Georg's 2020 One-Shots of Various Subjects
October 2020
Georg’s Half-Baked Pumpkins For This Year
Georg’s unreleased story about Pumpkin Spice - October 1
“Does everybody know what time it is?”
Pumpkin Spice danced through her living room on the way to the kitchen and the delightful perfume wafting through the whole house. It had been almost a whole year since the last time she was able to unleash her special talent, and the song sang through her nerves like lightning!
Only it wasn’t lightning, since it was just past Summer Shutdown, and Rainbow Dash had promised not to accidentally let loose any random lightning strikes since two years ago when she had just ruined Spice’s plans for the perfect Pumpkin Spike Hearth’s Warming.
“Oh, Pumpkin Spice is very nice,” she sang, doing a little two-step around the boxes of powder scattered throughout her kitchen. “It never tastes the same way twice, so add it’s glow to everything, and in it’s honor we will sing! Oh, Pumpkin Spice, that Pumpkin Spice! Yeah!”
With a quick flutter of wings, she landed in front of Oven #3 and slipped the cookie sheet out to cool while putting another cookie sheet in. Having wings made cooking a breeze, and let her handle two of the wooden cookie paddles at once, which saved time when she had all four ovens going at once.
She had been up for almost three days now, cooking and frosting and making packages for all of her friends, even the ones with restraining orders because old Judge Grumpy always softened up when she spread a few scented candles around the courthouse and took the time to spice up the building coffee pot. He would tear up with joy and snuffle into his kerchief, then Spice would be released to give an extra-special gift of scented candles and flavored candy to everypony in the building! They always made such a big deal of it, running around and screaming with happiness just like the clerks at the bank. Some of them even locked themselves into the bank vault last year, but she had been all prepared and managed to slip their gifts of pumpkin spice perfume and pumpkin spice toffee in through one of the air vents.
Their screams of excitement had made Pumpkin Spice practically dance through the sky with joy, and seeding the clouds with the special pumpkin spice aromatics only made it better as the whole town had come alive with the wonderful scent that evening.
Oh, she loved this time of year.
* * *
“I hate this time of year,” muttered Princess Twilight Sparkle. She peered through her binoculars at the peaceful town below, just waiting for the next terrorizing monster to attack, or the next power-mad unicorn to hold it hostage.
Some clever pundits in Canterlot had made a joke about ‘All of Twilight Sparkle’s enemies are pointy.’ They had never met the most terrifying villain of all time.
“Are you sure she’s out there?” asked Spike, pulling the curtains aside and peering over the boards. “It’s awfully quiet.”
“Too quiet.” The oak branches that Twilight had woven into her mane for concealment itched, but she tried her best not to scratch. Motion drew attention. Scented attention. “Do you remember last year? We had just gotten relaxed after all those stories from our friends when there was a knock at the door—”
There was a knock at the library door.
Both Spike and Twilight jumped, then huddled behind the librarian desk for cover, with Spike attempting to pull one of Twilight’s wings over his head. There was silence for a while, then Twilight gave Spike a nudge.
“Go see who it is,” she whispered.
“No way,” he whispered back. “That’s how the first pony in a horror movie always gets it.”
“It could be Rarity,” suggested Twilight.
It wasn’t.
October 2
9 July 1945
Manehattan Harbor, Equestria
“I don’t see why we both have to go to Potsdam,” hissed Luna out of the corner of her mouth before unleashing her most powerful argument. “We did not attend President Roosevelt’s funeral together.”
“That was different,” said Celestia out of the other corner of her mouth. “You know we will be meeting with Premier Stalin this time, and…” The Princess of the Sun stopped and did not seem to move a muscle, but Luna’s eyes tracked to one side, observed her sister, then returned to watching the USS Augusta trundle carefully into the harbor.
“The Romanovs.” Luna flicked an ear, and an unfortunate mosquito died before it could draw blood. “You said the survivors were carefully hidden. So carefully that even I could not be trusted with their location.”
“The communists have ears everywhere. You cannot say what you do not know, even by accident. Even my connections to the family go through two blind drops.”
“So at the Potsdam conference, I am to be your… stalking horse I believe is the phrase.” Luna huffed out a breath upwards in order to blow aside a small lock of her flowing mane which had fallen free of its ornate moon-shaped clip. “The foolish younger sister who only knows that the Royal House has vanished, and is curious to the point of carelessness in whom she speaks.”
“,” said Celestia from unmoving lips in flawless Russian. “”
“,” said Luna painfully. “”
“I don’t think he speaks Russian,” admitted Celestia. “Only English.”
“Nekulturny,” murmured Luna before switching back to her crisp Equestrian. “How can they rule without knowing the minds of their enemies?”
“He rose to a place in their Senate, and prospered greatly under the weight of war, even as the lesser ruler of their land, so he is a rare breed. Do not underestimate him, Luna. This modern era has produced men and weapons unimagined at the time of your banishment. Did you read the latest report from Moondancer on the Trinity bomb?”
“Truth.” Luna turned her head to watch one of the floatplanes from the USS Philadelphia soar overhead, being trailed by two Equestrian guards flapping for all they were worth to keep up. “Do you think mankind will ever reach our heavens in such crude machines?”
“It is our responsibility to protect them and guide them to their destiny, much like our little ponies.” Celestia let out a brief and almost inaudible sigh as the crew of the USS Augusta struggled with getting their motor launch into the water for the short trip over to the docks where the two Equestrian princesses were waiting patiently.
“And that means resisting the urge to just push,” murmured Luna. “That doesn’t mean I can’t think about flying over there and helping them get their little rowboat untangled.”
— Break —
October 3
“So…” Princess Luna stopped fishing around the bottom of her box of Oatie-O’s for the decoder ring toy and fixed her sister with a baleful glare, but before she could say anything else, Celestia dropped the newspaper on their breakfast table with a thud.
“After Twilight visited us yesterday, she did an interview with a reporter from the Canterlot Sun,” said Celesita in a rather abstracted voice. “The one I told her not to talk to, ever.”
Luna rattled her empty cereal box, then regarded the imprint of small draconic claws on the cardboard with a sudden look of insight. “Oh,” she added.
“I’m going to be talking to reporters for weeks on this one,” muttered Celestia, who floated out a slice of bread and insta-toasted it to charcoal with her magic. “Appropriate amount of cake intake based on her size and weight indeed.”
“Humph,” said Luna, then suggested, “Do you want me to let something out of Tartarus to keep your student and her friends busy, Celly? It’s really no problem.”
“No,” said Celestia, then turned the newspaper page to where ‘Candid photos of Princess Celestia from her years of education’ was profiled. “Yes,” she added. “Something big, with sharp teeth.”
October 4
The Last Nightguard
🌙
“Lieutenant Eclipse.” Despite the chaos and incipient panic of the situation, Princess Celestia’s voice was clear and sharp as a razor, leaving the guard in question to twitch under his dark armor.
“Yes, Your Highness,” responded Eclipse once he had turned and faced his Dread Sovereign, Princess Celestia, Ruler of the Day and Commander of the Sacred Band, who was standing on the cloud of her temporary command post.
Smudges of dirt and soot stained Her Highness’ coat in messy blotches, and part of her mane had been burnt to a grey frazzle, but her violet eyes paralyzed Eclipse with the terror of the criminal who did not know just what crime had just been uncovered. Those firm lips were drawn back into nearly a grimace, and it was only then that Eclipse saw the long charred mark on her side that Celestia was covering with a bent wing.
“Your fellow Nightguards doth not seem to share your dedication to Our cause,” said Celestia slowly. “What prevents you from taking up their dark mantle and serving Our sister in her rebellion?”
“They’re wrong,” blurted out Eclipse. “Something evil has taken control of your sister. That’s not her anymore, and anypony who takes her side is a traitor to the Crown. My loyalty is to both you and Princess Luna. That thing is an abomination that needs to be destroyed.”
There was a distinct softening in Celestia sharp glare, and she dismissed him with a curt nod of her head.
“Go. The evacuation is nearly complete, and Our forces have drawn the traitors away for the moment. I must face my sister alone.”
“But… What are your orders?” he asked, feeling more like a fresh cadet than a veteran of the Guard.
“You are my last loyal Nightguard,” said Celestial quietly. “Assist with the evacuation and use your own initiative,” she added, turning on her cloud without another word and plummeting down into the shattered ruins of the palace throne room.
The tearing tension would have been easier if Clip just could hit somepony, but as he circled high around the smoldering and collapsed sections of the palace, the only other ponies he saw were corrupted servants of the Nightmare. They all took one look at his dark coat and proceeded to fly away, assuming he was one of their own despite his lack of bat-like wings and glowing yellow eyes.
Coward. That’s all he was now, without the moral rage to pursue them. He should have been furious at his own friends and fellow guards giving in to the honeyed words of the Nightmare and accepting a fraction of her power as their own.
He did not know why he did not. All he could feel was the sucking cold of his own heart and the chill breeze of his altitude as he soared high above the ground, looking around the area for any ponies who had not been evacuated.
And then… he saw her.
The Nightmare rose on wings of dark flame, so different from the meek Princess Luna he had served for years. He wanted to plummet from the sky and beat her, to inflict on the infernal creature a tiny fraction of the pain she had bestowed on Equestria and the Sun Princess who guarded all. Caution stayed his wings, because he had seen the casual way the creature had dealt with many Dayguards, striking them down with hoof or fel magic and laughing as they fell to their deaths.
And rising like the sun, Princess Celestia ascended from the shattered buildings to take her place opposite the dark princess, glowing just as brightly as the Nightmare burned dark.
He banked slowly, watching in awe as the two faced off in some sort of duel far below him, power versus power, princess against princess, untamed forces of the cosmos in conflict, and in that moment, his heart froze in his chest.
Princess Celestia was going to lose.
She already had lost once, chased through the complicated buildings of the palace as the Nightmare casually blasted away. Now she was injured, tired, and backed into a corner where there was no escape. She was going to sacrifice her own life so the evacuated ponies would have a chance to survive…
His wings tilted down without any thought as power blasted out between the Royal Sisters. As long as they were concentrating on each other, the Nightmare would not notice an attack from behind. It was the only way Princess Celestia could win. The only way the race of ponies could survive. Even when he would not.
Use your own initiative.
Wind screamed past his flattened ears as Eclipse took advantage of every length of altitude he had, trading it for speed while the glowing form of Nightmare Moon grew closer with astonishing speed. There would be no opportunity for any fancy blows or maneuvers at this speed. He would have to strike right at the back of her head, in a blow that would kill him as well when Celestia’s fire became victorious. His own life was meaningless. The last of a noble order who had served the Crown honorably until they had all betrayed their oaths. Guilt gave strength to his wings, pushing him far beyond any chance of recovering from his dive. One last service for Sun and Moon. His own worthless life laid down in sacrifice to save the only Princess worth serving. One blow to kill the sister who Celestia could not bear to strike.
He never even noticed when the coruscating blast of the Elements of Harmony swept over them both.
And then there was nothing.
October 5
Thoughtlets count for this, right? Well, I’m going to count them. See, there’s this story about a batpony in Ponyville, who goes on a fruit-eating rampage, and
https://www.fimfiction.net/story/479402/just-a-bat-a-bat-on-the-hunt-for-headpats
You can tell he wasn't eating apples.
"So..." Officer Rights looked around the market, which was unusually calm, except for the odd line in front of the Apple Family cart. "Does anypony know where the pony is who was causing all the ruckus?"
"Over here," called out Applejack, waving at Miranda from behind her cart. "Might be a bit afore you can pick him up and haul his buns to jail, though."
"Soooo fluffy!" cooed a pegasus, who was bent over and petting something on the ground.
"Come on, come on," groused the pony in line behind her. "Your time's up, and I've got my two bits here, AJ."
"Just put ‘em into the bucket," said Applejack as Officer Rights came around the corner and looked down. At first, she really didn't understand what she was seeing, but after blinking several times, the tied-up batpony with the lump on his head made more sense.
"Stealing apples out of your stand, I presume," said Officer Rights.
"He's paying for them now," groused Applejack. "An' maybe a few bits more to post bail."
"Uhhh," groaned the batpony. "I'm innocent, officer. I was struck by the wild beauty of the place."
Applejack frowned. "Want another lump there, loverboy?"
