A Friendship Problem

Rarity had always been a Canterlot pony at heart, so it came as no surprise that when the map had lit up Canterlot, it had selected her. She’d known this request would come from the moment the Ponyville Gazette had spilt the story on Luna’s disastrous press conference, so she’d done as much reading as she could even before the map had pinged her. She'd grown particularly fond of reading the columns published over the years by one Light Narrative, a batpony who’d travelled across Equestria documenting the issues his people faced. Twilight had even made her a little almanac for Rarity out of news clippings, spiral-bound and given to her as she’d hopped on the Friendship Express. She’d started reading it immediately, perusing through as the train made its steady progress to Canterlot.

“The town of Fledermaus in the Unicorn mountains is perhaps one of the finest examples of what the new millennium has meant for thestrals,” read one of the columns, published in the Las Pegasus Times some two years ago.

“The once-thriving thestral town has turned to a place of bitterness and squalor in the years following Princess Luna’s return, which was greeted with widespread celebrations. I interviewed two dozen families during my stay at Fledermaus, and most of them had the same story. They’d been excited when their princess returned, believing it meant they’d finally be able to come down from the mountains. Mostly the older ones stayed and the younger ones left, eager to go out and see the wide world which was now open to them. No laws had changed, but the atmosphere had shifted completely, and for the first time the thestrals of this town honestly thought that Equestria was once again their kingdom. It’s amazing what a symbol can do for ponies. Even at the time, some of the older folks knew what was coming, but they told me they didn’t want to stifle their children’s optimism, so they let them go.”

“Some of them made it in Equestria: I interviewed one couple named Arlia and Thorium whose son Pocarona had become a sought-after freelance engineer in Fillydelphia and whose daughter Selenite had joined Luna’s Night Guard, but most were not so fortunate. Time and again I heard stories about arriving in Fillydelphia, Manehattan, that horrible town of Baltimare, or our own Las Pegasus and finding themselves distrusted, interrogated about their religious beliefs, and sometimes outright insulted. Some were even arrested after naively admitting that they were current or former Nightmarists, and though nopony from Fledermaus was ever imprisoned for their religion, they found themselves constantly watched by police. Even those who escaped outright persecution found themselves in low-paying jobs, cheated by dishonest employers and landlords exploiting their ignorance of the big city, had enormous troubles making friends among the three tribes, and almost universally described their living conditions as slumlike. One by one, these pioneers of the new millennium flew back to Fledermaus, wanting nothing to do with Equestria anymore.”

Rarity seldom got angry, but the idea of reacting to new neighbors with suspicion, or to swindle them? She remembered Twilight arriving in Ponyville, sheltered little unicorn that she’d been, awkward and antisocial at first. New arrivals needed welcoming warmth, not hostility! She moved on to the conclusion:

“When they arrived back home, they found that Fledermaus had deteriorated since they left: the mass emigration of the younger generation had hollowed out the once-thriving town’s economy, with over a third of the stores in town shuttering their windows. Today, Fledermaus is a picture of a community which had once survived and thrived on its own, driven into bitterness and poverty by the false hope Princess Luna’s return offered them.”

Rarity was already angry, but reading the pair of letters to the editor which Twilight had pasted alongside the column made her stomach drop a little. This was a new level of friendship problem: the scale of it was unlike anything she’d dealt with before, and there was an undercurrent of deep hatred she’d have to contend with alongside the suspicion:

“This Light Narrative hack is trying to get us to cry for a bunch of Nightmare Moon worshippers who couldn’t make it in the big city. Cry me a river, Las Pegasus is a tough town for everypony! They didn’t like it, so they left. Not our problem.”

“This column shows that Princess Luna should never have gotten it into these bat’s heads that coming to our cities was a good idea. They have their communities; we have ours. They were better off without us, and we are better off without them. Luna needs to tell them to go back where they came from.”

Rarity stopped reading, seeing that the train was pulling into the Canterlot station. The way these ponies had squashed the thestrals’ optimism and then blamed batponies for their own casual cruelty… it infuriated her. This would be a difficult friendship problem to solve, possibly the biggest one Rarity had ever faced, but with her and the princess working together they would change these ponies’ minds, and they would change Equestria!

