Triptych

Chapters

I. The Wait of Expectation
II. In Practice
III. Caught Between Two Worlds

I. The Wait of Expectation

Princess Luna paced resolutely up and down the castle’s spacious courtyard, the only sound penetrating the oppressive silence that of her silver-clad hooves hitting the polished stone in a cadence that was almost musical, in front of the motley collection of soldiers assembled in front of her. Her perceptive beryl eyes scrutinised each of them in turn as she passed them by; she did her best to keep her expression firmly neutral while appraising them, but if there were any sharp observers amongst this lot, then they would doubtless see just the slightest of twitches pulling at the corner of her upper lip. As signs of anxiety went, Luna knew, it wasn’t the worst, but she still hated to show any signs of weakness all the same. There was nothing to be done about it, of course, except to simply continue putting on a brave face.

No doubt, her sister had drilled each of these specimens rigorously until their ears were ringing with words like duty, obligation and honour; suppressing a wry smile, pausing slightly in a half-turn, Luna imagined that the slightest whiff of what the night had to offer them would soon have them barfing up all over those cute little golden shoes – which shone so prettily in the moonlight they might as well have been a beacon – they wore as part of their regimental outfit. They were the best of the best, supposedly. They stood here awaiting Luna’s appraisal of their suitability, and she hadn’t yet finished mentally cursing Celestia for springing this little surprise on her at what seemed like the last minute, though in reality it had actually been a little over two days ago since she’d first mooted the idea. Right around the time Luna had been griping about having nothing more to do with her day but sulk around the castle.

Private tutors had been bringing her up-to-date with life in the new millennium, and she’d been trying her best to keep herself busy, but Luna knew in her heart that she wanted to be out there being useful and keeping Equestria safe again.

Despite their best efforts to hide it, Luna could easily see the tell-tale signs of the stress that they were feeling; working for Celestia was one thing, but the prospect of being under her command was something else entirely. She had to admit, they were showing an admirable sense of stoicism, however, in controlling their fears in front of her. Whether they were afraid of her – quite a few ponies still hadn’t quite made the separation between Nightmare Moon and Princess Luna in their minds – or the task that they might be selected for, she couldn’t say. The little beads of sweat forming on their brows, the quaking of their legs, the spasms of coiled muscles caught between warring impulses: fight-or-flight. All of these things and more were visible to the Ruler of the Night, the one who’d been tasked with courting demons, shadows and spirits as a matter of course.

They weren’t ready, was Luna’s considered opinion; more than that, she didn’t feel ready to make them ready for the difficult tasks which lay ahead either. Her ethereal ultramarine hair flowed over her eyes for a moment as she closed them in silent contemplation.

Many years ago now – more than a thousand, though she didn’t like to dwell too much on that fact – it had been … well, it had been more than her job, it had been Luna’s calling to defend Equestria and its inhabitants from the myriad dangers which lurked in the Ryadii: that strange realm created solely by the power of dreams. And nightmares. In there, the normal rules of Space, Time and Causality did not apply, and whole universes could be torn apart on the slightest of whims if one was not careful. Luna’s training had taught her that it was a breeding ground for the worst sorts of foes, and it required an unwavering determination and a rigid focus of mind to police its borders.

More than anything, Luna wanted to be the Guardian of Dreams again; the desire to roam free and untamed within the Ryadii as she’d done in the past burned brightly within her, and while she acknowledged that her sister had done a sterling job over the past millennium, quite simply, the burden had never been intended for the Ruler of the Day to wither. It was akin to giving a general practitioner a scalpel, pushing them into an operating theatre and telling them that they had to perform major surgery.

Hefting the slightest of sighs into the chilly evening air, Luna knew, before any of that could happen, she’d first have to gain back her sister’s trust; she betrayed her presence by shifting ever so slightly on the balcony affixed to the tallest spire of Canterlot Castle, and Luna cast one reproving eye in her direction. It would not be an easy task, apparently.

Circling the recruits once more, Luna tried to ignore her sister’s presence, but – again, she smiled – it was like trying to ignore the questing fingers of the sun poking through the curtains when all you wanted to do was sleep for one more hour. That glittering, multi-hued mane caught the last dying embers of light as its shapeless mass undulated and breathed like the wind and was impossible not to notice.

Most ponies probably wouldn’t even have given her a second thought, but Luna was as attuned to her sister as she was once attuned to the greyish-white mass of Selene, her Moon, so high above. Besides, having an acute sense of situational awareness was a distinct advantage for one who spent most of their life lurking in the shadowy, murky void of Eventide.

She knew it wasn’t actually necessary for Celestia to be out here at all; the sun didn’t much care whether she had a direct line of sight with it or not, and would’ve lowered itself even if she’d been located on the other side of the planet from it. Invisible, near-incomprehensible, chains of magic and destiny bound the two of them to the stellar objects that were their birthright. Doubtless, Celestia only had the best of intentions in making herself conspicuous like this, but still Luna visibly chafed at what she felt was a rebuke.

That said, she couldn’t help but be mesmerised by that rapturous look which broke out on Celestia’s muzzle as she performed the nightly ritual; thousands of years of the same routine had done nothing to diminish the pleasure she received from what was otherwise, for her, a fairly modest feat. Her immense sense of satisfaction at watching that seething cauldron of boiling incandescence sizzle its way below the horizon to its nightly resting place – almost as if she were putting a fidgety child to bed – was nearly a tangible thing.

Perhaps there was more to it than that, Luna couldn’t help thinking? Maybe she was ignoring some of the symbolism that the act represented? Each night, Celestia was able to put away her own daily struggles until she was once more energised enough to face them head on. From what little Luna had learned since she’d returned – mostly by listening to castle gossip – she knew that her sister had not had the easiest time of it, ruling Equestria on her own. She was not yet privy to all the details, and it was Celestia’s choice whether to inform her or not of what she’d faced, but it was telling in itself that she’d finally passed the onerous duty of wielding the Elements of Harmony to her faithful student and that plucky little band of friends of hers. Making a noise in her throat, she wondered about the sense of that: giving the greatest weapons in the land to somepony who was barely out of school. Still, her sister was wise in all things, and Luna knew that trust went both ways.

Maybe she was just overthinking it, but when she looked closely, Luna was sure that she could detect a slight droop in Celestia’s withers, the merest of bows in her head; she’d had to make a million decisions to ensure Equestria’s safety over the years, and it was safe to say that not all of them had been good ones. Or at least, they hadn’t been the ones that she’d wanted to make, but had been forced into by circumstance. The pressure had settled on her, like a blanket. A heavy blanket made of pure regret.

Luna wished that she could join her sister up there; the pretty palette of oranges and reds melting away into the cool sapphire was one of the most beautiful sights in Equestria, and she longed to stand by Celestia’s side once more as they simply observed the lovely snow-capped mountains which jutted out like brilliant, multi-faceted diamonds, their peaks sparkling warmly as they caught those last vestiges of Helios’ light like a pair of startled lovers caught in an illicit embrace who would then scurry off into the obscurity of night in order to continue their affair away from prying eyes. It was the sort of thing that one could see a thousand times or more and never become bored by it.

Returning her attention with some reluctance back to her coterie of nervous-looking potentials, Luna said in a clipped, formal tone that served as a stark contrast to the more mellifluous tones preferred by her sister, “We shall meet back here in precisely one hour to begin our training. Until then, you are dismissed.” Just as they were beginning to break up and move off, she added coolly, “I would suggest that you use this respite profitably. Many challenges await you if you are successful, and preparation will be key if you wish to survive what lies ahead. Your first mission-” her smile was one of fine-edged steel “-will be not disappointing the Princess of the Night.”

