’ silence, Dissonance’s nods became more energetic.

“Yes, yes, I understand completely. And I can definitely help you both,” he said. “Which means helping this new crop of girls, as well. And that, in turn, means helping your exchange student, which of course also means helping the new girl on the side.”

He smiled. “You do realize, of course, that this makes us square.”

Celestia frowned. “Oh?”

Dissonance nodded.

“Ohhhhh, yes,” he said sagely. “Your little Sunrise might be able to last in prison for however long, or she might not. But the young lady that she, in turn, wants to save…?”

He stood, tossing a globe from behind his back to catch it and resume his throws. “A life for a life, girls. I’ll throw the rest in for free, aside from my usual price, in light of how well you’ve been taking care of my school.”

Then he rounded on them, looming, his white brows meeting over a hungry look. “But that means that after this, we’re back to the old days,” he snarled. “Quid pro quo. Bargains, trades, and all that implies!”

Luna started. “But the compact—”

“Will remain, of course,” he said, his tone suddenly contemplative. “A deal is a deal, after all. And much though the matter did vex me at first, I will admit that your little no-death stipulation has added something of a welcome challenge to my life.

“And in return, as always, you will continue to accept and teach whomever comes to you to learn, no questions asked,” he smiled. “So long as they can provide you with the bare necessities of paperwork, of course.”

Then he leaned forward, head moving slowly, contemplating the two of them like a hungry serpent might consider a pair of young mice. “But thisss… this discharges all remaining debt between ussss.”

There was a pause, then, he hissed quietly, “Agreeeeed?”

Both sisters looked down.

“Agreed,” they said in unison.

Then he was sitting on his desk, the very picture of cheerful civility, any traces of hunger gone as quickly as they had appeared.

“Splendid!” he exclaimed. “Now, you two girls just run along and play with your friends. Your Uncle Dissonance has arrangements to make. I’ll be ready in less than a week.”

Celestia started. “But the trial is only a few days—”

WHAM!

Dissonance had slammed one of the globes on the table before them with a noise like a gunshot, making them both jump.

“Ohhhhhh,” he whispered madly, eyes wide. “That won’t be a problem.”

Within the globe, almost completely obscured by swirling white fragments, was a stately grey building. Before it was a blindfolded woman, holding a scale.

That night, the city of Canterlot was hit by one of the worst blizzards in coastal history.

The confusion was made even worse, of course, by its happening in August. The city was simply not ready to handle such an event, nor were its people. Cars and buses skidded and wrecked. Power went out across the city. Hospitals were quickly filled, emergency services strained to the breaking point. And even then the snow did not stop, merely slowed to what would otherwise have been a barely manageable level. It was a catastrophe, a bedlam, a surge of panic and chaos the likes of which Canterlot hadn’t seen in decades.

Municipal buildings got the worst of it, being somehow in the epicenter of the storm. Between that and the city being ground to a near-complete halt, any number of court dates were, indeed, postponed. Meanwhile, the people of Canterlot mobilized as best they could, helped by state and federal agencies, to deal with the sudden upsurge of hunger, injuries, and fear.

Afterwards, it was widely hailed as a miracle that no one had died from the storm, even indirectly. But it was a miracle forged largely from the efforts of a mass of hundreds of volunteers, joining together in a desperate affirmation of years of community, family, and yes, friendship.

The two sisters were out in the worst of it, along with the Rainbooms, Sunrise, Princess Luna, and many former and current students of Canterlot High. They trudged through the snow, sometimes navigating drifts taller than they were, helping to rescue the trapped and pass out emergency relief.

But along with the pride they felt in their pupils and friends, occasionally Celestia and Luna exchanged a guilty glance through the continuing snowfall. After all, they weren’t exactly blameless in all this.

Dissonance was exacting his price.

Intermission Three: Luna.

The snow had fallen for nearly three days.

The blizzard that had begun it all, of course, had lasted only a few hours. But compounded with the additional snowfall and the continued unseasonable plummet in temperature, much of the city had simultaneously been ground to a halt and worked to exhaustion.

Clearing streets, and then repeatedly re-clearing them. Shoveling sidewalks, salting, shoveling again. Wading through snow drifts with supplies for the elderly and infirm. Taking turns supplying what help they could at hospitals, clinics, and anyplace else that needed assistance.

Luna could only imagine what working for the utilities must have been like. Even after the main blackout had been fixed, small ones had kept happening. From old transformers exploding, cars ramming into poles and breaking the overhead lines, and who knew what else. There had even been burst water mains, further downtown.

And then, that afternoon, it had all just... stopped.

The snow had turned to rain as the temperature rapidly rose, and then the grey clouds had cleared into a bright summer sky. Snow banks had sublimated into steam as birds cautiously began to sing again. The streets and walkways had become dry almost immediately, only a few salt stains remaining here and there to tell the tale.

That night, Tia had gone to bed before the sun had even set. There had been times in the past when Luna had quietly envied her elder sister her light-colored skin and pastel hair. But sometimes there was something to be said for a nice blue. For one thing, it hid the fatigue better.

Luna tisked as she shook her head in pity.

Poor Tia. She'd looked like a raccoon.

But now, the summer night was dark and pleasant. Luna had napped and wakened fairly refreshed; she'd learned long ago the futility of trying to sleep through the night. And with her and her sister's house guests, she was certain not to be the only one.

Humming contentedly to herself, Luna took the coffee pot off the stove's burner and poured two large mugs' worth. Then, she stirred a generous amount of chocolate into each, picked up one, and sipped, sighing contentedly. Tia had insisted on buying an electric coffee maker years ago, and recently it had taken all of Luna's persuasive skills to keep her from buying one of those new one-cup machines that everyone seemed to love so much. But as for Luna, give her an old-fashioned gas stove and a coffee pot any day.

Tia still occasionally teased her about being a Neo-Luddite, and even now the thought made Luna smile. But it remained: sometimes the old ways were just better.

For example: during the blackouts, they'd still had coffee.

The kitchen door opened almost silently as Luna's royal counterpart entered. One of the many things they'd agreed upon, years ago, was how hard it was to sleep at night. And now, here she'd been, trying to live and work on a diurnal schedule in an alien world for three days. But even exhausted, the princess practically glided across the floor, her eyes barely open as she gave the air an exaggerated sniff.

“Prithee, is that... coffee?” she managed.

Luna grinned. “With dark chocolate.”

A midnight hand reached out with the grace of a bleary swan. “Give me.”

Moments later, the two otherworldly twins were sitting at the kitchen table, sipping their dark ambrosia. Luna gave time for both of them to finish their first cup and start in on the second before breaking the companionable silence.

“How's she doing?” she asked.

The princess sighed, looking into her coffee cup.

“She sleeps,” she said. “Too exhausted these last days to dream lucid, which is her wont. Thus, I can hear her moan and whisper things I cannot make out. And in this world, so little of my magic remains. I can ease her dreams with a touch. But I cannot see them, nor advise her from within them.”

Luna nodded. “That sounds pretty hard. How are you coping?”

The princess smiled.

“Well enough, my thanks for asking,” she said. “Art offering me counsel?”

“Well, not professionally,” Luna replied. “I'm too biased. But I'll offer you my two cents' worth as a friend, if you want.”

The princess' smile faltered, and she looked back into her cup.

“Long have I missed this,” she said.

“You and your sister took coffee with you when you were here last.” Luna pointed out. “I don't know how much time has passed on your side, but...?”

“I think a little under two thousand years,” the princess replied. “Though I confess time is not what it once was for me. And yes, over time, the art of growing and harvesting, and even preparing and brewing coffee has become well established. But it's never tasted the same. Something about the soil, perhaps. Or the difference in magic betwixt our two worlds? I know not.

“But that is not all I have missed, you know. I missed you and yours, as well.”

Luna smiled. “We missed you, too.”

Then, the princess smiled warmly, adding, “And how you have changed! No longer students facing magic's dark mysteries, now I return and find you both teachers in your own right!”

Her smile grew more fond as she added, “Your sister, a leader and organizer; and you, a counselor as well. And what students you have! Would it be remiss of me to say I was proud of you?”

Luna smiled. “I don't think so.”

“Then I am,” Princess Luna returned. “And proud to be your friend, as well.”

They clinked their mugs together, and then silence reigned as they finished their coffee. Luna wordlessly rose and started another pot. It had only just begun to boil when the princess spoke again.

“I always knew I would lose her.”

Luna turned to face her otherworldly friend, keeping her face and stance as receptive as possible. This would be a delicate moment, and she was determined not to make it any more difficult than it already was.

“When we first met...” Princess Luna made a sound somewhere between a cough and a short laugh.

“Well, let us say it was less than ideal. It was in her dreams, and there were... some misunderstandings between us. And, admittedly, I helped foster them. But then, we met for the second time. It was in the waking world, through Twilight's introduction. I looked upon my Sunrise...”

She turned to Luna, her eyes almost haunted. “I saw her, Luna. I looked upon her, and I saw her, almost against my will! You know that, despite what some may say, I pry not into the hearts of all. I respect the privacy of others, allowing myself to see their dreams only when needs be!”

“I know you do,” Luna assured her. “Anyone who knows you does.”

“But looking at her,” the princess went on, “All I could see was her soul's desire, written across her heart in flame! Never had I ever seen such beauty, such determination... e'en bound as it was by such pain.

“I couldn't look away. I could only stare, mesmerized, absolutely convinced that I was terrifying her and driving her away.”

Accepting a fresh cup from Luna, the princess sipped and nodded her thanks before continuing.

“I blush to say it, but almost immediately passion guided us."

Luna's eyebrows rose as she smiled. "Oh, really?"

"Yea," the princess confirmed, her cheeks flushing slightly. "But then, as suddenly as we'd begun, confusion fell. Sunrise has no cutie mark, you see.”

For a moment, Luna frowned. Then, her eyes went wide.

“Ouch,” she said.

“Indeed. And faced with this, I... well, I panicked,” the princess admitted.

“Understandable.”

Princess Luna sighed. “Mayhap. But when I did, she thought I had rejected her. She cried out for me not to leave her, and I promised I would not.”

Holding the cup in both hands where she sat, the princess lowered her head, closed her eyes in pain.

“Yet, even then, I knew. I knew beyond any doubt that one day, she would leave me. She would have to. Whether through death or the offer of a better partner, I knew that someday...”

Her voice trailed off into silence.

“That's a terrible burden to take on, even for someone as strong as you,” Luna said softly, placing a gentle hand on Princess Luna's shoulder. “But I think you're underestimating yourself. And I don't think Sunrise leaving you for someone else is even likely, much less inevitable. In fact, I'd bet money she's just as scared you'll leave her someday.”

The princess did not reply, and Luna considered her friend for a moment.

“Have you talked to her about any of this?” she asked.

“Certainly not!” the princess exclaimed. “T'would be cruel. I know how she would answer now... and such an answer would only bind her through obligation, years later.”

“Well, I don't know her as well as you do,” Luna acknowledged, “And I don't know your relationship. But Sunrise doesn't strike me as someone who's easily taken advantage of, even by accident, and you're both pretty good communicators. I'm just saying it's something you may want to consider in the future.”

Crossing her arms over herself, she looked away, “Believe me, I know how badly things can go if you don't talk about what's bothering you.”

Then she smiled at Princess Luna, adding, “As for her mortality, that's a more common concern than you may realize, though your situation is admittedly more extreme. Mostly, it sounds like a good argument for making the most of every day with her... which, from what I've seen over the last few days, you're already doing.”

The princess gave a sad smile in return, but said nothing.

“Thinking back to your certainty about her leaving, would I be out of bounds if I asked where that certainty comes from?” Luna asked. “Have there been a lot of relationships between mortal and immortal ponies on Equus?”

“There have not,” her friend admitted.

“Then it sounds like you're in uncharted waters,” Luna pointed out. “This is a scenario people theorize about, write stories about. But who can say what will actually happen?”

Princess Luna arched an eyebrow. “Seriously?”

Luna sighed. “Yes, seriously! For example. In this world, there's an old movie about an immortal. Early in his life, he marries, and they stay together for decades until she finally dies of old age. Towards the end, she asks him why he never left...”

But the princess shook her head.

“I know the story well,” she said. “In my own lands, there is an opera much like your movie. The story of Highlands Walker, the immortal swordspony. It is a foolish tale, written by those who know nothing.”

Luna cocked her head, inviting her to continue.

“The wonder of such a story, you see, is not that the immortal stays with their mortal love,” the princess explained. “It is that the mortal would remain. Year after year. Always growing older, growing sicker, finding every day a greater burden than the day before.

“And always in the company of one who, despite the love they share, cannot share the burden of age with them! One who cannot join them in weathering such struggles. One who ultimately becomes a daily reminder of everything they are losing. And one who they know, one day, will bury them.

“Bury them, dust off their hooves, mourn...”

She gave a ragged sigh, and went on, miserably, “...and ultimately, leave their grave behind. Living forevermore without them.”

And then, in a hoarse whisper, “I always knew she would have to go someday. And that, for her sake, I would have to support her choice. And I know that you and your sister have a plan, and I can guess with whom. So I know Sunrise isn't really leaving me. I'm not losing her. At least, not yet.”

Then, looking up at Luna at last, her face contorted in misery, “But it feels like I am.”

Luna began to put an arm around her, and her alicorn friend stood, hugging her desperately.

The mantle of Her Dread Majesty, Queen of the Night and Whisperer of Impossible Secrets, had finally been... if not fully discarded, at least briefly set aside. The princess' eyes were a little wet when they finally parted, and she sniffled slightly as she smiled her gratitude. But it was obvious that, even now, she simply could not let her tears truly fall.

Luna smiled back at her, and gave her shoulder an affectionate squeeze. She knew exactly what that was like.

Afterwards, they moved to the living room. There was more conversation, though of a lighter tone, and a round of hot cocoa with marshmallows in. The two spoke, laughed, raided ice cream from the freezer, and eventually Princess Luna returned upstairs to get at least a little sleep before facing the challenges of a new day.

For her part, the vice-principal stayed in one of the living room's overstuffed chairs, sipping her chocolate and thinking. She rose twice: once to do the dishes she and her magical friend had used, and once to fetch her cell phone, putting it on the side table next to the couch. Eventually, she dozed where she sat, her drink growing cold on the table beside her.

Night ultimately gave way to morning, as it always must in the human world, and morning slowly gave way to wakefulness throughout the house.

Breakfast was a quiet affair.

Princess Luna had descended first, freshly showered and wearing a sweater and jeans borrowed from Vice-Principal Luna's collection. Next, Sunrise had padded down the carpeted stairs in sweats that Sunset had loaned her days before, yawning and wiping the sleep from her eyes. Human-born Luna had inquired about what breakfast Sunrise would like, and then set about happily cooking while Sunrise and Princess Luna cuddled on the couch, the three of them making light conversation.

Then, Principal Celestia had positively bounced down the stairs, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, earning identical eyerolls from both Lunas while Sunrise laughed.

But breakfast itself...

It felt to Sunrise almost like it was her last meal. And, barring a miracle, she knew that in a sense it probably was. She willed herself to think of something, anything else. But nothing came. And looking around, she could see that the others were having the same problem.

Finally, there was no more food that they could distract themselves with. Sunrise gave a noise of frustration and stood up.