***

Rarity had to admit, the Night Guard cut an imposing figure. The towering thestrals’ black-and-blue ceremonial armor seemed to absorb the light in the room, and the slit eyes on their peytrals always looked like they were following Rarity, even as the batponies themselves looked straight ahead. She passed between them, heading to Luna’s chambers where she’d been asked to meet her. She took a mental note about their armor: a little too militaristic for what she was going for, but the dress she’d make for the princess should complement the armor of her entourage.

Rarity entered the princess’ room to find her in a truly sorry state. Luna was lying on her bed looking utterly despondent, much as Rarity had done many times. On the other side of the room a short, grey-coated batpony in the same Night Guard armor sat at a desk, her long silver mane tied back into a neat bun as she sorted through a stack of morning papers. As Rarity entered, the batpony stood up and fluttered over to her, holding out her hoof.

“Selenite,” she introduced herself, “Captain of the night guard. You must be Rarity?”

“Charmed, of course!” Rarity shook her hoof, noting the gleam in her slit blue eyes.

“Do you want a damage report, or should I leave you alone with the Princess?”

“Oh, I think I know what we’re up against, but….”

Luna lay unmoving, and both Selenite and Rarity shared a sidelong glance at her. They looked back at each other and nodded, grimacing.

“Well… I’m supposed to be at the drill grounds in a few minutes, perhaps we can meet for tea and I’ll give you the run-down in, say, an hour?”

“That would be lovely darling, ta-ta!”

Selenite turned to salute her princess and left, closing the door behind her.

Rarity, with the practiced ease of someone used to dramatically fainting onto couches, flung herself down next to Luna. Luna gasped slightly and turned to face her, looking confused.

“Now, why don’t you tell me how you’re feeling, darling?”

“I… how I am feeling?”

“Yes, you’re clearly distraught over what happened at the press conference. Tell me all about it!”

“How I feel is hardly the most important part of this. I have failed my people, first by waiting too long to speak up for them and then by saying all the wrong things when I finally did. I am a weak princess, and they deserve better than me.”

“Oh darling, that must feel so horrible! Why, if I were in your position I would be drowning my sorrows in ice-cream and wine.”

“Perhaps I should do that. There seems to be little I can do to make the situation better… I have scuttled my little ponies’ chances with that stupid referendum… I panicked and now they'll all pay the price for my mistake, just like they always do.”

Rarity cupped Luna’s chin, lifting her face up so her glistening eyes met Rarity’s just as Celestia had done. “Darling, that wasn’t a mistake! I’ve been doing some reading, and I think a referendum is just what we need. The thestral’s problem is not that they’re legally unequal, it’s that the three tribes don’t trust them and don’t want them around. A royal decree won’t change that, but I think if we started a national conversation, showed them that batponies aren’t anything to be afraid of, and then had them choose to recognize them as friends, that would really make things better!”

“Perhaps, Rarity,” Luna admitted, her face brightening just a little, “Perhaps you’re right. Oh but we will never win! Did you hear the kinds of questions they were asking? And I can’t- I can’t even get through one press conference, how can I...”

“Leave that to me darling. You have a sincerity, a charisma that’ll shine through in no time! All you need is a new dress, something which brings out your majesty, oh and some coaching, a good script-writer… Oh listen to me Princess, I sound like Twilight! Lists, lists, lists! I need a checklist to make sure I put everything that needs to be on the checklist on the checklist!”

Luna giggled, slowly rising from her bed.

“No no no, you stay here my dear. You’ve had a very rough week and it looks like you haven’t slept in days: a little beauty sleep is what you need right now. I’ll meet with Selenite and take care of everything, you rest.”

Luna dutifully snuggled back under the covers. Rarity stood up and hopped off the four-poster, strolling to the exit.

“We can do this, can’t we?”

“I’m absolutely sure of it darling. Now don’t you worry yourself, get some rest and I’ll come back tonight with a plan.”

***

Selenite had chosen a cozy tea shop in Canterlot for their meeting, in sight of the castle but still a fair distance away. Rarity suspected something was off with the way the batpony had selected a room far towards the back of the establishment; it felt subtly conspiratorial especially with the thin haze of steam which filled the building. It was pleasant, to be sure, halfway between a café and a sauna, but the context of it all made Rarity’s skin prickle a little. Selenite was wearing a deep purple waistcoat over a white dress shirt which had a black crescent-moon sigil on the collar, and was sipping from a small teacup. The outfit was a little austere for Rarity’s tastes, but the color choice complimented Selenite’s coat and her striking blue eyes quite well, and she struck an elegant figure. She made a particular note of the waistcoat, reminding herself to use some of that purple fabric Suri Polomare had plagiarized from her a few years ago for accents on Luna’s dress. Selenite’s long silver-grey mane was let down, cascading over her back and her folded-up wings.