The very best that the Day Guard had to offer …

Celestia was of the opinion that these were the best candidates to serve in a reformed Shadow Guard; while there had been ad hoc nightly patrols since Luna’s exile, they had only been cursory forays into places like the Everfree Forest which obeyed their own strange laws free of any interference by ponies. It was the job of the Shadow Guard to explore such hazardous locales more fully and ensure that they did not spawn anything which might threaten Equestria’s borders.

Watching them depart, Luna could not help but think that, experienced guards though they might have been, they were still awfully green. Too used to peace. The closest thing to combat they’d ever seen was probably a food-fight in the refectory.

Would any of them really be up to the challenge and claim a place in the Shadow Guard? She remembered her original contingent, made up of ponies trained from a young age: minds and bodies honed to the peak of perfection by Luna herself. They were fast and strong, but they were also smart and wise. This was what was needed to rise to the top in the Shadow Guard. Now, though, with Equestria having had such an unusually long period free from threat, Luna wasn’t sure if her methods would be welcomed. The resurgence of the Elements of Harmony would surely bring with it villains on the order of Tirek and Discord of old.

All that remained was to see.

Opinions were already forming, but she resolved to keep an open mind; a few of the potentials, Luna was pleased to note, had headed off in the direction of the castle’s library. Hopefully they were going there to read up on the many beings which inhabited the dark recesses of the night; if not, well, their first patrol was going to come as a shock to them. Others, she was less happy to discover, were taking it easy, milling about the courtyard and swapping jokes. Doubtless, some of those quips involved her, but for now she chose to ignore them. Celestia’s words about not making any snap judgements rang in her ears, but Luna already had an inkling of which ponies were going to end up washing out.

Celestia, she noted idly, was no longer on the parapet; she’d probably went back inside for a late snack before heading to bed, as was her usual way of doing things.

She heard a sound that wasn’t quite a sound and smiled. With the most imperceptible shake of her head, Luna went back to watching her recruits; they were dotted around the grounds, some of them slumped over the many comfortable marble benches which lined the periphery of the courtyard. They were clustered around an enormous fountain which had once been part of their old castle, back in the Everfree Forest. Maybe one of those gently slumbering ponies would become her first lieutenant? Stranger things, she was sure, had happened. “My dear sister,” Luna said barely above whisper, “you are more than welcome to observe my dealings with the Shadow Guard recruits openly. It is not necessary for you to spy on me.”

With a look that was almost a pout, Celestia said, “You know, I really thought I’d got the hang of silent teleportation over the years.” Luna had to admit, her sister was doing an amazing job at hiding just how startled she was by the fact that she’d detected her carefully-concealed presence so easily.

“I wouldn’t be doing my job if I allowed somepony – or somebeing – to sneak into the castle like that, would I?” said Luna in a tone of mock-offence. She couldn’t help but wonder if it was a test. You had to be exceptionally skilled at spotting the signs of a silent teleport and masking spell in use. They consumed much power, though alicorns had that to spare.

“I wasn’t spying on you.”

“Of course not.”

“I have no reason to, Luna.” Her voice was calm, measured, and radiated just the faintest hint of melodiousness. Anypony who didn’t know her well would probably assume that she was at peace, but Luna could see those same hints of strain that she’d detected earlier. She was too stiff, too formal, and the knot of tension taking root in her lower spine was easily discernible to her. She almost looked like she was waiting for something to happen. The way in which her eyes were darting about in a most distracted fashion only seemed to confirm her suspicions.

Luna opened her mouth to say something, then thought better of it; Nightmare Moon’s influence had left some indelible scars on her psyche, and until they healed she was sure that there’d be many more situations like this where she’d misread somepony’s intentions toward her. Celestia was not the type to skulk about and make veiled threats nor would she openly lie to her own sister’s face. Therefore, her words were meant genuinely and not as some kind of challenge. She let out a soft breath. While some things had changed while she was gone, so many had not, and one of those things was Celestia.

“I think it’s time.”

Her eyes widening in shock, Luna understood instantly to what she was referring. Igniting her horn, she felt that curious sensation course through her being once more just as it had always done a thousand years ago; it was like reacquainting with an old friend, and at once was both familiar and pleasant. Since she’d returned, her magic had been growing daily until now when she’d felt as strong as she had done so long ago. While Luna had been recovering her powers, Celestia had continued to tend to the matters of both sun and moon.

She couldn’t easily describe what she felt with words, but it was as if something inside of her was being pulled in the direction of the moon. Celestia had already raised it earlier in the day, of course – she liked to have them both up at the same time every now and then, as a sign that they were equal partners in all things – but this was simply about renewing their connection. Seeing it from ground level once more caused Luna a second of disquiet.

“Tomorrow night,” Celestia said with quiet anticipation, “we’ll be able to do this together for the first time in a thousand years.” Her face was a picture of rapt awe as she savoured the occasion. “I can’t tell you how much I’ve missed this, Luna.” A small sigh escaped her muzzle and it was quickly claimed by the icy air, condensing into crystal almost immediately. She reached out with the hoof of a foreleg and, hesitating slightly, finally placed it on her sister’s wither. “This is how it always should be.”

“I, too, have missed it, dear sister,” replied Luna, a warm, giddy glow suffusing her at Celestia’s touch. She found that she had to stifle the desire to giggle like a schoolfilly. She shifted her stance slightly, moving closer to Celestia so that she could enjoy more of the gentle heat that radiated from her body. “Nightmare Moon-” it was still difficult to speak the name of her one-time captor without feeling ill “-took so much from me when she was inside my head, but she could never rob me of the joy I felt when we stood together.”

Celestia closed her eyes, the barest of smiles tugging at her muzzle as she felt a leg snaking around her withers.

“You are troubled.”

“Huh?”

Luna studied her sister a bit more closely. “I have always been able to read your moods as if they were words on a page, sister, but what I’m sensing now-” she didn’t want to be seen as being overly forward, but frankly she couldn’t help but be concerned by whatever strange thing it was that Celestia was feeling “-is something altogether new.” It wasn’t quite tension, it was more … expectation. Maybe it was just the weight of those thousand years playing merry havoc with her perceptions? Maybe they could never be as close as they once were and she was simply, not to put too fine a point on it, barking up the wrong tree entirely. “You have the air of somepony expecting trouble, but there’s also … excitement? Enthusiasm, even.”

When she opened her mouth to offer a rebuttal to this, Celestia’s words were drowned out by the sky choosing that exact moment to explode in a dizzying array of noise and colours.

With her eyes narrowed, Luna bared her teeth and scanned the heavens; if this was some kind of attack, then she wanted to be ready for its perpetrators to make themselves known. Already, she was busily directing waves of energy into her horn in preparation to strike down any foe which dared set a hoof inside the castle’s perimeter. She looked over to Celestia to see if she was doing likewise, but she was merely … observing. Her expression was almost unreadable – wistful, maybe – but she was not in the least bit alarmed about the resplendence which had startled the atmosphere above.

“You know what this is?” asked Luna, frowning.

“Sorry, yes, I should’ve said,” Celestia replied a little bit sheepishly, that same distracted air clinging to her. “She comes out this way to practice, probably due to all the complaints she got from Ponyville’s residents.”