October 6 (Tuesday)
Substitute Archivist
(Part of the Substitute Librarian Universe)
“Should. Have taken. The elevator.” Emerald could not stop on the Archive tower’s ramp because he was fairly certain he would never get started again, or he would just be stuck there until somepony dragged him off. At least he did not have to worry about slipping down to the bottom of the tower and rolling the rest of the way back to Celestia’s school. The friction spell on the ramp was both a blessing and a curse, which was why he was carrying the heavy boxes instead of pushing the enormous pile of cardboard and supplies ahead of him.
“Never. Volunteer.”
Sun had just barely started to peek over the horizon, marking the time when Emerald normally went jogging for his health. That is his health ever since he had begun volunteering at the Ponyville library. It was a fair certainty that there would be a time in his role as part-time substitute librarian where he would need to make his escape from the town as fast as he could run, and getting that pace up from ‘panting with a slow trot’ to ‘a brisk run for at least a short distance’ was a goal he was close to achieving. After all, Ponyville had six unmarried mares who bore the Elements of Harmony, and even if four of them were not unicorns, his parents would turn cartwheels of joy if he were to be paired up with any Bearer. He would much rather run away, as fast as he could manage.
Without a horn to use as a prybar to wedge open the door to any other career opportunity, Emerald was willing to risk anything to advance his prospective career as a Unicorn Magic Tutor II (Introductory to Intermediate). That included volunteering for additional graduate-level tasks around the university on weekends when ordinary ponies took some time off.
The view from this altitude of the Archive tower would have been more appreciated if the ramp had actual railings, but since industrious magic students studying the spellbooks inside tended to try out newly discovered spells where they found them, the tower was in a constant state of reassembly. Construction workers metaphorically battled against deconstruction students, and railings seemed to be a recent casualty of the conflict.
He brushed one shoulder against the tower wall, and kept his eyes down but open while climbing. That helped keep his mind off the impressive drop to the other side, and the loud splat he would make if he fell.
It took a while to catch his breath at the top of the ramp. Thankfully, there was a lot of breath around to catch, since he had just about run out of up on the way here, and the broad porch with the comfortable bench was the perfect place for him to reconsider his morning task. It also let him actually look at the way the city spread around below him in a way that earth ponies normally did not get to do, except perhaps when falling to their death.
Taking inventory of the huge box full of boxes was not high on Emerald’s list of things to do this morning. If there was anything not in the box he had been given an hour ago and dragged up here, somepony else could walk down to the ground level and get it. This was time to sit back, enjoy the breeze, perhaps lean out and take a nibble of the greenery cascading over the porch’s edge… No, maybe not that. Certainly not that.
His eyes wandered to the nearby minaret, topping the spire with enough space for five or six ponies to live in style. Supposedly, there had only been one old buzzard living here who had been pried out of her Archivist job, but he had absolutely zero interest in applying for the position and taking over her glorious perch. This position was about the antithesis of his life’s goal, far away from young unicorns who pressed up against the edge of their new talents in frantic need of wise adult advice. Or at least the unwise advice of a snarky green earth pony who was more of a child at heart than an adult on the outside.
“Boxes delivered. Task complete,” murmured Emerald under his breath as he stood back up. If the school had wanted him to stick around and help the elderly librarian pack her things, they would have asked. Certainly there were no end of young librarian assistants who would be willing to assist, and if he leaned out just a tiny little bit, he could see the very bottom of the tower’s steps where they— No, it was better to just sit on the bench.
There did not seem to be any other ponies starting their climb anyway, so if he started down now, he would probably meet the old biddy and her minions before the very bottom, and in the rare possibility there was an attractive young mare in the bunch, he would have to find an excuse to hike all the way back up here. Then again, if he was lounging on the porch bench when they arrived, he would be indistinguishable from any other lazy scion of a noble unicorn house, and most probably gifted with mutual scorn from their whole herd.
Of course, there was always the brass token that the library secretary had shoved across the desk at him an hour ago with the muttered instructions of “An’ water the plants while y’r up there afore they dry up.” The greenery around the edge of the porch probably qualified as plants, although the only water he had available was most likely not a socially acceptable method of watering. Which meant the token was probably a key…
The double blue doors opened up soundlessly with a mere touch of the brass token, allowing a breath of cool and dry air to waft past his nose. It smelled of books, ancient texts with unreadable stories trapped inside, notes and undone homework that he really needed to be working on instead of lugging a bunch of boxes to the top of a tower so an old librarian could move out…
Darned reality.
The end of this semester would be a nutcracker, with the last courses of his degree in education giving him the key he would need to unlock a career in unicorn education, as opposed to being shackled to a socially ‘acceptable’ mare and working in his father’s factory until he was old and grey. He had all kinds of things he needed to be doing now that his volunteer project was done. Useful things. Studious things. Poking his nose into an old librarian’s room was not one of them.
He did it anyway.
What little breath Emerald had managed to keep as excess after his climb was taken away in a silent huff of air. The library in Ponyville had given him a rough idea of what librarian living quarters should look like, something spartan like a cross between a military barracks and industrial shelving. This was what the living quarters of a Royal Librarian must look like, if there was a Princess of Books anywhere.
The inside of the living quarters looked larger than what would fit into the outside, which could have been a spatial distortion spell, but was more likely the result of clever engineering and illusions, since neither of those had a tendency to torque back upon themselves and take the room contents into a random orthogonal dimension. The school may have been willing to lose an occasional librarian due to spell failure, but repeatedly replacing the opulent furnishings of the suite would have cost them a bundle.
Whatever unicorn architect who had built the place despised walls. At first glance, the room certainly deserved a second and third glance, along with a few blinks to ensure veracity of the observation. Both the kitchenette and bedroom were exposed fully to any visitors, leading Emerald to the conclusion that this was a private living quarters, or else Librarians led a much more exibitionist lifestyle in secret.
Whoever took this Librarian job next would certainly not be an early riser, because the outside walls of the suite were almost not there, replaced by what had to be the most realistic illusion of the outside world he had ever seen. Nothing like the stunning bay windows surrounding him had been seen from the outside, so that surface of the minaret had to be just as cloaked with illusions as the inside, only with the opposite intention. The first rays of Sun cascaded through the open area in a brilliant dance, glittering off a few small crystals hanging from the ceiling, and bringing light to every section of the room except the bathroom. The brilliant illumination was a far cry from the minimal light let through by two Prench doors in Twilight Sparkle’s austere bedroom in Ponyville, or her small window that had barely enough space for a fern.
He took his time wandering over to the outside wall and looking down at the city. There was no rush, and the apartment only got more beautiful the longer he took. It must have had a stunning nighttime view, with Moon up above and the lights of the city scattered out below, although if there was a way to get the view without the exercise, he would have preferred that. And of course, bringing a mare back to spend the night would be the oddest experience, with every nighttime pegasus flying by seeming as if they could watch everything going on in bed.
So I guess librarians really are secret exhibitionists. Who knew?
If Emerald was going to decorate a Canterlot bachelor pad after graduation, he was fairly sure some other elements of the Archivist’s suite were going to find their way into the design. That is, if the salary of a lowly starting Unicorn Magic Tutor could afford something bigger than a time-share closet inside Canterlot. The giant cushion draped over the couch would be a good start. You could never go wrong with a cushion large enough to make into a book-nest, slumped down with limbs sprawled in all directions for an entire morning of reading. Then lunch, a brief bathroom stop, and an entire afternoon of reading. Come to think of it, all he really needed was a cushion and bookshelves, although even his family library was not stuffed the way these shelves were. Around one side of the room was a tight cluster of floor-to-ceiling shelves with ‘unicorn’ written all over them, since there was also a disturbing lack of ramps to access the top volumes, and only one ladder on the reference section. Even a pegasus librarian would need space to flap, and the way the narrow shelves were packed together would mean shed feathers by the bundle, and a very short flightspan.
“Maybe stopping by to help the old mare move isn’t such a bad thing after all,” mused Emerald as he browsed the shelf’s selections. “She might have at least put her books in order before retiring, though. Oddest sorting ever, other than Ponyville’s.”
The temptation to lift a few of her volumes and spend the morning reading did occur to him, particularly with the fascinating selection, but he was officially here to work after all. A quick search of the kitchenette found a glass pitcher, which he filled partially from the tap, then wandered over to find plants that needed watering in the indoor garden.
“Behold the awesome power of earth pony magic,” he muttered while applying a little water to each plant, a good drink for the short bushes, and sprinkling around as much as he could for the body-length grass patch, which if he had thought about it before watering, would have been a good place to lie down and rest. “No snoozing in the green grass instead of working,” he murmured, putting the last drops from the pitcher into the miniature trees, then heading back to the kitchenette sink to get more water. There were still some tiny bonsai trees in flat pots that needed more precise irrigation, and he was far more careful with them.
“And done. Except for the flowers,” added Emerald. Yet another pitcher of water was needed for that chore, and he nipped a few of the wilted blossoms out of the collection in a rudimentary attempt at arboriculture. A proper earth pony could use their magic to bring some extra perk and bloom out of the neglected flowers, but… Well, it was worth a shot.
The clay flowerpot rasped under his hooves when Emerald held it close, poking his nose into the stems and taking a deep breath, just like he had done so many times at his home’s greenhouse. And now, just as then, his attempts to focus any kind of growing magic into the drooping plant had absolutely no effect.
“At least it didn’t catch on fire,” he mused while putting the pot back into its holder. “I don’t know if that would be better, but at least it would be something for a change. Guess I’m just destined to teach young unicorns.”
He returned the glass pitcher to the kitchenette with a cheerful whistling, then considered a certain organic issue that needed to be dealt with fairly soon. The suite did have a bathroom, after all, and walking back down the way he came up didn’t.
“Better check first,” he murmured to himself. He could get a good look straight down from the not-walls next to the kitchenette just in case the old mare was coming up the ramp to interrupt his bathroom break. All he needed to do was put his hornless forehead against the wall and look straight down at the tiny shapes of ponies so far below, just like when his brothers had taken him to the Edge of Canterlot, and he had leaned over the—
”There’s a second town down at the bottom of the mountain,” said Regal, who was standing next to his little brother’s shoulder. “It’s in perpetual shadow, just far enough away from the overhang to keep rocks from crashing down through their tree houses.”
“I don’t see it,” said the young earth pony, who was maintaining his determined squint and keeping all four hooves on the walkway despite the wind trying to knock off his hat.
“I thought Hollow Shades was on the other side of the mountain,” said Graphite to his other side, although the not-that-much-bigger-brother was not quite as adventurous as his earth pony sibling.
“That’s true.” The little earth pony looked some more and shook his head. “There’s nothing but a bunch of treeEEEK!”
Emerald recovered from his fuge in the middle of the apartment, as far away from the illusionary windows as he could get without trampling through the tiny tranquil indoor garden, although he could only stand and tremble for a time afterward. He could still feel the pressure of the hoof on his back, a ‘joke’ that Regal had set up with several of his school friends who had been flying below the cliff to catch him if he had fallen.
His older brother had considered it funny for an extremely short time, because once Emerald had recovered from his fright, he had torn into the older unicorn with a vengeance. Regal was used to being a large fish in a large social pond with other large fish, in the company of important ponies and always at the best parties. Emerald had always been small despite his age-relative larger stature, because he had been shoved ahead in classes, picked on for being himself, and had learned to defend himself with words, not strength. Unicorn peers had a much more comfortable relationship with a handsome firstborn stallion who always could be depended on for a smile and friendly banter, than the last hornless colt in a family who had been shoved forward in class because he was smarter than them, and was not afraid to show it. By the time Emerald was done, his older brother was crying on the sidewalk, and his two pegasus friends were begging for their lives, afraid that they were about to be thrown into prison.
It was a cold victory, because Regal and Graphite never treated him quite the same again, as the little brother they needed to protect against the world. It was cold inside as well, because Emerald could only think about where he had learned those words, and how to manipulate others into doing his will. Father would have been proud of the way he stood up for himself. Emerald had never admitted it to the rest of his family because of that. His brothers appreciated his relative restraint. Emerald held it as a secret shame.
“I’m not my father,” repeated Emerald under his breath. “I will never be like him. Of course not. He’s not a sociopath pretending to be social. He manipulates ponies right out in the open, while I sneak around behind their backs, pretending to like old librarians by helping them move and volunteering at the Ponyville library.”