“How ladylike of you,” Selenite greeted her, putting her teacup down and pouring Rarity a cup from the teapot set on the table in their booth, “Arriving exactly two minutes late to an impromptu meeting, to give your host time to get comfortable.”

Rarity smiled, glad her impeccable timing hadn’t gone unappreciated.

“Now,” Rarity said, taking a sip of the tea, which was a sweet brew with a minty base and a small but unmistakable electric tang of zap-apple jelly, “Shall we begin?”

“Of course! So, you said you’d been doing some reading. So you know what we’re up against, more or less?”

“Yes yes, a bunch of ponies who think that everything is fine as it is, who distrust you and your kind, and who think Luna would be better off staying in the world of dreams and away from politics. There also seems to be a nasty, dirty undercurrent where some ponies think you’re a bunch of Nightmarists!”

“That’s about the sum of it. You also have a few thestrals who are gonna be a problem. You got Starry Glory and his band of maniacs down in the Southeast who I swear are trying to start a civil war; they’re a pretty marginal group but very dangerous. Then you also have some more moderate thestrals who still would really rather we stay separate. I get where they’re coming from, I didn’t really want anything to do with Equestria either when I was younger, but now that Luna’s back…”

“I was reading an article by Light Narrative-”

“Oh that’s what you’ve been reading! Well Light Narrative is a friend of mine just um… not the most loyal friend. Okay that’s wrong, I guess he’s loyal to his principles, and he really wants what’s best for the batponies, it’s just…”

“He’s a contrarian who cares very little for Princess Luna?”

“Exactly! Oh, you have been reading his columns, haven’t you? There was a time when he blamed her for everything, I mean can you imagine the nerve? He talks about her like he talks about Celestia as if there’s any-”

Selenite stopped herself, noticing that Rarity’s eyes had gone wide.

“Ah,” the thestral said, taking a long sip of her tea.

"I take it you have no great love of Celestia then?"

"Very few thestrals do. She's never been a princess for us like she's been for you."

"Darling, I know Celestia, I'm sure she's always meant well but just, didn't know how to handle it."

"After a thousand years? Look, you're going to meet a lot of batponies with bad things to say about Celestia on this campaign. Some of it is even true. When I first came to Canterlot I thought she was a bad princess, now... I believe you about her intentions, but good intentions don’t mean much if you don’t act on them. Celestia may mean well but she won’t be much help."

"Well darling, I just hope she surprises you. Kind-hearted ponies do that a lot."

“Perhaps I can share my reasoning about the sun princess... some other time. When we know each other a little better. I understand she’s your friend and you want to defend her but there’s a lot of history you don’t know.”

“That’s quite alright darling, when the campaign is underway and you’re ready to tell me I’ll be all ears. Now, I notice there was one other enemy we haven’t mentioned yet.”

“And who might that be?”

Rarity glanced around conspiratorially, finally at-ease with the batpony after their awkward moment. If Selenite had let slip her distaste for Celestia without meaning to, then regardless of how odd that was she clearly wasn’t trying to manipulate or entrap Rarity. Or if she was, she was very bad at it. From the way she talked she clearly admired Luna and was genuinely trying to help. Rarity decided to let the matter with Celestia slide; when this pony was ready she could share whatever she needed to with Rarity, and there was never a pony better at keeping secrets than she. She leaned in, whispering:

“We’re also up against the most pernicious, the most dastardly enemy of them all. More ruthless than Sombra, more dangerous than an Ursa major, and tricksier than a Changeling… We are up against paparazzi.”

“Ah yes, the tabloid press,” Selenite joined in, “Searching for scandal and intrigue, not to mention embarrassment, oh yes they must be circling like vultures right about now!”

“We shall have to come up with a strategy, and a good one! This is about more than winning, it’s about changing the minds of ponies and we can’t do that if the tabloids turn this into a farce.”

“They’ve already done a lot of damage… Damn cameras, we couldn’t see a thing! How are we supposed to look dignified when we’re blind as… um… bats.”

“I wasn’t going to say it.”

“Well, I did. So there. I get a point. Speed is power, as they say; never react when you can act!”

“As… who says?”