Before she could ask for any specifics, Luna caught sight of a shimmering rainbow trail that punctured through the eye-searing glare; for the briefest of moments, it was the brightest object in the sky – so much so that even the moon itself was blotted out temporarily – and it brought a momentary false dawn to this side of Canterlot. She quickly fixed her attention back on her sister whose own focus was firmly on the polychromatic light show taking place high above. Luna saw something, an expression that she’d never expected to see on her sister’s face: not joy, not anger, but an entirely different emotion altogether.

“You have a crush on that prismatic gamine, don’t you?” Luna said, her voice wavering somewhere between sisterly teasing and outright shock.

“A little louder, please, Luna,” Celestia said sarcastically, furrowing her eyebrow in annoyance. “I don’t think the recruits below heard you.”

“Sorry,” said Luna, a little chastened. She opened her mouth to say more, but then closed it again when she realised that she really had nothing of value to offer. “Perhaps it would be best if I left you alone to your … thoughts.”

“I’m sorry for snapping at you,” said Celestia with a slight sigh, interrupting Luna’s half-turn. She offered her sister a smile, the reddening of her cheeks displaying her abashment for all to see. “I don’t mind you knowing this, but I’d really rather it stayed between us.” She cast a brief glance in the direction of the rainbow trail once more; it was beginning to fade now, and the moon and the stars quickly reasserted themselves as the dominant presences in the sky above. “Every night, I come out here hoping to get a chance to see her practice. At first, I was just appreciating the artistry involved – it’s been a while since I’ve seen a pony as audacious as her – but I’d be lying if I said there wasn’t more to it than that.” With a slight shake of her head which allowed her ethereal mane to droop over her eyes, she added, “No doubt about it, she’s going to be captain of the Wonderbolts one day soon.”

“I accept that I am a thousand years out of my time and haven’t come to grips with all the minutiae of interpersonal relationships, but-” she gestured in the direction of the fading trail “-would it not be simpler to tell her of your attraction, dear sister?” Luna knew that love and advice were not her strongest suits, but at the same time, she did not like to see Celestia suffer so. She vaguely felt that she ought to be at least supportive, though, and maybe try to push her sister in a direction that didn’t involve silent moping. “There’s always the possibility that she will reject you, of course, but even that’s got to be better than lamenting what could be from your lofty perch up here, right?”

Snorting into the cool night air, Celestia said, “Even if she were to reject me, which is more than likely, I wouldn’t want the information to be a source of unwelcome preoccupation for her. From what I’ve heard, the only things on her mind are flying and napping. She’s a pony of great potential and I would hate to be responsible for her not fulfilling her destiny.”

“I understand,” Luna said quietly, “but I also hate to see you unhappy.”

“I’ll be fine. It’s enough just to watch her.”

Luna got the impression from her sister’s words that the opposite was, in fact, the case, but she didn’t want to press the point too firmly; there were no specific rules preventing the royal family from fraternising with their pony subjects, but the power dynamics involved and near-godlike levels of worship they received meant that it was impossible to truly know if the relationship was equal or not.

“It’s nice having somepony to talk about these things with again,” Celestia said, pressing the tip of her hoof against Luna’s side.

“What about that student of yours? She seemed bright from what I saw of her.”

“Oh, she is, but she’s still terribly young and inexperienced,” replied Celestia. “That’s part of the reason I sent her to Ponyville in the first place.” Stifling a yawn, her breath causing vapour to form on her golden-shod hoof, she said, “I’m terribly sorry, but I forgot just how tired I was. I’m going to retire for the night now, Luna. I’d wish you success on your first patrol – the first of many, I’m sure – but you won’t need it, I think. Shall we eat together in the morning?”

“I’d like that very much,” said Luna; for a moment, her foreleg wavered in the air, as if by magic she could divine the right words that would make everything better. “Likewise, wishing you luck with your, ah, problem seems inappropriate somehow, but I hope you find a solution all the same.”

Halfway to the threshold, Celestia stopped and turned back. “Luna?”

“Hm?”

“I’m really glad that you’re back.” Celestia’s eyes moistened slightly. “Um, I don’t know if I’ve said it properly, but I’m very happy that you’re finally home after all this time. It just hasn’t been the same without you.”

That was what Luna needed to hear; on sudden impulse, she reached forward and encompassed her sister with her forelegs in a ferocious hug, not even attempting to restrain the tears that were now flowing freely down her muzzle. “Let nothing ever part us again, dear sister.”

It was a long time before they finally broke their embrace; now that they were together again, they didn’t want to lose each other, not even for as much as a second.

II. In Practice

Shining claret eyes that radiated an unbreachable confidence took in the whitish-blue canopy that hung over Ponyville; thankfully, the town was not noted for its plethora of tall buildings, so Rainbow Dash had an almost unimpeded view from one side of the horizon to the other. Despite the biting wind whipping at her face, she still managed to smirk as she recalled something that Twilight Sparkle had once told her, “Actually, what you’re seeing is an illusion. The sky is nothing more than sunlight bouncing off of molecules in the atmosphere.” Shaking her head, she couldn’t help but be amazed at her remembrance of that particular lecture. There’d been so many.

Twilight, undoubted genius that she might have been, was also, according to Rainbow Dash at least, rather limited in her thinking. She wasn’t trying to be mean when she needled her about being a nerd and an egghead, but she wished that Twilight would learn to appreciate that there was more to life than science. Take flying, for instance, one of the few subjects that Rainbow Dash considered herself to be an authority in: as far as Twilight was concerned, it was all about vectors, angles of attack, wing-speed, wind-resistance, and so on and so forth. Those things were important, no question, but if that really was all there was to it, then wouldn’t she be the Wonderbolt and not Rainbow Dash?

Her exhalation was lost to the gust surrounding her. Rainbow Dash knew that she wasn’t so good with words, so whenever she tried to convey thoughts like this to Twilight, it ended up coming off sounding like a veiled insult. Her mind could move pretty quickly, but adrenaline – as well as her own difficulty in thinking calmly and rationally once she was fired up about a subject – would make her say something stupid or offensive. Once she had that head of steam built up, though, it was nigh-impossible to stop herself from just blurting things out.

All of which was to say, when Rainbow Dash took to the skies and felt its icy breath pressing against her from all sides, she didn’t see it as a trick of the light or, as Twilight might have it, a conflicting mass of science-y things all happening at once to present her with an interesting optical effect. She saw a canvas. A blank canvas which needed – demanded – an artist to take a brush to it. Again, she didn’t know how to explain this to anypony, but Rainbow Dash knew that the polychromatic trail that flowed in her wake was her own special brand of paint to be daubed upon the expectant canvas of the sky.

As she circled the Castle of Friendship, shading her eyes against the glare as shards of sunlight played across its crystalline structure, Rainbow Dash thought about how she was often labelled an attention-seeker. Sometimes, even, by her own closest friends. The way they said it implied that it was a bad thing, and she thought of Discord and Trixie Lulamoon, both of whom were so obsessed with the spotlight that they’d developed showy, arrogant personas and delighted in even the most childish of tricks. They fed on the approbation – though, with Discord, he didn’t seem to mind whether he received positive or negative feedback – in much the same way that she fed on hayburgers and wheat cola.

