A Bluebird's Song

Chapters

If Fortune Favours the Brave
Chasing Ghosts
Past Imperfect
Redemption
Bleed No More
Save Your Sky for Me - Part I
Save Your Sky for Me - Part II
Sunrise
Epilogue - Night Air
Waiting To Happen
These Cold Reflections
All I Never Told You
There's Nothing Stranger
Pulling The Puzzles Apart
My World Is A Meteor Tonight
To Catch A Bluebird
In The Interests Of Harmony
Draconic Measures - Part II
Fallen Stars
Hopes And Fears
Before The Storm
A Problem Shared
Under The Midnight Sun
The Centre Of The Web
The Tarnished Crown
Parting The Clouds
The Faces Of The Coin
The Shadows We Cast
Beyond You
Perfect Recall
The Bitterest Pill
Poison Ivy
Leading The Blind
Above The Rain
Mistaken Identities
This Longest Night
Catching Sparks
The Open Sky
Fly To Me
Everfree
Blood
Falling Flames
Old News
Draconic Measures - Part I
Dancing In The Fire

If Fortune Favours the Brave

A Bluebird’s Song

~~~
All sparks will burn out
In the end
~~~

If Fortune Favours the Brave

The evening was wearing slowly on into night.

Rarity had not once left Fluttershy’s side, holding her hoof as her dressings were changed, and ointments were applied to her injuries. She felt every wince as if the pain were her own. A patch on the pegasus’s foreleg was red and shiny, the fur either burned away or scorched beyond repair. Right now, it was wrapped in a tight, protective dressing. The final instruction of the doctor’s had been to get some rest, and she should be sufficiently recovered to leave by the next day, provided she promised to keep a rigorous eye on taking care of the injury.

Sleep, however, was not coming easily. Fluttershy’s room was small and westerly-facing, the final glowing lances of the setting sun casting dancing, dusky shadows on the wall above her head. Her alabaster companion was still seated on a chair beside the bed. Rarity had asked a few times if Fluttershy was comfortable with her presence, if she might rather be left alone, but to her relief the pegasus had wanted Rarity by her side at all times.

Neither of them spoke about what had passed between them in Cloudsdale; with Dash’s life hanging in the balance, it seemed almost crass to discuss such personal matters. Besides, Rarity was content enough with Fluttershy’s mere company at that moment.

Now that the last of the tranquilizer had worn off, Fluttershy seemed torn between guilt at her assault on Ignis, and a lasting anger at the way he had ordered the dragon to be killed in such cold blood. Occasionally, her eyes would glaze over, and she would give a small shudder. Rarity could tell she was reliving the moment when the spear had entered the creature’s eye. Of course, her main concern was for Dash’s welfare, but the immediacy and brutality of the dragon’s death had left her equally disturbed.

After her experience in the forest, the canary mare seemed to crave physical contact; reassurance from a pony she trusted. She would hold Rarity’s hoof between her own for long periods of time, clutching it to her chest or cheek. It was during these times that she seemed the most at peace.

Presently, Rarity turned to see Fluttershy gazing at her, her expression fearful. “Do you think she’s going to make it?” The tone of voice demanded honesty, not blind reassurance.

Rarity sighed. “I don’t know, Fluttershy,” she replied. “I’ve got every faith in her, but she’s been through so much.” She smiled, weakly at the pegasus. “Mind you, if there’s one pony I’d expect to have the nerve to pull through something like this, it’d be her. It’d be just like her, wouldn’t it?”

Fluttershy smiled back, but her eyes were sad. “I suppose it would.”

Silence descended between them for another few minutes. Fluttershy’s eyes were closed, but she was fitful and restless. Sleep was not coming easily to her. Eventually she let out a low groan.

Immediately, Rarity was standing by her side. “Are you alright, Darling? Are you in pain?”

The canary mare shook her head, opening her eyes again, and balefully eyeing the neatly-dressed burn. “No, it just… itches. All the time.”

“It’s stopping you from sleeping?”

“Mhm,” Fluttershy nodded, looking up plaintively at the unicorn. She gestured to the bed beside her. “Would… would you…?”

Rarity realized what Fluttershy wanted, and smiled gently down at her. “Of course, dear.” It was probably breaking every hospital rule in the book, but the pegasus needed sleep, and for that she needed reassurance. Slowly, taking utmost care not to knock Fluttershy’s injured leg, the pearly unicorn climbed beneath the duvet beside her… could Fluttershy be called her marefriend? Her love? She supposed that time would tell.

The sun had truly set now, and the occupied bed was pleasantly warm after the cold of the tiled floor. Rarity wondered if her mere presence would be enough to soothe Fluttershy to sleep, but the moment she was settled, the primrose-yellow pegasus embraced her beneath the covers, holding her close. The unicorn reciprocated the motion, wrapping her forelegs around Fluttershy’s neck and nuzzling her luxuriant mane, breathing in the scent and basking in the soft, sensual proximity of the mare she loved.

Fluttershy snuggled into Rarity’s neck, her breathing already easing. “Thank you, Rarity,” she whispered in contentment, her breath playing down the unicorn’s chest.

Rarity planted a gentle kiss on the pegasus’s forehead; the moment’s innate calmness was making her feel sleepy herself. In a few minutes, Fluttershy’s breathing had the even, deep regularity of a peacefully sleeping mare. Rarity closed her eyes too, feeling herself drifting, melting in the embrace of this mare who was so effortlessly graceful even in sleep.

It seemed fitting that their first night together should be an oasis; an antithesis to such a tempestuous, painful day. Fluttershy was hurt, and not just physically. Twilight must be infinitely more so, and as for Dash… Right then, however, she felt optimistic, even if she had no right to. Somehow, she knew. They were going to be alright.

Twilight had wept. She had denied, bargained, railed in fury against her own guilt. When she finally felt able to walk she had forced the doctor to remove her drips, and had made her tottering, unsteady way into Dash’s room.