“Okay, elephant in the room time,” she said, rubbing the back of her neck. “There's no more snow, and no more emergency work, so there's no more sense in putting this off. Anypony got a phone I can borrow?”

The princess touched her lightly on her arm. “Be not in such haste to go, please. There is yet time.”

But Sunrise shook her head.

“Honey, I have to,” she said quietly. “The more I put this off...”

Looking down to where her love still sat, she ran her fingers through the princess' hair.

“The more I put this off, the harder it gets,” she sighed. “I'm scared I'll chicken out if I don't do it now.”

Princess Luna stood and kissed her gently.

“Then do it now, my love,” she said. “And know I shall always stand with thee, so long as thou desires.”

Smiling, Sunrise kissed her back.

“Then that'll be forever,” she said softly.

The princess gave her a sad smile as Sunrise accepted the vice-principal's phone. Twilight's number was on speed dial, right below Celestia's and Sunset's.

The phone rang once and was answered.

“Hey, it's me,” Sunrise said. “Hope I didn't wake you? Okay, good. Um, yeah. So, anyway.”

Princess Luna slipped her hand into Sunrise's, and Sunrise squeezed it tightly. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath.

“Tell your brother I'm ready.”

5. Trial by Water: Ebb, Flow, and Crash; Power Versus Influence.

Aurora wasn't sure how long she'd been inside.

Then, she chuckled to herself. 'Inside,' she thought. Yeah, right. Hell, I'm not even convicted yet.

Then, with a sigh, Then, again, that won't take long, will it?

The time she'd spent in her small grey cell had been disorienting, at best. There were no windows, and she wasn't supposed to talk or make eye contact while the cops brought her meals or took them away. Nobody else in the cell, either. So, not many options to mark the time. The tally marks old cartoons showed on prison walls stopped being funny when you were there. Counting breakfasts or whatever, because there was nothing else to count.

So, a week? Two? She wasn't sure.

When she'd been led to her cell, she'd gotten the impression that most of the cells had windows. Was her being in one without any an accident, or by design? Then again, was the lack of a cell mate intended as a kindness, because she was a kid? Or was it punishment?

She snorted.

Probably punishment, she thought. Remember who you're dealing with, here.

She wondered for the thousandth time who they thought she'd shot. Aurora hadn't recognized the name. The picture they'd shown her was young, maybe a little older than her. But that was all she knew.

Aurora snorted again. Judging by the cops' hostility, the girl was probably rich or something, whoever she was. Someone from a 'good family,' straight A's, heading straight to the Ivy League. A would-be pillar of the community, almost cut down before her time.

Then again, maybe not, she thought for the thousandth time. Maybe she was just somebody they liked. Some cop's friend, or something.

Aurora sighed. When she'd first been locked up, she'd meditated. She'd done yoga. Hell, she'd meditated her heart out, she'd yoga'd like a freakin' champ. But after a while, she was just meditated and yoga'd out. And the quiet had started to get to her.

She wouldn't have believed that it was possible to be this bored, and yet this terrified, all at once. Yet, here she was.

Releasing her breath, she sat back on her bed, fell back and stared at the ceiling. There were people who had done solitary – real solitary – for months. She thought of Jerry Reuben, Abby Someone, and the other Yippie protesters who had been jailed for their defiance back in the 60's. By contrast, she'd been in jail maybe a few days.

“Well, come on, feet,” she muttered, placing her fight foot on her left hip. “Let's get some perspective.”

She pushed herself into a sitting position, then brought her left foot over, completing the lotus. Hands on her knees, she brought her nervous breathing down, felt her heart slowing. Her thoughts, formerly whirling in her head like a storm, gradually calmed, passing her by like clouds on a windy sky. She'd get through this, she told herself. One way or another, she'd get through this.

Of course, the thoughts passing her by were still the same thoughts. And after a few moments her breathing became rapid again, her heart pounding like an animal trying to break free. Shortly thereafter she was sitting on the edge of her bunk, feet on the floor, head in her hands, desperately trying to keep from hyperventilating. And, slowly, slowly, her breathing returned to normal, and the pain in her chest faded away.

She didn't know how long she'd been like that, when she heard the door unlock.

She didn't move. There didn't seem to be much point, really.

She heard the jingling of keys. The rustling sound of someone moving, someone wearing the same disposable paper weave suit she was wearing. She heard the door close, then lock. After a moment's hesitation, the guard's footsteps were echoing slightly as they walked down the hallway.

Silence.

Then, there was a sigh. Beneath her hands, Aurora felt her eyes snap open, her breath catching in her throat.

This time, they'd left someone in the cell with her.

In the sudden silence following the heavy door’s closing, Sunrise made her way to the other bunk. She’d thought that jails always had double bunks, but this one had two beds attached to the far walls, to either side of the cell’s single door. Still, that was fine. It gave a welcome distance between herself and the girl whose life she’d inadvertently poisoned.

Just like she poisoned everything, apparently.

She sat down on the unoccupied bed, a solitary, intrusive sound in the cell’s oppressive quiet.

For several minutes, neither of them spoke. Finally, Sunrise broke the silence, still facing the steel door, hugging her knees where she sat.

“You’re gonna be okay.”

Aurora raised her head, looked at her new cellmate for the first time. She took in the young woman’s skin and flame-colored mohawk with a deepening frown.

“What…” her voice was dry from disuse. She swallowed, cleared her throat, then tried again. “Hhh-hmm! What are you talking about?”

“I’m the one they were looking for, when they found you. With me here, they’ll have to let you go.”

Aurora stared. “You’re…?”

Sunrise screwed her eyes closed, still not facing her cell mate. “Yeah.”

There was a moment or two as Aurora tried to process this. It almost made too much sense. Finally, out of sheer confusion, she asked, “Why?”

Sunrise swallowed. “It’s… I’m…” She took a shuddering breath, then released it.

“That doesn’t matter,” she said at last. “The important thing is that they’ve got me now. And I’ve got some friends who are making sure it sticks. So…”

She swallowed again, eyes still closed. “The important thing is you’re gonna be okay. I’m just…”

She bit her lower lip, then forced out the words, “I’m just sorry you got mixed up in any of this. That’s all.”

The silence coiled around them both, filling the room. Sunrise struggled to keep control, and for a moment almost succeeded.

Then, an involuntary whisper, “Luna!”

The name forced itself from her, and in that instant she could no longer hold back her tears. All she could do was cover her face, and try to keep quiet while they fell. And yet, there was that part of her that seemed separate, almost uninvolved. Watching her have the galloping come-aparts, seething all the while.

Stop it, she thought to herself, over and over again. Stop it! This all started because you tried to murder someone! And you almost destroyed that girl's life! Stupid, self-pitying bitch, you don't have the right to cry!

Then, unexpectedly loud, the rustling of paper cloth as the younger girl approached. The creaking of the bunk as she sat down next to Sunrise. Sunrise felt the younger girl's arm around her upper back, her hand squeezing her shoulder gently.

Confused, Sunrise looked up, and found herself staring into a pair of leaf green eyes. Younger than her own, and at least as terrified. But there was also a certainty there that surprised her.

“We’ll get through this,” Aurora said. “And whatever comes next, you’re not facing it alone. I promise.”

Sunrise gave a kind of choking, coughing sound, and suddenly the two strangers were holding each other while both their tears ran their course.

After a few minutes, they parted.

“By the way,” the younger girl sniffed, extending her hand with an ironic smile, “my name’s Aurora Borealis. Nice to meet you.”

Sunrise gave a kind of chuckle as they shook hands.

“Sunrise Shimmer. And you know,” she added with a teasing look, “I came here to rescue you. Not the other way around.”

“Yeah, well,” Aurora sighed, glancing back at their cell’s steel door, “Maybe we’ll rescue each other.”

“Mister Serpentine, I’m sorry,” the receptionist called frantically as the office door swung open. “I tried to stop him!”

Looking up from his laptop, District Attorney Janus Serpentine gave a smile and indulgent wave as he rose from behind his desk. “That’s all right, Carol. Go ahead on to lunch, I'll lock up. Hello, Mister…?”

“Hello, Janus,” the stranger said with a slight bow. “My name is Dissonance Chord.”

The DA, a sky blue man with thinning white hair, frowned for a moment and then nodded. “Oh, yes. I’ve heard of you, of course. It’s been a long time though, hasn’t it?”

“It has.”

“Yes. It’s a pleasure. I never thought we’d actually meet. Just the same, I do need to make this quick. Sorry, I know it’s early but I was just on my way out.”

“Oh, we can be done in a jiffy,” Dissonance assured him happily as he approached. “You see, it’s about the Borealis case.”

“Oh?”

With a quiet thump, the older man placed his briefcase on the desk between them. “Yes. I’m her new attorney.”

All pretenses at courtesy instantly vanished. Janus took his time, appraising the time-worn briefcase, and then its owner, with a sardonically raised eyebrow.

“Really,” he scoffed. “And just when did they start letting you practice law again? I mean, sure, from what I’ve heard, this kind of thing used to be right up your alley, but…”

“Yes, yes, God save the outcasts,” the older man gave a dismissive wave. “Defender of the underdog and all that. And I’ll admit, I’ve always loved a challenge. But in this case, I’ve come swinging the olive branch of peace. I’m not looking for a duel of wits and wiles in the court, you see. Not this time. I’d like to make you an offer instead.”

“By which you mean a plea bargain, I suppose.” The blue man shook his head with a chuckle. “Well, no deal. We’ve got the little punk dead to rights; confession, witnesses, cameras and all.”

Dissonance clicked open the latches on his case. “Actually, I was thinking more of all charges dropped, in exchange for the true culprit. Who has not only confessed, incidentally, but has also produced the murder weapon.”

Janus laughed.

“You can’t be serious! You think I’m letting your little bitch go? On my watch? In an election year?”

In the older man's hands an assortment of multi-colored folders danced like oversized cards in a magician's trick, then were dealt into a neat stack on Janus Serpentine’s desk.

“She’s innocent,” Dissonance smiled.

Janus laughed again, shutting down his laptop as he did.

“Of what, good taste?” he demanded. “Have you seen her? Why, I wouldn’t trust her to tell me the sky was blue!”

“She’s also a minor.”

“She showed criminal sophistication,” Janus said with a dismissive wave. “In carrying out the crime, in covering up for it later… hell, even in her responses to the police.”

And then, in a tone that was almost friendly he added, “Trust me, Dissonance. Even if she wasn’t guilty of this – which she is – she’s guilty of something else.”

“She didn’t do it.”

Janus crossed his arms. “Alright then, dazzle me. Why did she confess?”

“The police threatened to charge her mother for the crime if she didn’t,” Dissonance explained as he closed his case again. “Technically, it was more by implication, but the meaning was clear. They showed her the security footage, along with some veiled threats, and if you’ve seen it you know that its quality isn’t the best. Plus, her mother is very young; they look almost like sisters. By the time my sixteen-year-old client was able to speak with a friendly adult, she’d already signed.”

But Janus shook his head.

“I’m not buying it,” he said. “And I’m absolutely not buying whatever cock-and-bull story you’ve cooked up to spring her in court. Neither will a judge. No deal.”

The older man’s red-on-yellow eyes narrowed in what might have been amusement. “And yet, she is innocent, just the same.”

But Janus just shook his head, his expression becoming thoughtful.

“You know, it’s funny,” he mused. “I remember the stories, back when I was just starting out. Everybody talked about you. Hell, whispered about you would be a better word for it. You were like the Doctor Gonzo of Canterlot. Crazy, but brilliant. Running your own practice while managing a high school, of all things.

“And you actually had the old guard spooked somehow, that was the funny part. I mean, really spooked. For a long time. Some of them, they wouldn’t even talk about negotiations with you, even years later. They’d just say it was you, and that a deal had been reached. Never how, or why. The mystery alone was tantalizing for a young man like me.

“Then, word was, somehow you just… lost it. Stopped teaching, stopped practicing law. Went off in your own little world, selling snake oil or something. Finally devolved into an urban legend. The kind of crap the kids write about on Creepy Curry.”

He shook his head again.

“There was a time when I’d’ve loved to face you in court. See what you were made of. But now I’ve seen you, and… well, I have to admit I’m disappointed.”

He sighed. “I guess it’s true, you should never meet your heroes. I mean, you were this colossus. Unpredictable. Intimidating. Larger than life. Now… well, just look at you. Just another old man with his best years behind him, trying to recapture lost glory. I mean, you’ve got to be, what, pushing eighty?”

Dissonance's smile was frost, his voice lowered almost to a growl through slightly bared teeth.

“You have no idea.”

The district attorney shrugged. “If you really want me to humiliate you in court, by all means, represent you little murderess and change her plea. I won’t stop you. Or hell, challenge the confession, I’d love to see how you think that’ll fly past a judge. Or a jury, come to that.

“But if you’ll take my advice, old man, you’ll back off and let it happen. It’s too late for you to get back in the game. Years too late. Time has passed you by.”

Then, sneering, Janus added, “Or failing that, at least get yourself a decent suit. Get your game on, and get ready for the fight of your life. Because if you think you’re going to beat me on an attempted murder rap, you’ve lost a hell of a lot more than some damned school.”

Taking his coat from his chair, he began putting it on, adding, “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a fundraiser luncheon in my honor in just over an hour. After that, I’m meeting some family friends at the country club. I've got my own election, plus Governor Bedfellow is running for senate, and if he wins he's endorsing me to take his place. So I’ve got no time for some senile fool’s nonsense.”

While Janus had been speaking, Dissonance’s eyes had steadily hardened, his smile widening into a mad grin. Now, he lifted the tip of his jackalope-headed cane, pointing it directly at the district attorney’s chest.

“So much for the olive branch,” he said, his low voice resembling nothing more than a tiger about to strike.

“Just what the merry hell do you think you’re doing?” Janus demanded.

“And you know, you really shouldn’t talk about age, Jan,” the tatterdemalion continued in the same growl. His teeth were fully bared now, his eyes wide and glowing a strange amber color. “You, of all people. Why, just look at you. Twenty years of smoking slowly closing you up from the inside, three martini lunches with a case of bourbon under the desk, and from I can see, you never walk farther than your car and back…”

“You just get the hell—” The blue man began, then stopped, swallowing hard.

“…high stress job...” Dissonance went on, “...hardly any time for the wife…”

Janus winced, clutching at his left wrist. His breathing was becoming shallow, labored, even as the older man continued speaking.

“…why, it wouldn’t surprise me if someday soon, emergency services got that fateful call…”

Janus’ legs gave way, and he stumbled against his desk, falling to his knees. He opened his mouth to speak, to shout, to call for help. But no sound came.

“…ohhhhh, I hate to even think it,” the madman continued through the grin of his mismatched teeth. “You, alone in some ambulance, surrounded by strangers, hearing their machines vainly counting out those last, desperate clenches your black little heart has to offer…”

Eyes wide, Janus Serpentine stared at the grey man in horror, his life and strength flowing out of him. The antique cane was still pointed at him, unwavering. Impossibly still, as if it were a sniper rifle held by a marksman carved from stone.

“Beep…” Dissonance intoned, still grinning. “Beep… beep… beep…”

Janus finally managed to speak, his voice a dry whisper. “Dis…”

“Beep…”

Reaching out, vision blurry. “Please…”

“Beep…”

Falling fully to the floor, clutching weakly.