Rainbow Dash couldn’t deny that she also craved recognition; one only had to recall the events with Mare Do Well to know that, though it wasn’t something that she liked to spending too much time dwelling on. She’d been younger and more stupid back then. She was aware enough of her own ego to admit to that, and she didn’t consider it a bad thing either. Her own brand of seeking attention was based on something that was a tad more elusive. Something that was difficult to explain, even to her friends. She didn’t want the short-term buzz that so many got just from showing up and making a lot of noise about how great they were. She wanted to do something great. Something that would keep ponies talking about her for years to come.

Sonic rainbooms. The Wonderbolts. Being a hero of Equestria. They were all wonderful achievements, but – and she had yet to admit this to anypony – she didn’t often feel a sense of fulfilment in spite of all that she’d managed to accomplish. Rainbow Dash knew that there were still so many other things she hadn’t yet tried. During her short time with the Wonderbolts, learning about its famous members of years gone by, she’d discovered that there were many techniques that they’d developed which were no longer performed for one reason or another. One in particular had caught her eye and … maybe today was the right day to unleash it upon the skies over Ponyville? It would certainly be a work of art worth remembering.

“Twilight?” Rainbow Dash said in a bewildered tone, belatedly realising that she had company. Had she been following her ever since she’d passed by the Castle of Friendship? Her razor-sharp senses – probably the finest to have ever come out of Cloudsdale’s famed Flight School, if she did say so herself – normally would’ve alerted her to something crossing her path well in advance. Had she really been so lost in her thoughts? It was either that or Twilight had become exceptionally good at sneaking about. “How long have you been there?”

Favouring her friend with a slight smile, her wings thrumming softly as she kept pace with Rainbow Dash, Twilight replied, “Just a couple of minutes. Long enough to see that look in your eyes.” Twilight’s own mulberry eyes registered a slight hint of amusement.

“And what look is that?” asked Rainbow Dash, recovering quickly from her shock.

“The I’m-about-to-do-something-incredibly-awesome look. Your tongue is practically hanging out in anticipation, Rainbow.”

Idly, she wondered if that was actually true. Still, if she did indeed have such a look and Twilight wasn’t just messing with her, then it was at least reasonably accurate. Rainbow Dash didn’t mind being made fun of; there had been plenty of digs aimed at her one-track mind, or her perceived lack of foresight, so it made a change to have it be about her appearance for once. “As it happens,” Rainbow Dash said in her typically-brash tone, “I do have something in mind that I’ve been working on recently.”

“Oh?” Twilight’s eyes went wide expectantly. “Can you tell me more about it? Is it a new addition to the sonic rainboom?” Where she’d previously struggled with it, Twilight knew that Rainbow Dash could now more or less perform the technique at will. In her mind’s eye she could still see the delighted faces of the guests at her brother’s wedding when it had lit up the skies above Canterlot so spectacularly.

“No, it’s nothing to do with the rainboom,” replied Rainbow Dash, hiding the irritation in her voice. Sure, it looked amazing and had rarely been done successfully, but the number of times it had been brought up in connection with her was frankly ridiculous. She didn’t want to get to the end of her life and have the sonic rainboom be the only thing that ponies remembered her for. It had been fine at first, but now whenever she was travelling with the Wonderbolts it was pretty much all anypony wanted to know about her. Tartarus, some ponies had even wanted her to tutor their kids in it, and they’d become angry when she’d explained that it wasn’t exactly something that could be taught. “While training with Spitfire, she showed me some new methods to quickly pick up speed, so I was hoping to apply them to this trick I was reading about.”

“What?” Twilight said in astonishment. “You were reading something that isn’t Daring Do?” There was a gleam in her eyes to indicate that she was kidding around.

“Funny,” Rainbow Dash said dryly, rolling her eyes. By way of revenge, she beat her wings a bit harder, just enough to disturb the airflow and slightly offset Twilight’s delicate balance.

“All right, I’m sorry!” Recovering herself after Rainbow Dash finally relented, Twilight said primly, “Please, tell me more about this technique you were reading about.”

With a wry smile, Rainbow Dash continued, “Have you ever heard of Lunar Aura?”

“Only very vaguely,” Twilight replied, her eyes darting back and forth as she searched her memory for the name. “Until Spitfire came along, she was the youngest ever captain of the Wonderbolts, right?”

Nodding, Rainbow Dash said, “That’s the one.” With something very much like awe in her voice, she added, “She was the pioneer of the one technique that was said to be even more impressive than the sonic rainboom: the light-speed dash!”

“Ah,” Twilight said. “Now that I have heard of.” She stole a glance at Rainbow Dash and was disturbed to see that she was wearing a very placid expression on her face. Either she didn’t realise the import of what she’d just said or she didn’t actually care. What she said next didn’t help matters.

“Being the narcissist that I am,” said Rainbow Dash with just the slightest trace of mocking humour in her voice, “there was no way I was going to pass up a technique that pretty much has my name in it, right? Anyway, while passing through Ponyville this morning, I was looking at the sky and thinking about giving it a trial run. I mean, it’s practically asking for something to happen to it, isn’t it?” She indicated the overwhelming blandness of the empty space around them with a hoof. There weren’t even any clouds today.

That brought Twilight up short; she didn’t even notice Rainbow Dash pull away from her, so focused was she on the dark clouds that were now forming in her mind without the need for a weather factory to produce them. If there was something that everypony agreed on, it was that Rainbow Dash was optimism and enthusiasm incarnate. Even in the worst of times, when it seemed like they wouldn’t pull through against their worst foes, she’d have something bolshie and encouraging to say to them. That said, when it came to weighing up consequences and thinking before acting, she was decidedly … lacking. She’d definitely gotten better about it over the years, no doubt in part thanks to her relationship with her adopted little sister, Scootaloo, but she would hardly be Rainbow Dash if she’d lost her impetuous spirit entirely, would she?

“Twilight, are you all right?” asked Rainbow Dash, who’d realised that her friend was no longer by her side and had circled back to find her. “You look worried.”

That was putting it mildly. Meeting Rainbow Dash’s eyes, she said, “Let me see if I have this right: you want to perform a technique that you’ve literally only just read about right over Ponyville? Said technique makes the sonic rainboom look like a box filled with wet sparklers by comparison. Is that correct?”

Oblivious to the concern in Twilight’s voice, Rainbow Dash replied, “Yeah, it’ll look absolutely amazing, won’t it? The photos are only in black and white, so I wonder what the colours will be like.” She was off in her own little dream-world now, her wings flapping excitedly. “I know the townsponies will absolutely love it!”

How was it possible for a pony to be so utterly brilliant and yet completely clueless at the same time? Twilight had often wondered this when dealing with Rainbow Dash. It was almost as if her mind worked on a completely different level to everypony else’s. Not better, not worse, just different. It saw things in a way that nopony else did. Her own mind could only see the possibility of immediate and catastrophic consequences for Ponyville if Rainbow Dash performed the light-speed dash. “Well, I’m sure they’ll love it up to the point where buildings start collapsing on them, and they’re running and screaming for their lives.”

“What d’you mean by that?” asked Rainbow Dash, her enthusiasm now fading away to be replaced by suspicion. She narrowed her eyes in confusion at Twilight. “Well?”

Collecting her thoughts quickly, Twilight said, “You know what the sonic rainboom is, right? An immense shockwave borne out of kinetic and magical energy colliding. That alone has enormous potential for devastation, but luckily it bleeds away into the atmosphere so quickly that it usually doesn’t do much damage. The light-speed dash, however, requires that you be moving so fast and that you take all of that potential energy into yourself, releasing it all at once very much like a bomb going off.” The allure of the trick, she understood, was in seeing the performer moving so fast that they appeared to be in multiple places at once. At the climax, when they rejoined into one, was when the potential and magical energy of the ghost copies – as they were dubbed – came flooding out in an explosion that one commentator had described as being akin to a collision between Helios and Selene, enough to shake the heavens themselves.