The pegasus was a mess, that much was undeniable. Her wings were elevated by pulleys and wires, and were both in casts, unlike the simple bandaged splints which had been enough to repair her wings the last time she had injured herself. The solid chunks of unforgiving white plaster spoke of much more serious damage. The lower half of her body was swathed in bandages. Several intravenous tubes wormed their way into her pallid limbs like invasive tendrils. An oxygen tube fed into her nose. Her chest was moving up and down, but whether this was natural or the product of some mechanical intervention, Twilight could not tell. The doctors had mentioned significant internal bleeding, but nothing that would not heal naturally given time.

Time did not seem to be in any abundance, however.

After a fashion, the others had left her alone.

Twilight had stood by the unmoving form for hours, sometimes pacing up and down the room until lightheadedness forced her back into a seat. She had spoken in a gentle, monotonous tone, sometimes holding one-sided conversations, sometimes talking to herself or the room at large. She ignited her horn, only to extinguish it once again for fear of her own medical inexpertise. In desperation, she had kissed the unresponsive lips again and again, praying that Dash may somehow sense her presence, or be revitalized. She had come away with nothing but a sense of violation, as if she had forced herself upon the defenceless pegasus. She took a drink, if only to wash her mouth out, to cleanse herself of guilt. Surely, this was how catharsis tasted.

In the end, she fell asleep in her chair, defeated.

“Wake up, my student.”

Twilight’s crusty eyes cracked open. She was back in her own bed; somepony must have carried her while she slept. The physical and mental exhaustion were catching up with her, and even now the patch of her forehead around her horn felt unpleasantly tender. From the light, she guessed that sleep had carried her through to the early afternoon.

Gazing down at her sleep-curled form were the saddened eyes of Princess Celestia. The monarch bowed her head. “Twilight, once again you surpass any of my expectations.”

The unicorn gazed blearily up at the princes. “What… what do you mean, Princess? I failed. I didn’t bring her home.”

Celestia sighed. “Somehow, I knew you would find a way to blame yourself. It’s not perfect, but you gave her a chance; a chance she wouldn’t otherwise have had. You nearly gave your life for her, and from what they told me you had every intention of doing so. Isn’t that enough?”

The answer was obvious from Twilight’s silence. In truth, she had a plan; a backup. She always had a plan B, and this situation was no different. She had woken up with the idea fully formed in her head, as if she had been deliberating it overnight.

The difficulty, of course, was telling the princess of her intention. “Have the doctors spoken to you?” she asked, quietly.

Celestia nodded. “Yes.”

“And?”

The princess could see that Twilight was in no mood for euphemisms. “Her chances aren’t good. They’ve sewn up her cuts, but the combination of blood loss and trauma were too much. It’s not a physical thing anymore; it’s a mental one. If she slips away, it’s because her brain’s just given up the struggle.”

At the words ‘slips away’, Twilight winced, and gritted her teeth, steeling herself for what needed to be said. Celestia would probably take this badly, but she had to at least try. It might be Dash’s last chance.

“Princess?”

“Yes, Twilight?”

“There’s… there’s a spell.” She gulped, but pressed on. “I read about it once, back in Canterlot. The book’s not in Ponyville Library, as best I can tell.”

“Which spell do you mean?” Celestia looked a little concerned, and pressed on, hoping to disabuse Twilight of any impossible hopes. “Awakening Rainbow Dash from her coma by magical means is beyond even my abilities, Twilight. You have to understand that some things cannot simply be healed.”

“That’s not what I mean,” replied Twilight. “I’d like to ask you to do something for me. Something for if Rainbow doesn’t make it. The spell… given the proper ritual, it allows you to trade one pony’s life for another’s. The tally spell, it’s called.”

“Death’s tally may only increase, but bargains may be struck,” murmured Celestia, casting back in her near-eternal memory, recalling the particular passage from that book. She sighed. “I feared this.”

“Princess, if Dash slips away, I’d like for you to use that spell on me. Bring her back.” Twilight’s voice was perfectly steady; she was decided. “This is all my fault; it was my research that put Sunset on our tails. I was the one who played with fire, if anypony deserves to be burned, it’s me.”

For a long moment, there was a billowing, awful silence. Then Celestia shook her head, slowly. “I’m sorry, Twilight. I can’t do that.”

Twilight met her gaze with an intense, questioning stare. “Why not?”

“Because as ruler of this land, sometimes I am forced to make difficult decisions.” Celestia’s voice was flat, the voice of a pony whose mind could not be changed or swayed. “You are the Element of Magic. You are the nexus that binds the others together, and without you the Elements cannot function at all. You’ve saved Equestria twice, and I will not willfully leave my subjects undefended. I know how cold it sounds, but I’m afraid that given the choice of two lives, I must choose yours.”

“What about Rainbow? What about Loyalty?”

“Twilight, I doubt there’s another unicorn alive with your magical ability. You are the Element of Magic, and nopony can take your place.” Celestia looked at the floor, her expression almost shameful. “Without Loyalty, you will admittedly be weakened, but the Elements will seek out a replacement.”

“A replacement?” spat Twilight. “Oh no, if you think anypony could possibly take Rainbow’s place, then clearly you don’t know her.”

“You are the only irreplaceable component, Twilight. The Elements have already drawn six perfectly compatible ponies together,” Celestia said, gently. “I understand that the idea of a new Element of Loyalty seems repugnant and disgusting to you, but to the Elements it is entirely possible.”

“So that’s what we are?” Twilight demanded, incredulously. “We’re just a machine to you? We’re just some magic wand that you can wave and make problems go away?” She sat bolt up right, her eyes furious. “How am I supposed to live? Knowing that I’ve lost Dash, and that it’s all my fault. Knowing that I could have saved her?”

For the first time, a note of anger crept into Celestia’s voice. “And what of me?” she exclaimed. “My second Protégé, Elixir, died in battle because I could not reach him in time. I crossed half of Canterlot to reach him, in time to see him fall from the battlements. I failed him, and he died because of my failure. I’m sorry, Twilight, but I refuse to strike the death blow on the one pony I care about the most. I couldn’t do it. You’re like a daughter to me, Twilight.” Tears were forming in the monarch’s eyes. “Is it too much to ask for there to be one pony who doesn’t add to my guilt? Is it too much to ask for one less face haunting me when I try to sleep?”

The princess turned away to hide her face, and Twilight hung her head, the anger draining from her expression.