“Beep…”

Janus Serpentine heard himself make a helpless, gurgling noise.

“Beeeeeeeeeee…..”

The district attorney went still, hands relaxing, head lolling limply to one side.

“…eeeeeeeeeep, beep… beep… beep… beep…”

Slowly, the world swam back into focus, the darkness that had swallowed it receding. With more difficulty than he'd imagined possible, Janus forced himself to raise his head and look at Dissonance Chord. The rag-tag man was crouching before him now. His silver-headed cane upright again, supporting his weight as he held it in both hands.

“I took the liberty of providing you the usual forms, along with the relevant files on your desk,” Dissonance purred. “I’m sure you’ll find them acceptable. I expect you to agree to the motions and file accordingly before the end of business tonight. That won’t be a problem, will it?”

His normal pallor returning from its momentary greenish hue, Janus managed to vaguely shake his head, no.

In return, Dissonance gave him a smile that was almost kind.

“That’s fine,” he said, rising again.

Turning, he strode casually to the door. Then, hand on the knob, he turned back to the other man, who had only just pulled himself to his hands and knees.

“I know that in a case like this you’d normally prefer to keep things all kinds of hands-on, what with this being an election year and all,” Dissonance said, still smiling. “But do feel free to have one of your ADAs handle the appearance this time.”

With a wink, he added, “No offense, Janny, but you look like hell.”

And then he was gone, the office door silently closing, his laughter coiling and lashing behind him like the tail of a draconic god.

Intermission Four: Spike and Twilight.

Spike woke leisurely, yawning contentedly as he did. He stretched, scratched, and looked around.

It was another relaxing summer day. Well, weather-wise, anyway. The snow had added an interesting wrinkle earlier in the week, giving him drifts to bound through while helping Twilight and Sunset deliver supplies, knock on doors, and so forth. But now it was back to the late summer heat, with an occasional cooling breeze.

He couldn't hear either of his humans in the house, which was disappointing. They were probably out running errands, or something. Or, slightly less likely, visiting... her.

Spike frowned and gave a brief, unconscious growl. He'd managed to avoid Sunset's doppelganger the entire blizzard, and certainly didn't intend to meet her now. He didn't even like speaking her name. Or even thinking it.

Sunset and Twilight kept saying she was reformed. Good for her. But it remained: she'd tried to kill Sunset, and had hurt Twilight really bad when she did. Twilight was still hurting from it. At the end of the day, nothing could make up for what she'd done.

So, no names. Names were for people and for pets. So far as he was concerned, she was neither.

The Rainbooms, though, apparently didn't share his view. They'd all been visiting Sunset's doppelganger ever since she'd turned herself in. And when she'd mentioned that the girl she'd gotten arrested didn't have visitors, they'd started visiting the other girl, as well.

So far, only Rainbow Dash had opted out of visiting the little would-be murderess. But apparently, even she was planning to bite the bullet and pay her a visit before the trial. Why, Spike didn't know. Twilight had once said that if Spike just met the girl, he might understand how Twilight and Sunset felt about her. But he doubted it.

After all, what could she possibly say in the face of what she'd done?

Reaching the living room, he looked at the stuffed animal on the coffee table with puzzlement. He was pretty sure the household's use of a plush elephant had been Sunset's idea, a non-verbal signal that there was something hovering over her and Twilight that needed to be discussed.

Spike shrugged. Whatever it was, it was nothing for him to worry about. The elephant had only been used a few times since they'd moved in together, after all. And whatever was wrong this time, he knew the girls would work it out. He'd just give them their privacy, and afterwards they'd all play video games or something.

Outside, the car could be heard pulling in with the precision and care he'd always associated with Twilight's driving. Up the house's driveway, then stopping, the engine still running.

Spike frowned. They were talking in the car?

Then car doors were opening and closing, and the garage door was opening. Spike's ears perked. There wasn't room for the car in the garage along with Twilight's lab, so, why...?

Then, Sunset's motorcycle started up.

As he heard her bike's motor fade into the distance and the garage door began to close, Spike sighed, then shrugged. Apparently, the stuffed toy was for him. In retrospect, he supposed he should have seen this coming after that one talk with Sunset.

Oh, well. As Sunset would say, 'Elephant in the room time.'

Twilight opened the door between the garage and the living room, peeked in uncertainly.

“Spike?” She asked.

Spike hopped up onto the couch and sat, the coffee table and its pachyderm between them.

“Hey, Twilight,” he said. “You... wanted to talk?”

“I do,” she said, closing the door behind her. “If you don't mind.”

“Nope,” he said, scratching behind one ear in what he hoped was a nonchalant gesture. “C'mon, let's talk.”

For a moment, he thought she'd sit beside him. Instead, she began to pace, looking anywhere but at him.

“So, um,” she started, wringing her hands, “Sunset mentioned to me that you said – well, you'd said it to her, and she wasn't sure if it would be a breach of confidence telling me, but she thought it was important, so hopefully it's not – but she said you weren't certain how long you would, um... be around.”

Silence.

“Yeah, that wasn't a breach of anything,” Spike said carefully. “I don't expect you guys to keep secrets from each other.”

Still not looking at him, Twilight nodded. “Right. And we really appreciate that. Anyway, at first, Sunny was concerned that maybe you were having health problems she didn't know about? She was worried that we might need to take you to see Fluttershy professionally or something.”

Then she stopped, her body facing him but her head lowered, staring at her shoes.

“But that's not what you meant, is it?” she finished quietly.

Spike shook his head where he sat, his tags jingling slightly.

Twilight sighed miserably. Then, she was in motion again.

“I should have anticipated this,” she cried, suddenly pacing again. “How could I be so thoughtless?!? So selfish?!? I didn't even think! I just went blithely on, having adventures, planning my own future, and all the while--”

“Woah, woah, woah!” Spike exclaimed, hopping down and running to her. “There's nothing here for you to blame yourself for!”

“Yes, there is!” Twilight cried, gesturing wildly as she paced. “I could have spent this whole time researching, finding a way to extend your lifespan! Sub-cellular fragmentation reversal, genetic modification, controlled cloning with central nervous system transfer...”

Spike stopped, looking at her uncertainly. “Um, I'm not sure I'm comfortable with any of those...”

“Or magic!” She realized suddenly. Whirling to face him again, Twilight exclaimed, “You could go to Equus! I'll bet there's been a mountain of research on lifespan extension already! Or...”

Her eyes widened.

“Of course,” she whispered. “On Equus, you could be a dragon!”

“Uh, Twilight?” Spike tried.

“A dragon!” she exclaimed, self-blame gradually giving way to a strange, ecstatic joy. “What lives longer than a dragon?”

“Twilight...”

“Heck, I bet you could even learn magic!” She went on, her excitement building. “Even if there isn't a spell to extend your life, we could...”

“Twilight!”

Twilight blinked, refocusing upon Spike again.

“What?” She asked.

“I'm not moving to another world,” he said as gently as he could. “And I'm not turning into something else. I'm sorry. That's not going to happen.”

For a moment, she could only stare at him.

“But...” her voice broke, and she tried again. “But you'll die.”

Spike blinked up at her, slightly puzzled. “Well, eventually, yeah.”

“But,” she said again, tears beginning to fall, “But I can save you!”

Spike smiled.

“You already saved me, when you adopted me. Remember?”

Sniffling, Twilight sat down on the couch, covering her face with her hands.

Spike moved next to her, setting his chin on her lap.

“Look, we don't know what kind of mix I am,” he pointed out. “Cavalier King Charles Spaniel? American Cocker Spaniel? English Bulldog? All or none of the above? Who knows?

“The good news is I've got hybrid vigor on my side. So, I'm probably healthier, and I'll probably live longer because of it. Maybe longer still, since I've been altered by magic.”

“But we don't know that!” Twilight wept. “And even if it does, that still doesn't give you very long.”

“Well, technically, that's true,” Spike admitted. “And I've been reading about that. English Bulldogs get seven to ten years, total. In fact, most dogs peter out around ten, thanks to modern breeding practices. Some only get four. And I wasn't born yesterday, you know.”

They shared a look at the unexpected turn of phrase, and the two of them laughed briefly, though the moment was sad and ended too soon.

Then, Spike jumped up to her, and they hugged each other fiercely.

“No, you weren't,” Twilight acknowledged. “You were always intelligent, even before the magic.”

“Okay. So, trust me.” Pulling back in her arms enough to make eye contact, he added, “I know who I am, and I know what I want. And I want to stay me.”

He lay in her lap, tail gently wagging. Twilight stroked his back absently and sighed.

“But... you'd still live longer as a dragon,” she said, half-pleading, half-wistfully. “And wouldn't it be cool to be a magical creature, in some faraway land...?”

Spike shook his head slightly, careful not to upset the rhythm of Twilight's movements. Like most dogs, he understood that when a human gave an animal pettings, it was usually more for their own emotional needs than the animals'. And Twilight always stroked his back like this when she was worried or upset about something.

But he also knew that, unfortunately, there just wasn't much for it this time. He wanted, as always, to be a source of Twilight's comfort. But now he had to be a source of her stress, too. And that stunk.

Still, the alternative was worse.

“I'm already a magical creature,” he pointed out, in what he hoped was a reassuring tone. “I'm a highly intelligent, educated, talking dog. And yeah, the stuff magic's given me is awesome. And like I said, maybe it affected my lifespan, too. We don't know, and you're still learning how to measure magical effects. Frankly, I'm scared to be altered any further. We just can't know how those changes would mix.”

While Twilight hugged him again, he continued, “But even without that, first and foremost, I'm a dog. That's part of who I am. I can't pretend to be something I'm not. That would be, I don't know... poisonous?”

He sighed as well, shaking his head. “I feel like that's not the right word. But you get what I'm saying, right?”

“Yeah, I think so,” Twilight nodded sadly. She released him, and he lay back in her lap while she scritched his ears. “Like the way that Sunset and I are both humans, and Sunrise is a pony.”

“Right,” Spike agreed. “Living as something else, I wouldn't be living my life, I'd be living someone else's. Like a costume I could never take off. And... I... don't think I could do that.”

Then, slumping slightly where he lay, he added, “And I don't want to live in a faraway land, either. I want to live with you.”

“I know, and I want you with me. It's just that...” Twilight swallowed, closed her eyes and made herself say, “We don't know for certain that you'd be a dragon. But whatever you turned into, you'd live longer on Equus. And it's hard for me to just...”

She trailed off, and Spike sighed again.

“Look at it this way,” he tried. “Civilized ponies live an average of about a hundred years, right?”

Twilight looked at him, eyebrow raised. “You have been studying. But yes. That's a little optimistic, I think, but it's a fair estimate for the sake of argument.”

“Okay, fine. But my point is, I don't see you and Sunset moving there anytime soon. You'd get another ten or twenty years together, easy. And you'd be welcome, the princesses would love to have you. But no matter how often you visit, you still live here.”

Twilight's shoulders slumped in defeat.

“Yes, we do,” she agreed quietly. “Because this is our world, and because we're human.”

Spike nuzzled in closer, inhaling the scent of the human he adored, as she hugged him warmly.

The old grandfather clock her parents had given her stood in the upstairs hall, loudly ticking away the moments as it always did. Spike listened contentedly for a few moments. To the clock, to the sounds outside, to Twilight's breathing. But the girl who held him continued to sniff, and to heave her occasional sad sighs. And Spike knew that, regardless of their new understanding, she was going to keep pointlessly torturing herself over it all for a while yet.

The realization made him sigh, as well. How very Twilight of her.

Well, then. There was only one thing to do.

For an instant, Spike's eyes narrowed in determination. Then, without warning, he wriggled out of Twilight's grasp, jumped up, and stared fiercely licking her face, ignoring her giggling protests.

“Ackpth! No, wait! Stop! No fair!” She laughed, falling to one side.

“Mlah, mlah, mlah, mlah, mlah!”

Eventually, Twilight managed to push Spike away. And, still giggling, she sat up and grabbed a tissue.

Wiping her face, she said, “You know, ever since you started talking, that's gotten kind of weird. You know that, right?”

Spike gave a kind of canine shrug. “Yeah, I guess I'm more 'people' than 'animal' now. Even if I'm not human.”

Twilight stopped, her expression becoming thoughtful.

“Now that's an interesting idea,” she mused. “If – and I'm not going to try it, don't worry – but if we used magic to make you not an animal at all, would you become human in this world?”

She put a hand to her chin. “Hm. I suppose it depends upon the operational definition of animal used in the spell, what traits...”

“It's a false hypothesis,” Spike interrupted, scratching behind one ear. “Humans are animals.”

Twilight considered him. “Are we? I mean, sure, in the biological sense, but from a magical perspective, utilizing the symbolic implications of...”

“Oh, don't try to convince me you and Sunset aren't animals, whatever world you're in,” Spike said with a teasing grin. “I live with you two, remember?”

Twilight frowned in puzzlement.

“What? What's that got to do with oh my god, you're TERRIBLE!” she exclaimed suddenly, throwing the tissue at him in mock fury.

While Spike rolled on the floor, laughing, Twilight pounced, tickling his ribs.

“Hey! No fair using fingers!” he yelped.

“Muahahahahahahaha!”

Just then, the front door opened slightly, and Sunset peeked in.

She started, “Hey, guys, can I barge in for just a second? Sorry, but I forgot my purse...” and then beheld the scene before her.

“Tickle fight!” Sunset cried happily, pouncing Twilight and tickling her mercilessly.

“Wait, no! You're supposed to be on my side!” Twilight laughed.

With this new betrayal, the tides of war immediately turned, and soon Twilight had no choice but to surrender before her opponents' superior numbers. A minute later, and the three combatants were sitting on the floor, grinning and regaining their breaths.

“So, I take it we're cool?” Sunset asked.

Twilight nodded as she rose, and began ascending the stairs. “I think so. I'm still processing a lot of things on the emotional level, so I'm going to need some time. But yes. I think we're cool.”

“Good to hear,” Sunset smiled. “You still up for dinner later?”

“Sure, just taking a quick shower,” Twilight answered as she vanished into the upstairs bathroom.

“Great,” Sunset called, already stripping off her jacket and boots. “Mind if I join you? It's hot out there.”

“Sure,” Twilight's voice floated down to her. “Spike already knows we're animals.”

As the water started running, Sunset paused, her puzzled look blending into amusement.

“I missed something?” she asked, turning to Spike.

For his part, Spike just winked, and let himself out into the evening air.

Sunset considered the closing screen door and shrugged. Whatever it was, it obviously wasn't urgent.

She shook her head with a contented smile, and started upstairs.

Intermission Five: Rainbow Dash and Sunrise.

The visiting room was huge and old but well-maintained: gray paint over smooth concrete walls, tiled floor, and a dozen or so round tables with plastic chairs. Two identical steel doors faced each other across the mostly empty space. One led towards the outside world, the other led further into the jail. Over each door, an old analog clock tediously counted down the time. In each corner of the ceiling, three security cameras pointed in different directions, red LEDs glowing dully as they watched all that transpired below them. Two unarmed guards, one by each door, also watched the room as they leaned against the walls.

A third guard brought Sunrise in, clad in a fresh jumpsuit. When they reached the table, the guard removed Sunrise's handcuffs.