It was impossible to sulk quite as hard as he wanted, because so many of his recent good memories were related to that small town and the ponies who lived there. After all, he was seriously needed by the smaller inhabitants, and tolerated by the larger ones. Plus, the town was at the bottom of the mountain.
“I should have been born a pegasus,” he mused as he began to straighten the room and put tipped-over chairs back where they belonged. “I’d probably be as groundbound as Scootaloo or Snowflake. Still a sociopath, though.”
The shelves held a book on sociopathy that he had not read yet, so Emerald made a quick visit to the bathroom to take care of an urgent need, then settled down on the largest cushion to read, once he had brushed away a few loose purple hairs. It was a fascinating read with several parallels to his own life that he had not thought about before, although two chapters in, a nagging thought rose to mind.
So an elderly librarian comes into her home and finds a young colt on her couch, reading a book about sociopaths…
He got up, looking for perhaps a more socially acceptable way to await the old biddy’s arrival, when his eyes fell on the one object he had been avoiding. It was impossible to walk all the way around such a huge object even in this beautiful spacious apartment, because it was inevitable that a piano of this size would find itself pushed to one side of the room and used as a bookshelf. Plus, its bulk would create a gravitational field that attracted objects in the class of ‘Need to be placed somewhere for a moment and forgotten.’
“Terrible shame,” he murmured, running one hoof down the keys in a descending series of notes. “My mother would die to have this in the house instead of that old Wolffhauser. It must have taken an army to bring this up the ramp how many years ago. Or an alicorn…?”
Curiosity was a dangerous thing. The underside of the piano did not give any clue to its legacy, but a small brass plaque on the side sported ornate letters and numbers, giving a date several centuries ago.
“Sheesh,” murmured Emerald, giving the massive ebon body and majestic curves of the ancient instrument a second look with far more respect. “Celestia really must have taken lessons on this thing when she was a foal. And probably hated it just as much, if she dragged it all the way over here for storage.”
The Wolffhauser in his family’s music room was about two octaves smaller than this monster, and just slightly under a century old. Every one of the children had been dragged through lessons except himself, and the resulting sibling bonding had taken off in a direction that his parents had not expected or noticed. When it was his younger sister’s turn to lie down on the padded piano bench and practice for hours, a deal had been struck with her curious older brother. One hour of noisy practice matched against one NuttyOatyOat bar, to be delivered at the earliest opportunity. Many weeks of practice while Frost studied in the same room with earplugs gave him time to get the practice pieces just about as good as he ever was going to get. Of course, all good things—like a dependable supply of candy bars—come to an end when parents find out, and to be honest, it was his fault for failing a test at school due to lack of his study time.
That padded bench was far more comfortable than the black Ironwood of this model, and the upright console keyboard easier to get situated against, but the thick, rich sound that emerged when he pressed the first key made it all worthwhile. He let the music carry him away for a short time, ignoring any mis-struck notes or shift-register misses with the excuse of time and an unfamiliar instrument. Perhaps it was easier now that he was an adult, or maybe the professional piano was balanced more precisely than the Chrysanthemum House heirloom. In either event, it was a welcome break from his normal intensive study schedule, and he was reluctant to stop when he ran out of his limited collection of memorized pieces, so he dug a piece of sheet music out of the bench and battled with Reinbits for a time until he lost the fight.
“I suppose it’s a better place for the retiring Archivist to find me than reading that book,” said Emerald as he slid off the bench and stretched.
He had wasted enough time in idle frittering to put Sun firmly up in the sky, leading Emerald to consider the possibility of the missing Archivist showing up tomorrow. Lurking around the apartment all day and into the night would mean trying to find something to eat in her icebox… which was defrosted with the doors hanging open, so no munchies there. Or the empty pantry, which he could see from the piano bench. There were the flowers in the tiny garden, but they seemed far too small to make a respectable salad, and grazing on the bonsai bushes would ruin all the work some arboriculturist had put into making them all grow in the shapes of various magical notation formula. In other words, it was high time to leave and get some breakfast.
“Welp,” he said, gathering the sheet music book off the stand and opening up the bench to put it away. “Concert’s over for the day and the audience is a no-show. Guess I’ll just have to meet the retiring Archivist some other day. Until later, Miss—” he checked the faded name written on the music book “—Twilight Velvet.”
There was something terribly wrong with that name, but Emerald could not put a hoof on it right away. The ‘Twilight’ part had spooked him at first, but there were families all across Canterlot with a Twilight or two in them. The Archivist could even be Twilight Sparkle’s great-great-grandmother, or no relation at all. Then again, he had access to a library, so there was no need to remain uninformed. A quick stroll over to the reference bookshelf showed a hole where Twerp’s Peerage should be filed, and a few moments of further browsing did not reveal any other reference books on pony families, but the familiar order in which the books had been placed on the shelf started a cold trickle of sweat down his bare flanks.
No. It can’t be her. It has been months since she moved to Ponyville. She has friends there, and a tree home… that leaks, drips, and drafts. Besides, there are all these books.
Ever so slowly, Emerald opened the book on sociopaths to the front page and stared at the bookplate glued there.
While he was frozen in horror staring at the tidy bookplate, Emerald could hear voices outside, and he had a terrible suspicion it was not some elderly librarian from the school with a half-dozen young assistants, but in fact the exact unicorn he had been dodging ever since his first trip to Ponyville.
“Twilight Sparkle,” he murmured to himself. “Twilight Sparkle!” he repeated with more panic. “Oh, stars. She’ll see me here and urk!”
Sheer terror blocked his voice, along with the spine of the sociopathic book which needed to be returned to the exact slot he had taken it from or she’d know and track him down and throw him all the way off the tower and back to Ponyville in one lob if she hadn’t brought one of the Princesses with her because this was Canterlot and she could do that if she wanted to and the room which seemed so huge and uncluttered before was throwing chairs and slick patches of floor in front of him as he dashed over to the bookshelf and jammed the book into an appropriate-sized hole, then looked for a bookshelf hole of his own to hide in perhaps under ‘H’ for Hopeless.
The bathroom was the obvious choice for a non-bookshelf hiding spot since it actually had a door that closed, but there was a second door he had not opened yet, and in the sincere hope it concealed an elevator shaft into the sub-basement, he yanked the door open and vanished inside at about the same time the outside doors opened behind him.
It was dark. That was fine.
It was also not an elevator shaft. That was acceptable also.
There was just enough light from the crack in the door he had just closed to make out the clothes around him and determine his location as ‘closet’ or ‘still doomed, just delayed.’
(incomplete)
October 7
Not much
October 8
Nightmare Night, Windigo Fright was snipped out of this collection and put into a short of its own. Go enjoy!
Green Grass has a new little student named Ooo to escort during Nightmare Night. A very special student, unlike any he has ever seen before.
Let's hope he can survive the experience, and everypony involved learns something from it.
October 9
Brokenimage321 has a crackship idea. I have a suggestion.
https://www.fimfiction.net/blog/920624/odd-au-crackship-idea
Now you've got me thinking about Celestia and Luna reminiscing about their youth and the troubles therein.
"Puberty for an alicorn..." Celestia dropped a sugarcube into her tea and stirred carefully. "It was difficult," she admitted.
"She set things on fire," said Luna with a smirk. "Including foolish young colts."
"Luna!" Celestia placed her spoon down and frowned at her sister. "It was only one colt. And besides, he was getting too cheeky for his own good." After a sip of tea, she added, "None of the rest of them actually caught on fire. They just... smoldered."
"The populace called it the Century of Flames," mused Luna. "Even though it was not a full century. Eighty years, at most.
October 10
A 1940 snipplet:
“I really don’t understand the way ponies do things,” mused Jon under his breath as they walked through the woods. “I mean we’re well into Fall, and yet I don’t see a single leaf falling from the trees.”
“That’s why I brought you out here, now that the doctors have cleared us both for other activities,” said Nightshade, who was walking by his side and only occasionally flicking her tail at his Army trousers. “Humans don’t normally get to see everything we do, and since you’re probably going to be Equestrian Liaison for the duration of the war, it’s a good idea to open your mind to some of our customs. I mean I was totally baffled when I was training in England and leaves kept falling off the trees onto our training facility. Just every minute or two, here came another one, and another one.” She shook her head, letting her dark violet mane cascade around in an obvious signal. Normally, the flirtatious Night Guard was all armored up, but when she wasn’t…
A few scratches behind the ears left Nightshade leaning against Jon’s hip hard enough that he had to stop walking. A few nudges later left the mismatched couple standing just off the side of the forest path, with Nightshade giving off a series of low pants much like a happy dog. The fact she was wagging her tail and giving slow flaps of her membranous wings did not help the domesticated image.
“You’re hopeless,” he murmured, but did not stop scratching.
“Hopeful,” she managed through a low groan. “Gonna get those pants off yet, Lieutenant Walthers.”
“So all the ponies gathered back there for this ‘Running of the Leaves’ have something to do with the leaves falling,” guessed Jon. “I thought it was just one of the festivals where ponies do silly things to enjoy themselves. I mean you have a very beautiful forest here. As opposed to over there where the monsters are,” he added quickly. “And where I don’t want to go again without a tank.”
There was a distant retort of a gunshot, followed by a loud cheer and a noise like thunder.
“Ah, there we go. They’re using a starting pistol this year.” Nightshade stood up and shook off his hand. “Watch carefully. It took a lot of work to find us the right spot.”
“So we can watch the runners?” Jon was going to say more, but the herd of galloping ponies down the path drowned out any other noise, and in mere moments, they all flowed past like a colorful avalanche. It was thrilling, much on the level of the Running of the Bulls in Spain was supposed to be, if he had ever managed to get there.
“That was amazing!” gushed Jon once most of the ponies had passed. “I just don’t understand why we had to be exactly here—”
The rustling noise above him prevented complete surprise, but it was impossible to be prepared for several tons of dry leaves dropping on his head all at once, and Jon was knocked flat. By the time he struggled up to his knees from under the weight of all the leaves, crunching and rustling with every movement, all he could see was a smiling batpony face directly in front of him.
“So,” purred Nightshade, moving up close enough to rub noses. “About those pants.”
October 11
—
January 27, 1967
Cape Canaveral, Florida
—
“Ok, everything’s off but S band.”
There was a period of not-silence in the Command Module as the three astronauts monitored gages and listened to the quiet hiss of the wireless, which was their only connection to the outside world now that Apollo 1’s last umbilical had been retracted.
“Probably be another minute or two before STC finishes switching over,” said Gus. “You five square back there, Princess?”
“All of the equipment appears to be functioning within normal limits,” said Princess Luna. “Although I’m still feeling that odd anticipation that you mentioned before we boarded.”
“Entirely normal, for climbing into something made with a million parts from the lowest bidder,” said Ed with a grin over his shoulder. “Soon as NASA finishes getting your get your ‘38 modified and we get a few days of down time, we’ll take you out to Groom Lake and break it in.”
“I wish they would have let me keep my Phantom,” mused Luna. “A T-38 feels so much like a toy in comparison. And the radios work,” she added, tapping on a signal strength indicator. “Ah, they’re back.”
“Better check in.” Ed White clicked his microphone and announced, “Ah, roger. Senior Pilot counting one, two, three, four, five. Five four three two one, Senior Pilot,” he finished rapidly.
“Ring knockers can count,” said Gus in the following silence. “Who knew?”
“And swim,” added Roger in a light-hearted jab at his fellow astronaut, who had managed to sink the Mercury-Redstone capsule after landing.
“Settle down, children,” chided Luna. “Let’s go over the checklist again.”
“Senior Pilot counting one, two, three, four, five. Five, four, three, two, one,” repeated Ed into his microphone while the rest of the crew checked their way down already checked boxes.
“Signal strength is good,” said Luna, peering at one of her gauges. “Verify channel selected as Black Two.”
“Verified, Mother,” said Ed while peering at his radio knob.
“My checklist is clear. Let me try,” said Roger, keying his microphone. “Well, I haven’t talked to you yet, how’s this? One, two, three, four, five, four, three, two, one.”
In the resulting hiss-filled silence, Ed said, “They’re obviously stunned by the fact that the Navy can count also.”