Selfish. The rational side of Twilight brain began to berate her.

Just think, Twilight. How would Dash feel? How would she feel to know that she’s alive because you’re not? It’d hurt her for the rest of her life. You’re just afraid, you’re afraid of the pain. Do you really want to transfer that pain to the mare you claim to love? And what about Spike? Would you really abandon him.

Love is a selfish, horrible thing. I’d do it. Even now, given the chance, I’d do it.

And you’d pretend to the last that you were doing it for her sake. You’re disgusting.

“I… I’m sorry, Princess.”

Celestia turned to face Twilight, a little more composed. Her expression laid no blame. With her great accumulation of years and her equally broad experience of emotional connection, she understood all too well the conflict and desperation that love could lead ponies to. “Don’t apologize, Twilight,” she said, gently. “Remember, she still has a chance. Her mental fortitude is incredible; I would not be at all surprised if she pulls through.”

Twilight felt sleep creeping up on her again. Her mind was active, but her body was still fatigued. “I hope so…” she mumbled, closing her eyes.

Celestia walked to the door, leaving her student to her rest.

As she drifted, Twilight’s determination was in no way lessened. She hated herself, she knew that plotting to abandon her friends in this way was callous and completely, utterly wrong. Even so, she could not help but plot, the wheels of her brain turning incessantly, against her will.

I’ll find a way.

“Are… are you sure you heard right?”

Applejack, Pinkie Pie and Rarity were sitting together in the hospital’s waiting room. At this time in the afternoon it was quiet, and the three ponies sat bunched up together on adjacent chairs. In reality, they need not have concerned themselves with being quiet. A pained-looking auburn pegasus who kept glancing distractedly at the clock, and an ochre unicorn mare with a tightly-wrapped headscarf were the room’s only other occupants, and they were keeping well to themselves.

Rarity and Pinkie were staring open-mouthed at Applejack’s revelation. The orange earth pony nodded, gravely. “Sure as oats is oats. I was walkin’ past the door, ya understand? I didn’t mean ta overhear or nothin’.” her expression was guilty, as if she were a young filly caught stealing sweets.

Rarity’s expression was one of shock. Fluttershy was still snoozing, so she had reluctantly disentangled herself from the peaceful pegasus in order to catch up with the others. She had left the sleeping mare with a tender nuzzle and a short note explaining where she had gone, just in case she awoke. “She asked… She wanted the princess to…?” She stopped, unable to complete the sentence.

“That’s the way it sounded,” affirmed Applejack. For once, she was not wearing her hat. The perpetually tattered accessory lay limply on the chair beside her. “Best I could tell, the princess shot her down pretty bad; she just plain refused to even consider it. Once she had time to think about the consequences, I guess Twilight got the picture. Even so…” The orange pony seemed not only shocked by Twilight’s apparent disregard for her own life, but also deeply betrayed.

Pinkie sighed. “I never even knew unicorns could do something like that,” she exclaimed, settling back on the plush seat in frustration.

Applejack shook her head. “Nor me, Pinkie.”

For a few moments, there was silence.

“…I did,” piped up Rarity, in a small voice. All eyes turned on her. “I heard about it a few years ago,” she clarified, hastily. “It was in the news. A mare passed away in childbirth, but the foal survived. Apparently, the husband wanted his child to have a mother. He thought it was more important, and he had the money, so he… he paid a ex-professor from the Canterlot Institute. Celestia only knows what possessed him to agree to do it.” Rarity sighed. “Anyway, they went through with it, and it worked. They tried to keep it quiet, but the professor was arrested, they called it ‘assisting suicide’. The professor must have been subtle though; in the end, the whole thing was quashed over lack of evidence. The point is, I don’t think it’s even that difficult a spell. There’s only one prerequisite, actually.”

“What’s that?” asked Pinkie, her eyes wide, leaning in closer.

Rarity smiled, humourlessly. “It’s what keeps the spell safe. It’s what prevents ponies from going out and kidnapping some random pony to use them as the ‘trade’. It takes love, simply put. It only works if the pony sacrificing themselves has sufficiently strong feelings about the one they hope to bring back.”

For a few moments, there was an uncomfortable silence. Just like the others, Rarity felt hurt and a little betrayed by Twilight’s lack of thought for her friends. Somehow, though, she felt unjustified in feeling that way. A thought sprang unbidden across her mind: You’d be just as willing to give up your life for Fluttershy. You wouldn’t think of the consequences either. It’s hardly fair of you to judge Twilight.

The general atmosphere was heavy and morose. Two of their number had nearly been killed, and one of those was by no means safe. As the three ponies sat in silence together, kicking their hooves on the stained tile floor, that knowledge weighed heavily upon them. None of them felt inclined to make conversation. At times like this, even the strongest of friendships were loose-weave at best. Unity in times of conflict was one thing, but waiting in this way was soul-destroying, hanging on whatever judgment time decided to throw their way. Utterly powerless.

In spite of their inactivity, none of them quite wanted to visit Twilight. Although it was not voiced aloud, her room had become, for the moment, almost taboo. They traded vagaries in undertones, talking of ‘letting her get some rest’. In truth, they had no idea what they would say to her. Would Twilight pretend that nothing had passed between her and Celestia? Would they be able to pretend the same, if she did?

At that moment, the door to Fluttershy’s room opened, some distance to their left. The bleary-eyed but visibly relieved mare exited, tailed by a short, rotund doctor, who bid her a friendly goodbye and vanished swiftly up one of the hospital’s many anonymous corridors.

Fluttershy trotted into the waiting room, noticing the other three bunched up close together, at a very obvious loose end. She took a seat beside Rarity, flashing her a grateful smile which the unicorn could not help but return. “The doctor says I can go,” she said, quietly. “I need to change my own dressing twice a day for the next few days, and apply this ointment each time,” she gestured to the functional, white saddlebag which had been leant to her by the hospital in lieu of her own, in which nestled a roll of gauze and a tube of paste.

Applejack nodded. “I gotta say, sugarcube,” she said, sincerely, “I’m mighty glad nothin’ worse happened to ya down there. We’ve got you to thank for bringin’ them home.” Pinkie and Rarity nodded in grateful agreement.