Maybe Rainbow Dash had skipped over that part in her reading?

With a dismissive wave of her hoof, Rainbow Dash said, “All I have to do is make sure the energy is directed away from Ponyville at the end, right?”

Twilight made a face. “And you know how to do that, do you?”

“Yes.” Rainbow Dash muttered something under her breath that Twilight didn’t quite catch.

“Could you repeat that?” she asked sharply.

“In theory,” said Rainbow Dash, scratching abashedly at the back of her neck, not quite meeting Twilight’s direct gaze. “I know how to do it in theory. I won’t know for sure until I’m actually up there. You of all ponies should know that there’s a difference between theory and application.”

“Yes, I do know that, thank you,” replied Twilight, not appreciating the jab. It was truly astounding how Rainbow Dash could remember her words, but not always the lessons she wanted to impart. “Which is why you rigorously test something new under controlled circumstances instead of blindly charging into it and hoping for the best. You won’t find anypony in Equestria who’ll doubt your credentials as the finest living flier, Rainbow, so I can’t understand why you’re wanting to do something as dangerous as this just to prove it.”

“Oh, so you don’t think I can actually do it, do you?” Rainbow Dash’s voice was filled with venom. “All those jokes you and the others tell about me, about how stupid I am, how little attention I pay to anything unrelated to flying, how much of a one-track mind I have … they’re not actually jokes, though, are they? They’re what you really think about me.”

It was too easy to lose your temper when arguing with Rainbow Dash, and Twilight found herself biting back much harder than she’d intended to when faced with the accusation. “You’re being silly, Rainbow. You’re acting like a spoiled brat who’s just been told that they can’t have dessert before dinner. If you want to go crashing into the ground at eight-hundred miles per hour, feel free to go ahead and do it!” With barely a pause, she added, “Just don’t do it somewhere other ponies might get hurt. All I’m trying to do here is make you aware of the fact that your little trick comes with some serious repercussions if you screw it up. You’re a brilliant flier, Dashie, but you’re not infallible and the Wonderbolts would definitely not let you perform a routine you hadn’t drilled yourself on a thousand times in advance, would they?”

All at once, Twilight felt guilt and shame course through her body. She was aware of how deeply tired all of a sudden she’d become, too, and it was getting harder and harder for her to stay afloat. The whole conversation had been incredibly draining, and she wished it could be over and they could go back to being friends now. The words themselves had been harsh, and the loss of temper had been just as childish as she was accusing Rainbow Dash of behaving. No good was going to come of treating her like an idiot who couldn’t figure things out for herself, and the use of the diminutising nickname was equally as reprehensible.

Surprisingly calmly under the circumstances, Rainbow Dash said with an edge of strain in her voice, almost as if she was pleading for permission, “I know I can do it, Twilight. Why are you trying to stop me?” Her body was tensed, ready to spring into action. Ready to fly away and do what she wanted instead of listening to this doubting voice in her ear.

“I’m not debating your abilities, Rainbow Dash, I’m really not,” said Twilight, too worn out to even be properly frustrated any more. It amazed her how easy it was to fall into these sorts of traps, even with your best friends. Despite the fact that they were having the same conversation, they were stuck in an endless loop of arguing about different aspects of it. How often did this happen across Equestria and how often did it lead to problems when you just couldn’t make each other see the opposing point of view? “If there was one pony in Equestria who I thought could do this safely, it would be you, but if you lose control of that energy, even for a moment, it could spell disaster for Ponyville. Do you really want that?”

As if she were coming out of a trance, Rainbow Dash blinked suddenly. Perhaps the surge of adrenaline that had been propelling her had finally worn off? Perhaps Twilight’s blunt words had penetrated her thick skull? Perhaps she’d just come to her senses? Whatever the reason, she finally said in a plaintive voice, “No, of course I don’t want that.” Looking back over the preceding conversation, she was almost impressed with herself at just how monumentally boneheaded she’d been. She sighed softly, realising that her inflated ego – to say nothing of her raised hackles – had been making her misinterpret Twilight’s actions toward her. It was such a feeble excuse and she felt a deep sense of remorse flood her being.

“Hey, Rainbow, are you still with me?” Twilight waved a hoof in front of Rainbow Dash’s eyes.

“Huh? What?”

“You looked like you were spacing-out there for a second.”

“I was thinking.” For once, Twilight had no pithy attempt at humour, and Rainbow continued, “I’m so incredibly sorry, Twilight, I really am. I got so caught up in thinking about the trick, how it would impress everypony if I pulled it off successfully, that I was blinding myself to everything else surrounding it. In fact, if I remember the book correctly, Lunar Aura only ever did the light-speed dash at events that were held way outside of city limits.”

Breathing more easily now that Rainbow Dash had finally realised what she’d been trying to tell her, Twilight said, “I’m sorry for yelling at you. I was worried sick about what might happen to you and Ponyville if something went wrong, but that’s absolutely no excuse for the way I acted.” She managed a rueful but sincere smile. “Sometimes, I just get this horrible feeling that we’re not on the same page and never will be.”

“We usually aren’t.” Rainbow Dash gamely returned the smile, but inside she was still disgusted with herself for what she’d almost allowed to happen. With a shake of her head, she said, “You know, earlier today I was thinking about Discord and Trixie, and how I was different from them. Unlike those two, I don’t actively go out looking for attention, but if I do something that gets ponies interested in me, then that’s okay. It’s okay to enjoy and bask in that glory.” Looking away, she added, “But that was the slippery slope. Once I gave myself that excuse, that I was doing it for them and not for me, I just went looking for bigger and more dangerous stunts to satisfy the itch.” The realisations weren’t done with her just yet. “I almost put the town in danger for the sake of an adrenaline rush, for the sake of my ego. That’s … pretty messed up, isn’t it?”

Twilight looked to the skyline for a moment before replying. The sun had shaded into midday. She idly wondered how they must’ve looked to the ponies around Ponyville, having been hovering here arguing for ages now! Everything could’ve looked so different if she hadn’t been able to stop Rainbow Dash from going ahead with her risky scheme. It was fortunate that she’d just happened to spot her from the castle’s parapets and decided to check in with her. Understanding Rainbow Dash was a difficult proposition, and Twilight longed for a more comprehensive sense of her friend and what drove her. “It is,” she finally said, “but you realised that you’d made a mistake and you stopped yourself.”

“With some help.”

“With some help, yes. Like Celestia had to help me out when the Want-It/Need-It spell went a little astray.” Twilight knew that she’d made more than a few blunders of her own since moving to Ponyville, and her friends had always forgiven her for them. “So long as you learn something from the experience, don’t think of yourself as a bad pony, Rainbow Dash. You aren’t.”

“Nah, I’m not bad.” Rainbow Dash smiled forlornly. “I’m just an idiot.”

“You are not,” said Twilight firmly. “You just lack a little forethought is all. There’s nothing wrong with that.” She corrected herself quickly, “There’s usually nothing wrong with that. You just have to learn a little patience, to analyse and weigh up all the options before choosing a path.”

“Will you help me with that?” asked Rainbow Dash.