“Five fingers,” said Luna with a sniff. “And if you call me ‘Mother’ on the air, you’re only going to be able to count to four. You know that, right?”
“Yes, Princess. Just like Deke.” Ed made another scan across his gauges and instruments. “Just as long as I can go to the moon. And talk to Mission Control.”
“All of the checklists are complete. Allow me an attempt at communication.” Luna keyed her microphone. “Observer counting one, two, three, four, five. Spacecraft Test Controller, do you read? Mister Chauvin, please say something because we are not receiving you.”
After a short while, Ed activated his mike and said, “They can’t hear a thing you’re saying.”
“Jesus Christ,” said Gus over the radio, which earned him a sharp glance from Luna.
“Say again?” he asked over the radio, which had given a sharp crackle. “How are we going to get to the moon if we can’t talk between three or four buildings.”
“The radio is drawing power and appears to be transmitting,” said Luna with another sniff. “There’s that sour buttermilk scent again. Overall power usage is slightly above normal— Wait. There’s a spike on AC Bus Two. Check all breaker panels.”
“Clear.” “None tripped here.” “All fine on this side.”
“Well, there’s a wire crossed somewhere,” said Gus. “Could swear I smelled smoke. Look around.”
* * *
October 12
There was a certain protocol to approaching the Spacecraft Test Controller in the middle of a test, and generally it boiled down to “Don’t!” However, since the countdown was at T-10 and holding on the test, and communications between the buildings and the capsule were SNAFU’d at the moment, Deke Slayton decided it was worth the effort more than just continuing to peer at a closed-circuit TV that showed three bored astronauts and one bored Equestrian princess.
“Anything on the communications foul-ups, Skip?”
Skip Chauvin pushed one earpiece of his headset back and looked up at the welcome interruption. “Not much. We can hear them, but they can’t hear us or any of the other buildings right now. Glad this is a test instead of an actual mission. Just a sec.”
Keying his microphone, Skip responded, “We hear you, Observer. Can you hear us yet?”
There was a certain amount of chatter before Gus Grissom growled from the speakers, “How are we going to get to your moon if we can’t talk between three or four buildings?”
“He has a point,” said Deke. “They’re not going up in the real thing unless we can communicate.”
Ignoring his unofficial peanut gallery, Skip keyed his microphone again. “Command Pilot, your microphone is still sticking, and we can hear everything you’re saying.”
There was no immediate response, which let Skip shake his head and repeat, “Senior Pilot, please advise when you are receiving our transmissions again.”
“I’m starting to regret that we didn’t permit any Equestrian technology in the CM. Deke tapped his ear. “They’re short ranged, but we could at least talk to them until LEO when the CM’s high-gain antenna is deployed.”
It was a short walk back to his station where the same closed-circuit TV image of the astronauts awaited him, but the routine rapidly broke down. The black-and-white image’s resolution left much to be desired, but he could see increased movement inside the capsule before the terrifying sound of White’s voice over the radio link.
“Flames! We’ve got fire in the cockpit!”
There were protocols for fire, but there were so many protocols involved in launching that they tended to blur together. The interior of the capsule was pressurized to 16psi of pure oxygen, 2psi over the outside pressure so leaks could be detected. Under that much pressure, just about anything would burn, including flesh. Alarmed voices sounded across the inter-area channels, but none so loud as the inner screaming Deke could hear inside his own head as flames rushed up into the camera lens, then burst outside of the capsule.
Three astronauts that he had spent so much time with and the retired demigoddess ruler of a nation of ponies, gone in moments. As he watched in mute horror, light burst out from the capsule and the observation windows sprayed out in liquid splatters of molten quartz, allowing the flames to roar louder and drive back the still-forming fire fighting crews. Not only had four lives just expired, but quite likely the possibility of any lunar missions from this point on.
Or until he heard the astonishing voice that hammered through the entire launch complex, shaking the walls and shattering glass in its wake.
“ATTENTION HUMANS! WE NEED A SHIP OUT PAST THE BEACH WITH MEDICAL PERSONNEL NOW!”
The sound of broken window glass crashing to the ground had not stopped by the time NASA personnel had begun to move.
* * *
The first call to President Johnson had been the most difficult that James Webb had ever made since he took up the position of Administrator of NASA. Now he faced an even more difficult call that his secretary was taking care of right now, by way of an overseas cable to the nation of Equestria.
“Sir?” The middle-aged secretary peeked into his office. “We have a connection on line one.”
“Thank you.” James pressed the indicated button on the phone, and the tiny light lit up. “Is this Princess Celestia?” he asked with no little hesitation.
“Yes it is, Administrator Webb,” sounded a pleasant voice that James had heard only once before. “I presume you are calling because my sister is in some sort of trouble with the local police and a bar?”
“Actually, no.” He took a short breath. “There’s been an accident during the testing of the Apollo One Command Module. Your sister was badly burned, but stable. She managed to teleport the three other astronauts to safety in the ocean along with herself before the fire became uncontained. Commander Grissom did not survive, but the other two astronauts are currently— Hello? Princess Celestia?”
* * *
October 13
“Flight Four Five Niner, turn to heading Seven Zero degrees, maintain current speed and altitude for intercept.”
“Niner, confirmed.” Eddie turned the eager nose of the F-106 Delta Dart to the new vector with his wingman keeping perfect distance off his right wing, just like another training mission. Only training missions did not come with unidentified aircraft fitting no known profile blazing across the Atlantic at just barely under the speed of sound. Angels Twenty was too low for a supersonic Soviet bomber, too fast for a Bear, too high for a bird, too fast for a commercial aircraft, and from the sounds of the controllers, just barely enough RCS for them to track. It helped that the bogey was traveling in an almost-perfect straight line, but if it was some sort of secret Soviet weapon, it made no sense for it to be traveling to Florida’s southern tip.
“Maybe Santa Claus forgot a present,” said Cougar, his back-seater and perpetual practical joker.
“Maybe you should be trying to pick up the bogey on the radar,” he retorted.
“Scope’s clear. Nothing but… Wait a minute.” The aft visibility in a F-106 cockpit was lousy, but Ed could see Cougar using his non-regulation binoculars to peer out of the canopy on the left side. “Tally-ho, bogey has his lights on. Single landing light, no details due to glare. Check range.”
“Command, this is Four Five Niner. We have visual. Confirm bogey’s range to our position,” snapped Eddie over his radio.
“One seven miles and closing. Reduce speed to six five zero knots, change altitude to…”
For several minutes, Captain Eddie was less a pilot and more of a mechanical appendage to his expensive aircraft. His wingman had been stationed a mile behind and slightly higher to keep them both in sight as Eddie nudged his interceptor off the left wing of the unidentified craft.
They flew parallel to the unidentified object for a short time before Eddie said, “Hey, Cougar. Isn’t that a horse?”
“A pegasus,” corrected Cougar. “Flew with a couple during the war, but that’s… Oh, hell. It’s her.”
There was a brief clatter as Cougar got his binoculars out again. “Captain, target verified as alicorn princess, identity Princess Celestia. And yes, I’m fucking sure. Call it in.”
Eddie did, and cruised in relative silence a few hundred feet off the brilliant alicorn’s left wing for a time. It seemed surreal that an organic creature of flesh and blood could maintain that kind of speed at this altitude, but she was, so he had to admit the reality of the situation over the theory, at least for now.
Eventually, the radio crackled back to life, with a completely new voice. “Flight Four Five Niner, you are ordered to accompany Princess Celestia through the North American Air Defense Zone for as long as you are able or until she reaches her destination of Cape Canaveral. You are cleared to jettison any external armament, or land at any available air base in order to carry out your orders. Do you copy, Niner?”
“We copy. Request verification of orders, code Whisky Kilo Romeo Seven.”
“Verified. Countersign Oscar Hotel Bravo Bravo.” There was a brief pause. “Flight Four Five Niner, be advised you will be joined by a pair of T-38 aircraft from NASA when you approach Canaveral. Until then, we will be monitoring you on this frequency.”
“Roger, Central. Hatchet, you heard the man. Jettison all external stores and prepare for a long cruise.”
The two F-106 interceptors touched down at Cape Canaveral Air Base some time later with less than twenty gallons of usable fuel onboard. Princess Celestia did not land until she reached the hospital.
* * *
October 14
There were accusatory silences, angry silences, cold silences, and uncomfortable silences, but Deke Slayton had never experienced an alicorn silence before.
Or worse, a double-alicorn silence.
It was supposed to be a meeting of high-level NASA project leads and managers to determine just exactly how or if the Apollo project was going to continue after the fire. There were not supposed to be any astronauts of any species in attendance, but there they were, like the proverbial elephant in the room, standing at the far end of the table.
There had not been enough mimeographed copies of the agenda to provide both Princess Celestia and Princess Luna with their own copies, but by some unseen power, there had been a shuffling of papers amidst the team leaders, and two copies of pink paper now rested in front of the alicorns, along with an official NASA pen and two cups of coffee. Black.
Somebody had to say it, and Deke was at least in theory the man who selected who went into the sky and who stayed on the ground. He took a breath, looked at Luna, and all the words he planned on saying just wandered away somewhere.
The friendly alicorn that he had gotten to know over the last two years looked hideous, having more bandages than exposed coat, and a cautious tread when entering the room with her sister at her side. Molten nylon and plastic had not all been able to be trimmed out of her dark hair, and several of the bandages weeped small damp patches. Her mane had fared the worst, having burned itself completely free and leaving blistered skin in its wake from forehead to shoulders. The eyepatch only completed her terrifying appearance, although the one eye visible had a look to it that bore no sympathy for anybody who might try to restrict her activity due to her injuries. Still, he had to try.
“Princess Luna, I know how hard you worked to get here, and how much you want to remain in the astronaut program, but your injuries—”
“Will heal,” said Luna in a raspy voice. The coffee on her side floated up to her lips, she took a brief sip, and pretended not to notice when it wobbled slightly on the way back to the table. “We have been injured far worse. Thankfully, my injuries should not delay your moon-landing program.”
“No,” said Deke just as hard as he could, despite the glare he was receiving from the other end of the table. “We don’t have any other Equestrians in the space program, and not enough time to train one of your unicorns to take your place for our earliest scheduled attempt.”
“Not a unicorn,” said Luna briskly. “The position I secured in your program is uniquely suited for an alicorn’s strength, both in magical power and endurance. Since I knew there was a possibility that I might be disabled or unable to continue my training, we have a second alicorn who has been training in secret.”
Despite his best efforts, Deke’s neck muscles moved his head slightly until he was looking at the larger bulk of Princess Celestia. He was by far not the only human in the room who did so, but Celestia only looked startled, then burst out into a brief and quite unladylike snicker.
“Oh, no,” said Luna, who seemed to be controlling her own smile. “And not Twilight Sparkle, either, although she has expressed considerable interest.”
“Well, there’s only four—” started Deke before realization cascaded in and hit him on the head. “Oh, no. Hell no.”
“Oh, yes,” said Luna.
* * *
October 15
Date: January 30, 1967. Three days after the tragic Apollo 1 fire.
“Cape Canaveral Tower, this is Wonderbolt One. Request permission for tower flyby before landing.”
“I’ll talk to our prospective astronaut,” said General Russell, picking up the microphone from the tower controller. “Wonderbolt One, this is restricted airspace. You are cleared to land, and that’s it.”
“Roger that, Tower,” responded the cheerful female voice that General Russell had last heard warbling out some pop tune from his radio. “We’ll just get set up for our approach. Is the pattern clear?”
“Affirmative, Wonderbolt One,” said Russell. “Airspace has been cleared for your arrival.”
“Great. We’ll just get set up and be there in a moment, Tower. Formation Starburst, Bolts.”
“Formation Starburst?” Russell looked around the tower and the half-dozen officers who had managed to wrangle the best seat on the base to watch the arrival of the Crystal Empire’s young heir and Princess of the Pop Charts. “Anybody know what that is?”
“I can take a guess, sir.” A colonel pointed at a cluster of dark dots sweeping down out of the sky. “Oh, hell. They’re on burner. HIT THE DECK!”