Fluttershy blushed at the praise, breaking eye contact with the farm pony and looking around the waiting room, half-hiding behind her mane. She had never been one to take compliments easily, and tended to clam up if her achievements were lauded.

Her eyes lingered for a few moments on one of the half-dead pot plants that dotted the waiting room tables, sitting in their islands of well-hoofed and out-of-date magazines. She was about to turn back to face the others, when she seemed to spot something on the other side of the room.

Suddenly, her eyes widened, and the colour drained from her face. Even her blush vanished with the shock. Her eyes had alighted on the ochre unicorn mare, sitting in the corner, gazing idly at her hooves. She was middle-aged and her face was lined and tired-looking, her head and neck swathed in a silken headscarf which had done the fashion rounds in Manehattan a few years ago.

“What’s the matter, darling?” asked Rarity, resting a hoof on Fluttershy’s withers, her voice one of concern.

Fluttershy turned to her, and blinked once, the initial surprise fading. She hoisted a very fake smile onto her face, and tilted her head towards the corridor. “I’ve just realized,” she said in a falsely bright voice. “They’ve given me the wrong ointment! Would you girls mind coming with me? I don’t like wandering around here on my own.”

“What, all of us?” asked Pinkie in confusion, the obvious subtext whistling directly over her head and impacting uselessly with the whitewashed wall.

“Yes, Pinkie,” replied Fluttershy, her teeth slightly gritted. “I’d be ever so grateful.”

Rarity gave the pink earth pony a stiffening nudge, and she appeared to cotton on after a moment’s deliberation. “Oh. Oh! Okie-dokey then, Flutters.”

The three of them stood, and began to make their nonchalant way up the corridor. As soon as they rounded the corner, Fluttershy looked urgently up and down the deserted passage, and spotted an obviously unoccupied room about halfway along. She darted inside, gesturing for the others to follow suit, and shut the door with a snap.

As it turned out, they found themselves sequestered in a space little larger than a cupboard, filled with mops and bottles of disinfectant. The only light shone through the circular glass panel in the door.

Pinkie looked around at the place, one eyebrow raised, then turned to Fluttershy. “I don’t think they’ve got any ointment here,” she finally declared, with the air of one making a solemn and deliberated pronouncement.

The canary pegasus was breathing hard. She ignored Pinkie, and gestured towards the waiting room in which they had been sitting. “That mare,” she gasped, speaking uncharacteristically rapidly, “the one with the headscarf. I… I know her.”

Rarity looked surprised. “You know her? She doesn’t look like she’s from Ponyville, not with that bizarre headgear… do you mean you knew her before you moved here?”

Fluttershy nodded. “When I was a filly in Cloudsdale. Well, I never knew her personally... It’s a long story. She’s changed since then, but I’d recognize her anywhere.”

A snide, ironic voice in her head piped up: Of course you recognize her. You once broke a filly’s jaw over a locket carrying her picture.

That’s irrelevant, she chided herself. The question is, what’s she doing here? What’s she doing here after all these years?

Her best guess, she hated to admit to herself, was not optimistic. The mare had lived with a militant anti-pegasus activist for years. Who knew how much those beliefs had infected her? Who knew now what she was planning?

There's only one reason she'd be wearing that headscarf; if she doesn't want to be recognized. With a mane as distinctive as hers, it'd be all too easy to make the connection.

Fluttershy looked up, meeting the expectant gazes of the other two ponies. “Her name’s Rainbow Shine,” she continued, at length. "She’s Dash’s mother.”

Chasing Ghosts

A Bluebird’s Song

~~~
If you hear me
Throw me a line or strike me down
Do you refuse to even accuse?
Do your worst
Lift this curse
~~~

Chasing Ghosts

“So, this is bad, right?”

Rarity edged her head around the corner of the corridor, to ensure that Rainbow Shine was still seated in the waiting room. Sure enough, the unicorn was perched her corner chair, reading a magazine. Even from this angle, it was obvious that she was nervous. She kept tapping her forehoof rhythmically against the table beside her, shifting in place as she read. Upon closer inspection, a few telltale strands of vivid prismatic mane hung treacherously out from under the tightly-wound headscarf.

Fluttershy nodded, motioning them back around the corner. “I don’t see what else it could be,” she whispered. “Rainbow told me about her. She lived with a pro-unicorn activist for years, and after the way Rainbow’s father treated her, I wouldn’t be surprised if his ideas rubbed off on her.” The canary mare sighed. “Look at how Cloudshine ended up.”

Applejack grimaced. “Ya know, we need ta tell Twilight about this.”

Rarity looked doubtful, edging back up the corridor out of the ochre mare’s earshot, the others in tow. “Are you sure she’d cope with it? After what she asked the princess, I mean…” the unicorn gestured vaguely towards her head. “Do you think she’s… you know, alright?”

It was a valid point. Stress had forced Twilight into a mental breakdown before now. If they presented Dash’s mother as a threat to the comatose pegasus’s already fragile life, it might just push her over the edge. Doubtless, that would make matters worse for all involved. On the other hand, she knew from experience that Twilight only tended to succumb to stress in situations in which it was not warranted. On the whole, she usually dealt with genuine crises rather effectively.

Fluttershy closed her eyes, steeling herself to make the decision. Of course, she did not know what Twilight had asked of the princess, but whatever it was, it made little difference to the current situation. “No, I’m sorry, Rarity. We need to tell her. She’d never forgive us if we held this back from her, particularly if…”

She ground to a halt, hanging her head. Applejack snorted, derisively. “Yeah, and it ain’t like Twilight’s holdin’ anything back from us, is it?” she muttered, sarcastically.

To the surprise of everypony present, Rarity turned angrily on the farm pony. Despite her earlier concerns about Twilight’s mental state, she now rallied in defence of the unicorn. “Have you ever been in love, Applejack?” she demanded, still making an effort to keep her voice low. “I’m not talking about crushes here. Have you ever known a pony who it physically hurts you to be apart from? A pony you’d do anything to protect?”

Applejack blushed at the intensity of the unicorn’s gaze, and lowered her own. “Ah can’t rightly see that’s any concern of yours,” she mumbled, but relented after a moment. “Okay, fine. No… No, I’ve not. Ya’ll happy?”