“Luna! She drills the Night Guard personally, we’re her pet project.”

Selenite’s chest puffed out a little and she bared her fangs in a wide grin.

“We’re the best fighting ponies in Equestria!”

“I didn’t know Luna had an interest in military matters.”

“Well,” said Selenite, deflating slightly, “We’re… not exactly supposed to talk about it. It’s not a secret or anything just… It’s complicated. Let’s just say after… Chrysalis… Luna decided the royal guard couldn’t be relied on to defend Canterlot and so she started training us personally. See back in the old times, the Night Guard and the Royal Guard were both elite fighting forces, but nowadays the Royals are more a ceremonial and police force than a real army, and Luna didn’t want to rock the boat too much plus we were kinda new while the Royal Guard is so established and resistant to change. Anyways it’s not really that important. But we’re proud of our training. We can protect our princess from anything!”

“Except for the tabloids.”

“Except for the tabloids.”

“So, we have our weaknesses. What are our strengths?”

“Well… We have the initiative. We get to decide when the referendum is and we get to decide when to start the campaigning. Right now our opponents don’t really have much to go on, but we can fire an opening salvo whenever we’re ready. We’ll be able to get more volunteers since we have something to work for, and they only have something to work against.”

“Don’t forget, we have Luna. Once I get her a new dress, and once we’ve given her a bit of public speaking coaching, I’m sure her charm will shine through! Besides,” Rarity winked, “You also have me!”

“Yes, and if your current dress is any indication, Luna will look magnificent in whatever you come up with.”

Rarity’s eyes lit up. She’d expected the militaristic batpony to disdain her current dress, which was a pink-and-maroon piece with blue jewels along the neckline, but Selenite clearly appreciated craftsponyship when she saw it.

“And actually,” continued Selenite, “I think I have an idea for an opening move.”

“Oh I’m glad our little talk has got those gears whirring in your head.”

“You could say that. I was just thinking… it’s risky, in more ways than one, but what if we have Luna give a speech in Baltimare? That city is…”

“A rather special case, yes?”

“I’d call it the most screwed-up city in Equestria.”

“Wouldn’t it be better to start in Manehattan, or Canterlot, or somewhere else we have friends? So far as I’ve heard Baltimare is all against all and all against the bats.”

“That about sums it up, yeah. And I think that’s why we need to start in Baltimare: that’s where the hatred is at its most… hateful. By starting our campaign there, we could strike a symbolic blow at the heart of anti-thestral sentiment and show the extremists in that city that they don’t run the place.”

“Now Selenite, that’s very bold, but I’m worried about those extremist groups; couldn’t they show up and ruin the whole thing?”

Selenite shrugged, frowning slightly.

“Yes, we’ll have to make sure that doesn’t happen. Here’s what we can do: we coordinate a demonstration in Baltimare with concurrent demonstrations in other cities across Equestria. Between the Night Guard we have contacts in most of the major thestral communities in Equestria, and we’ve already gotten some telegrams from organizers asking what they can do to help. We make sure that the demonstration in Baltimare has police escorts, and keep the Night Guard there in full uniform-”

“Ah,” said Rarity, “We may not want to have a fully-uniformed Night Guard, darling. Your uniforms are lovely, but that might be a step too far: we want this to show the… what are they called? The extremist group?”

“The Coalition of Anarchists.”

“Yes, the CAN. We want to show them that we’re not afraid, and if we go around heavily armoured-”

“It would give the wrong impression, you’re right. Plus it would make us look like some kind of invading army, or like Starry Glory’s goons.”

“So here’s what I picture: we do these demonstrations, to show the CAN that we’re not afraid of them, to bring batponies across Equestria together, and at the end of it we have Luna appear in Baltimare and announce the importance of these reforms, what we’re doing here…”

“And with any luck CAN’s allies in the unions will show up with those ridiculous ‘stop the bats!’ signs. I like your thinking. We showed… weakness in our first press event. We need to show resolve now.”

“Baltimare it is then! I’ll say two weeks' time. That should give us time to coach Luna, figure out some of the details for the referendum, and it’ll give me time to get Fancy Pants onboard and make Luna’s new dress while you coordinate with the thestrals and the Baltimare police to make sure it all goes smoothly.”

“Sounds like you’ll be busy.”