“You have thirty minutes,” he said as the young woman sat. Looking at her visitor, he added in a stern voice, “You need to keep it quiet, or we'll end it early.”

Puzzled, Rainbow Dash nodded. “Sure, no problem.”

The guard nodded, gave Sunrise a last glance of warning, and then departed through the inner door. Above them, a large fly buzzed incessantly around one of the hanging lights, bouncing audibly against its bulb.

Rainbow Dash watched the door close, then turned to Sunrise. “Dude. What was that all about?”

Sunrise smiled. “Apparently, Pinkie Pie isn't really good at 'quiet,' no matter what world she's from.”

Rainbow considered this, then nodded. “Yeah, okay, I can see that.”

“She tried, though.”

Rainbow Dash grinned for a moment, despite everything. “Yeah. I bet she did.”

Sunrise took in a deep breath, then let it out.

“So, tomorrow's the big day,” she said with a forced half-smile. “Aurora's trial starts off at the crack of noon, and then my pretrial hearing's right after. I'll be there at the witness table, or wherever witnesses go. So, I guess our lawyer's going to have me present as a possible witness for her, and then go straight into pleading my own case.”

Rainbow Dash's eyebrows rose considerably. “Your hearing is right after her trial?”

“Uh-huh. Same judge, same room, everything.”

“Wow. What are the odds of that?”

Sunrise shrugged. “I don't know. Pretty long, I guess. But the Two Sisters – the ones from around here – said that if anyone can fix this, he can.”

Glancing at the clock on the far wall, she continued, “He still hasn't met with us, but in theory that won't matter. Aurora should be walking out of here and breathing free air within the next forty-eight hours. And in theory, we should both be able to be there for each other when the decisions come down.”

Rainbow looked skeptical.

“Yeah, don't count on that part,” she said. “There's a lot in this that even your lawyer can't control. But the important thing is, she's getting out of here.”

Sunrise nodded. “That's the theory.”

“And so are you.”

“No idea.”

The fly dipped down, buzzed around Rainbow's head. She shooed it away absentmindedly, then refocused on the young woman across from her. Finally, with a sigh, she looked down.

“So, anyway, I'm sorry,” Rainbow said to the table.

“What for?” Sunrise asked.

“For not coming to see you before now,” the blue girl replied. “I'm sorry.”

Sunrise smiled. “Hey, don't sweat it.”

“No, I'm gonna sweat it,” Rainbow Dash said. “At the very least, I think you deserve an explanation.”

Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes and forced herself to speak.

“See, back at the Fall Formal, Sunset did some... stuff. Is this being recorded?” she asked suddenly, looking around.

Sunrise shrugged. “I dunno. Probably?”

“Great. Okay. So, Sunny, she, um, had what we'll call... an experience," Rainbow said, a little uneasily. "Aaaand, people got hurt. Including her. But she'd been the Queen of all Bitchland for the last four years before then anyway. Driving friends apart, that kind of thing. So she didn't get a lot of sympathy at first.”

Sunrise nodded, staring. “Um, Rainbow...?”

“Yeah, yeah, there's a point,” Rainbow Dash assured her. “Trust me. See, when it all fell down, we were there to help. We didn't want to, exactly, but Princess Twilight was there to pull her out. And seeing her at her lowest, and then seeing Twilight – that Twilight – reach out to her... well, we kinda had to help, you know? Not like we were forced, but like we couldn't not help and still respect ourselves.

“And, pretty soon, we had to respect Sunny, too. Not that everything was forgotten, because it seriously wasn't. But, here was someone who had hit her lowest ebb, and then with a little help, she'd started rebuilding. And now, she's awesome. She's not just the kind of person you want for a friend, she's the kind you're proud to have as a friend. You know?”

Sunrise smiled. “Yeah. I know.”

Rainbow Dash sighed.

“Yeah, I know you do,” she said glumly. “Sunset faced her darkest shadows, her own inner demons, and ultimately she came out the other side. It was hard as hell, but she's stronger for it. More... I dunno, more her?”

Sunrise nodded her understanding.

“And then there was the whole Friendship Games thing,” Rainbow continued. “You know about that, right?”

“They gave me the Drop-Off Notes version,” Sunrise said.

“Yeah. So, Twilight was betrayed by her teacher. The person she should have been able to count on to keep her safe left Twilight alone to face her own demons, in the worst magical way possible.

“And then, despite it all, Twilight did. She had help from Sunset, and it took time, but still, she fucking did. And she came out the other side a better Twilight than ever before! And when you see the two of them together, her and Sunny, it all just seems... right.”

Sunrise frowned slightly. Where was this heading?

“Then, we were getting ready to graduate, and suddenly there was you. And... um, what happened at the mall,” the blue girl said uncomfortably. “Suddenly, there the rest of us were, at our own crossroads. What would we do? Would we stop, and think? Take the moral high ground? Maybe, I dunno, actually listen to the one person who had always known what was right when the rest of us hadn't?”

She sighed miserably.

“And of course, the answer was no. Of course not. We did the exact opposite. We caught up with you at the park, and, well, you know the rest.”

“Yeah, I remember,” Sunrise said. “No blame. What's...”

“What I'm saying is, we fucked up,” Rainbow broke in quietly. “We failed. All of us but Fluttershy. We had the chance to face our own demons, and instead, we completely gave in to them. We failed.”

She swallowed, looking anywhere but at the young woman across from her.

“I failed,” she whispered. “I didn't face my demon self at all. I let it take over. And you almost paid the price.”

Sunrise frowned. “So, you're... I don't understand. Are you facing it now?”

Rainbow shrugged, feeling even more uncomfortable. “I dunno. Maybe a little?”

Then, she sighed. “Mostly though, I'm just trying to not be an asshole. I mean, sure, you did what you did. But there's no way that my personal head trip is all your fault. Some of my resentment is about you, and that's fine. But, a lot of it isn't. It's about me. And what should matter more than anything else is that you're doing the right thing now.

“So, really, the least I can do is back your play. Which, honestly, I should have been doing from the beginning. Especially since both Twilight and Sunset say you're okay. And I, um, I guess I thought you should know why I wasn't until now.”

Sunrise gave a slight smile. “Well, if it helps, I get it. And whatever the reason, I really appreciate your being here.”

Another awkward shrug. “No problem.”

“No, seriously. There are no words.”

“And seriously, no problem,” Rainbow Dash repeated, still not looking at her.

Sunrise started to reach out to her, but the blue girl pulled away, shaking her head as she did.

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

“I just keep thinking about it, over and over,” Rainbow said miserably. “It won't stop. I mean, we almost... if Sunny had made a different call...”

The fly buzzed complex arcs between them, momentarily distracting the two women. Then it was gone again, its flight faintly audible as it rose towards the lights again.

“If Sunset had made a different call, I'd be dead now,” Sunrise said softly. “That's true. But I'd be just as dead if you hadn't shown up at all.”

Rainbow Dash stared as Sunrise looked away from her.

“I... never told this to anypony before,” Sunrise continued, crossing her arms protectively. “Anypony but Twilight. My Twilight. Even Luna doesn't know. But yeah, there was a reason I had the gun with me that night. I had a decision to make. And when you guys showed up, I'd... pretty much made up my mind.”

Rainbow sat back, still staring.

“Fucking hell,” she muttered.

“Yeah,” Sunrise agreed. “So, when you confronted me on the dock that night, along with everything else you guys did, you also saved my life.”

Rainbow Dash held her temples, elbows on the table, completely dumbfounded.

“Great. What am I supposed to do with that?” she asked.

Sunrise shrugged sympathetically. “Beats me.”

The fly circled downward from the ceiling, unevenly orbiting the various occupants of the room, prisoners, inmates, and guards.

Then, Rainbow Dash shook herself, She straightened up, saying, “You know what? Actually, right now I'm still trying to wrap my head around Aurora's mom. Has she seriously never visited her?”

Sunrise shook her head.

“As of this afternoon, not once,” she confirmed.

Rainbow Dash sat back in astonishment. She stared up at the clock on the opposing wall, the same model as the ones used in school.

“Bitch,” she decided.

“Aurora doesn't seem to think so,” Sunrise shrugged. “Heck, she didn't even bring it up. I had to ask about it when I kept getting visitors and she didn't.”

Wincing, she continued, “And then I got to come off like an elitist asshole about it. Which is exactly what Aurora needed right then, hearing me rant crap about her mom not being here for her.”

“Bitch's daughter not wanting her called out doesn't make her less a bitch.”

“Maybe not. And, yeah, I do kind of agree with you,” Sunrise admitted. “But at the same time, from what Aurora says, it's not her fault.”

Rainbow sneered. “Oh, what, she's too busy? For her daughter? I think she can make the fucking time!”

“No, it's not like that, either,” Sunrise sighed. “Aurora doesn't like talking about it, and I get that. But in here, there isn't much else for us to do but talk. So, I kinda get the impression that Aurora's had to be the adult in their relationship for a long time.”

Rainbow gave her a look that clearly said, WTF?

“Well, okay, not exactly,” Sunrise said. She let out a breath, trying not to seethe, and ran a hand along her mohawk, smoothing it back in place. “Obviously, her mom makes the money and sets the rules, right? But at the end of the day, she's just... I dunno. She's still the parent, but--”

“Then why the fuck isn't she here for her fucking daughter?” Rainbow hissed, completely outraged.

“Because she can't be,” Sunrise said through gritted teeth.

“How?!?”

“I don't know!” Sunrise snapped.

Behind her, the guard beside the inner door stepped away from the wall, clearing his throat. Sunrise turned where she sat, giving a palms-out gesture of placation. The guard gave her a warning nod and returned to his place, leaning against the painted concrete and surveying his surroundings. Sunrise turned back to face Rainbow Dash.

“She's not too busy, or too far away, or any of that!” Sunrise hissed. “For whatever reason, she apparently cannot make herself drive fifteen minutes to a detention center, walk through metal detectors surrounded by armed guards, sit down with her little girl, and deal with the fact that said little girl is in jail, is staying in jail, and might spend years or even decades in prison. She is literally incapable of giving her only daughter the support she needs when she needs it most. And, somehow, Aurora just... accepts that!”

Rainbow Dash stared.

“And with no other family around, that left Aurora ass-out and isolated,” Sunrise finished bitterly, crossing her arms as she did. “Her friends don't have cars and can't get their folks to drive them here, so they write letters. Of course, the powers-that-be 'forgot' to give them to Aurora until I got here and told you guys, and you started making a fuss. But she's getting them now, so, yeah, that's something at least. Which, thanks for that, too.

“But her mom?” Sunrise shook her head. “The one person who should have been there for her through thick and thin, no matter what? Total. Fucking. Silence. All of which is somehow, according to Aurora, not her mom's fault.”

Rainbow Dash took a moment and tried to imagine her own parents just... abandoning her like that. Or having a kid of her own, and then just... leaving her alone in a cage, regardless of what she was accused of. Finally, she just sat back again.

“Okay, I get that Aurora loves her mom,” she said at last, her hands forming into fists. “But at the end of the day that doesn't change anything. Sorry, but everybody loves their mom, that doesn't mean Mommy isn't still an iron-clad bitch.”

Leaning forward, her voice grew in intensity as she jabbed a finger at Sunrise, saying, “I don't care what she thinks is going on in her life, it's not a fucking excuse. If she really wanted to be here, she'd fucking be here! She'd find a way! She... she...”

Rainbow Dash trailed off, then blinked.

“Wow,” she said. “That did sound elitist.”

“Yeah,” Sunrise sighed, holding her head in one hand. “It did when I said it, too.”

For a time, neither of them spoke. Then, almost simultaneously, they slumped back in their chairs. They stared upwards, each letting out a long, slow breath.

For a long time, neither of them spoke.

“Great,” Rainbow Dash muttered to the ceiling. “Now I'm the asshole.”

“Yup,” Sunrise said. “Join the club.”

More silence.

“Maybe... hell, I dunno, maybe she's got anxiety,” Rainbow Dash said at last. “Like, crippling anxiety. And the meds just can't cut it for this.”

“Chronic depression, maybe,” Sunrise nodded sagely. “Undiagnosed and untreated.”

“PTSD,” Rainbow suggested. “Something to do with jail, or losing a kid, or something.”

“Would that do it? I've never studied PTSD.”

“Dunno. Never studied psych.”

Again, they lapsed into silence.

Finally, Sunrise spoke again, still contemplating the ceiling tiles.

“Are we... really trying to armchair diagnose someone we've never met, just to feel better about ourselves?” she asked in the most contemplative of tones. “Mind you, I'm not judging. I'm just curious.”

“I dunno,” Rainbow said again, also still contemplating. “Maybe we're just trying to respond intellectually to something that's easy to condemn emotionally. You know, using compassion and understanding and...” She waved her hand vaguely. “...stuff.”

“Oh, yeah. I like that,” Sunrise mused in the same tone. “Especially the 'stuff' part. Gives us the moral high ground.”

“Yep,” Rainbow confirmed. “Moral high ground, that's us.”

“Love and understanding,” Sunrise said.

“Power of friendship,” Rainbow Dash added.

“Also, not being assholes,” Sunrise pointed out.

“Exactly,” Rainbow said. “This is us, not being assholes.”

“Look at us go.”

“Yep.”

Once more, they fell into silence. The fly buzzed around them a few times. It landed on the table between them, zig-zagged on its surface for a moment, and then took off again, buzzing its way to another part of the large room.

Finally, with a sigh, Rainbow Dash looked down again.

“So, anyway, I'm sorry,” Rainbow said to the table.

“What for?” Sunrise asked, still staring upwards.

“For hating you,” the blue girl sighed. “I don't anymore, but I did. And I'm sorry for what we tried to do. You didn't deserve it, but that didn't stop me from...”

She swallowed, and concluded, “Well, anyway. I was wrong. And, I'm sorry.”

“Hey, don't sweat it,” Sunrise said, looking away. “I kind of hate me, too.”

By this time, the fly was bothering the guard beside the door leading out. The uniformed man was obviously trying and failing to ignore it as it buzzed repeatedly around him.

“That's... fucked up,” Rainbow said at last. “No offense.”

Suddenly, the guard slapped his hand against the wall, killing the fly instantly. Then his eyes returned to monitoring the room, impassive as always.

Sunrise looked around herself, then back to Rainbow.

“None taken.” she said. “There's not much about this that isn't.”

6. Trial by Air: To Inherit the Wind; Words and Wisdom.

The courtroom was distinctly not what Sunrise had been expecting.

She'd been expecting something severe, something intimidating. After all, even before she'd been on the run, her guardians had occasionally used the idea of the court system to threaten her. So thinking on it, she had to admit to herself that she'd been kind of primed to expect the worst.

There were, again, no windows. The doors from the hall to the court room itself were glass, with floor-to-ceiling glass to either side. And while the front of the room was furnished with dark engraved wood, the whole floor was carpeted a friendly blue-gray. Light, padded chairs of powder blue filled the spectator's area, with large portraits of local politicians she didn't recognize on both side walls.

Two large tables sat before the judge's bench. Sitting at the right hand table, a woman in a sky blue suit dress was looking over some papers and folders she possessed. Sitting at the left-hand table was Aurora, alone but for the armed guard looming over her.