Rarity sighed, her momentary flare of anger fading. “Look, I’m not saying what Twilight did was right, or well thought-out, but I understand why she did it. Just imagine for a moment that you felt they way she did about somepony, before something dreadful like this happens. You feel so powerless, watching them slip away, and then, one day, you find a spell that allows you to bring them back at the cost of your own life. Can you look me in the eye and tell me you wouldn’t want to use it?”

Applejack avoided Rarity’s eyes. “Ah… Ah don’t honestly know, Rare’.”

“Well,” Rarity’s voice cracked a little. “I do. I understand how Twilight feels. But… she’s sensible. She’ll make the right decision.”

Fluttershy’s expression was one of shock, as the pieces clicked together in her brain, and she realized what Twilight had asked the princess to do.

Rarity turned to look at her, and her eyes widened. “Oh, Fluttershy, I’m so sorry, darling. You didn’t know, did you?”

The pegasus shook her head, mutely, her brain still catching up to understanding what Rarity was implying.

“It’s okay,” the unicorn murmured, reassuringly. “We think that the princess managed to talk her out of it. She’s fine.”

The canary pegasus was gazing at Rarity, and she suddenly seemed to realize why Rarity could empathize with Twilight’s willingness to give up her life for the pony she loved. Her expression of shock changed to one of horror. “Rarity,” she whispered, her eyes shining with moisture, “you’re not saying that you’d…? If…?”

Rarity wished that she had not spoken; she knew that Fluttershy would likely take it badly. Even so, she did not hesitate in her response: “For you? Of course I would, darling. A thousand times.”

Fluttershy blushed crimson for a few seconds, then rushed forwards to embrace the unicorn, her tears spilling over into the fur of her cheeks. “I would too,” she whispered in Rarity’s ear, her voice intense and sincere. “For… for you, I mean,” she clarified, hastily. She knew that her words had sounded clunky and stumbling and utterly unromantic, but it did not matter. She had never before appreciated just how much she meant to Rarity. To feel truly loved and protected was an experience she had never undergone before, and once again the pent-up emotion of a repressed lifetime seemed at risk of bursting forth.

For a few long moments, they held each other tightly. Neither of the pair really wanted to let go.

When they finally did separate, Applejack threw them a look of half-amused resignation. “You two as well, huh?” she asked, smiling slightly.

Fluttershy nodded, blushing scarlet. In truth, she had forgotten that the others were even present, so lost had she been in the moment. “I think so,” she mumbled, not at all unhappy with the idea. She smiled at Rarity, who met her eyes lovingly, leaning across and kissing the pegasus softly on the cheek in a moment of irresistible, instinctual affection. The canary mare’s blush became, if possible, even deeper.

“You guys,” interjected Pinkie, a little teary at the display of affection, but showing a surprising sense of perspective nonetheless. “This is great, but can’t it kind of… wait ‘til later?”

Rarity nodded, snapping out of her unwitting state of Fluttershy-hypnosis. “You’re right, Pinkie. Visiting time’s coming up soon, so we’ve got until then to tell Twilight.”

“Ya’ll are happy with tellin’ her then?” Applejack asked, warningly.

“I think so.” Rarity sighed. “I’ve still got misgivings, but Fluttershy’s right… I just hope she can hold it together.”

Applejack snorted, recalling the lavender unicorn’s previous brushes with stressful situations. “Why do I get the feeling this ain’t gonna end well?”

The silence was pressing in from all sides, as Twilight lay alone with her guilt. Once sleep had unfolded her from its drowsy embrace, the guilt was her only company; it gnawed at her, unrelenting.

Her mind threw up image after image of what may have passed, had Celestia agreed. She pictured her own funeral, her friends silent and abandoned, Spike kneeling by the casket, bereft. Rainbow dead-eyed despite her renewed life, blaming herself, knowing that this was the cost of her continuation…

Rainbow, alive and well.

Rainbow, with her life returned to her.

Despite the cost, the picture was an attractive one.

What kind of life would she have, though? You’d haunt her, Twilight. You’d always haunt her.

That was it. Deep down inside her, the last spark of indecision was extinguished.

I’m not going to hurt her like that.

In that moment, she gave up. Suddenly, she was willing to allow blind fate to take its own path. She promised herself, if the worst came to the worst, not to give in to the easy path; not to anaesthetize herself at her lover’s expense.

If she lost Dash, the pain would be nigh-unendurable, but day by day, night by lonely night, she would endure it. For the sake of her friends, for Spike’s sake, she would endure. Most of all, she would endure for Dash’s sake. She would not give in to that selfish impulse that cruelly disguised itself as self-sacrifice.

“If it comes to it, I’ll leave you in peace,” she whispered, as if voicing the words aloud would seal the promise.

If it comes to it. She prayed that it would not.

She felt a sudden, burning desire to confess to somepony, anypony; to rid herself of the sense of guilt that she had even considered taking such a coward’s exit, and abandoning the mare she loved.

What if I said we go together, or not at all? Her earlier, dream-induced thought echoed, mocking her, waving her hypocrisy before her eyes.

At that moment, there was a knock on the door. She had half a mind to pretend to be asleep, to attempt to extend her grace period in which to think, but she did not act on the impulse. “Come in,” she called out.

The door swung ajar, and four worried-looking ponies entered the room, Fluttershy leading.

Twilight wanted nothing more than to burst into tears there and then, and admit to everything that she had so coldly planned, but something in her friends’ eyes stopped her. “What’s… what’s wrong?” her voice was weak, but at least it did not tremble too badly.

Fluttershy trotted over to the bed, and Applejack closed the door, after scanning outside with a conspiratorial air.

“Twilight,” Fluttershy said quietly, “it’s about Rainbow.”

An icy dagger seemed to stab through Twilight’s throat, rendering her incapable of speech. Her eyes widened, filling with tears, her heart accelerating. She let out a low groan. Fluttershy gasped, clapping a hoof to her mouth, looking suddenly horrified as she realized the awful ambiguity of what she had said.