“Oh darling, this is nothing! You should see how busy the boutique gets when the Grand Galloping Gala approaches. Now, I need to contact Fancy Pants. Having him onboard will create ripple effects throughout high society in Canterlot, and those ripples will spread to the elite in other cities; they all like to emulate what’s fashionable in Canterlot and Manehattan.”

***

Selenite stayed in the booth for some time after Rarity left. She could tell she and Rarity saw things rather differently: for Rarity this whole affair was a network, a series of key ponies and groups she’d have to win over. For Selenite it was a war. A war with an enemy who was formless and elusive, whose weapons were apathy, contempt, reflexive suspicion, insinuation. She wanted to act now, to strike fast, discredit the opposition immediately, but Rarity was right: Luna needed coaching, the Night Guard needed allies. And they needed to figure out who their enemies were: the anti-thestral groups in Baltimare were brazen, but Baltimare was one tiny, screwed-up corner of Equestria and elsewhere her people’s problems were much more subtle, and so were the ponies who benefitted from their exploitation.

“Reconnaissance, Selenite,” she muttered to herself, “It’s the first step of every battleplan. What was that Luna’s book said? ‘Before you march into battle you must know yourself, know your enemies, and know your friends.’ Well, now I know at least one of our friends.”

Selenite got up. The sun was about to set, and she didn’t want to miss the moonrise. There was something special about gliding over Canterlot as the sun set and the moon took its place. The way the sun’s rays went from overwhelming yellow to soft orange, the way the shadows underneath her lengthened so rapidly as the sun princess ceded the sky. The moment of emptiness, where both celestial bodies lay dormant. That had always fascinated her: true darkness, for just a moment. Back in Fledermaus this moment was darker still; thestrals had no need for streetlights and little need to light their houses, since they could see perfectly well by moonlight. Here in Canterlot there was a glow coming from below, reversing the order of the day for just a moment before…

The moon rose. A pale light washed over the spires of the castle, giving them an unearthly glow as the light reflected off the polished stone. If the roofs had been painted in indigos and violets rather than the garish Solarist yellows or those unsightly swirl patterns, the effect would be even greater. But Selenite took what she could get, and flew among the spires, basking in the starlight and the moonlight. She pinwheeled, freer than a kite, feeling her dress and mane flap in the wind. The subtle throbbing behind her eyes which always followed her during the day subsided; the constant low level city-noise which irritated her sensitive ears during the day dimmed, leaving her in the cool and peaceful embrace of night. How could anypony not want to bask in this peace?

Selenite found a convenient strut, wrapped her hindlegs around it and folded up her wings. She stayed there for a few minutes, hanging upside-down, mane cascading into the open air and just watching the moon. Once she’d had her fill, she spread her wings and flew to Luna’s wing of the castle. There was much work to be done.

***

Luna soared over Baltimare, her mane and tail glittering in the evening sky. Rarity's new dress was the perfect combination of regal, yet modern. It was a breezy cut, fluttering behind her as she flew, and the colors were a perfect inversion of her own: night blue for the body, matching her tail and mane, and deep purple for the skirt, matching her coat. The accents were done in a violet fabric that seemed to swirl when she looked at it. And the glittering jewels, connected by white lace to form something in between constellations and spiderwebs. It was so perfect, she had actually gasped when Rarity had pulled up the mirror after fitting her into it. The dress, the rehearsing, Rarity’s soft words of encouragement: more than ever, Luna felt like she could really do this.

The sun would set soon, and when that happened she would join her ponies down on the ground. It was inspiring to her to see the hundreds of batponies who had gathered in the streets of Baltimare to see her. It was only a small fraction of the total thestral population of Baltimare -it had been short notice, and they hadn’t wanted the crowd to be too big anyhow- but it was still enough to make quite a splash. From what Selenite had told her, Baltimare was home to the most reviled, the most excluded batponies in all Equestria, and yet they were down there singing songs of friendship, some in Equish, some in Tzincatlian, the language of the southeastern thestrals, which had changed almost as much as Equish since the last time Luna had heard it spoken. Luna could feel the wind rushing against her, and for just a moment she took her eyes off the crowd to soar for a moment, basking in the last rays of the sun. Spreading her wings wide, she focused her mind on her sacred charge, and heard a cheer rise up from the batponies below as the moon rose over the city.