Six F-4EE fighter jets blazed down the runway less than fifty feet above the ground, locked together so tightly that they looked like one massive airplane with twelve glowing exhausts. An F-4 on afterburner was a bone-shaking experience by itself, but six of them traveling just barely below the speed of sound hammered the control tower so hard it was impossible to be heard over their thunder. Then they reached the end of the runway and screamed into the sky, higher and higher with colorful smoke trailing after them until they burst in six different directions. The corkscrewing fighter jets meshed and interwove, leaving a perfect pattern of a blue heart on a shield suspended in the humid Florida air, then peeled off by singles to make their landing approaches.
“If I was her father, I’d kick her ass to the moon,” grumbled General Russell.
Gus Grissom — Command Pilot
Ed White — Senior Pilot
Roger Chaffee — Pilot
STC: Spacecraft Test Controller Skip Chauvin
Deke Slayton
October break XXth
Harry Potter and the Pony Princess
Done in memory of James and Lily Potter
Taken from us this October 31, In the Year of Our Lord 1981
Their sacrifice will not be in vain.
“Avada Kedavra!”
There was a blinding flash of green light out in the hallway, and Lily Potter felt her heart tear in half. There was no mistaking that voice or the rushing noise of the Killing Curse, and the solid thud of a body hitting the floor meant that her brave husband had been cut down almost casually by Lord Voldemort, much like thousands before him.
They were supposed to be safe here. The Fidelius charm was unbreakable… unless the Keeper gave up the Secret voluntarily.
“Peter, you rat!” she hissed under her breath. It took barely two steps to reach the crib and scoop up Harry, but a quick spell to check showed Apportation was completely out of the question, and the Floo network was compromised by enough of the Dark Lord’s followers that using it would be nothing but an elaborate way to commit suicide.
Trapped, just like a rat. The bitter irony was palatable, considering who had betrayed them.
“Lily Potter,” hissed a cold voice from out in the hallway, something that could not have been and was certainly not human. “There is no need for further bloodshed. I want only the boy.”
“No!” Lily tightened her grasp on little Harry, who stirred restlessly in his sleep.
“Be reasonable,” came the voice again.
Rage boiled up in her heart, an incoherent fury that blotted out the rest of Voldemort’s honey-flavored words. His very presence made Lily feel most unreasonable, a spitting mother bear trapped in her den with one surviving baby to protect against the wolves. It did not matter what he said. He could promise life eternal for all his followers, but all he delivered was death and destruction. Life was more than words. Women understood the precious nature of life more than any man. Far more than a bond of blood, birth was life given substance from life. She had carried her infant in her womb before he even had a name, slipped out of the house in secret to visit Petunia when she was likewise growing a child within, and marveled in the way little Harry had seemed so perfect in every way after she had suffered through the agony of childbirth.
She was his, by blood and death, one flesh made from two people and the love which bound them together. No mortal force deserved to threaten such a bond, and Voldemort had just casually killed her mate the same as he was about to kill her and the child which she had born. No matter what kind of rage filled her heart, or the love of her ancestors reaching back through the ages, she lacked the power to save her son.
Except…
She forced her concentration down past the soft words of Voldemort coming from the corridor, away from her husband lying dead on the floor, into the depths of the spells they had unearthed together from libraries and crypts in their search for something, anything to stop the Dark Lord. Never take anything for granted when reading a spell from somebody with the title ‘The Insane’ but the convoluted spell, twisted as it was, had not seemed impossible until she and James had reached the end of the page and found that it required an incredible amount of power plus the death of two people to send one to safety.
It was a gamble worthy of insanity, but she was out of cards in the game, and insanity was all she had left to save Harry and send him to someplace safe from Voldemort.
But where?
Petunia’s home was the obvious choice, but she was a Muggle, and worse, had reacted to Lily’s pregnancy with all the enthusiasm of somebody being told they were due for some terrible and invasive surgery. She was the only living family Lily had left,
Even if Lily’s insane gamble paid off and Voldemort died, she had heard the rumors being whispered. He would return, and there was no place in the wizarding world where a tiny child could be safe.
Her eyes stopped their frantic scanning of the nursery, and a small smile crept onto her face by stages. It was not a pleasant smile, but one that a shark might flee from in abject terror. Keeping the sleeping child in her left arm, Lily began to work her magic even as the quiet footsteps from the outside hallway grew louder.
* * *
Albus Dumbledore was not accustomed to being baffled. He was also not used to being second to the scene when something went wrong. The crowd outside of the Potter cottage had been trivial to slip through undetected, but the wreckage inside showed signs that another wizard had already been here and gone. Still, it was far too easy to piece together what had happened right up to a particular point, at which things became downright odd. And that was saying something for the Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards, who had seen more oddities over his lifetime than even he believed.
He was still considering when another presence in the ruined house became obvious, and Dumbledore remained in the nursery while his steps drew closer.
“Hello, Kingsley.” The ever so faint rustling behind Dumbledore stopped, then returned as the dark form of Kingsley Shacklebolt slipped into the room with his wand still held loosely in one hand.
“Dumbledore,” he murmured in return, his alert eyes never stopping their constant scanning for danger. “Why did I know you would be here.”
“How could I be anywhere else at this time?”
He touched the cold hands of Lily Potter and folded them back onto her chest, then remained quiet for a time in respect for the departed. He had seen too many fall in his life, young and old, cut down by the inevitable scythe of Death. Dumbledore had shared his knowledge of the three Deathly Hallows with few other members of the Order, but the Potters had one of them while he himself had another. If only James had not allowed a feeble old man with delusions of redemption to borrow the Cloak of Invisibility for closer inspection, the promising young man would be alive now, hidden with his family away from the reach of Voldemort.
“James is out in the hallway,” said Kingsley, who crouched down beside Dumbledore much the same way as a lion might before he pounced. “But I suppose you knew.”
“Regrettably, yes.” Dumbledore stood up, his eyes searching amongst the wreckage of the nursery for a clue to the child’s location. “I am more concerned about who is not present who should be.”
“What?” Kingsley stood up in a rush, wand out to defend himself and looking around twice as rapidly. “Is Voldemort still here?”
“In a fashion.” Dumbledore lit his wand and played the light over a faint tracery of dust in the doorway where Kingsley had just come through. It stopped the auror dead in his tracks, and he stared for a time before venturing a single word. “Voldemort?”
“The mortal remains of Tom, otherwise known as such, yes.” Dumbledore paused a moment with remorse. Such a long chain of deaths, from from Gellert Grindelwald, to Tom Riddle, to meeting his end at the wand of a mother defending her child. And yet, there was something more that was tugging at his mind, even more than the missing child. He could not believe for a moment that the great mind and enormous power of Tom Riddle, who had risked everything to cheat death, was really dead. After all, at Hogwarts he had looked in so many places for power over death, and to have suddenly stopped looking was… suspicious, at best.
Even as he was thinking, a stray gust of wind from the vast rents in the cottage walls and roof swept over the ashes, and they were gone.
“The Potters had a child, as I recall,” said Kingsley. “Harold?”
“Harry.” Dumbledore swept his wand over the empty crib with a frown. “A most clever child, filled with potential, much like his parents. Although I do not believe Voldemort’s Death Eaters spirited him away in the confusion. Nor did he die.”
“So where is he?” The auror scanned the room again, casting several detection spells to no avail.
“Someplace safe, far away from here, where the remainder of Voldemort’s Death Eaters will never find him.” Dumbledore touched a section of charred wallpaper and smiled just a little under his beard. “Lily Potter was a powerful witch indeed, and I believe she has entrusted her child with a guardian that Tom Riddle would never comprehend and could never reach, even if he searched forever.” He stood abruptly and put away his wand. “Please make the arrangements for the family. I must go speak with an associate of mine to see if he can shed any further light on certain details.”
“And what of the boy?” Kingsley gestured with his wand outside of the cottage, where the gathered numbers of witches and wizards continued to grow. “What do I tell them, old man?”
“Why, the truth, of course. That Voldemort is dead. He died attempting to kill the Potter child when the spell he used rebounded on himself. And as for Harry…” Dumbedore let out a subdued chuckle. “Tell them he survived, and has been hidden well for his own protection. The press will eventually find out that I was here, and shall leap to the wrong conclusion, as usual.”
“That’s it?” Kingsley put away his own wand and stepped away from Lily Potter’s body, who had a smile even in death. “They’ll go mad, old man. It will be a celebration like nobody has ever seen before. Everyone will be dancing in the streets.”
“True.” Dumbledore’s head bowed, and he looked down at the still form of Lily. “There is no joy without pain in this world, no victory without sacrifice. Go and spread the word, my friend. Let them mourn the deaths of James and Lily Potter, and rejoice in the boy who lived.”
Then there was a whirl of apportation, and the Auror Kingsley Shacklebolt was the last living creature in the room. He let out a huff of exasperation, took one last look at Lily Potter’s body, and began to pick his way through the debris on his way outside, where he would have to tell the world the good news.
Behind him, a tattered scrap of singed wallpaper waved in the breeze, making the collection of colorful ponies on it dance in joy.
—- October Something
EQG Applejack has a case of Corona
“Freeze! Hands up!”
Rainbow Dash backpedaled, her hands up in the air and her eyes as wide as saucers. “Twilight! I swear I didn’t eat the cookies in the kitchen you were saving for the party. Well, maybe one or two. I brought tequila for the shots! The good stuff, not the cheap rotgut that Sunset Shimmer buys out of the back of the liquor store and I wasn’t supposed to tell you that! I don’t want to die!”
“You’re not going to die!” Twilight Sparkle worked the charging lever on the massive gun she was holding, something that could have been out of a science fiction story with flashing lights and a laser targeting dot that wavered all around Rainbow’s vicinity. “You’re going to live! The virus is going to die instead, thanks to my Sanitizinator! Take that!”
The futuristic gun whirred up to speed with a howl of turbines, then gave out two discrete coughs.
Phut! Phut!
There was a deathly silence, then Rainbow Dash slowly lowered her hands and took a sniff.
“Hand sanitizer?”
“Rub it in good, Rainbow,” said Twilight, checking the level of the liquid tank on her gun. “All of the girls are going to be here tonight, and we can’t take the risk of a Coronavirus infection getting loose in the group.”
“I’m not coming out again!” announced Pinkie Pie from the kitchen. “Last time, you used up all of the alcohol in the bar to make hand sanitizer.” She sniffed. “Those poor California wine spritzers. Cut down in their prime, before we could even get started on our Lockdown Shakedown Drink Around The World Celebration!”
“We need the hand sanitizer more than we need the alcohol, Pinkie. Well, they’re both alcohol, but one is for external use and the other internal.” Twilight stopped to think for a moment, then swung her massive cannon to point at Rainbow Dash again. “Do you need more sanitizer, Rainbow?”
“No! No, I’ve got this,” said Rainbow Dash, rubbing her hands together as fast as she could until flames ignited, and she had to extinguish them by slapping. “Whoops, little too fast there. Where’s Rarity?”
“Back in the den with her sewing kit,” said Twilight.
“I’m creating!” sang Rarity’s voice from the distant room.
“I just don’t know if the masks she’s making will help,” said Twilight in a rush. “I mean I did extensive research into the type, ply density, attachment points, materials, usage, and permeability of existing masks, and the science keeps changing on me. First, we were told masks were a critical part of keeping safe, then we were told they really had no effect except for medical personnel using N95 masks, then we were told to wear them everywhere or we’d be fined, then the World Health Organization says they’re useless again! It’s like somebody’s badly written fanfiction!”
“Hey!” said Rainbow Dash. “Even I wouldn’t write anything that dumb.”
Fluttershy looked up from where she was petting a kitten on the couch and pulled out her phone. “Just a moment. Applejack is calling.”
“I hope she’s bringing more hand sanitizer.” Twilight hefted her massive gun and checked the level indicator. “I only have five gallons left, and she’s supposed to pick up a barrel at the Cosco.”
“A barrel of sanitizer?” scoffed Rainbow, who had scooted out of the line of fire. “Isn’t that overkill?”
“It’s the only defense against Coronavirus we have!” Twilight attached another bottle of hand sanitizer to her weapon and watched it slowly glug into the nearly full tank. “There’s never been an effective vaccine against anything in the Coronavirus family, all of the scientific journals are all over the map on the use of masks, and even regular soap doesn’t provide a full defense!”