“No, no!” she exclaimed. “Rainbow’s still… she’s alright. I… I mean she’s still under, b-but…” Twilight visibly relaxed as the stammering pegasus tried to explain herself.

“Thank Celestia,” whispered the purple unicorn. “What… what about Rainbow, then?”

Rarity walked up beside Fluttershy, resting a comforting hoof on her back. Fluttershy nodded in relief, still inaudibly stuttering a little, and stepped backwards, recognizing the opportunity to pass on the baton, and seizing on it gratefully.

“Twilight, dear,” Rarity began, deliberately keeping her voice as gentle as possible. “We were in the waiting room just now, and Fluttershy… well, she recognized one of the other ponies.”

Twilight sat up a little, intrigued despite herself. “Really?”

Rarity nodded. “Yes. The thing is, Twilight, it was…” she paused for a moment, and apparently came to the conclusion that there was no way to couch a name in euphemism. “It was Dash’s mother, Rainbow Shine.”

The lavender unicorn sat bolt upright, staring at Rarity in blank surprise. “Is she still there?”

Fluttershy nodded, edging back over to the bed. “They’re not letting visitors into Rainbow’s room right now, our best guess is that she’s waiting to be let in. I don’t think she knows we’ve got anything to do with Rainbow, though.”

“That’s good.” Twilight closed her eyes for a moment. “What do you think she’s here for?”

Rarity shook her head. “We don’t know, darling, but we can’t trust her. We… we think she might be here to hurt Rainbow.”

The lavender mare kicked off the suddenly-repressive duvet, and got to her hooves, feeling a little of her strength returned to her, the haze of fatigue beginning to lift.

“Twilight?” Rarity asked, her eyes nervously following the unicorn as she walked over to the window of her room, lifting the venetian blinds with a flick of magic, letting the afternoon sun stream over her coat.

“You’re probably right. I’d guess she’s not here for anything good.” Twilight’s mind was turning the situation over, examining it from all possible angles. She remembered all that Dash had told her, all of the pieces of her past that had lain disparate and shattered. The picture was nearly complete. Rainbow Shine was a loose end, and here was their chance to tie it up. Or perhaps cut it.

When she turned around to face the others, a small, dangerous smile was playing across her lips. Her guilt and her fear for Dash’s fate were momentarily sidelined, as she gave herself up to the allure of a puzzle. Rarity need not have feared; her intellect was quite intact. “We have the advantage,” she said, quietly. “We know she’s here, but she doesn’t know about us. For once, we can play things out the way we want them.”

“Do you think… Sunset?” Pinkie piped up, her eyes wide and fearful.

Twilight shook her head. “Unlikely, I’d say. It’s possible, of course, but I’d guess that she’s acting alone. Dash’s father was bad enough, then she lived with another unicorn for years, filling her head with his anti-pegasus rhetoric. Besides, Sunset can’t communicate out of prison anymore.”

“They orchestrated the record attempt pretty darn well if ya ask me,” pointed out Applejack.

“No, they didn’t. That’s the key,” replied Twilight. “Dash was slipped a Draught of Foolishness at the record attempt, but that wasn’t Sunset’s plan. That was Dusk Tempest and his vendetta against Celestia. Remember when he died, what they found in his blood? Sunset had bought large supplies of Foolishness from Root Blacksap, and they trusted Dusk. It would have been all too easy for him to get his hooves on some, when he could use Sergeant Quintus to communicate out of jail. He made the arrangements, then used a potion and doctored his own memory, that way Celestia didn’t find out about his plans for the record when she… interrogated him.” She winced a little at the euphemism, but pressed on. “Anyway, Sunset found out that he’d taken them for a ride, so they coerced Quintus into poisoning him. That put Celestia onto the trail of the dungeon guards, so she rotated the entire unit. Then, Quintus tried to kill Rainbow, and died in the attempt. Don’t you see? Sunset are in the dungeons, with no way of communicating with each other, or the outside world. Dusk’s dead, Quintus is dead, and my research is safe in the Canterlot archive.”

She smiled at the assembled ponies, who all seemed one step behind, still processing the convoluted web of names and events that Twilight had woven for them. “Sunset are finished, and I think that Rainbow Shine might just be the last piece in this whole mess. She won’t put up a fight if she’s sensible.” Her smile suddenly faded, and she gritted her teeth. “After that, all we can do is hope.”

Her heart was beating with excitement, her fear pushed aside. I feel good, I feel in control. Why do I feel good? I have no right to.

You know why. The high before the fall. Those moments when you forget everything bottled up inside you… those are always the moments when all of those things are closest to escaping.

Rarity nudged Applejack, whispering something to her and jerking her head in Twilight’s direction. The farm pony gulped, and took a step forwards, obviously steeling herself for a confession. “Twi’,” she said, quietly. “Ah need to tell ya something... Ah think we all need to get this out in the open if we’re gonna work well together.”

“What is it?” Twilight had a horrible feeling that she knew what the mare was going to say.

The orange mare broke eye contact, scuffing her hoof on the tiled floor with a squeaking sound. “Ah… Ah kinda overheard some of what ya’ll asked the princess to do. Ah didn’t mean to, ya’ll weren’t bein’ all that quiet, is all.”

Rarity nodded. “We don’t mean to pry, it’s just that if you’re considering taking a step like that, then we feel you ought to talk with your friends about it. Sometimes being a good friend means stepping in before somepony makes a decision that might do more harm than good.”

Applejack shrunk back a little, as if expecting Twilight to shout at her for being nosy.

Instead, the opposite happened. All of the fight went out of the unicorn; the determination in her eyes died in one stroke, as if snuffed out, and she sank to the floor, weeping openly. She made no effort to wipe her eyes, letting the droplets of moisture splash down onto the sterile chequerboard floor.

They know…This is it, she thought, they’re never going to forgive me. They’d be right not to.

“I’m… I’m s-so sorry,” she choked. “What m-must you think of me? I’m not w-worth having as a friend.”

