“Because I believe in you, Twilight Sparkle.”
Twilight looked up at her mentor’s smiling face. Celestia’s expression was warm and kind, and Twilight knew she meant what she said. She always did.
“I... Thank you, Princess. This is a momentous occasion, and to be trusted with it is...”
Celestia chuckled at her student’s inability to articulate her feelings.
“I’m sure you will do fine, Twilight. Now, I will leave you to your business.”
The Princess turned and trotted from the conference room, leaving Twilight fidgeting nervously in full diplomatic regalia, eyeing the guards that ringed the room. Though not technically a member of the palace staff, she had been lent a uniform for the purposes of this meeting.
You can do this, Twilight. You’ve done it once before, you can do it again.
She swallowed, and took her place at the small table in the centre of the room.
Moments later, the door creaked open, and two ponies stepped through. The first, an officious-looking unicorn guard, strolled in and brought his trumpet to his lips, letting loose an obnoxious blast. As the echoes died down, he turned to the side and bowed toward the door, announcing the second arrival as she walked in.
“Her Royal Apprenticeship, Twilight Sparkle, Element of Magic, greets... Her Royal Apprenticeship, Twilight Sparkle, Element of Magic!”
Twilight’s breath caught in her throat. This was the moment, the moment unprecedented in Equestrian history. She watched herself traverse the room with a confident stride she quite envied, stepping lightly onto the thick carpet and taking a seat before her. She... the other she... the other Twilight was dressed in a tight black suit, the material of which Twilight could not place. It shifted strangely on the other Twilight’s body, not quite in sync with her body. Her mane was immaculately combed back in a style that Twilight could hardly believe she was wearing, and her eyes... Twilight couldn’t bring herself to look into her eyes.
She took a deep breath. There was no time for messing around. She was here to make history. To do something nopony had ever done before.
To talk with an ambassador from the future.
Twilight’s doppelganger leaned forward, her suit making only the faintest rustling. Twilight was suddenly painfully aware of the age and mustiness of her robes. How silly must she look?
“I’ll make this quick, Twilight, and I’ll be honest. After last time, I’m picking my words carefully.”
Twilight nodded, remembering her last disastrous experiment with time travel. Her cheek still smarted some days.
“Soon, very soon, you’ll finish your work on the spell which you will come to name Sparkle’s Temporal Flimflammery - a name I still cannot believe I thought was any good. It is imperative that you cease all progress before that happens.”
Twilight blinked.
“The... the time spell? Why? What could possibly go wrong?”
Future Twilight sighed, a deep and mournful sigh that spoke of grief Twilight couldn’t begin to comprehend.
“Nothing. It will work perfectly, and repeatedly. And that is precisely why you have to stop.”
Twilight shook her head, mouth opening and closing stupidly as she tried to find the words to protest.
“I don’t understand. This spell could revolutionise the world! Stop accidents, reverse economic disasters, let us visit the ponies of the past... isn’t that what you’re doing?”
Future Twilight gritted her teeth before massaging her temple and continuing.
“Listen, there are rules. You know there are, because you’re writing them into the spell tonight. It’s... complicated, and I can’t tell you why, but it’s vital that you stop working on this spell for the safety of all that we know and love.”
Twilight folded her forelegs and set her expression in determination.
“There has to be a reason. A hint. I know me. I know I can work around a rule.”
Future Twilight was silent for a moment, then sighed grudgingly, resting her chin on a hoof and fixing Twilight with a steady glare.
“Fine. All I can say is... the right spell in the wrong hooves can make all the difference in the world. Do you think Celestia was always a Princess? That Equestria has always been at peace? That Discord has always existed?”
“But... what are you saying? That I do... did... will do all these things? But... if I made the present so... so perfect, surely the future is even better?”
Future Twilight slammed a hoof on the table in frustration, lips curled in the beginnings of a snarl. Twilight recoiled in fear. She had never considered herself capable of such anger.
“Just because an outcome is happy, doesn’t mean that it’s right! Time works differently than how you’d think. Change is stagnation, and everything has a cost. This spell is powerful, Twilight, and it will cause more damage than you can possibly imagine. You have to stop.”
“But I-”
“But nothing! From where you’re standing, the future is an open book, ready to be written. Your spell doesn’t just close the book, it snaps the pen! There’s so much damage I don’t even know if I have a future to return to.”
Twilight looked herself in the eye. Future Twilight’s expression was steady, resolute. Maybe... just maybe... she was right.
“I’ll... I’ll think about it. I’m sure that, with time and planning, any negative consequences could be negated. I’m sure.”
Future Twilight looked back at her, her gaze boring into Twilight’s unwavering eyes, then nodded and stood.
“As long as you think about it. You mustn’t complete this spell, at any cost.”
Future Twilight raised her hoof to shake, and Twilight stood to reciprocate. As she raised her foreleg, she suddenly felt Future Twilight’s hoof about her neck, pulling her close. She heard the suit crackle with electricity and felt the materialising blade enter her chest.
She gasped in pain and shock, collapsing to the floor as Future Twilight stepped back and the blade attached her leg sizzled back into nonexistence. Tears welled in her doppelganger’s eyes as Twilight’s blood pooled about her hooves and the guards cried out in angry surprise.
“I’m so sorry, Twilight. This is the only option left. I’ve come back so many times and you never listen. You never listen.”
Twilight tried to reply, but the breath was leaving her and she could only look up in desperate confusion. The guards’ thumping hooves seemed to grow quieter, and the room became a blur. Future Twilight leaned closer, stroking Twilight’s mane as she cried for her dying self.
“We’re the wrong hooves, Twilight. We always were.”