“Against a disease which hospitalizes a microscopic percentage of people our age, according to Starlight,” countered Rainbow. “Old folks are a lot more in danger, which is why Granny Smith is holed up in their house with Apple Bloom to do the chores, and Applejack is sleeping over here at my house. She says Granny set up their sheep dip tank, and anybody who wants to come over has to be dunked first.”
“That’s… good, I suppose,” admitted Twilight. “Where is Big Mac sleeping?”
“None of your business,” said Fluttershy quietly. “What’s that, Applejack?” she added into the phone. “Oh, not you. I was talking to Twilight about… nothing. Nothing at all.”
“Ask her what’s taking so long,” said Rainbow Dash. “It’s not a real quarentine party without underaged drinking and a good game of Truth or Dare.”
“I don’t understand why we need to have a party to celebrate a pandemic,” said Twilight. “I mean we all have homework to catch up on, and more books to read—”
“And Netflix,” murmured Fluttershy once she had hung up the call. “Curled up on the couch.”
“Hey, I’ve got things I want to be doing too,” said Rainbow Dash. “But we’re all friends, and we need to spend time together for support during this stressful time. You, for example, are tighter than a guitar string.”
“I am not!” Twilight Sparkle twitched at the sound of somebody on the front porch and whirled around with her Sanitizinator beginning to give off an ominous hum. “What was that?!”
“It’s Applejack,” said Fluttershy, who had returned to petting the kitten. “Sunset Shimmer said they were just pulling into the driveway when I called. They were late because Applejack got a case of Corona.”
“What!”
Before Twilight could continue, the front door of the house slammed open and Applejack stepped inside with a square package under one arm. “Hi ya’all! I’m here, and I’ve got Corona!”
Twilight screamed.
The Sanitizinator howled with an ear-splitting series of ‘splats’
And an Applejack-shaped figure stood in the doorway, dripping large blobs of translucent goo.
“Twilight?” Sunset Shimmer peered around the doorframe, trying not to get her feet wet in the growing puddle of hand sanitizer around Applejack’s boots. She held out a plastic bag that clinked and added, “If you don’t like Mexican beer, I brought some replacement wine coolers. Provided you hold your fire.”
— Break October 16
Briendship with Fenifits - An Equestria 1940 story
Everything was going backwards. He was a historian, not a Royal Guard. His career was supposed to be teaching tiny unicorns their first magic, not… whatever he had become over the last few weeks. The linguist part of his extensive education had come in handy, to say the least. He really should have spent more time on Spanish, to be honest, but his German enunciation had saved his life, and if he had not gotten at least semi-fluent in English, he would have gone through the entire raid on Castle Wewelsburg with the Americans going, “What? What?”
Father had always said he needed to get out of Canterlot and expand his horizons. Well, traveling from the heart of Germany to the Teyacapan temple in South America on dragonback had expanded the holy hell out of them. On his return to Equestria, he had spent a full week doing nothing but writing notes, out of abject terror and anticipation of being called before Princess Celestia to personally give a report, What I Did On My Summer Sun Celebration Vacation.
What was worse, the borrowed guard armor was starting to feel natural, and although it did not carry the enchantments of real Royal Guard armor, it had proven capable enough to stop blowgun darts and deflect most flint-tipped arrows, so he had developed a certain attraction for its care and wear.
There was another attraction that it had indirectly caused, and ‘Green Mountain’ was quite simply, and in all ways, screwed, backwards and forwards.
“Pardon me?” Princess Celestia’s brilliant and only personal student regarded him from across the coffee shop floor, dressed in a quizzical expression and overstuffed saddlebags, brimming over with books and notes. “Green Mountain?”
He stood carefully, trying not to dislodge any of his notes he had scattered over the table, and gave a respectful bow to the young unicorn at the doorway. “Over here, ma’am.”
The wince when he used a term more suited for an elderly unicorn was fairly easy to conceal, because he had been working with a whole set of elderly clerks and researchers for the last full week. At least the only deadly threats to his life there was a fetlock-cramp from using a graphite scriber or quill cuts in his cheek from writing.
“I wasn’t sure you had gotten my message, because it’s been so chaotic around Ponyville, and I really didn’t want to write it at first because I didn’t know if you wanted to see me again but I talked it over with Pinkie Pie in about as indirect fashion as I could without using names and she told me that if you didn’t want to see me again after our… meeting, that writing a letter wouldn’t have any influence on your decision and if you did want to meet, somepony has to take the first step or we’ll just pine away for each other until we got old and grey and wrinkled—”
“Miss!” His quick wave got the attention of the server, and two quick nods brought her over with a pair of steaming cups. “Thank you. Please add it to the tab.”
“I wasn’t aware the Royal Guard had a tab here, Green Mountain,” said Twilight Sparkle, once the server had trotted back to another customer.
“They don’t,” said Green Mountain. “I didn’t want us to be disturbed, so I opened a personal one with a deposit and a hefty tip in advance. And please call me Greenie.”
“That’s… um… practical,” said Twilight. She took a sip of her coffee and fractionally relaxed into her chair, then took a second sip. “And good. Thank you.”
“It is the least I can do in my role as your…” A word deserved to go there, and nothing in the five languages that he knew seemed to fit. Concubus maybe, although it was not in any dictionary he had referenced. Twilight seemed to be looking for words in the same vicinity also, if the gradual blushing of her ear-tips was any indication. Thankfully, his armor enchants and illusions most probably hid his own warming ears. Hopefully.
“Yes… That’s really what… Are these your notes?” Greenie had not realized how entranced he had become of Twilight Sparkle’s eyes until she looked down and away from his own. “I brought my own notes from my Norway trip, but you saw South American native temples?”
“Technically, I started the trip from the same place you did.” Greenie pushed forward the temple sketch he had done. “It’s just our targets in Europe were different.”
“Wait a second.” Twilight’s alert eyes darted around the scattered paperwork, then flickered up to look him straight in the face. “You said you were a university drama student, and not a Royal Guard. How did you wind up in Europe in the attack?”
“History student,” corrected Greenie. “I was taking a drama class when they were looking for drama students to pose as Royal Guards around the palace. That worked rather well, until they came sweeping through the palace a few nights after we… met, and next thing I knew, I had a spear and an assignment on a dragon to… It got really weird after that. Weirder,” he said apologetically. “I didn’t have much of an opportunity to back out, and they really needed translators, so…”
“So, where did you wind up once you got back to Canterlot?” asked Twilight, but immediately added, “Unless you can’t tell me.”
“Temporary job at the Bureau of Event Verification of Individual Liberations,” said Greenie. “We take all the reports received from the rescued ponies and the rescuers, sort it into useful and translated form, and give it to the analysts at the Unspeakable Department. We do some follow-up interviews, contact humans and other creatures involved in the rescue, and try to put together a picture of what Germany was and is up to.”
“It sounds classified,” said Twilight cautiously.
“I reviewed your classification level.” Greenie shrugged with a clunk of his armor. “There are only four ponies at that level. Three of them are alicorns. And one of them assigned me to you during your Canterlot visit today. I suspect she’s pink.”
Twilight Sparkle’s ears pinked up again, and she took a quick sip of coffee to hide her blush. “I didn’t tell Cadence about what we did.”
“And I didn’t tell anypony,” added Greenie. He hesitated, then took a sip of his own coffee. “You know, this could be considered to be the date you promised when we—” he cleared his throat “—met. I really didn’t expect one, since you’re the Princess’s personal student and everything, and I know you have to be aware of all the rumors that would go around if you met with me, but then I got your note and the order from Captain Ironhide for Green Mountain to be your escort, and I thought maybe you told—”
“No?” squeaked Twilight with her head down and her eyes darting around the half-empty shop.
Giving her a gentle pat on the fetlock, Greenie waited until Twilight Sparkle had calmed down before continuing. “Relax, young lady,” he rumbled in his best Deep-And-Reassuring Voice. “With the armor’s illusions, all we are is Princess Celestia’s student meeting with a random totally generic guard in a more informal setting than the palace so we can go over security protocols or some other important trivia. That’s why I wore the armor here today. I was fairly certain you didn’t need the stress after your trip to scenic Vemork, Norway.”
“Actually…” Twilight reclaimed her foreleg and pulled one of his sheets of notes over for closer inspection. “Uh… That’s actually why I sent you the note, but before we go any further, I have to ask you how going to Germany wound up with you in South America. Just a summary,” she added quickly. “I’ve got something more important to ask after.”
“Summary. Hm…” Greenie turned slightly and tapped one hoof against his golden shoulderguard, which had a small hole in it. “I’ll let you read the full report and proof it for me, but in short, don’t ever take a job that involves dressing up as a Royal Guard when a war starts. And insist on real armor, not just the thin display pieces they use for visual effect.”
“A little longer description,” said Twilight. “But hurry up. There’s only a few hours before I’m supposed to meet with Princess Celestia for dinner, and I wanted to get somepony… something done before that.”
“Very well, m’lady. The long short summary.” Greenie took a breath. “I took the temp job of acting as a Royal Guard because it sounded nifty. A lot of the guards were out of the palace, and they didn’t want anypony to be suspicious, so they hired us to stand around and be seen. That’s where we met,” he added.
Twilight blushed more and did a poor job of hiding a smile.
“Anyway, after that, I thought for sure I was going to be caught and… whatever they do to poor innocent graduate students who are overcome by the wiles of beautiful mares and dragged into empty guest suites in the palace for immoral debauchery.” Greenie waggled an eyebrow and shared a giggle with Twilight.
“You’re incorrigible,” she managed through a giggle.
“And you’re encourageable,” he continued. “Anyway, a few days after that, there’s this rush of orders, every pony in armor gets hustled to an assembly area, and five minutes later, I’m on a chariot with a group of other specialists. Designated as Linguist, Human, which they wrote on the armor with a grease pencil. Told to stand over there. Told to take this bundle of equipment. Told to mount up on this huge dragon with a bunch of other guards and some humans. Told to stick with AK Yearling and translate where needed. I’m the third son of three,” added Greenie. “I’m used to being told. I didn’t actually get to ask anything until we were sneaking through Castle Wewelsburg, looking for any straggler ponies to rescue.”
“Noted,” said Twilight. “I’ll try never to tell you to do things, only ask. Go on, Mister Mountain. I mean Greenie.”
“Well once the hostages were all accounted for, Miss Yearling was on the trail of an artifact stored somewhere in the basement of the castle.” Greenie swallowed. “There was shooting involved. Some… creatures I don’t want to ever see again. And we found the artifact, which turned out to be a human girl.”
Twilight Sparkle raised an eyebrow. “A human can’t—”
“It made sense later,” said Greenie. “Anyway, it took forever to get back to the dragon, but we got into the air last out of the group and lost track of most of them on the way back until we reached Portugal. I really thought you would be there first, since you had the smallest objective. The teams that went after the German rocket labs came back piecemeal, with a lot of bullet holes but no fatalities.”
“We had one fatality,” admitted Twilight with a tiny twitch around her cheek. “Stone. He was very old, and I don’t think he expected to survive the trip. Dragons will be talking about his death for a thousand years.”
“Shining Armor was worried about you.” Greenie shifted positions in his chair. “I was too. Not as much as him, thankfully. I wasn’t interrogating every pony who landed.”
“He was?” asked Twilight. Some of the tension left her eyes, and she smiled in a way that sent a thrill up Greenie’s neck. He liked that smile, although he had not seen much of her face the first time they met, and it was certainly a distraction from telling her about his trip.
“Once we had some time to recover in Portugal,” continued Greenie, “Miss Yearling and I finished translating some of the diary we picked up during the raid. Turns out the artifact was… like a pin in a grenade. Once it was removed from the temple in South America—”
“Boom,” said Twilight with a shudder. “I’m entirely too familiar with the concept.”
“Also,” said Greenie. “Anyway, we left the rescued ponies there to be picked up by the returning dragons, since there were still some on the way. Then Fang flew us across the Atlantic,” he added casually, which he never would have been able to say before the experience. Twice. And it would have been easier than explaining just why he had volunteered to go with them.
“All the way in one trip?” asked Twilight Sparkle.