She was gazing at the floor, her blurred liquid vision shimmering. She did not hear her friends approach, and the first thing she knew of their response was when four pairs of hooves embraced her, their owners encircling her protectively, holding her tightly on the tear-stained floor. She looked up, crying harder than ever. It was not just guilt now; all of the pent-up emotion from the last few days was pouring out of her. The pain, the tiredness, the look in the eyes of that wolf, the moment before she snapped its neck. The snake’s convulsions, its blood running into her eyes, the dirty iron stink filling her nose… Most of all, she wept for the numbing, crippling fear for the life of the mare she loved, the fear that she had tried to hard not to acknowledge for the fear that it might consume her entirely.

“Twilight, don’t be such a silly,” Pinkie chided gently, smiling at her with sympathetically watering eyes, her forelegs soft and comforting around Twilight’s neck. “We understand; we all understand. Love’s a stupid, messy, scary thing, and it makes you want to do stupid, messy, scary things sometimes.”

“I couldn’t have put it better myself, darling,” added Rarity, giving the purple mare a squeeze. “I don’t think any the less of you for this.”

The others nodded in concurrence, maintaining their embrace.

“I… I’ve decided, anyway,” Twilight whispered, her voice cracking. “The princess told me that if Rainbow slips away, it’s because her mind gave up; because her mind wanted peace. I don’t care how much it hurts me, but if she makes that decision, I’ll leave her in peace. I know things like this are always worst for the one left behind, but I can take that. For her.” She sighed. “If I used that spell, I wouldn’t be doing it out of kindness. It would be the most selfish thing I could ever do.” She sighed, the last of the well of tears falling from her eyelashes. “That’s the worst type of selfishness. The sort that pretends it’s kind, because it’s too painful to face up to.”

She turned her head to the right, in the scrum of ponies, and met Applejack’s eyes. The farm-pony’s mane was free; her hat had apparently gone missing somewhere in the group hug’s enactment, but she smiled nevertheless, her eyes twinkling. “Ah’m mighty proud of you, sugarcube,” she said, her voice full of simple, honest sincerity.

“Now,” Twilight wiped away the last of her tears, and looked around at her friends, at the ponies to whom she owed so much, “what do we do about Rainbow Shine?”

The plan, in the end, was a simple one. There was little point in approaching Dash’s mother in the waiting room. After all, a mother visiting her daughter in hospital was nothing to call the guards about, and she would be easily capable of bluffing her way past any attention they drew to her. Princess Celestia would be back in the palace by now, so contacting her at short notice without Spike’s help was impossible.

Ultimately, they decided to lie in wait until visiting time came around at three in the afternoon, and then to discreetly follow Rainbow Shine. This wing of the hospital was quiet at the moment, being situated at a comfortable distance from the main entrance. With luck, they would be able to accost her on her own, in one of the hospital’s many corridors, preferably near Dash’s room. Once she was safely secured and subdued, they planned to bundle her, preferably unconscious, into Twilight’s room. The door latched from the inside, and it would be an easy matter to keep her under guard. Twilight intended to establish a magic suppression field within the room to prevent Rainbow Shine from assaulting them magically. She would then run across the city, use her authority as the princess’s protégé to enter the palace, and summon Celestia.

That was the plan, anyway.

It was ten minutes to three, and the five ponies were waiting in Twilight’s room. It had been decided not to loiter in the waiting room, as if they were spotted hanging around too much, they may well arouse suspicion and put their prey on the defensive. They were all painfully aware that what they were doing was legally and morally dubious.

Applejack glanced at the clock, her brow sweaty. “Twi’…” she muttered. “What if we’re wrong? What if she’s just here to see her daughter? Ah dunno ‘bout you, but Ah’d feel mighty bad if we go trussin’ her up for no good reason.”

Twilight sighed. “I know, Applejack. But we’ve got to take that risk. I’ll happily take the blame if we’re wrong, or if we get caught. We’re not going to hurt her, we’re just going to keep her contained until we can bring the princess here. We could just leave her, but Dash’s chances are already slim enough; I don’t want to play dice with whatever she has left, and I’d bet my horn that Shine’s not here to do anything good.”

Pinkie nodded, unusually serious. “I just hope the doctors don’t spot us,” she remarked to Rarity. “Do you think we ought to camouflage ourselves?”

“Camouflage ourselves as what, dear?” the unicorn asked, rolling her eyes. “We’re in a hospital, for Celestia’s sake.”

“…Medicine?” suggested Pinkie, her expression one of utmost seriousness.

Twilight looked around at the assembled ponies. “Look,” she said, “I realize that what we’re doing isn’t exactly pleasant. It leaves a bad taste in my mouth, to tell the truth, but I’m going to go through with it for Rainbow’s sake. If any of you don’t want anything to do with this, let me know now. I won’t blame you.”

She paused, giving anypony who wanted to do so a chance to opt out. None of her friends spoke, and Twilight felt a rush of gratitude towards them for sticking by her side.

Applejack smirked, and nudged Fluttershy. “Ah told ya this wasn’t gonna end well.”

Twilight trotted to the door, and swung it ajar to look up and down the corridor. “Okay, let’s go. Visiting time’s in five minutes.”

Moving as silently as possible, the five ponies made their stealthy way up through the network of corridors that criss-crossed the hospital. The central waiting room for this wing was by the burns unit, adjacent to Fluttershy’s room, and about a minute’s walk from Twilight’s.

They reached the corner that led into the waiting room, and Twilight turned to the others. “I’ll go in and sit across from her, you guys keep out of sight. As soon as she makes a move, I’ll wait for her to head down the corridor and fetch you. That way we can sneak up on her. Alright?”

The four ponies nodded, and Fluttershy indicated the storage cupboard in which they had hidden earlier. “We’ll wait in there, Twilight.”

The unicorn nodded, and took a moment to compose her features into an expression of suitable neutrality. Then, she stepped around the corner. Her hooves receded away along the tiles, towards the waiting room. Then, they halted. Fluttershy had been leading the way towards the cupboard full of cleaning supplies, but she stopped and turned as Twilight’s hoofbeats began rapidly returning up the passageway.

The lavender pony appeared, running back around the corner, her face white. She narrowly avoided a linen-coated doctor, leaving his glasses askew, and careened to a halt. Her friends turned fearfully to look at her.

“She’s gone,” Twilight exclaimed. “Shine’s gone!”