From where she sat, armed guards to either side of her, Sunrise shot the younger girl an encouraging smile. Aurora managed a weak one in return.

To the left of the well was the jury box, empty. To its right, the court secretary. At each table and the judge's bench was a microphone. Before the bench was a man in a suit with a badge; Sunrise guessed he was the bailiff. Stationed more-or-less equidistant around the room were about half a dozen armed guards, plus the one behind Aurora, one hand casually resting on her firearm.

Behind the bench was a huge portrait of the USE's first president, and to either side of it were the national and state flags. Beneath the portrait was a door.

And, with a loud creak on its ancient hinges, that door began to open.

“All rise,” the bailiff intoned. “United States of Equestria Court, Northern District of Canterlot, is now in session. The Honorable Judge Alexandria Knotwork presiding.”

The judge, an older woman with pale gray skin and white hair, finished entering and made her way to the bench, ascending its unseen steps as she did. Then, she lowered herself into its black leather chair and looked out before her, appraising the crowd. The murder trial had brought in a variety of reporters, law students, and good old-fashioned gawkers, and the court room was nearly full.

One of these spectators, seated in the row behind the defense table, was a woman in jeans and a red button-up. She looked to be in her mid-thirties, with short flame-colored hair and amber skin. Chewing her lower lip, gripping her purse, and plainly terrified.

“You may be seated,” the bailiff said.

The courtroom was momentarily filled with shuffling and creaking of chairs as the those present found their seats. The judge put on her reading glasses, sorted through a few papers she had brought with her.

“As the defendant has requested a trial without jury, let it be known that the jury has been dismissed previous to these proceedings,” she said.

“Sixty-nine, CR one-eighty, Canterlot versus Aurora Borealis for trial.” the bailiff read.

Judge Knotwork continued sifting through the paperwork.

“I see here that Miss Windy Cavern will be representing the state; good to see you again, Miss Cavern,” the judge said, not looking up from her documents. “And for the defense, I see Mister Fallacious Brief... no, I see a note here...”

Frowning, she looked up, saying, “Hmm. Very well... Mister… Dissonance Chord?”

The court was silent. Many eyes drifted to the defense table. There, aside from her armed escort, the defendant still sat very, very alone.

“Council for the defense?” The judge asked again. “Mister Chord?”

When there was still no response, she picked up the papers before her. Scanned them again.

Someone coughed. From where she sat in handcuffs, police to either side of her, Sunrise exchanged nervous looks with Aurora.

The judge blinked, frowning. Then, looking out at the packed courtroom impatiently, she called, “Mister Dissonance Chord!”

“YES, YOUR HONOR!”

The heavy wooden doors at the opposite end flew open with a Boom!, revealing the defense attorney at last. He strode in like a ringmaster, arms out, head high, glorying in the sudden applause that spontaneously filled the courtroom. Doffing his embroidered top hat with a twirl, he spun it into the air, catching it deftly on the handle of his cane as he arrived at the defense table, ultimately ending with a low bow before the bench, one leg extended before him, his cane and hat swept to one side.

Flashbulbs flashed, again and again, as the room became a bedlam of noise and speculation.

“ORDER!” roared the judge, banging her gavel.

“Dissonance Erasmus Chord, at the court’s service, Your Honor,” Dissonance said into the sudden quiet, still bowing. “Licensed legal practitioner in Canterlot, former legal defender of the downtrodden in Canterlot, Crystal Valley, Griffonstone, Argentina, and Cu-camonga.”

Bang! went the gavel once more, cutting the quiet laughter of the audience short.

“I have a mind to have you removed from the court right now, and charge you with contempt,” Judge Knotwork said. “And I will tolerate no further theatrics in these proceedings. Now, am I to understand you now represent the accused? According to records, Miss Borealis already has an attorney, provided by the state.”

Without rising, the patchwork attorney drew a manila envelope from within his coat.

“If it please the court, Your Honor,” he said to the floor with the gravity of a pall bearer, “The previously assigned attorney is busy in another courtroom due to a scheduling conflict caused by the recent storm. Further, information regarding the identity of the accused was not forthcoming from the police at first, thus causing a delay in my being approached on the matter.”

As the courtroom began to buzz, Dissonance continued happily, “I was retained by friends of the family to represent both the defendant in this case, and the young lady who actually perpetrated the deed!”

Again, the courtroom burst into murmurs and flashing bulbs, and again the judge brought the gavel down with a sharp Crack!

“...We therefore move the court to recognize extraordinary circumstances justifying withdrawal of counsel,” Dissonance finished solemnly.

“Counsels will approach the bench,” the judge snarled. “Now.”

Almost as soon as Dissonance entered the well, the judge had snatched the envelope from him. The justice’s frown slowly deepened as she read its contents, then transformed into a simple stare of incredulity. Then, the frown returned, and she handed back the envelope.

“Very well. The court recognizes Mister Chord’s qualifications to represent the accused in this case, and under the circumstances withdrawal of counsel is hereby granted,” she said. “That being said, your earlier admonishment remains, sir. I will not have these proceedings turned into the kind of farce you were so infamous for when you last practiced.”

“Of course, Your Honor.”

“Additionally, I notice the date for your reinstatement was just over a week ago.”

“That’s correct, Your Honor,” the gaunt man nodded. “I had been enjoying my well-earned retirement, believe me. But when the incredible truth of this case came to my attention, I couldn’t justify not coming out of retirement to help shield the innocent from injustice.”

“Of course you couldn’t,” Her Honor said dryly.

“And, at the same time, spare the court the time it would otherwise waste bringing Miss Borealis to trial,” Dissonance grinned.

For a moment, the judge considered Dissonance Chord with the exact amount of suspicion due to a one-armed stage magician offering a high stakes game of three-card Monty.

Then, turning to the assistant district attorney, she said, “Miss Cavern, what exactly is he talking about?”

Nodding slightly, Windy Cavern, an ebony-skinned young lady with silver hair and deep blue eyes, began removing various sheafs of paper from a three-inch thick brown folder she had brought with her.

“New evidence has come to light which has moved the district attorney’s office to drop all charges against the defendant in this case, Your Honor,” she said.

The judge peered at Dissonance, her suspicion intensifying. “I take it this is some kind of deal the defense has struck with the district attorney’s office?” she said.

Beneath her withering gaze, Dissonance clasped his hands before himself and looked heavenward, trying and failing to look innocent.

“No, Your Honor,” the ADA said. “This new evidence has shown to the district attorney’s satisfaction that Miss Borealis is innocent. It includes both a full confession by Miss Shimmer, and her production of the weapon used in the assault. Police ballistics has already matched the weapon in question to the round removed from Miss Sparkle’s person. Prosecution and defense both therefore ask...”

“Wait,” the judge interrupted, frowning anew at her, then looking at where Sunset Shimmer sat, holding hands with Twilight Sparkle, surrounded by their friends. “Wait. Wait. Are you saying that Miss Shimmer--?”

“No, Your Honor, not at all,” Dissonance broke in giddily as he gestured to Sunrise, sitting nearby in handcuffs. “We mean the other Miss Shimmer, who is awaiting her arraignment right after these proceedings. Specifically, Sunrise Shimmer, Sunset Shimmer’s long-lost twin sister!”

With a groan, the judge put her face in her hands.

Windy Cavern looked uncertainly from the judge to Dissonance, and back.

“Um, Your Honor?” she tried.

With a long-suffering sigh, Judge Knotwork lowered her hands, shaking her head in resignation. Finally, she dragged her eyes to the ragtag attorney before her.

“Mister Chord, are you requesting a separate evidentiary hearing to consider this motion?” she asked.

“No, Your Honor,” Dissonance replied. “Defense asks that, under these unusual circumstances, and in honor of the defendant's right to a speedy trial, the court hear this evidence as part of current proceedings.”

“Miss Cavern?”

“Prosecution is in agreement, Your Honor.”

For a moment, the judge looked as though she had bitten into something sour. She looked at the defendant. She looked at the ADA. Finally, she looked at Sunrise Shimmer, sitting in handcuffs, plainly ready to be a witness if needs be, even with her own hearing apparently already scheduled later that day.

Finally, Judge Knotwork sighed again.

“I don't need to tell either of you just how irregular this is,” she said at last. “But if both counsels are certain of their preparations, in the interest of justice and the rights of the accused, I will allow the motion to be presented now.”

“Thank you, Your Honor,” Dissonance bowed.

“Miss Cavern, as this motion is being made by the prosecution, you may begin.”

Nodding, shuffling through the documents she held, Windy Cavern began to speak, placing various stapled or paper-clipped stacks of paper on the bench as she did.

“May it please the court, evidence shows that both women – Sunrise and Sunset Shimmer – were abandoned at birth by person or persons unknown,” she said. “And, both were taken into the foster care system. However, due to a paperwork error, they were not only immediately separated but Sunrise Shimmer was erroneously entered into the system under her sister’s name. Such an error was almost impossible to detect unless someone specifically looked for it.”

Pulling an additional carbon-covered set of pink forms, she set them on the bench, adding, “However, as of last week Mister Chord did look for it, and we have the paperwork proving the error here.”

“Sunset was adopted almost immediately,” Dissonance picked up the narrative, “But Sunrise wasn’t. I have also provided the – ah, yes, thank you, my dear,” he said fondly as more bundles of paper were stacked on the bench. “The paperwork you see to the left is Sunset’s adoption papers. To your right, simultaneously, is a continuing paper trail involving Sunrise’s movement within the foster care system… only under Sunset’s name.”

Reluctantly, the judge began looking through the paperwork before her.

“When Sunrise Shimmer was fourteen, she ran away from the foster care system, allegedly to avoid an abusive environment,” Windy Cavern went on, adding another sheaf. “We have the relevant reports here. Meanwhile, Sunset Shimmer was just entering Canterlot High School, as shown in her own academic record. And while Sunrise spent the next four years living on the street, during which time there is no record of her activities, Sunset continued her education at Canterlot High.

“Their paper trails didn’t cross again until recently, when Sunrise Shimmer turned eighteen. Believing her name to be that of her sister, she set about to acquire proof of identity and open a bank account, and got her G.E.D.”

“It wasn’t until Sunrise applied to Canterlot University, the same university where her sister had already been accepted, that the old bureaucratic error truly came home to roost.” Dissonance added. “Being told that she'd already been accepted, with a scholarship she had never applied for from a school she had never attended, she investigated the matter. And, finally, discovered her twin sister.”

Judge Knotwork looked up from a form she was skimming, eyebrow arched. “And the court is to believe she simply took it upon herself to murder Miss Sparkle as a result?”

“Sunrise Shimmer’s confession states that her sister was the intended target,” Miss Cavern said, placing the final sheaf of papers before her. “And Miss Sparkle’s injuries are consistent with having been shot in the process of knocking Sunset Shimmer out of the bullet’s path. Additionally, as aforementioned, the weapon Sunrise Shimmer provided to the police matches the bullet removed from Miss Sparkle perfectly.”

“Defense intends to ask for leniency, based upon unusual circumstances,” Dissonance added. “After a lifetime of struggle and abuse, capped by an ultimate assault upon her very identity, my client suffered a temporary psychotic break. She is legitimately penitent, Your Honor, and numbers among her character witnesses both her sister and Miss Sparkle herself.”

“The court is not concerned with Miss Shimmer’s intentions at this time, Mister Chord, she isn’t on trial here,” the judge said offhandedly, still leafing through documents. “The court is concerned with the motion at hand.”

Looking up, she asked the woman before her, “Miss Cavern, is it the considered opinion of the district attorney’s office that, in light of this new evidence, all charges against Miss Borealis should be dropped?”

“It is, Your Honor.”

“And do you seek to make that motion now?”

“We do, Your Honor.”

“Very well.” Gathering the various papers into a single stack, she held out her hand to the ADA. Miss Cavern handed the empty envelope to the judge, who slid the multi-colored paperwork into it.

“Court is in recess for one hour,” she said. “At the end of that time, court shall render its decision regarding the charges of attempted murder and aggravated assault with a deadly weapon against Miss Aurora Borealis.”

Then she rapped her gavel once, rose, and departed through the door behind the bench.

Almost frantic, Sunset Shimmer pushed and shoved her way through the murmuring crowd to the Two Sisters in a wave of confusion.

“You know that guy?” she demanded, pointing at the defense table. “I thought I was kidding back in the book store, but… you know that guy?!?”

“He was our principal, years ago,” Luna admitted.

“And he’s also… well, it’s complicated,” Celestia added uncomfortably. Then, with new concern, “But, how do you know him?”

“He, um, well…” Sunset fidgeted, rubbing the back of her neck. “He kinda supplied me with the documentation I needed when I got here. Birth certificate, medical records, that kind of thing. He’s why I was able to attend school at all—”

Suddenly, Celestia was holding Sunset’s upper arms with a gentle urgency, and both sisters were staring at her, both speaking at once.

“What did he ask for?”

“What did you promise him?”

“Woah, hey, easy, easy!” Sunset protested, holding her hands up in supplication. “Take it easy, okay? It’s cool!”

Celestia released her, startled by her own intensity. “I’m… I’m so sorry.”

“Me too,” Luna nodded. “But please, do you owe him anything? Did you give him any promise, make any bargain…?”

But Sunset laughed.

“What, are you kidding? That guy? Oh, hell no!” She shook her head, still laughing. “You think I’m getting in deep with some creepy magic guy in a curse shop? I was born at night, not last night! I paid him up front, in bits.”

Celestia frowned in puzzlement. “Bits?”

“Uh-huh,” Sunset grinned. “Equestrian currency.”

Both sisters made a gesture as though to say, And…?

“Coins,” Sunset elaborated. “Made of gold. About ten to the pound.”

There was a moment of silence as the two of them stared at her.

“Gold,” Luna echoed. “Pounds. Of gold.”

“Yep,” Sunset affirmed, still grinning. “I had a bag of holding full when I left Equus. Plus a few books and some other stuff. I've still got a few bits in case of emergency, but I converted most of it to local currency.”

“That… explains a lot,” Celestia said slowly.

“It probably does,” Sunset nodded. “Of course, I didn’t know how much gold was worth on this side at first. So, once I found out how important paperwork was around here I offered Dissonance a thousand bits for the best background check he could muster.”

She chuckled, adding, “He acted pretty disappointed, but I think he still came out ahead on that one.”

Then, her smile faded. Crossing her arms, Sunset looked out across the courtroom, where young Aurora was standing, speaking to the female guard beside her.

“Looks like he can still deliver, too,” she said. “Hell, if I'd known he was a lawyer, I'd have suggested him myself.”

Then, turning back to the sisters, she asked, “What about you? Are you guys okay?”

Both nodded.

“We cashed in an old debt, from back when we were still students,” Celestia said.

“And if he can keep both Aurora and Sunrise free,” Luna added, “then this time we came out ahead.”

“Mom?”

She’d had to ask permission from the guard to leave her seat. And then again, to go to her mother. Fortunately, while the cops had sucked from the moment of her arrest (ACAB, she thought for the thousandth time), and the jail guards had been hostile at best, this one had seemed basically okay. For a screw, anyway.

Now, still in cuffs and still with an armed and uniformed woman by her side, Aurora looked at her mother, growing more concerned by the second.