“We had an easier time than the Germans a few months ago. Fang flew four days nonstop to Cuba,” started Greenie. “A day to the South American temple that they took two weeks of river travel to reach. Flew over about a half-dozen areas listed in the notes as ‘deadly’ or ‘toxic’ where the German expedition had lost more men. Landed on the top of the temple and lowered ourselves in by rope. Still nearly lost a pony to traps, and left a human behind when we departed. It makes more sense in the report,” he added quickly before the inevitable question from Twilight. “And the world didn’t blow up, so we did something right.”
“You must have been tied up in stress knots when you got back to Equestria.” Twilight began to gather his notes together and sorting them. “I certainly was. Far more than when we met. And I’d like to meet again.”
“Oh,” said Greenie, who began to help gather his notes also until the words soaked in. “Oh?” He shuffled two pages of notes while glancing around the room before adding, “Meet like we met when I was guarding the diplomatic suite? That kind of meet?”
With tiny motions of her head, Twilight nodded also, although her eyes were fixed on the table.
“Ohh… So soon after our first date? I don’t know.” Greenie took a quick breath. “Yes, of course I’d love to… meet with you again,” he added rapidly. “I just have to tease you a little about it first. After all, we didn’t get much time to talk before. Or after, actually.”
“Well, we can’t talk here. Or… meet.” Twilight’s beautiful eyes darted back and forth to watch the other ponies in the shop, which was starting to fill up with the noon crowd. The distraction made it very difficult for Greenie to concentrate on his paperwork picking-up task. “Maybe we could go… to your place for some privacy?”
“I live in a fraternity house on the college campus,” said Greenie. “It’s anti-private. How about your place?”
“My room in the palace is in the Royal wing!” hissed Twilight just barely under her breath. “The guards would know. She would find out.”
“Princess Celestia,” admitted Greenie with a subdued shudder. “No, can’t have that. We certainly can’t go to my room back at home. My parents would… It would not be private at all. Worse than Celestia. They’d tell everypony.”
“Much like if we… met at my room back at my home,” admitted Twilight. “Not that I’d be embarrassed about bringing a stallion home, it’s just that…”
“Parents.” Greenie swallowed firmly and continued, “You wouldn’t be ashamed about… meeting with me, would you?”
“No!” Twilight lowered her voice as several other ponies in the cafe glanced in their direction. “Of course not,” she added much quieter. “You’re a kind, thoughtful, intelligent pony with a clever wit. That’s quite rare. It’s just that… meeting Princess Celestia’s student on a regular basis would garner all kinds of attention from the wrong kind of ponies. I always wondered why they used the phrase ‘Tongues will wag.” She gave a short shudder and bit her bottom lip. “That part’s not bad at all,” she added. “Although I presume if the word got out about our relationship, everything you are trying to accomplish with your education would be tarnished. It would all have a footnote where everypony assumed Princess Celestia was giving you a quiet hoof up just because I like you.”
“And everypony would assume I was just cozying up to you because my family’s House was seeking power,” said Greenie. “Not because I found an intelligent young mare that I’d like to know better.”
There was a period of mutual silence and contemplation, and perhaps a little blushing, broken when Twilight scooped up the last of the notes and put them into Greenie’s saddlebag. “We can talk after. No, we will talk after. I can’t think right now with all this stress.” She paused. “Provided you can walk in public without our plans being obvious, that is.”
“No prob,” said Greenie. “One of the guards showed me how to wear the armor right. Seems they have the same problem when Princess Celestia trots by in a good mood. She wags,” he added with a bit of an embarrassed slouch since the problem was not exclusive to the real guards. “In any event, we have the What identified, but not the Where.”
“Hm…” Twilight concentrated with an adorable frown. “The Archives, maybe?”
“Surrounded by stacks of antique books, in the quietest part of the palace complex,” started Greenie, “including an entire staff of elderly mares with sharp ears who have the unenviable talent of appearing at the worse possible time.”
She had started to look hopeful, but Twilight winced at the end. “Well, we can’t go back to Ponyville and… meet in the library. Nothing stays secret in a small town, and my friends are horrible gossips. I think Pinkie suspects, but she won’t say a word until the surprise party if we make it official. Any other ideas? A hotel, perhaps?”
“That couldn't possibly cause any unwanted attention,” said Greenie in his best deadpan. “The Princess’ Student and a Royal Guard checking into a hotel for the afternoon? I’m fairly sure your brother would break down the door and drag me off by my tail once word got back to him. Double if I ditch the armor and go as myself. The gossip papers would be right there with photographers and—”
“Eww. Yes, I see your point.” Twilight mused over the facts, then moved a hoof under cover of the draping tablecloth to rub a hoof up against his lower fetlock. “Even if Shiny’s in London right now, he would see the articles. Well, can’t you think of somewhere? Or do I need to come up with more incentive?”
“I’m about as incentivized as equinely possible,” murmured Greenie under his breath. “Unless you want to meet right here across the table.”
Giving a short giggle, Twilight brushed her mane back and took a last sip of her cooling coffee. “No,” she added in the middle of another infectious giggle, although she quit rubbing a hoof up against his fetlocks.
“There are some practical logistics involved also,” continued Greenie in an attempt to distract himself from the mental image of a cafe scene that would most certainly not be appropriate for either of them. “We really need someplace quiet afterward, too. I mean you’ve got all your trip notes and I’ve got all mine that we should compare, and I’m not sure how much time we have before your dinner appointment.”
“Mmmm,” considered Twilight, who was eyeing Greenie with… humorous hunger was the best way he could describe it. “I suppose it rules out inviting you along to my dinner with Princess Celestia afterward. She’d see through us like glass.”
“I’ll be at my acting job anyway, guarding the empty human diplomatic quarters inside the palace.” said Greenie as quickly as he could.
“Where we met the first time.” Twilight considered her words, then pushed her empty coffee cup away and stood up to leave. “As I recall, that corridor has a fairly large collection of empty suites. Unlocked.”
“True.” It made perfect sense, so Greenie pushed his own empty cup next to hers and stood up also, taking a little extra time so he was not pinched in delicate areas by the armor. “Each suite has a large desk, and other… furniture for use.”
And the two young ponies strode away to their romantic rendezvous, totally unaware why both of them had been given assignments in Canterlot.
* * *
As a human being surrounded by ponies, Mister Winant was feeling much like he always did when surrounded by humans, since he never was the most cordial of fellows in his social group. Worse, he was surrounded by female ponies, and he had enough trouble with the female of his own species.
“I know it’s been a very long flight, Ambassador Winant,” said the taller of the two Equestrian rulers. “We have so much to discuss regarding relations between our two countries with the growing threat of war, so if you wish to take a nap this afternoon, that’s fine. Or I can assign a guard to guide you around Canterlot’s more interesting areas. Either way, I was hoping we could meet again this evening over dinner.”
“Supper,” said the smaller of the two diety-horses. “If you wished to have dinner with our guest, the hour has already passed. Beg pardon for the actions of my sister, Ambassador Winant,” added Princess Luna. “She has grown far too comfortable with her language to keep up with the current vernacular.”
“Luna,” chided the taller of the alicorns. “Just because you’ve been studying constantly since your return does not mean you can take liberty with the English language. In order to introduce the ambassador and guests to my student—wherever she seems to have gone today—and discuss certain recent political developments in the world, we will be having a Diplomatic Dinner to discuss the conflicts this evening. It’s allerative,” she added with a faint sniff.
“Actually,” started Ambassador Winant, “you know that the United States is officially neutral with regard to hostilities ongoing across the European continent. Since you’re at war with Germany, I will not be able to offer anything in the way of an alliance.”
“Of course.” Princess Celestia seemed to dismiss the concept of neutrality with a brief toss of her head that brought her pointed horn fairly close to one of the ceiling supports that he had to frequently duck under or have his hat knocked off. “That does not mean we are unable to discuss said hostilities and other matters unrelated to the conflicts.” She gave another look around the door-strewn corridor with a growing frown, only to have Luna interrupt.
“My sister is looking for a certain young colt who should be here to meet you. He has a most delightful tale of adventure in your southern continent, which we hope to have him regale us with during dinner this eve. And,” she added with an eye roll, “my sister is hoping to introduce him to her student in the process.”
Celestia did not deny the accusation, but did glare pointedly in a different direction while giving a short huff.
“Princess Mi Amore Cadenza is out of Equestria on a trip,” explained Luna while they walked, “so Celly is over-compensating. Just be glad this so-called guard she plans on assigning as your escort around town is male, Ambassador. The last human to visit Canterlot received one of my female nocturne as guardian, and the resulting relationship is… odd, to say the least.”
“I’m aware of Lieutenant Walthers, Corporal Nightshade, and their—” Ambassador Winant cleared his throat “—unique relationship, as well as his unauthorized trip into Norway. The President filled me in when I returned to Washington, and I have the decoration for his wounds when we meet later this week.” Ambassador Winant hefted the briefcase, filled with confidential information and various instructions, and tried his best to phrase his objection in a way that could, at best, be diplomatic, only to be interrupted by Princess Celestia before he could get his first words out.
“I understand you are uncomfortable with such interspecies relationships, Ambassador.” Celestia shook her head ever so slowly as they walked down another corridor in the palace. “Theirs seems to be a cautious association based on mutual respect, and I assure you, I have seen far more unusual pairings in my time. Which in respect for your feelings, I will restrain myself from discussing this evening at dinner.”
“Spoilsport,” said Luna. “Ah, here is your room, Ambassador.”
Luna let the door swing open in her magic, paused for a moment, then closed the door much faster, but not before Ambassador Winant had gotten a far-too-good look at what was going on across the note-covered rug in his bedroom suite, and the two ponies deeply involved in the activity.
“Oh, my.” Princess Celestia’s eyes were absolutely huge, and she had ceased to blink.
“Well, that explains where they are,” said Luna, turning to proceed down the corridor. “Ambassador, I believe you will be more comfortable in the other suite over here if you would like to rest for a time.”
While she walked the short distance to the next door, Luna gave a low chuckle under her breath that sounded quite diabolical to Ambassador Winant. “And I thought the dinner conversation this evening was going to be boring. I can hardly wait!”
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/John_Gilbert_Winant
October 20
The Dark Side of the Horse
There was no beacon on the planet, no indication of intelligent life at all, but Luke Skywalker kept his eyes closed as he guided his X-wing fighter down into the atmosphere. He was not listening for the warble of electronics, but following his instincts, and the words of his mentor when he was freezing to death on Hoth.
Luke. You will go to the Equus system. There you will learn from Celestia, the hidden Jedi master.
There had been no mention of the Equus system in any navigational database, but he knew where it was the moment he touched the controls of his ship, and the long trip through hyperspace had not shaken his faith in Old Ben. R2D2 did not have his confidence and had quietly beeped through the entire trip, offering to take over the controls if Luke had wanted to sleep.
The Force had sustained him, and now it guided him in a long descent to a mountain capped with a beautiful city, although the Force did not make any communication channels available for him to call for a landing spot, which was particularly important with the number of flying creatures in the vicinity of the city.
Two gold-armored flying creatures escorted his X-wing to a landing outside of a magnificent palace, and continued their escorting until he found himself standing in front of a large white creature with a flowing colorful mane.
“Greetings, Young Skywalker,” started the creature before Luke could speak. “I am Princess Celestia, an alicorn of this world, and I’m afraid you have been misled. I believe Master Yoda on Dagobah will be more suitable as an instructor than myself. My ponies will provide you with coordinates, and I bid you good day.”
“Master Kenobi sent me,” responded Luke, slightly taken aback at how he was being dismissed. “He is far wiser in the ways of the Force than—”
“Don’t use that word,” cautioned Celestia. “We have shut ourselves away from the Jedi arts. You will find no Masters here, only ponies.”
“Sister!” A dark creature matching the appearance of Celestia except slightly smaller strode boldly into the throne room and regarded Luke with a frown as she passed. “There is a vessel parked upon our landing field, which is blocking our chariot from departing this eve.”
With a bright flash of light, Luke’s X-wing appeared in the room and settled down on the priceless marble floor with a gentle thud while the creature continued to berate her sister.
“Luna!” Celestia gave Luke a sideways glance. “We have a guest who was just leaving. That is his starship you are casually tossing around.”
R2D2 gave off several squeaks and chirps of agreement.
“Silence, machine,” snapped Luna. “If you did not wish to be handled in this fashion, you would have moved the vessel when I asked.”
R2 let off a low buzz.