***

Clementine Dewdrop was excited. Her friend Silver Sickle had told her that Cupcake Glitter had told him that the captain of the night guard herself had said that Princess Luna was coming to Baltimare, and Clementine wasn’t about to miss it for the world, even if her back still hurt from the long hours at the dock. The moon princess was coming, here! She’d gathered up a few of her friends and they’d walked along the winding streets to where they could hear a big crowd gathering, singing old songs and no doubt waiting for the princess to arrive.

She was just a couple blocks from the main crowd when she heard a song that was definitely not in Tzincatlian. It was a familiar tune, one she’d heard at least a half dozen times in the last few months:

“Stop the bats, stop the bats, make them go and not come back! Stop the bats, stop the bats, make them go and not come back!”

Rounding the corner, a group of earthponies, unicorns and pegasi rushed into the street and blocked Clementine’s way. They were carrying the red flags of the trade unionists, their faces and cutie marks concealed behind masks and baggy black clothing. Glancing around, Clementine realized there were far more of them than there were of her friends. The two groups stopped, staring each other down with about ten meters between them. One by one, the black-clad ponies started shouting at the thestrals:

“Scabs!”

“Savages!”

“Lunatics!”

Clementine bristled: who were these bigoted communists think they were to try to ruin her night? The batponies started screeching back:

“Commies!”

“Racists!”

“Traitors!”

“Reds!”

The other ponies easily drowned out the batponies, until Clementine and her friends gave up on using words and switched to using the high-pitched shriek which only thestrals could produce to try to drive the black-clad ponies off. A few of them stumbled and faltered, some clasped at their ears, but not enough. There was still a line of ponies blocking their way, and after the screeching had subsided they started lurching forward. She noticed a few at the front with red-and-black bandanas tied around their faces, moving with greater purpose than the others. Clementine realized that these weren’t the regular crowd of angry trade unionists: this was the Coalition of Anarchists, the CAN. The nutjobs. Off in the distance, she heard her princess addressing the other thestrals. The moon had risen during their standoff, and she'd missed it, and now she was missing Luna!

“Oh screw this,” she muttered to herself, and spread her wings. Following her lead, the dozen or so thestals around her took off, hooting and laughing as they left the haters on the ground, cursing after them. Clementine glanced back at them and laughed just as the burly pegasus tackled her from the side.

Clementine’s world spun and blurred. She tried to struggle, tried to kick, but the pegasus was so much larger than her, and as they bore her to the ground more pegasi rushed up to grapple her. She doubled over as a powerful kick knocked the wind out of her, then blacked out when she impacted the ground.

Clementine’s ears were ringing; her head was swimming. She glanced around and saw that only a few seconds had passed. Her friends had turned around and were trying to fight their way towards her, but she could feel strong forelegs wrapped around her hindlegs, dragging her along the ground. Her friends got further and further away with each moment. She tried to struggle, to squirm in any way she could, but felt her wings straining against some kind of binding. Her head spun and throbbed and she struggled to keep down her dinner.

“Why are you doing this?” she sobbed, tears finally starting to roll down her cheeks.

“We’re sending a message,” she heard a gruff female voice reply, “You Lunatics think you can hold a monarchist rally here? In our city? Well you’re gonna be a message to your kind and your precious princess: these streets are ours, not yours!”

“Now between you and me,” she hissed through her mask as Clementine took one last desperate look back, “I don’t know why I’m telling ya this, seeing as you’re not long for this world.”

Clementine screamed. A bright flash struck her eyes, blinding her. She screamed and struggled as the anarchists dragged her down a winding alleyway, then pleaded, promised to do anything, promised to leave and never come back if they’d just let her live, but they just laughed. Eventually the struggling and the begging stopped, giving way to wordless crying.

“Look alive, bat,” she heard after another minute or so of dragging, “Wouldn’t want you to miss our handiwork.”

Clementine craned her neck, terrified but needing to see anyways. What she saw made her start screaming again, her voice raw, thrashing and bucking her entire body with terror. The anarchists had erected a scaffold in the backlot of an old tenement. And at the top of that scaffold was a huge, crude blade, like a giant axe, held up by ropes and ready to fall on a spot where her head was supposed to be, a big wooden beam set to be lowered on top of her so she couldn’t escape.

“Now now,” the anarchist leader growled, “Have some dignity! You’re a stand-in for your princess, you hear?”