Aurora hadn’t been watching her mother throughout the proceedings, of course. After all, her mom was in the audience, and that would have meant craning her neck like an owl the whole time.

But so far as she could tell, starting from when the lawyers had started presenting evidence, her mother had spent the entire time, the entire time, just staring at Sunrise and Sunset. Mouth covered with both hands, eyes filled with horror and something else Aurora couldn’t read.

“Mom, what’s wrong?”

Suddenly, her mother snapped out of it, and she gathered Aurora in her arms and hugged her fiercely.

“Oh, baby,” she whispered, “I’m just so glad that it’s over.”

Aurora sighed. “Mom…”

“Miss Dawn,” the guard said reluctantly, “I’m sorry, but right now your daughter still stands accused of a violent crime. She’s supposed to be kept at a distance from everyone else, for security reasons. I’m sorry, but I need you to release her and stand back.”

Sniffing, Helia Dawn nodded, and let her daughter go again.

“It’ll be okay, Mom,” Aurora told her. “One way or another, we’ll get through this. I promise.”

Smiling through her tears, Helia cupped her daughter’s cheek.

“Oh, honey,” she said. “You always say that. You were always the brave one, even when you were little. But just this once, you let your mother worry, okay?”

Reluctantly, Aurora returned her smile. “Yeah, okay.”

A few minutes later, she and the armed guard were in a private room.

“Another search?” she sighed.

“Yep,” the other woman nodded.

While the guard was patting her down, Aurora said, “By the way, thanks for letting me see her.”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” the guard huffed as she worked down Aurora’s legs. “And even if I did, my having a little girl of my own wouldn’t have mattered.”

“Yeah, well. Thanks anyway.”

The jail guard paused, and then reluctantly nodded.

“You’re welcome,” she said.

Intermission Six: Trixie the Powerful.

Juniper Montage made a sour face. “If I'd known you wanted to know about that stupid mirror, I'd never have agreed to meet.”

Trixie cocked her head as she sat down across the table from her, food-laden tray in hand. “Trixie never mentioned a mirror.”

“You didn't have to. You're dressed like the magician's apprentice from Fantasia. What else would you be looking for?”

As it happened, Trixie could think of quite a few things she might have been seeking, or had sought, at different times in her life. Not to mention a variety of differences between herself and the cartoon mouse with his magic brooms. But that was neither here nor there.

“Anyway, it doesn't matter,” Juniper shrugged. “It's broken to bits and thrown away. And good riddance.”

“Trixie doesn't want the mirror,” Trixie assured her. “The Great and Powerful Trixie only has a few questions. And besides, Trixie is buying lunch, is she not?”

“Sure, at the food court,” Juniper scoffed.

Trixie spared the bustling noontime crowd around them a glance, then turned back to Juniper, picking up a slice of her pizza as she did.

“You wanted to do this during your lunch break,” Trixie pointed out. “On your day off, we could have gone anywhere.”

“Well, I'm not going to have a day off for-- you know what, skip it,” Juniper cut herself off. Picking up a chicken nugget, she dipped it sullenly into her sweet'n'sour sauce and started munching.

For a few minutes, they ate in silence.

“So, what do you want to know?” Juniper asked at last.

“Where and when did you get the mirror?”

Juniper made a sour face.

“It was just a little after the movie shoot. And no,” she cut off Trixie's already open mouth, “I'm not going to talk about that. I've had better times. Let's leave it at that.

“Anyway, after a while, I remembered some of the rumors I'd heard as a kid. I kept thinking about them, over and over again in my mind. Finally, one day I'd had enough. My dad constantly giving me his Look, my stupid job at his theater, everything. I just got in my car and drove. It took a while, but I finally found where he was supposed to be. And sure enough, there he was.”

Trixie took out a folded piece of paper and slid it to her.

“Was this him?” she asked.

Juniper unfolded the photocopy, glanced at it, and handed it back while nodding and drinking her milkshake.

“That was him,” she said. “The place looked like Stephen King's props department, but it was his name on the door.”

“How did you get the mirror?”

“I bought it. Well, traded for it would be more accurate. He didn't even have a card reader. Who doesn't have a card reader?” she demanded, rolling her eyes.

“What did you trade?” Trixie pressed, determined to keep the conversation on-topic. “Did you promise him anything?”

“No, that was the weird part,” Juniper said. “It didn't have a set price. Nothing there did. He just wanted what was on me at the time. A ten and a one, and an old ticket stub.”

Trixie cocked an eyebrow. “Seriously?”

Juniper nodded, taking another swig of milkshake.

“My aunt had gone to an I Blow Minds for a Living spoken word concert, when I was little. She'd gotten her stub autographed for me. She died a little while later, and I kept the stub until...”

Juniper swallowed, and looked down.

“The ticket was the clincher. The guy said that if I threw that in, we had a deal. He promised that I'd get back the opportunities I'd lost – adoring crowds, photo shoots, fame, everything – plus get my revenge, if I really wanted it. And, I said yes.

“But when I got the mirror home, all it did was look cheap. I tried to find the guy's shop again, but I never could. It was like it had just vanished. After a while I almost forgot about the stupid mirror and what it had cost me. It just stayed in my purse. I guess I just couldn't be bothered to take it out. I didn't want to think about it, so I didn't.”

She sighed. “I didn't even notice when I accidentally left it at the sunglasses kiosk. I forgot it for weeks, until... well, you probably know the rest. Everybody else seems to,” she muttered, crossing her arms.

For a few seconds, there was only the sound of the lunchtime crowd around them. Then, Juniper shook her head, adding, “None of it was how I'd wanted it to be. And none of it was worth it. None of it.”

“Where is his shop?” Trixie asked.

But Juniper shook her head.

“No. No way. I'm not helping you mess up your life the way I messed up mine.”

“Trixie is not looking to make a purchase.”

Juniper gave her a skeptical look.

“Promise.”

The other girl looked Trixie up and down, and then shook her head and began to rise.

“Thanks for lunch,” she said.

Trixie held up a hand, palm out, in a placating gesture. Then, she closed her hand and opened it again in a fluid motion. Now, there was a card between her index and middle fingers.

“This is the number for Vignette Valencia, the PR manager for Equestria Land Amusement Park,” she smiled. “Vignette is looking for models, and she was very interested when the Connected and Generous Trixie told her about your portfolio.”

Juniper frowned, still half-standing. “I... don't have a portfolio. I've never modeled in my life.”

Still smiling, Trixie again closed her hand. When she opened it again, she held two cards.

“The second number is for Trixie's friend, Photo Finish,” she said. “Photo has agreed to help you create your portfolio.”

Juniper stared.

“Many actresses began as models,” Trixie pointed out. “Trixie does not give you hollow promises. Only a foot in the door. But, it is a foot in the door. And Trixie will make all the arrangements. All that matters is if you are interested.”

“And if I tell you where he is.”

Trixie sighed, rolling her eyes.

“Trixie suspects that her friend, Sunset Shimmer, may be rubbing off on her.” she said. “Not to mention Fluttershy. And yes, there was a time when that would have been exactly the bargain Trixie would offer. But today, Trixie is giving these numbers freely.”

Trixie passed the cards over. Juniper eyed the cards suspiciously, then Trixie.

“Just like that, huh?” she said.

“Just like that,” Trixie shrugged. “Of course, Trixie admits that she hopes you will return the favor with an address. But the numbers, and the opportunity they offer, are yours regardless.”

Juniper considered the cards she held carefully, leaning her elbow on the table as she did.

“You know what? Fine,” she decided, slipping the cards into her purse. “You know where the old Canterlot South Mall is?”

“Trixie has an idea,” Trixie said, her eyes narrowing in anticipation. “Do go on.”

7. Trial by Spirit: Words of Farewell; Souls of Light and Shadow.

The side of the old stone plinth glowed with arcane light as she ran her hand across its surface. Aurora could feel it gently pulling at her, inviting her to step through, to enter a world of magic, dangers, and adventure.

Behind her, Sunrise and the seven musicians waited, smiling, for her to finish her experiment. And behind them, in turn, were… well, depending on how you sliced it, either two adult sisters, or three. One of them being, apparently, some kind of faerie queen in another, more magical world.

The world where Sunrise belonged. And to which, now, she would finally return.

When the judge had come back from recess, Aurora had hardly dared to hope that she would rule exactly as she had: that in light of new evidence, all charges against her were dropped, and that she was free to go.

She'd wanted to stay in the courtroom, though. Sunrise's pretrial hearing had been next, and Aurora had wanted to be there for her. But getting out was still a process to be gone through, and her mom had been beside herself already. And, as the guard had pointed out, Sunrise already had plenty of friends with her.

Aurora didn't know how their lawyer had done it, but she heard later he'd managed to argue the judge into approving bail for Sunny, despite the severity of her crimes. Granted, it had been high as hell – the news had said it was half a million dollars – but even as the judge had made her ruling apparently both Twilight and Sunset had stood, with a simultaneous I can cover that.

(In a later conversation, Rainbow Dash had pointed out they'd only had to put up ten percent, so long as they didn't expect to get it back. Which frankly didn't make it any less amazing to Aurora. Either sum was more than her mom would see in a year.)

The judge had also ruled that, under the circumstances, Sunrise would have to wear a tracking anklet as if she were on parole. Apparently the judge didn't completely trust the eccentric attorney. Or, maybe that had been part of Dissonance's bargain; apparently he'd winked to Sunrise as the ruling was handed down, saying quietly, I imagine that won't be a problem.

The next day, the Rainbooms, Celestia, Luna, and Princess Luna, along with Sunrise herself, had invited Aurora over for dinner. She deserved the full story, they'd said, and if she wanted she could hear it.

It should have sounded insane. Completely certifiable. Delusional, or maybe just some sick joke they were playing at her expense. But somehow, it hadn't. Too many things had fit together too well for it to be crazy. And none of them were mad enough, or mean enough, for it to have been anything but the truth.

And, of course, their having demonstrable magic powers hadn't hurt.

Afterwards, they'd talked for hours, about everything and nothing at all. Strangely, Aurora had found herself wishing she could have met them all years earlier. But eventually, the sun had set, and it had been time for them all to journey to the mystical gateway where it had all began.

And now, she was here.

“You thinkin’ 'bout crossin’ over, sugar cube?” Applejack asked with a smile.

Standing up again, Aurora shook her head as the magical glow ceased, smoothing out her long skirt.

“No, I’m good,” she said. “I guess I just wanted to see it for myself, and make sure Sunny was going to be okay.”

Smiling, Sunrise stepped forward, and she and Aurora embraced.

“You ever need anything, you get word to these guys. They’ll let me know,” Sunrise said.

As they parted, Aurora smiled as well, her hands on the older girl’s shoulders.

“You, too.” She said. “I’ll never forget what you’ve done for me. Not in a thousand years. I hear you speak my name, even in a dream, I’ll be there.”

In the distance, the thunder of another storm gently rumbled. Princess Luna and the two sisters gave the clouds a speculative glance, but said nothing.

“Twilight, darling, how much time do we have left?” Rarity fretted, also looking at the sky. “I know you’re brilliant with technology, but…”

“We’ve got as much time as we need, technically,” Twilight shrugged. “Remember, I not only designed the anklet they put on Sunrise, I wrote the associated tracking programs. I’ll wait until tomorrow, in case she needs to come back for something. Then I’ll have her anklet’s signal move south a few miles before vanishing.”

From there, the conversation broke, scattered, and meandered amongst them all. The friends continued enjoying the luxury of being all in one place, with neither the haste of adventure nor the burden of time upon them. Sunset, Aurora, Twilight, Pinkie, and Fluttershy happily gabbed away with Sunrise and Princess Luna. Rainbow Dash, Rarity, and Applejack for the most part remained quieter as they spoke, their smiles more reserved.

The two faculty sisters, meanwhile, fell somewhere in the middle, having neither the bonds shared between Sunrise and her friends, nor the grudge of the other Rainbooms over an act of violence only a few months ago. And, of course, they both shared their own unique friendships with Princess Luna.

“As I recall, we spake years ago of the two of you visiting our world for a time,” the princess said, eyes shining. “With the gateway thus stabilized, and your having summers free from obligation, this becomes a genuine possibility.”

“You could come with Twilight and me,” Sunset suggested with a grin. “We’ve been visiting every few weeks for a while now.”

“We could show you Canterlot!” Twilight gasped delightedly. “And Ponyville! And… oh, I bet at least one of you can fly on that side…!”

“Well, we’ll have to see what happens this coming summer…” Principal Celestia hedged.

“I’ll start drawing up an itinerary!”

Grinning, Vice Principal Luna hung her head. “Of course you will.”

“And so, with all matters safely mended, best we take our leave, I think,” Princess Luna said with a smile. “Loathe though I am to depart, I have duties on Equus, and so does my lady.”

Then, turning and offering her hand to Sunrise, “Shall we?”

Returning Luna’s smile with her own, Sunrise took her hand and they both turned back towards the gateway. There, leaning against the plinth, stood Sunset, arms crossed, eyeing Sunrise distrustfully.

Sunrise hesitated. “Um... what?”

Sunset’s eyes narrowed with mock suspicion and she spoke carefully, saying, “Soooo… yyyyyou’re not gonna try to… kiss me again, are you?”

“What are you talking about, I didn’t kiss oh… my… god… I… did,” Sunrise said, covering her suddenly crimson face with both hands.

Smiling, Applejack cocked an eyebrow at her friend as the rest of the group dissolved into laughter.

“That really necessary?” she asked.

“Well, you know what they say,” Sunset grinned. “Revenge is better than Christmas.”

“And on that note, beloved friends, we must away,” Luna laughed. Half hugging, half pulling her young lover with her, the queen of night stepped through the portal. There was a moment of familiar, unearthly tension between worlds as the assembled humans cheered their final farewells, and then the pair was gone.

Epilogue One: Hearts Twined with Dreams.

“All hail the quarters, the spirits, the gods,” the two women intoned in unison. Flora and Fauna each shared the same smile, though their eyes were closed, their hands clasped over the small wooden altar Fauna had made from a kitchen island years ago.

The breeze was gentle, allowing the two young women to feel its cooling effect in the late summer night while wafting about them the scent of burning sage and peppermint oil. The trees in the yard rustled gently, having just begun to release their leaves in their dance of the changing seasons. Above them, the moonless sky was clear, a thousand stars gazing down upon the women's rite.

“We thank the Lord and the Lady for all they have done for us,” they continued, “in this life and in all others. Go if you must, but stay if you will, ever welcome in our lives and our hearts. Guard us and guide us in all things. Merry meet, merry part, and merry meet again.”

They released one another's hands, still smiling, and opened their eyes.

“The temple is clear,” Fluttershy said happily.

For a few moments, neither of them spoke. They simply stood together, enjoying the nighttime air. Finally, Wallflower Blush – Flora, when within circle – gave a small sigh.

“It's too bad Trixie couldn't make it,” she said.

“It is a beautiful night,” Fluttershy agreed.

“Last new moon of the summer,” Wallflower nodded. Then, looking around, she added, “Heck, if the weather pulls another fast one, we may have to hold circle inside until spring.”

“Oh, that's alright,” Fluttershy smiled. “I don't mind.”

As she and Wallflower gathered the four tiki torches at the circle's perimeter, she continued, “We can clear out the furniture in the living room, and still have room to dance. And it's nice using candles for the quarters. Besides, you said she was starting something new tonight.”