“Of course I will.” Twilight pulled her into a quick hug. “And I think, in a few days when you’ve had a chance to study the light-speed dash a bit more, we should head to the outskirts of Ponyville and give it a proper trial run there.”

“Sounds good to me.” Rainbow Dash returned the hug.

III. Caught Between Two Worlds

Seizing the tiny white rabbit far more roughly than was necessary, Sunset Shimmer gave Angel Bunny a filthy look as she bit out the words, “Is trying to catch a bit of sleep after having come through the mirror portal really so much to ask for? Is it?” Now, more than ever, one couldn’t help but get the impression that her fiery red and yellow mane was a literal conflagration about to blow out of control. Her icy blue eyes were laden with the promise of an altogether different sort of burn if crossed. It didn’t help that these transdimensional journeys played merry havoc with her circadian rhythms, often leaving her springing between adrenaline-fuelled activity and totally bereft within the space of minutes.

She’d been hoping – or to put it more accurately, Fluttershy had been the one doing the hoping – that with time and proximity would come some sort of an understanding between the two; Sunset was more than willing to play ball and befriend the cantankerous rabbit, but unfortunately Angel was rather more resistant to the idea of welcoming somepony else into Fluttershy’s cottage. Harrowing memories of Discord’s hammock suspended above a lake of chocolate in the living room coursed through him, and though Sunset was not capable of such feats, it didn’t mean that her presence was made any more tolerable to him. No matter how accommodating she tried to be, Sunset frequently found herself being pelted with carrot shards at the dinner table, kicked in the shins in the halls, or having her tail gnawed on when she was trying to relax.

“I should get Twilight to set the mirror portal on random and toss you into it,” Sunset said, narrowing her tired eyes at Angel who didn’t even so much as bat an eyelid. She really didn’t have either the patience or the energy for this feuding and she suppressed a yawn, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of seeing her vulnerable or weak. Still, though, the thought of unilaterally kicking the rabbit on to some distant world full of apex predators brought a momentary fleeting smile to her muzzle even though she knew she’d never actually go through with it. Fluttershy would return home soon and Angel would go back to being her problem. Sunset Shimmer, for her part, was happy to earn a few extra Good Girlfriend points by not sending him tumbling into some nameless, echoing void for all eternity.

Girlfriend? Marefriend? I can never keep these things straight in my mind. Someone needs to compile a Human-Pony dictionary one of these days.

All of a sudden realising that she was still holding the petulant rabbit, who was continuing to lash out fruitlessly at her with his tiny limbs, Sunset released him back on to the floor and he shot her a venomous look as he stormed off somewhere deeper inside the cottage, no doubt in preparation to pour on the waterworks when Fluttershy got home. Sunset shook her head quizzically, wondering why somepony who had the power to tame the wildest beasts in Equestria put up with this much attitude from him. She had her reasons, she supposed, but she was darned if she knew what they were. With a soft sigh, Sunset slumped back down on the couch and closed her eyes. Without Angel around, the cottage was so peaceful. The colours, the décor, it was all designed with the sole purpose of drawing one into a state of relaxation. It was sombre, subdued, without ever feeling bland or empty.

Despite Fluttershy’s wish that Sunset try to get along better with Angel, she didn’t go out of her way to make it a habit to be at the cottage when she wasn’t there; Fluttershy, she knew, had a pretty busy life, what with zapping monsters with rainbow lasers, rescuing hurt and lost animals, and dealing with the various dramas of her own and those of her friends. Sunset, too, could only drop by sporadically when there was a lull in the activity at Canterlot High, and she liked to spend that time visiting old friends and family, and some of her favourite haunts from the past. Sooner or later, a decision was going to have to be made there, but for now she was happy enough putting it off and seeing where things went. Fluttershy was her first serious relationship – all her previous ones had simply been about acquiring popularity and status for herself, first at the School for Gifted Unicorns, thenback at CHS, and she shuddered inwardly at the memory of what she used to be like – and she didn’t want to mess it up by moving things along too fast.

As uncomfortable reminders of her past went, one of them was there to greet her whenever she returned home to Canterlot; through Twilight’s efforts at mediation, she was just about on cordial terms with Celestia now after what had happened upon her initial departure to the human world, but it was clear that the relationship between her and her one-time mentor would never be what it was. Princess Celestia had almost been like a second mother to Sunset at one point, something that Twilight had often said as well. Now though, like her friends and family, they seemed to be nothing more than genial strangers who uttered polite greetings whenever they passed each other in hallways. Sunset tossed and turned on the couch, well aware of the fact that sleep was unlikely to be forthcoming with her mind racing like this, but not quite ready to admit defeat just yet. Thanks to her experiences in the human world, she’d achieved her ambitions – and more besides – but despite that, despite her relationship with Fluttershy, she still felt a gnawing sense of unease in her soul.

Part of her had felt the call of the abyss, tempted to do what she’d threatened to do to Angel Bunny earlier: throw herself randomly into the mirror portal. There were an infinite number of worlds out there where she could start over, free of both her past and any obligations to the future. Not that she would ever do such a thing, of course. She cared too much about her friends in both worlds to just abandon them like that, but there were days when the idea of a truly blank slate seemed far more appealing to her far more than it should have. Sunset grimaced and wondered if it was some kind of mirror-lag that was making her so maudlin.

“They made me do it, I swear!” Sunset Shimmer sat bolt upright, drenched in sweat, legs trapped in the blanket, horn ignited in a reflex action as she was startled into wakefulness from some terrifying nightmare or other by the front door nearly being torn off its hinges by somepony rudely barging their way through it. There’s no way in Equestria that was Fluttershy! No matter how angry or frustrated she is, she can never, ever bring herself to abuse the furniture. It took her still-dozing brain a moment or two to register what that then implied: there was an intruder in Fluttershy’s cottage and she ought to do something about it!

Disentangling herself from the sweat-stained blankets and pillows, Sunset Shimmer stood upright – savouring the satisfying crack that issued from her spine as she adjusted it – and prepared to confront who- or whatever it was that had broken in. Crime, in the mundane sense of robberies and assaults, was near-unheard of in Equestria, especially somewhere idyllic like Ponyville, but there were still one or two small incidents per year.

Tense, yet also oddly excited by the prospect of seeing some action, she carefully entered the hallway, horn lit and ready to deploy the offensive spells she’d learned in school so long ago, and found a figure lurking in the shadowy, half-lit space. None of the lamps were illuminated either. Was it already that late? I must’ve nodded off for longer than I’d thought. The figure appeared to be trembling, and its outline had a certain Fluttershy-esque quality about it, but there was also something strangely off about it. It had way more right angles and sharp edges than the curves and round bits one usually associated Fluttershy with.

Angel Bunny leapt out in front of Sunset and approached the hazily-defined presence, though she wasn’t sure whether it was to attack or because he thought it was Fluttershy; he had scampered across roughly half the distance to it when he suddenly reared up in alarm and darted back, a blur of white, rather sweetly taking refuge behind one of Sunset’s forelegs. “Oh, so we’re besties now that you need me to protect you from a big, scary monster? Typical.” She missed the sardonic look Angel gave her. Adding more power to her horn, simply to provide some light, Sunset revealed a mass of pink and yellow quivering in the doorway. “Fluttershy, is that you?” she asked gently.

When she had time to think about it later, Sunset realised that she’d never seen Fluttershy anything other than well-kempt; it helped that she had an easy, natural beauty that one not in the know might assume had come from the same place as Rarity’s – i.e. at the end of a long make-up counter – but she’d never needed any help in being attractive. She simply was. Her big innocent eyes, the delicate curve of her muzzle, her long trailing mane, her clear and shiny coat, and long, slender limbs all contributed to her beauty. The sweet, virtuous personality helped, too, of course.