“Two Jedi Masters?” asked Luke, looking back and forth between the two alicorns.
“No,” said Celestia at the same moment Luna said “Yes.”
“I have no time for a student, Luna.” Celestia scowled at the displaced X-wing. “Or to clean up your messes. We withdrew from the galaxy for a purpose, and shall not resume our contributions until balance has been restored to the Force. Besides,” she added, “he is too old to become a student.”
“Are you certain?” Luna strode purposefully over to Luke, held a hoof up to his jaw, and opened his mouth. “Oh, yes,” she said after a few moments of examination. “Far too old. Why did you send him to us, Kenobi?”
The faint glowing form of Ben Kenobi stepped out from behind a nearby pillar, looking marginally disappointed at being found out. “Because I too once took on a padawan who had great promise, despite him being older than usual. The Jedi Council did not approve, but I trained him anyway.”
“And how did that turn out?” asked Celestia. When she did not get an answer, the tall white horse stepped down from her throne and approached Luke. “Your light sabre, please.”
When Luke took it out, Celestia gently plucked it from his hand with the Force and floated it over where both alicorns examined it, then floated it back to him.
“There is much of the Dark Side in the human who created that,” said Luna, who looked just as quiet and solemn as Celestia now.
“And much Light,” said her sister. “Great power, and it flows about his son just as strongly, although—” Celestia frowned “—he has an odd echo.”
“Do not concern yourself with that,” said Ben. “The boy must be trained. Even now, Darth Vader searches for him, so that he may be turned to the Dark Side.”
“Dibs,” called Luna, then when her sister seemed about to object, she added, “Do you remember your other student?”
“Oh… Very well.” Celestia concentrated with a glow of her horn and Luke’s X-wing vanished, although R2D2 was left sitting on the floor. “Please keep him away from Twilight, though. She might not understand a certain… missing section of her lessons at my side.”
“Can I use the old castle in the Everfree?” asked Luna with large, begging eyes. “The one with that big temple and the crystal tree thingie?”
“Yes, yes,” said Celestia with a dismissive wave of one hoof. She walked back to her throne and sat down with a huff of frustration. “Try not to break him, dear sister. You’re not as small as Master Yoda, so riding piggy-back while he runs through the forest could be dangerous. And if he starts to show signs of the Dark Side—”
“Tell Twilight so her friends can zap him with the Elements of Harmony,” said Luna while rolling her eyes. “Sheesh, I can handle a little Dark Side contamination. Come on, Luke. I’ll teach you how to play tag with the hydra. It’ll be fun.”
There was a bright flash of Luna’s magic, and they were gone.
October 21
The Last Mare on the Moon - An Equestria 1969 story
https://airandspace.si.edu/explore-and-learn/topics/apollo/apollo-program/landing-missions/apollo17.cfm
subtitled: Twilight collects rocks.
“Well,” admitted Princess Twilight Sparkle as the light went out on her spacesuit helmet and she observed the underwhelming result of her spell, “I wasn’t quite positive it would work. There are so many variables after all. But Starlight and Sunset helped me crunch the numbers, and Moondancer did the rune etching.”
Harrison Schmidt looked at the glowing blue-black ring of metal held suspended on stubbly legs over the hard lunar surface of the Camelot crater, where the loose dust had all been swept away earlier by Twilight’s magic. It was both incredibly ordinary and weird in an Equestrian sense because it looked like some sort of firepit, after all, and there was nothing on the moon to burn. His confusion must have been evident, even through the space suit, because Twilight Sparkle lit up her horn again, and a nearby fist-sized rock floated over to the center of the metal ring.
“First experiment. One kilogram of igneous rock.”
She dropped the rock. It did not strike the ground. Instead, it vanished with a flash of light as it approached the center of the ring.
“So…” It had to be asked, and Gene was a short distance away. Harrison cleared his throat and waved at the missing rock. “Where did it go?”
“If our calculations are correct, Vacuum Chamber #1 in Houston. Moondancer, do you read? Package Number One has been sent.”
Almost instantly, there was an answer on the short-range sets the suits used for local communication, not the three-second delay of normal communication with Houston.
“Princess Twilight, I’m looking through the window of the chamber and the rock appears to be intact. Running tests now. Try sending another sample.”
“But, that—” started Harrison before cutting himself off. He picked up another nearby rock and held it out for their observer, who floated it over to the ring and let it vanish also.
“Potential energy?” he managed to venture through the impossibility of the observed phenomenon. It was a fight between his inner PhD in geology and the child who believed in magic, and the child was winning.
“Used to fuel the spell,” said Twilight, dropping a third and a fourth rock through the ring. “Only radio waves can come back, since they have to overcome the potential. And I really don’t want to hazard using it to transport any living tissue, since the subatomic sheer factors are so variable, but we estimate solid objects up to around twenty kilos should be safe, if occasionally broken. And of course the wear on the spell prevents it from being used for more than…” The alicorn paused in thought, but nodded when Harrison held up a few more rocks, which he tossed into the ring with growing childish joy.
“With the spell decay, we’re only going to be able to fill the one vacuum chamber before the ring becomes unusable,” said Twilight, obviously disappointed. “It’s a shame, since this is the last moon mission for a while and I wanted to do something really dramatic with the sample returns.”
The unused Equestrian-funded vacuum chamber she was talking about was where the Lunar Rover and its alicorn ‘horse’ trailer had been tested, and most likely could hold several hundred tons of rocks. Harrison had to wonder just how dramatic a sample return would be before Twilight Sparkle would be impressed.
When they left the barren crater an hour later, with nearly all of the nearby lunar dust and rocks hefted up in Twilight’s magic and dumped down the metal ring until the room in Houston was full up to the ceiling, Harrison had to admit to himself that he really didn’t want to see what an alicorn would consider ‘dramatic.’
“Oh, no,” said Harrison as the full weight of their afternoon activities soaked in on the trip back to the LEM. He thought his radio microphone switch was turned off, but apparently the Equestrian Talk-Between-Suits crystal carried his voice to Twilight Sparkle, who was happily riding along on the Equestrian Expedition Trailer behind them.
“What is it?” asked Twilight Sparkle, who had picked up another rock with her magic and was examining it next to her suit faceplate, a process that she had been doing constantly during their short journey from the LEM. “Do you see a prospective sample?”
“No,” said Harrison quite firmly. “I just realized I volunteered to be in charge of the documentation process for the lunar samples from this trip. We were supposed to only pick up sixty kilograms, of which Equestria got ten percent.”
There was an excited squeal from Twilight and the EET bounced several times. “Won’t it be great! Princess Luna convinced NASA to re-write our sample sharing guidelines for this mission, so anything over a hundred kilos gets shared 50-50 between our nations. We could be categorizing rock samples for years, and I’ve got so many experiments I want to run on the dust. It can be used for materials processing, or thaumic resources, or even construction material for when we build a base here.”
“A… base?”
“Oh, the Equestrian flyback booster should be done next year, and we could have monthly lunar trips shortly after that,” said Twilight happily. “We were waiting to make the announcement until after this mission landed. You’re welcome to come along once we get things organized, of course. We’ll be recruiting heavily among the human astronaut corps, since the United States is scaling down their space program.”
Fifty years later when retiring Base Commander Harrison Schmidt looked over the materials extraction and smelting site of Starport Grissom in the harsh light of the lunar polar region⁽*⁾, along with the bones of the first interstellar starship under construction on the nearby launch pad, he had to admit that an alicorn level of ‘dramatic’ had its own rewards.
The stars, to be specific.
(*) Also the Alan Shepherd Memorial Golf Course, noted for being the first course with over one kilometer fairways and only a single sand trap, sized extra-large. Princess Luna currently holds the course record.
October 22
What if Chrysalis were really a Sith Lord?
Spike knew when to get. Twilight Sparkle in one of her ‘moods’ would start rearranging the Ponyville Golden Oak library, and if the little dragon was not quick on his feet to get when the getting was good, he would find himself filed under ‘D’ for several hours.
Princess Twilight Sparkle possessed a new level of frustration management. She was the reason the buildings in Ponyville did not have any kind of naming system, or ponies would come back to find the town had been put ‘into order’ while they were out shopping for carrots. Thankfully, she restricted herself to reshelving all the books in her crystal castle instead, but every so often, Rarity had to remind her friend that the Carousel Boutique was right where it needed to be, and would she please stop scooting it an inch or two while the proprietor was away.
So when darkness touched Equestria’s youngest princess in the middle of her resentment over Princess Luna taking a human student, there were no witnesses.
“Your master will not teach you the precious secrets her sister gives away to the human stranger.” The voice was low and rough, coming from the darkest corner of Twilight’s crystal library where the light seemed reluctant to illuminate. A dark shape with glowing emerald eyes slunk silently out of the shadows and regarded the cringing purple alicorn with a sharp-toothed smile. “Celestia fears your power. You have the potential to be more, far more than she ever could control, and so she holds you back, refuses you the lessons that could unleash your true power! Join me as my apprentice and we will unlock those forbidden doors to your destiny. I will show you the pathway to worlds you never dreamed of, and they shall all bow to our might.”
“Queen Chrysalis? You would teach me?” asked Twilight, who carefully put down the copy of Carnahan’s Calamitous Creations where it would not nibble on any other books. “I mean I don’t want to sound pretentious, but Princess Celestia defeated you. And then I defeated you with the help of my friends. Oh, and Discord—”
“I am not at my full power,” hissed Chrysalis. “The Sith has always two, a master and an apprentice.”
“Oh.” Twilight brightened. “I’ve always wanted to have an apprentice librarian.”
“NO!” snarled Chrysalis. “You would serve my will as my Dark Apprentice!”
“And… I could check out books from the Restricted Section?” asked Twilight. “Without having to show my library card?”
“It’s YOUR library!” snapped Chrysalis.
Princess Celestia was just getting back to her bedroom when she heard a noise in the shadows. It was a familiar noise, but she sensed it was not dangerous, so she slipped her lightsabre back into her mane and nudged the light switch to reveal Queen Chrysalis sorting through the contents of the Royal Liquor Cabinet.
“They’re empty, because of the Dark Side,” said Celestia, moving over to the bed and rummaging around under one of the drawers. “Luna nips off them and thinks I don’t notice, so I keep the good stuff under the bed.”
She lifted out a dusty bottle and peered at the label, only to have Chrysalis snatch it out of her magic and pour a glass. The Changeling Queen downed a pair of aspirin with a brandy chaser, then slumped down in a nearby chair with a heavy sigh.
“Twilight?” asked Celestia while getting out a chess set.
“Twilight,” growled Chrysalis. She slugged down the rest of the brandy and looked around for the bottle, which Celestia was using to pour a pair of small snifters beside the board. “How in the stars did you have her as a student all these years without going crazy?”
Celestia put the cork back in the brandy bottle and gave Chrysalis a long look.
“Good point.” Chrysalis picked up her snifter of brandy and settled back in her chair. “Are you going to spot me two pieces like usual?”
“And a move,” said Celestia as the chess pieces came cascading out of their box. “Sounds like you need a break.”
October 30.
Pineta has a beautiful story about Starlight Glimmer confronting Daybreaker. I ruin it totally with a comment. Honest. Ship them all!!
https://www.fimfiction.net/story/481214/a-stellar-problem
N'filgsran trudged through the dream ether, making slow progress with his/her/its knotted tentacles waving behind in the etheric breeze and the entrance to its void sphincter clogged with degenerate cupcake residue. Haunting Dinky's nightmares had become a living hell ever since her adoptive father had started training her in the art of Droz-fu and Pinkie Pie had added her expertise in etheric baking to provide more dream cupcakes in a nightmare that one Old One could possibly consume in the lifetime of the universe. At least its next night's task would be more pleasurable. Starlight Glimmer had a magnificent malefic mind, filled with dark places that provided a wealth of nightmare fuel.
Although it could see a second figure trudging through the ether in its direction, looking just as beaten as N'filgsran.
"Daybreaker," it said once the beautiful creature was within communication range. Daybreaker was the only creature in the realm who did not cringe away at the shrill sounds of a thousand screaming souls being consumed in agony, although she did not look up at the sound of its voice either. "Is there something wrong?" it asked, although it had to add, "You look very attractive tonight. I love what you've done with your nebula."