Wallflower glanced over at her friend, clad as she was in only a white cotton robe, feeling the blood rush to her cheeks.

“Yeah,” she managed as she looked away. “Nice night for it.”

“Oh! I almost forgot!” Fluttershy exclaimed softly, hopping daintily back to their altar.

Standing beside it, she looked upwards into the stars. In one hand, she held aloft the antique silver plate and its remaining bits of fruit and cake. In her other hand, the glass goblet with its remaining wine.

“Lord and Lady, this offering is for you” she recited. “Come in whatever form that pleases you... oh, well hello, Angel! What a surprise seeing you here,” she finished with a giggle, setting the plate on the grass. Angel, for his part, immediately attacked the leftover offerings.

Pouring the wine onto the ground as a libation, she continued happily, “Yes, you can have some cake. And some apples and strawberries, too...”

While Fluttershy chatted contentedly with the little white rabbit, Wallflower busied herself gathering as much of the ritual stuff as possible and carting it inside. Then, she stood in the kitchen, both palms leaning on the table, staring madly into its dark wood surface as her thoughts raced.

She wasn't really doing this. She wasn't. She couldn't be. Could she? Really? No.

She shook her head.

No. No. Of course not. That would be stupid.

Then, the back door opened, and Wallflower's breath caught in her throat.

Fluttershy stood in the doorway for a moment, various small animals happily nuzzling her bare feet and ankles, a tiny bat contentedly snuggling into her hair. She lit up the small kitchen with her presence, the flower garland Wallflower had made for her seeming more like a crown, an ornament fit for a modern day Persephone.

Wallflower looked back down at the table, her heart pounding. It wasn't fair. Fluttershy was her best friend. But she was also so beautiful it hurt. And every time Wallflower imagined herself in the future, and happy, it was with her.

Entering almost silently, Fluttershy said something Wallflower couldn't hear. Wallflower's eyes were squeezed closed now. She could feel her heart hammering, her breathing burning through her chest... and then, Fluttershy's gentle hand, resting gently on her shoulder.

"Are you okay?" Fluttershy asked again.

Like warm water, Wallflower felt her pain and fear flow away. At least, enough to talk again.

“I'm fine,” she sighed. “Just a little tired.”

“Oh,” Fluttershy whispered, hand still on Wallflower's shoulder. “Are you okay to drive? You can stay here tonight if you want.”

“Um,” Wallflower managed.

She swallowed, then said, “No. No, I'm fine. It's cool. In fact,” she closed her eyes again, saying, “I was wondering if you were hungry.”

Silence.

Squeezing her eyes tighter, Wallflower forced herself to say, “Like, maybe you'd like to get waffles.”

She swallowed again. “Or something.”

More silence.

Wallflower let out a breath. Not the stupidest thing she'd ever done, she told herself. But definitely up there. She could just get dressed and go, and they could both forget this had ever happened. Or she could just go as is. Her backpack was by the door. Come back later, during daylight. Pick up her clothes. Pretend like she'd never said anything.

Then, a gentle squeeze on her shoulder made her look up.

There, still standing beside her, was her friend. Her best friend. The most beautiful woman that Wallflower had ever seen.

And she was smiling.

“I'd like that,” Fluttershy said.

Epilogue Two: Memories Beneath a Hidden Moon.

Outside, the cool late summer breeze rustled among the trees. The moon was hiding her face, but the stars were shining brightly through Sunset's and Twilight's bedroom window as the two of them lay together, half-dozing in companionable silence. After a while, however, Twilight spoke.

“Hey, Sunny?”

“Mmm?”

“I have a potentially awkward question.”

“Oh, no, awkwardness. I’ll bruise,” Sunset grinned. “Hit me.”

“What were your parents like?”

Sunset’s grin vanished. Fully awake now, she glanced over at Twilight.

“You mean, aside from Celestia? I…” She shook her head. “I don’t think I had any.”

Twilight looked at her curiously, and Sunset rose up on one elbow to look at her.

“It’s really rare,” Sunset explained, “but on my old world, spontaneous generation is still a thing.”

Twilight cocked her head, studying her lover more closely. “So, you were just a, what, a creation of magic itself?”

“I think so, yeah.”

Twilight blinked, considering this. “That’s… pretty awesome.”

Sunset gave a dry chuckle. “Well, it’s not as cool as it sounds. Most of my life, other ponies – mostly foals, but also adults when they thought I couldn’t hear – said that Celestia just took me in out of pity because my ‘real’ parents didn’t want me.”

Falling onto her back again with a sigh, Sunset stared at the ceiling

“And for years, I believed them,” she said. “But as I learned more about magic, I started putting the pieces together.”

“What pieces?”

“Well, I was found right after the most violent storm in over a hundred years.” Glancing at Twilight, Sunset added, “An unplanned storm, by the way, which even then almost never happened. When it was over, I was just… there. No note, no cloth or basket, just a naked newborn covered in the rain. And then, throughout my life, no ponies were ever found who had any claim on me. Even when Celestia offered rewards for information, nobody knew anything.

“Meanwhile, I had a natural level of magical power that was almost unheard of. Probably enough to rival Twilight’s, if I’d stayed. Granted, spontaneous generation is rare. And with every year that order grows stronger in Equestria, and chaos recedes, it gets rarer.”

Then she rolled back to her side and gave Twilight a wink.

“But then, so am I.”

Twilight smiled. “Most treasures are.”

There was the rustling of covers as two of them embraced. They spent some time like that, simply holding one another, each enjoying the other’s nearness. Eventually, they parted, and Sunset spoke again.

“So, I’m curious. What brought it up? Were you hoping to meet them?”

Twilight shook her head. “Hm-mm, nothing like that. I was thinking of Sunrise, actually.”

Sunset nodded. “Oh, yeah. She’s probably from human parents. She’d pretty much have to be, actually.”

“Right,” Twilight agreed. “Born eighteen years ago, then abandoned in a park either during or just before a violent storm.”

Now it was Sunset who was curious. “Okay, so where are you going with this?”

“Well, consider what we know,” Twilight answered. “Sunny is almost certainly the result of normal human birth, if only for the difference in magic between our two worlds.”

Sunset was nodding. “Right. Equus magic revolves mostly around manipulation of energy and matter, while Gaia magic almost always deals with intangibles. Probability manipulation, mind stuff. That kind of thing.”

“Exactly. There are exceptions, especially now that the gates are stabilized, but that seems to be the generality. So, Sunrise was almost certainly born through mundane events. Granted, those events may have themselves been driven by sheer synchronicity. But spontaneous creation of life from lifelessness? Yeah, I think that we can rule out.”

Sunset was nodding slower now, her frown deepening. “Okay…?”

“Then I looked at Aurora Borealis. She looks a lot like you two, just a couple of years younger. The cops were looking for a target, sure, but it was also an understandable mistake. Her mom looks a lot like you guys too, along with seeming pretty young herself.

“So, I did a little digging, and her mom’s driver’s license shows her as being eighteen years older than Aurora.”

Sunset stared.

“Which would put her at sixteen when Sunrise was born,” Twilight went on. “Just the right age to panic and…”

“Stop,” Sunset said, putting her hands to her temples. “Just, hold on a minute. Are you saying…?”

“Helia Dawn took a prolonged leave from school during her sophomore year for unspecified health reasons,” Twilight said softly. “For two months. She returned to school shortly after Sunrise’s birthday.”

Sunset fell onto her back again, staring at the ceiling.

“Two years later, after graduation, she gave birth to Aurora Borealis,” Twilight finished.

For a time, there was silence.

“Sunrise might’ve come back to save her own sister,” Sunset said at last. “Jesus. How crazy is that?”

Twilight shrugged. “I don’t know. There’s a lot of correlation between her world and ours, and trying to state absolutes based on observable synchronicities is a wasted endeavor. But it’s a strong possibility.

“That being said, is the probability of their being sisters better than chance? Statistically?” Twilight shook her head. “Again, I don’t know. How do we even define chance, after everything we’ve seen?”

“Jesus,” Sunset said again. “What do we do with this? Do we tell Sunny? Do we tell… anybody? I mean, we don’t know for certain, right?”

“Right.”

“Okay, so… what do we do?”

“I’m not sure. I’d like your opinion.”

The silence dragged on between them.

“We don’t actually know anything,” Sunset said at last. “Not really. Lots of people look related to other people when they’re not. It’s… dammit, it’s too likely that we’d stir up a bunch of weird crap over nothing.”

“Not to mention that while there are a lot of strong correlations between Sunrise's world and ours, they’re never a hundred percent, and occasionally they fall near zero,” Twilight added.

“Exactly.”

“So, we do nothing.”

Sunset winced. “Yeah.”

But Twilight was nodding. “That was kind of my thought, but I wanted to check with you. You know her better than I do.”

“For what it’s worth, yeah,” Sunset shook her head. “We’re not the same person, but… yeah. I think we should sit on this one. At least for now.”

“Fair enough,” Twilight yawned. “And with that out of the way…” she snuggled deeper under the covers, and shortly afterwards her breathing had mellowed into the deep restful sound that Sunset loved listening to, late at night.

Still, Sunset had to grin as she, too, succumbed to sleep.

Watch out, universe, she thought. There might be three of us!

Epilogue Three: The Damsel and the Dragon.

The door’s letters were faded almost to the point of uselessness. The blue girl knocked, uncertainly at first, then with greater determination. Finally, impatient and imperious, she rapped sharply on the old ash door.

From within, a man’s voice, ancient and strong. “Come in.”

She opened the door carefully, blinking, the musty blend of smells reminding her all too well of her father’s old study. There, in the dim lighting, stood the one she sought, casually leafing through an old leather-bound tome, its scaly cover strangely pale and mottled.

Cursing herself for her hesitancy, she entered, one hand adjusting her hat.

Her host placed the book on a table already covered with its fellows, then turned to her with a benevolent smile.

“Well, now, good evening my dear,” he purred. “Whatever might I do for you?”

She could hear something slither among the stacks.

“Trixie is here to learn magic,” she said, pleased with how level her voice was. “She is already great and powerful, of course. With the accidental help of her friends she has unlocked magic of her own. She can already teleport small distances, and even obfuscate herself at will. But even with that, Trixie knows that she could become more great and powerful, with the proper training. It has taken time, but eventually she learned of you, and where you could be found.”

The old man cocked an eyebrow. “Indeed. One shouldn’t believe all one hears. It leads one to be taken in by any number of charlatans.”

“Trixie is well aware of this,” she said, holding her hands behind her back to keep them from fidgeting. “But there are too many trails leading to your door. A lost phone returned to a PR manager, for example, in exchange for her arranging to hold her greatest triumph at a certain place and time.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Trixie does not know much about astrology, but she understands what ‘conjunction’ means, and that casting powerful magic during one might make a difference.”

He nodded as if humoring a child. “Indeed.”

“Then there was the old hand mirror,” she went on, “sold to an aspiring actor in exchange for whatever she had in her pockets at the time. An antique worth hundreds, sold for eleven dollars and an autographed Jello Biafra ticket stub.”

Dissonance made a dismissive shrug. “Well. Antiquing isn’t what it used to be.”

But the girl stepped closer. “Trixie has found others, though their connections are less certain. A trio of gems, for example, strangely like those which certain sisters had possessed before. They refused to say what they traded for them, but when the wise and observant Trixie brought up your name, they ended the conversation.

“Yet, their new gems are green, not red. And Trixie knows the legend of a green jewel of desire that sometimes journeys from world to world… one that might be cut into two hemispheres and a disc, for magical creatures to use.

“And then, on the topic of world travel, there was another stone, found in a garden,” she went on. “A stone that could steal memory. That garden being near a certain plinth at a school. A school that once remembered your name with a golden plaque… a plaque which was removed the year its new principal took over, years ago. And the plinth, a doorway to the world where that stone was found... and once, the base for a statue that was placed there when you first became principal.”

She took out a list of names, each one crossed out in turn, and placed it on the desk between them.

“There are others,” she said.. “Too many for coincidence. And they have led Trixie here.”

Her host sat behind his oaken desk, steepling his fingers carefully. He picked up the list, giving it a cursory glance before tossing it to the side.

“Wise and observant indeed,” he said with a smile. “But then, why are you in my little shop, my dear? Have you lost something, perhaps? An opportunity? A memory? The admiration of your peers?”

His eyes narrowed. “The respect of a loved one? Or, perhaps, even the loved one himself?”

His smile turned predatory as he fanned his fingers, hissing, “Do you want my help in regaining them?”

But his guest stepped forward again, this time up to the desk itself.

“Trixie has already said what she wants!” she insisted, her hands balling into fists by her sides. “Trixie has no desires for paltry tokens of power, nor to be indebted or used by the one who grants them! The Great and Powerful Trixie seeks magical power itself!”

The smile grew cold. “Be careful, girl.”

She drew in a calming breath. “Trixie did not intend offense.”

But Dissonance made a dismissive gesture.

“That doesn’t matter,” he said, his smile slighter and warmer. “But I caution you, just the same. The sun, you see, was once a warrior, as well as a queen, scholar, and poet. The moon was once a huntress, a guardian and guide. Now the sun is merely fire, the moon merely stone and dust. Once, humans lacked the power of flight. Now, they fly… but the clouds smell of gasoline, and the birds have lost their wonder. Everything has its price.”

He looked down, and for a moment his smile faded. “Not all wisdom brings joy,” he said softly.

“If Trixie sought mere happiness…” her voice trailed off, then she shook herself.

“Well, it doesn’t matter,” she said. “Trixie is aware that magic is real. She has magic of her own. She has also seen others who possess more powerful magic, and she knows you do, as well. The Worthy and Supplicant Trixie therefore asks to become your student, and to learn all you can teach her.”

The old man studied her with new interest. “About magic?”

“About everything.”

“And why is that?”

“Because magic is everything.”

“Little fool!” Suddenly he was standing, eyes wide, the room’s lights dimming momentarily in their sconces. “Have you no idea of what you seek?”

Nearby, lightning struck, making the very floor shake. Unseen things scuttled away in terror, books fell from their shelves.

“The true magician becomes what they do!” Dissonance roared, his eyes blazing crimson.

Outside and above, the storm lashed in its fury, shaking more objects from their resting places to the floor. Meanwhile, it was as if the shadows of the room had reached out to him, enveloped him, formed a cloak about him that swirled and flickered in the uncertain lighting. He gestured fiercely as he spoke, like a mad maestro conducting a pandemonium of unseen torments. His voice blasted her, whipping her hair away from her face.

“A MOMENT'S WEAKNESS, AN INSTANT'S MISSTEP, AND YOU COULD BE BLASTED TO CINDERS, YOUR VERY SOUL BURNT TO ASHES!”

Trixie slammed her fists down on his desk, her own eyes filled with fury as she leaned over the desk at him, her own voice a whiplash in the growing dark, their faces mere inches apart.

“THEN BURN ME!”

Dissonance Chord stood still. He blinked slowly, a reptilian gesture. He gazed upon his young guest, no longer with hunger or rage, but with an alien affection. As though she were a rare treasure, washed ashore on some faraway world. One he had waited aeons to discover.

The lights renewed their steady, dim glow.

The shadows retreated, growing silent and still.