None of these things were in evidence at the moment.

Her mane had become a tangled mess of sharply jutting peaks and wild furrows that would likely have given even Rarity a conniption fit if she’d been asked to try and do something with it. Her bright blue eyes had taken on a reddish hue and they appeared to be lit with an internal glow lending her a most striking gaze. Sunset also noticed that her feather-soft wings had picked up some sharp edges of their own and had taken on an almost leathery texture like those of a bat. Last but not least, there were the ears sporting some extra points and the pearly white lateral incisors peaking out over her muzzle.

What could’ve made for quite the intimidating presence – a fearsome hybrid of bat and pony features – was rendered rather harmless by the fact that it was still, well, Fluttershy. And she wasn’t snarling or writhing, but sobbing, still shaking in the hallway while all Sunset Shimmer could do was gawk in mute incomprehension at her. Getting her brain into gear, Sunset cautiously approached her so as not to startle the anxious Fluttershy into a fight-or-flight response. “Fluttershy, what happened?” she asked gently, stretching out what she hoped would be a comforting hoof.

Fluttershy’s cry stopped momentarily. “I’m a monster,” she replied as if it were obvious, unable to meet Sunset’s gaze. Her voice sounded different, too. It was mostly her own, but it had a distinctive sultry rasping tone underlying it.

“No, you’re not.” She touched Fluttershy’s back gently; she recoiled, but Sunset maintained the contact, stroking her withers softly. Of course, the fruit bat incident. She recalled how Fluttershy had told her the story as one of the many, many odd incidents from her life since meeting Twilight Sparkle and becoming an Element of Harmony. Some time ago, Princess Twilight and Applejack had come up with a scheme to rid Sweet Apple Acres of a fruit bat infestation that had involved utilising Fluttershy’s famous Stare: an ability to render most creatures temporarily passive. Twilight had accidentally transferred some of the bat-essence into Fluttershy, turning her into a rampaging, apple-obsessed bat-pony until she’d managed to cure it. Evidently, the cure hadn’t been totally successful. Sunset cast an appraising eye over Fluttershy and noticed that she was covered in numerous scratches of various sizes and depth, though she was both alarmed and relieved to note that they were healing at a phenomenal rate. “What happened to you?” asked Sunset tenderly, gesturing at the injuries.

“I was just finishing up with the feeding of a litter of manticore cubs that were newly-born in the Everfree Forest when I, er, transformed into this,” she said, wiping at her damp nose with a hoof. “Some of the animals there, even the ones who’d normally go out of their way to ignore a pony, must’ve … taken exception to my new form. They saw me as-” she had to stop as a lump had formed in her throat and she swallowed painfully before continuing “-some kind of hideous beast that was a threat to them. And they’re not wrong, are they?” She looked into Sunset Shimmer’s eyes, her own blazing red and inquisitive. “Because it was dark, I was able to sneak back home without anypony seeing me. Thankfully.”

Celestia only knew what would have happened had otherwise been the case; anypony unfamiliar with the events at Sweet Apple Acres that night probably would have seen her simply as some kind of bat-monster, and … Sunset Shimmer terminated that line of thinking immediately. The rash acts of heedless, instinct-driven animals were one thing, but ponies ought to have known better. The thought of anypony attacking her dear, sweet Fluttershy over something that she couldn’t control filled her with a cold dread. Taking a deep breath, Sunset wrapped her forelegs around Fluttershy’s neck softly and pulled her into a gentle embrace. Fluttershy’s heart was still racing, but her breathing – and crying – had at least slowed down somewhat. “Look, we both know that you aren’t a monster. The furthest thing from it, in fact. What you are is a victim of a spell gone wrong.” With a wry smile, she added, “It happens to the best of us.”

Fluttershy felt her muzzle twitch involuntarily.

“Was that a smile?”

“No.”

Okay, so truth be told turning into an ego-driven maniacal princess had been of her own choice, but it was still an example of how magic – even when its original purpose was intended to be benevolent in nature – could go wrong when not used properly or by the wrong pony. Sunset knew that she had been a true monster, in thought and deed, and she was still working off the karmic debt she’d incurred even now. Fluttershy was entirely blameless in this. In fact, if Sunset was remembering the story properly, Twilight and Applejack had persisted with the plan despite Fluttershy’s objections to it. She said as much to her, but she wasn’t sure if Fluttershy was even listening to her any more.

Fluttershy, much as she wanted to, still hadn’t given herself up to Sunset’s embrace, but she wasn’t trying to break free of it either. Sitting rigidly, her expression was solemn; she wished she could be on the other side of Equestria, or even beyond its borders entirely, to get away from this curse. It wasn’t so bad now, she knew, but it would only get worse as the days progressed. She would start going out in the late evenings to feast on apples and other fruits, unaware that she even doing it. That all-consuming animal lust would be her nightly ritual unless somepony could put a stop to it for good. Through good fortune, she hadn’t injured anypony last time, but who knew what would happen if it wasn’t brought under control. “D’you, uh ... you wouldn’t happen to know how to reverse this transformation, would you, Sunset? I mean, you’re almost as talented at magic as Twilight herself is.”

Almost? Sunset’s muzzle tightened momentarily in a look of amused irritation, though Fluttershy couldn’t see it.“Without knowing exactly what it was that Twilight did to you in the first place, I wouldn’t want to go messing around with any transformative magic. I might just make things worse for you.”

Studying her altered body for a moment, Fluttershy wondered just how Sunset could make things worse for her than they were now, but she eventually decided that it was probably best not to know. Instead, she asked in a plaintive voice, “You don’t think I could hurt somepony while I’m like this, do you?” Fear added a slight trembling tone to her words.

“Unless they’re an apple,” Sunset Shimmer said, trying to lighten the mood, “no.”

With a complete absence of words, Fluttershy still managed to indicate to Sunset that what she had said was in poor taste. “Can you be serious, please?” she said once she was sure Sunset was suitably chastised.

“I was.” Relenting, hating how much Fluttershy was suffering right now and wishing she could do more than offer hollow words of comfort, Sunset said reassuringly, “It’s not in your nature to hurt anypony or, come to think of it, anything at all. The only remotely monstrous thing about you is that big old heart of yours and how much you care about the welfare of others. Whether or not that thing deserves to be cared about,” she finished in a slightly distant voice.

“You think I’m wrong to care about you?” Fluttershy tilted her head to get a better look at Sunset, eyes narrowing in confusion at her.

“I was talking about Angel.” Sunset smirked but her heart just wasn’t in the joke this time.

Fluttershy shifted herself into a more comfortable position, her leathery wings wriggling against Sunset as she did so. “I’ll admit, other than what you’ve chosen to tell me so far about your past, I may not be aware of every single detail about what happened back then, but I feel like I know enough to understand why you did what you did. I mean, I definitely know enough about you to love you, and that’s all that matters to me. You might still think of yourself as some kind of demonic monster for how you once behaved, but I certainly don’t.”

Sunset’s eyes went wide, her cheeks reddening deeply, as the weight of Fluttershy’s words hit her.

Fluttershy sensed her body stiffen against hers. “What is it? Did I say something wrong?”

“You just said … you loved me.”

“Oh.” Fluttershy frowned. “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologise, it’s fine. It’s just … I didn’t expect it. Least of all now.”