Jeers and cruel laughter echoed in her ears as they hauled her up to the scaffold. Then, another sound. Shouts, curses, loud bangs. Clementine’s tormentor dumped her on the ground, leaving her in a tangled heap. Paralyzed with dread, Clementine didn’t move a muscle for almost a minute, as the noises got closer and closer. Finally, she mustered up enough control to turn her head, and saw a second mob of black-clad ponies had barreled into the first and were brawling in the backlot. Some were swinging sticks, others were slinging spells, others bit and kicked with bare hooves.

Emerging from the fray, a black-clad brute of an earthpony loomed above her. He was masked and carrying a truncheon, his steely eyes the only visible part of his face. He wore a heavy black coat embroidered with a red symbol she didn’t recognize. The massive pony reached into his coat and Clementine recoiled, but he simply offered her water. A moment of peace in the chaos. Then, the thunderclap.

“Be still!” she heard a deafening voice call out, rattling her teeth and bones. Looking up, she saw that the night sky had clouded over with thunderheads, and Princess Luna herself was hovering over the crowds like a vengeful goddess, her horn glowing with power. A second passed, and a couple of the stunned anarchists tried to get back to their brawl, or to scamper away, but the princess let out a roar and released a shockwave which buffeted them all to the ground. A disciplined troupe of batponies descended upon the crowd at a nod from Luna, with the Baltimare police department not far behind, grabbing and hauling off the brawlers, while paramedics checked on those who’d been injured. Clementine was left with a half-empty bottle of water as the police took away the black-clad eathpony.

“Hey,” Clementine heard as a grey-pelted unicorn came into view, “You look pretty roughed up. Just stay where you are, we’ll get you to the hospital quick.”

“No,” she mumbled, “Wait a moment. I want…” her voice cracked, “I want to see the princess. It’s why I came here.”

“Alright, five minutes,” the unicorn sighed, “But after that we’re taking you to the hospital, you’re bleeding from your forehead and about three other places, and by the looks of it we’ll need to splint your wing.”

The unicorn set about bandaging her cuts, using magic to dull the pain as he quickly stitched a gash on her hindleg closed, removing the bits of sand and glass which had gotten into it while the mob had been dragging her. She’d been so scared she hadn’t even noticed. Even now she could barely think of the pain, her mind replaying again and again the moments before: how she’d come so close -maybe four meters- from death by beheading, and how she hadn’t thought of any of her friends, or her family, or anything. Only of how scared she was. How much she wanted to get away. Her life hadn’t flashed before her eyes; she’d been too scared to even be her. Then, jarring her out of her thoughts, the princess spoke again. Her voice was shaking with fury, echoing through the lot and probably through half of Baltimare:

“Behold, my subjects! Equestria bleeds with hatred. Is this harmony? Is this what you do to each other when times are hard? You beat each other, bind each other, drag each other to a guillotine over your hatred. Look upon this my subjects and see what happens when you deny ponies among you a place in friendship. You- just because they were batponies, and because of some ideology, you thought they were lesser, you, you are not just the extremists! Every single pony listening, heed me! You may not have been in the mob, but you have allowed this wound of hatred and scapegoating to fester among you, and you have done nothing!”

The last word was a roar of rage, lightning flashing across the sky as the allicorn’s fury seemed to heat up and distort the very air around her. After another moment, she spoke again:

“To every single pony in Equestria, this is your future if you do not reach out in friendship. Violence, chaos, and hatred. Do you now doubt the need for friendship among the four tribes? Without it, Harmony shall die and Equestria shall die with it!”

There were no cheers. There were no gasps. There was no booing. Everypony there was petrified in awe at the princess’ fury. Only a groan of pain broke the spell and got the paramedics moving again. Clementine was still transfixed by the terrible figure of the princess, whose horn was gathering power for another massive spell. Clementine braced herself for a third thunderclap, but it never came. Instead, the princess of the night let out a wave of raw healing energy over the crowd. Clementine felt it wash over her, slowing her breathing and heartbeat, instantly scabbing over her bleeding injuries and soothing the pain far better than the unicorn medic’s spell. Cradled by Luna’s magic, Clementine knew she would be alright. The visibly exhausted alicorn slowly turned in midair, flying off with her gown fluttering in the wind behind her. The unicorn put Clementine on a stretcher, insisting she stay there until they were able to assess the damage on her legs and wings, and she let them take her to the hospital without a fuss. Clementine had seen death, and she had seen her princess, and now she wanted nothing more than to close her eyes.

Author's Note

Next chapter should be out shortly after May 14th which is my last final of the semester; I'm aiming for May 17th-18th at this point.