The thunder ceased, the storm’s angry rain subsiding into a gentle mist.

“Well then,” the ancient said, his gaze slowly shifting into something completely unreadable. “Let’s talk about that.”

Creaking on its neglected hinges, the ash door gently closed, locking itself behind her.

1. Trial by Fire: Hearths and Pyres; Oaths, Spoken and Implied.

From her purse across the room, the cell phone gave a gentle buzz.

Twilight Sparkle glanced up from her book with a frown. It was tempting to just ignore the damn thing. It had been a nice, lazy kind of Sunday. She’d let Sunset sleep in for a while before waking her up in the best way possible, and then bathed while her lover had dozed. Now Sunny was in the shower, and later they had a brunch date with the rest of the girls. Then, a large swath of time had been scheduled for unscheduled activities (at Sunset’s insistence), before they all re-assembled for rehearsal that night. A few local places had shown interest at having the Rainbooms perform there, and besides, it was one more thing they could all enjoy together.

The cell phone buzzed again. None of the ring tones associated with friends or family, just the phone’s vibration going off; a quiet threat against her plans for a day of gentle contentment with the people she loved.

Her eyes narrowed, glaring over her glasses. Not allowed, she thought.

Still, it might be important. Reluctantly, Twilight reached out with her mind, her telekinesis opening her bag and bringing the dastardly device to her hand. Glancing at the caller ID, her frown turned to bewilderment. What on Gaea…?

Quickly, she answered. “Hello? Yes, this is she. Yes, hello, Detective. I wasn’t expecting… What?”

Her mouth went dry as, upstairs, the water stopped.

“No. No, that’s great.” She shifted position, grabbing a note pad. “Where is she? I can be there to identify… Oh… Oh, I see… Um, listen, is there a way I can talk to her…? No, it’s not… Well, can you at least give me a name…?” A long pause, then, “Right. Well, of course you have to protect her privacy and safety. Sure. I understand.”

Upstairs, the hair dryer turned on.

Twilight’s voice and hands were shaking slightly as she said, “No, not at all. I’m glad you called. Right. I’m sure it will.”

Even to herself, Twilight’s voice was faint as she said a final “Thank you, Detective.”

The call ended with a gentle beep and she stared at the screen for a few seconds. Then, she gestured to the bookshelf. A tome with Sunset’s symbol on its cover floated to her right hand, even as she speed-dialed frantically with her left.

Traditionally, in unicorn magical training, it all started with the feather.

Both Sweetie Belle and Rarity had assured Sunrise that most every young unicorn learned to hate feathers from a very early age, themselves included. Even as their parents had coaxed, encouraged, and otherwise prodded them into making one of the lightest objects in all of Equestria move through will alone, it had (as it did for most unicorn foals) become a personal matter for them very quickly.

So. Frustration. Hatred of feathers.

Perfectly normal.

And then (they had further assured her), usually around the time one started public school, that frustration would vanish. Both sisters had described how one day, they’d finally made the silly thing move, even a little... instantly replacing the frustration of fruitless effort with the elation of magical accomplishment.

After that, the hardest part was over. Everything was easier than moving the feather for the first time.

In any event, once a young unicorn managed to move the feather that had been tormenting them for so long, it was traditionally given to them to keep. Some foals kept the feather as a trophy, some played with their feather as a toy and eventually lost or broke it. There were even a few lineages, Like Rarity’s and Sweetie’s, who had kept and used the same feather for generations. In fact, both sisters had learned on the same feather, which was still kept safe in one of Sweetie’s music boxes.

Of course, Twilight hadn’t kept hers. She’d only been four or so when she’d mastered levitation, so it just hadn’t been important to her at the time. After a moment’s thought, she’d said that she was pretty sure her parents still had it though.

Sunrise had found Rarity’s and Sweetie’s childhood anecdotes infinitely more encouraging than Twilight’s. But it remained, it was only when the feather had been conquered that the foal might begin studying sorcery itself.

Most didn’t, of course. Granted, all ponies learned at least basic magical theory in school. And some unicorns did go on to move objects with greater weight, or (as was in the case of Rarity and Sweetie Belle) to move them with greater precision. And some unicorns did learn a few minor spells during childhood (either from books or from their guardians, again, as Rarity and Sweetie had), though very few kept in practice.

But only the most unusual unicorns continued studying, either at home or with a tutor. Such foals were the minority who might ultimately become true magicians. Altering reality itself – usually through manipulation of matter and energy – through the famous Triangle of Magical Accomplishment: symbolism, intent, and will.

Or, once one began to truly understand sorcery itself: the harnessing of emotional energy, the accumulation of knowledge, and the focus of inner strength.

Sunrise, of course, knew very well into which camp she was determined to belong. And while her dream of soaring to the rescue of the innocent, horn blazing with power and fury, sometimes seemed increasingly far away…

Well, it was her dream, damn it. And she was going to fight for it with everything she had.

At the same time, Sunrise was not a foal. And her months-long feather experience had been far from encouraging, at least to her. So, she’d been reading ahead for most of the summer. She’d figured she may as well, since every attempt she’d made at the feather had been such a dramatic failure.

As she’d pointed out to Twilight, the change of pace was helping her feel a little less hopeless. And, as she’d also pointed out, the more she already knew when she finally broke through whatever was holding her back, the better off she’d be.

And, fortunately, Twilight had agreed. The alicorn had emphasized that she didn’t want Sunrise to get too discouraged, of course. Or to stop drilling on the basics completely. But Twilight was as patient and encouraging as a pony could ask for. Patient, kind, compassionate, brilliant, graceful…

With a contented sigh, Sunrise closed her book for a moment. She had to admit that, almost since arriving in Equestria, every morning had held its own special joy. Waking up next to Luna, she’d often stay in her lover’s feathered embrace for quite a bit longer than necessary before kissing her gently and rising to face the day.

So, okay, yeah, she had to admit to herself happily, I’m never going to completely hate feathers.

And then, first thing when she left her rooms, there would be Twilight.

Sunrise had never been a morning pony. (Person, she corrected herself with an inner smile. I was still human then.) But if there was a better way to start the day than with a long Twilight hug, followed by listening to the alicorn’s latest discoveries and researches over breakfast, Sunrise couldn’t think of it. And really, was there anything more beautiful than a mare talking enthusiastically about something they truly loved?

Sunrise shook her head, her smile growing. No. Absolutely not.

And as for Spike… Well, Sunrise had never really had siblings growing up. But if Sunset was her sister (and her twin, at that), then the young dragon was rapidly heading into little brother territory. Which was a little weird, come to think of it, since he was basically Twilight’s son. And Twilight was Sunrise’s…

Sunrise paused in her reflections. Wait. Twilight was her… what?

She frowned, puzzled by where her thoughts had led her. Then she gave a small shrug and shook it off.

Screw it, she thought. Not everything needs a label.

The point was, when she’d emerged through Star Swirl’s mirror, Sunrise had basically just been given the life she’d always wanted and been denied, growing up. In the foster care system, she’d basically had no one. Later, on the streets, she could have just vanished and no one would have cared. And for all the freedom that had afforded her, it had also been a lean, lonely existence.

But now she had not just a home, but a family. Friends. Even a chance at magic, if she could quit being so damn hopeless about it. All her childhood dreams, somehow come true at last.

Whether she really deserved it or not.

Shoving that last bit down, Sunrise refocused on her studies, diving into the book she held. Nothing quite like group teleportation theory to drown out the inner shadows, she told herself.

Then, frowning at her own thoughts, she turned the page and dove deeper.

At that moment, a familiar buzzing sound came from the direction of the portal. Both ponies perked up immediately.

“Sunset break!” Sunrise cheered.

“Ohhhh, no,” Twilight mock chided her. “You’re not getting off that easily! You get back to work on those feathers, I’ll see what’s up in Sunset’s world.”

Sunrise cheerfully stuck her tongue out at her. Then, with a sigh, the unicorn set her book aside and trotted to her customary practice table. She allowed herself a brief moment to examine the familiar charred candelabra, contemplating how much she sincerely loathed all things related to levitation practice. Then, with a sigh, she began digging a suitable feather out from the open pillow Twilight had long ago sacrificed for the cause.

Meanwhile, Twilight had reached the table with its purple ink bottle and quill, levitating the book into the room to meet her there. As she sat down, there was the familiar Fwuph! from the other side of the room of another feather vanishing in a burst of flame.

“Dammit!” Sunrise exclaimed. Then, with a sigh, “I mean, darn it.”

Chuckling, Twilight opened the book to read the latest entry. Then, her face fell.

Sunset gave a contented sigh as she finally emerged from the bathroom. If there was a better way to start out a day than this, she couldn’t think of it. Clean, dry, wrapped in a fluffy towel and still feeling slightly aglow, she padded barefoot down the carpeted stairs, smiling. There was Twilight, curled up on the couch with a book on her lap, looking especially delicious and pounceable.

Except, wait. It was the messaging book she had. And Twilight wasn’t looking anything but stricken.

“Honey?”

At Sunset’s voice, Twilight set the book aside and looked up. “I got a call from Detective Steel.”

Sunset stepped forward, uncertain. “And?”

“He says they got the girl who shot me.”

Sunset’s eyes widened. “What? But that’s… did Sunrise come back? Did she--?”

“No, I just checked with Princess Twilight. It’s someone else.”

Sunset was nodding as she walked over to the couch, running a hand through her hair. “Okay. Okay. We can handle this. Where do they have her? We can go down right now, you can look and tell them…”

But Twilight shook her head. “No, I already thought of that. They don’t want me to identify her. They’ve already got a full confession. It’s basically just a matter of sentencing now. I messaged the rest of the girls, and they’re on their way…” her voice trailed off as Sunset stared at her in horror, eyes wide. The towel had fallen on the floor, forgotten, and now Sunset spun and raced up the stairs.

“Sunny, what—”

“Call them back!” her voice came from the upstairs bedroom. “Tell them to meet us at the portal-- no, don’t! Just get the bike ready, you can call them on the way!”

Twilight was already in motion, grabbing keys and jacket as she yelled, “Why? What’s the rush?”

“If you were the princess, you’d think I had a right to know, right?”

“Sure but…” Twilight stopped for an instant, eyes wide. “Oh, shit!”

Then she was in the garage, the door opening, getting Sunset’s motorcycle started, even as Sunny ran out in jeans, boots and a T-shirt, still struggling with her own jacket. Twilight threw Sunset her helmet as she buckled on her own, and then the two of them were tearing down the street, weaving through traffic. Sunset driving, Twilight using her magic to stay firmly seated while she texted frantically for the other Rainbooms to meet them at their old school.

Sunrise stared at Twilight, with a look of sheer heartbreak. Almost involuntarily, she took a step back, blinking back tears.

“And just like that,” she managed softly, “the dream dies.”

“Sunny? What—wait!” even as Twilight had started speaking, Sunrise has spun and bolted out of the room.

Then Twilight’s eyes widened and she gasped in sudden understanding. “Oh, no! Spike! Go get—”

The dragon was already running down a different hallway. “I’m on it!”

“Sunrise, wait,” Twilight called again as she ran. “We can deal with this!”

With a moment’s concentration, Twilight vanished in a burst of violet light, reappearing in front of her friend, blocking her way to the laboratory. The unicorn didn’t slow. Twilight braced herself for impact, head slightly lowered, planning to grab and hold her when they met. Her strength might not match her fellow alicorns yet, but she was still far stronger than she looked.

But instead, Sunrise jumped, planting a rear hoof on Twilight’s withers and shoving herself the rest of the way over, even as Twilight staggered forward.

Determined, Twilight teleported again, materializing between Sunrise and the Mirror of Gaea. This time, she kept her head up. “Sunny, listen—”

This time, Sunrise dropped into a slide. Turning sideways, she planted her hooves under Twilight and shifted herself, simultaneously pushing herself behind Twilight while shoving her over.

But Twilight was only going to be surprised once. Even as her hooves left the ground, she simply spread her wings, hovering in place. Meanwhile, Sunrise had rolled to her hooves, gathered even more speed in her gallop, leaping towards the mirror’s surface…

…only to be denied at the last instant by a violet wall of mystical force materializing before her. The impact knocked her back, rolling on the floor. Looking behind her, she saw Twilight, still hovering in mid-air, the glow of her horn subsiding. The shield was a lasting construct, and would remain until she dispelled it.

Sunrise’s cry was one of frantic desperation. “No!”

Hysterically, Sunrise struck it with her forehooves. Then she whirled and kicked it, first with one hoof, then with both, again and again.

“No! No! No! NO! NO!”

Finally, she stopped, panting, looking back to her friend with pleading eyes, “Twilight, you can’t do this! You can’t!”

“Sunny—”

“I can’t let somepony else take the fall for this!”

Twilight landed in front of her. “I know—”

“You said I could go back if I wanted!” she cried. “It’s not fair! You promised me!”

“You can! And you will!”

More kicking. “Then drop! Your fucking! Shield!”

“Sunny, listen! No,” Twilight grabbed her despite her struggles, arms and wings around her, their horns glowing slightly as they touched. “Listen to me! We’re not letting this happen!”

“I have to make this right! I have to—!”

“And you will,” Twilight assured her. “I promise you will! You’re just not doing it alone.”

Another set of limbs joined the embrace then, holding them both. Gently, as Sunrise’s struggles began to subside, Luna kissed her cheek. When Sunrise turned towards her, Luna gently kissed her mouth, her forehead. Then, still holding her, Luna kissed the base of her horn, just below where it still crossed against Twilight’s own.

“Only now have we found thee, beloved,” the Princess of Dreams said softly. “Thinkst we would surrender thee so easily?”

It was at that moment, tearfully returning the embrace of the two ponies she loved most, that Sunrise began to understand. When she’d crossed through the portal between worlds she had, indeed, come home. But ‘home’ has a price. And the price was that, for the first time in her life, she could no longer simply disappear.

Author's Note

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...the girl who shot me.

Sunrise’s feathers have always gone fwuph!

Epilogue Four: Home is the Rising Sun.

The bizarre sensations of travel between worlds eased off, and Sunrise found herself back in Twilight's library, the unearthly, extradimensional light fading away as she gratefully dropped once again to four hooves.

“Hey, Twilight, we're ho—ooof!”

Wherever she'd been, whatever she'd been doing, Twilight had apparently been close enough to sense the mirror's activation. The flying alicorn tackle hug momentarily knocked the wind out of Sunrise's lungs, but she immediately returned Twilight's tearful, fierce embrace. Without thinking, she kissed Twilight's cheek, the base of her horn, and then simply squeezed her, desperately wanting to feel the absolute realness of Twilight again.

It was only a second later when Luna's wings and forelegs embraced them both, but Sunrise and Twilight both shifted at once, bringing Luna into a three-way embrace of joy, love, and relief.

Sunrise loved Luna. Deeply, passionately, unreservedly. She knew that. But without Twilight, even if Luna were there, she also knew that noplace would ever truly have been home again. And it was plain that Luna felt exactly the same.

Whatever this might mean for her, for all of them, Sunrise was completely content to leave it unexamined for now. All that mattered now was that she was where she belonged: in the arms and wings of the two mares she loved the most.

And therefore, finally, home.

Author's Note

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This continuity continues in If You Would Friend a Tiger.