Fluttershy let out the sigh that had been building up within her for the past several hours ever since the change had first come over her in the Everfree Forest. The loss of inhibitions is already starting. Next, it’ll be the overwhelming hunger. Finally, it’ll be the nightly prowling. “It’s probably just the bat talking.”

“So. You don’t love me, then?” Sunset immediately regretted saying it, wishing she could borrow Starlight Glimmer’s time-reversal spell for a moment. It was unhelpful, pushy and woefully inappropriate given the situation.

Fluttershy allowed herself to succumb to Sunset’s hug finally and she nuzzled against her neck as gently as she could, painfully aware of the fact that her frizzier than normal mane was probably making it more awkward than it usually was for her. “Can we please not discuss this right now, Sunset? It’s a really bad time.”

“Right. Sorry.” Inwardly, Sunset cursed herself for being so selfish. The important thing as of this moment was to fix Fluttershy’s condition. They could quibble over the minutiae of their relationship later. “Fluttershy?”

“Mm?”

Swallowing, Sunset said, “I love you, too.”

“You do?”

“Mm-hm.”

“Why haven’t you said anything before?”

“Mostly, I was afraid of how you might react,” replied Sunset, breathing heavily. “No offence, but you don’t do so well with pressure, and this is a lot to burden somepony with. I was going to wait, see how things were working out between us, before deciding whether to tell you or not. I, um, I’ve been thinking about some things since I arrived back here today.”

Turning to face her, still remaining within her embrace, Fluttershy looked into Sunset’s wet eyes and said, “I’m so sorry for always being so difficult-”

“-Fluttershy-”

“-Let me finish! Believe me, I know myself and how much of a chore interacting with me can be at times when I won’t come out of my shell. You’re so fierce, brave, compassionate, empathetic and intelligent, and I want to tell you all the time how wonderful and brilliant you are, but I keep fretting that I’ll get the words wrong, or you’ll hear me saying them and suddenly realise that you’ve made a big mistake in being with me all this time.” Fluttershy bit her bottom lip softly. “The truth is, I’ve been wanting to tell you about my feelings for a long time, too, but coward that I am, I pushed them down to the pit of my stomach every single moment of every single day because I was afraid of wrecking what we already had together.” She inhaled deeply, every exhalation pressing her chest against Sunset’s. At first, Sunset thought she was going to say more, but soon realised that she was simply out of breath after her little speech.

For several minutes, only silence and the sounds of their disjointed breathing passed between them. Sunset Shimmer found herself rather taken aback by the admission. Fluttershy – in both universes – was noted for being a timid creature; even if she was attracted to somepony, she would never act upon it. Not just because she was afraid of being rejected, but because she was even more afraid of the possibility that they might say yes. Being in a relationship with somepony meant living day-to-day with the fear that you could also lose them. If this bat-curse means that she’ll finally start opening up to others, maybe it isn’t such a bad thing after all? It was an awful thing to think, but at the same time, Sunset also recognised the truth of it. “I need to tell you something. Something important,” she said eventually.

“What is it?” asked Fluttershy. “You know you can tell me anything.”

“When I came back through the mirror portal to Equestria, I wasn’t really looking for anything in particular. I definitely wasn’t looking to become embroiled in a romantic affair.” She scanned Fluttershy’s face looking for any trace of annoyance at this confession; detecting none, she continued, “I mean, I guess I’d been hoping that Celestia and I could somehow mend our fences, but when that didn’t work out, I was about ready to abandon this place once and for all. There wasn’t anything for me here any more.”

“What about your family?”

“I think they’re better off without me.” Was that the truth or just something she told herself to justify her decision? “Anyway, when I met you, I found myself torn for the first time in a long time about which world I truly belonged to. I still don’t know, but more and more, I think that my future might be here. No matter where I choose to go, some will still regard me as a monster, but being here with you would at least make that prospect worth enduring.”

Another silence ensued and Sunset closed her eyes as it continued to endure, fearing the worst. She had pushed Fluttershy too far. It had been too much to place on her in one go and now she felt foolish for having said it at all when they’d agreed that their focus should be on dealing with the bat-curse first. Unfortunately, once the words had come in to her mind, it had been impossible to stop them from tumbling out of her mouth in one messy heap. Both universes had so much to offer her, and she had a lot to offer them, too, but only this one had Fluttershy. This particular version of Fluttershy who – it seemed – loved her, that is.

When she opened her eyes again, no longer able to bear the darkness, the stillness, she saw Fluttershy’s own moist ones gazing back at her; rather than making her seem more terrifying, the red tint served to render them all the more mesmerising, as if the bat-curse flowing through her was amping up the power of her natural Stare ability. Acting partly on instinct and partly on desire, and partly just to see what the Tartarus would happen if she did, Sunset pressed her muzzle against Fluttershy’s.

It was nothing more than a soft, undramatic peck on the lips; innocent, chaste and gentle, much like Fluttershy herself. Still, though, the intoxicating scent of apples and lavender filled Sunset’s nostrils as she inhaled Fluttershy’s natural scent. There was an undercurrent of something else, too. Something spicy and warm, though whether it was Fluttershy herself or some strange side-effect of the bat-curse, she couldn’t say, but there remained the exciting possibility of more to come. There was an old saying about still waters running deep, and that never seemed so true as at this moment with Fluttershy. There was a definite suggestion in her eyes that there was far more to her lurking beneath the surface.

“So,” Fluttershy said, smiling coyly when they broke contact, “this-” she gestured to herself “-doesn’t bother you, does it?”

Shaking her head, Sunset said, “I know better than most not to judge a book by its cover. What’s on the outside doesn’t matter because-” her hoof tenderly stroked Fluttershy’s chest and she felt her heartbeat thrum against it “-what’s in here is what’s important, and no matter what, you’ll always be Fluttershy. Having once been a monster myself, I can categorically state that you are nothing like me whatsoever. We’ll figure this out somehow, and if not, we’ll deal with each day as it comes.” She smiled in what she hoped was an encouraging manner. Whether it was Fluttershy or for herself, she couldn’t say.

“Thank you.” Fluttershy opened her muzzle to say more, but closed it when she realised that there wasn’t much else to add. She settled for simply kissing Sunset on the cheek.

Sunset’s eyes fixated on a point beyond the front door. It was now fully dark outside. The moon and stars were just about visible through the little window. They’d been sitting in the hallway for at least an hour now, and her legs were beginning to cramp up from the awkward posture she’d been maintaining whilst keeping Fluttershy embraced in her forelegs. “We should probably go see Twilight as soon as we can. Together, I’m sure we can solve this problem.”

“Mm. We should, shouldn’t we?” Fluttershy didn’t sound overly keen on that idea.

“Wanna leave it until tomorrow?” There was just the merest hint of playful suggestion in Sunset’s voice. “I’d love to observe first-hoof just how this curse affects you. For purely academic purposes, of course.”

“Okay,” said Fluttershy, rising a little bit unsteadily to her hooves after having been prone for so long and heading in the direction of the stairs.

Stunned, Sunset said, “What? Seriously?”

Fluttershy flashed her a look that she’d never seen before. “Scared? You’re not apples, so you have nothing to worry about, remember?” With that, she started her ascent, leaving a trail of pink and mystery in her wake.

I think I have LOTS to worry about, Sunset thought as she followed dumbly in pursuit of Fluttershy, but it, too, willhave to wait until the morning.