“Come on,” commanded Applejack, taking the initiative and motioning towards the waiting room. The five ponies entered the carpeted, magazine-strewn room at a canter, looking hurriedly around at the occupants. Several surprised faces stared back at them, but none belonged to Dash’s mother.

Rarity picked her way around the tables to the deserted reception desk, ringing the bell urgently with a swipe of her hoof. It took precious seconds, but a blue-coated and disinterested-looking receptionist appeared from a back office, a sheaf of papers clutched between her teeth. She dumped the papers down on the faux-granite surface, and looked up with considerable boredom at the near-panicked unicorn.

“Yeah?”

Rarity took a few seconds to control her rate of breathing, and hoisted a rather weak smile onto her face. She was aware that she was likely to be given short shrift, but right now even a chance of relocating their quarry was better than none. “Excuse me,” she began, tapping her back hoof nervously on the carpet, “I believe there was a unicorn mare waiting here, wearing a headscarf. Her name’s Rainbow Shine.”

The receptionist glanced up. Rarity noticed that she was idly chewing gum. “Oh, her? Do you know her?”

Rarity nodded, reasoning that improvising was easier when it was based on truth. “Yes, we’re… we’re friends of hers. Her daughter, Rainbow Dash, is here at the moment.”

An expression of recognition flashed across the receptionist’s face. “Rainbow Dash? Oh yeah, that was it. She wanted to see Rainbow Dash, so I told her to go ahead.”

“What?” exclaimed Rarity, whipping around and staring in horrified confusion at the clock. Two minutes until visiting time.

The blue mare shrugged. “She’s family, family members can visit private rooms whenever they want. I unlocked the door for her myself.” She thought idly for a couple of seconds. “She must have gone in about fifteen minutes ago.”

Rarity’s mouth was hanging open a little, and she turned to the others, who had heard everything, and looked equally panic-stricken. This meant that Rainbow Shine had walked right past the door to Twilight’s room, while they had all stood within, plotting, oblivious. In their haste, not one of them had thought to set somepony to wait outside Dash’s door.

Oh Celestia, we’re idiots.

The receptionist looked down at the papers she was re-filing. “She’ll probably still be there,” she remarked. “If you head back now you’ll be able to catch…” her words tailed off, as she looked up.

The five ponies were gone. The only sign of them was the swiftly-receding sound of five pairs of hooves, as they charged back down the twisting corridors.

The receptionist shook her head contemptuously, and returned to her paperwork.

Past Imperfect

A Bluebird’s Song

~~~
Give me a flare to paint the sky
So I can light the world for a second
Before we fade away
~~~

Past Imperfect

Like so many buildings in the ancient unicorn city, Canterlot Hospital was built into the sheer rock face of the mountainside, overhanging the abyss. Flashes of the eye-level cloudscape and distant field patchwork flashed past in the windows as Twilight and her friends ran down the main hallway to the rooms in the east wing.

Twilight had almost lost hope as she ran, leading the others . A few visitors and members of staff were dotted up and down the tile passageway, and hastened out of the path of the charging ponies. A few indignant yells pursued them as they went, but none looked back.

If she’s out to get Rainbow, she’s had more than enough time, Twilight thought, desperately.

Pray that she isn’t. We might be wrong.

She gritted her teeth, her horn sparking instinctually in anger. And if she is, she’d better pray she can get away. There’s nowhere in Equestria she’ll be safe.

They skidded around the corner, past Twilight’s room. Dash was next door, in Room 16. The small circular window in the door was covered by a privacy curtain, With a flick of her magic, Twilight swiped for the handle, twisting it sharply.

She was forced backwards. The door was locked from the inside; the type of lock that automatically clicked into place once the door was closed. Twilight gasped, whipping around. “She’s still in there,” she whispered. In truth, whispering was for the most part pointless. The jerk on the magically-gripped handle would have alerted Rainbow Shine to their presence. If they were to maintain the element of surprise, they needed to act fast. Picking the lock would take too long, but blowing the door off its hinges was liable to attract attention, to say the least.

Twilight concentrated, her horn flaring. She pushed a narrow tendril of magic into the keyhole, and expanded it once it was inside, filling the interior with a purple aura that clung tightly to the inner mechanism. Twilight suddenly clenched the magical field together with a sudden, violent motion, and the lock imploded with a dull thud. With a final spark of the unicorn’s horn, the crushed interior of the lock was jerked back out of the keyhole in a shower of small, broken pieces of metal.

Her heart hammering, dreading what she might find within, Twilight pushed the door ajar with a forehoof. Her horn was glowing; she was ready to defend herself.

Her eyes widened at the sight that greeted her.

Cloudshine’s eyes cracked open at the familiar squeaking sound of the cellblock door swinging ajar. The torch brackets in the walls were beginning to burn low, and she guessed that the afternoon was beginning to wear on. Down here, buried deep out of sight and sound beneath the great mountain, she measured time by meals, and the patrols of the guards. Her body clock had ceased to function properly in the windowless dungeon, and she slept when the need arose in her, not according to any real pattern. At least the food was reasonable.

Root Blacksap must be down here somewhere, as were the others. Of course, they were kept in separate block with no way of communicating. The guards were rotated on a weekly basis. All in all, Cloudshine had to concede that they had run out of cards to play. Sunset was dead, and the worst part was knowing that it had died on her watch, all because of one pony, one pony she had trusted, who had so infuriatingly decided to pursue his own idiotic agenda and destroy such a carefully-planned operation.

It would have been so simple. Steal the dragon, blackmail Sparkle. She destroys her research. Kill the dragon, dump it, move on. Problem solved. It was going to be so easy; so routine. She glowered at the wall, which already bore a number of crescent-shaped chips where she had kicked out at it in frustration.

She knew that eventually she would be put on trial, and it was painfully obvious what the verdict would be. The guards had found everything; weapons, potions, their records, their future plans, everything. She had only been in Sunset’s upper echelons for a few years, but she had accrued quite enough blood on her hooves over that time. She was looking at a life sentence, and knew it all too well. Cloudshine ground her teeth, flopping back on the straw mattress. Dusk Tempest had a lot to answer for.

Sometimes, she wished that she had been able to get some time alone with him, to pay him back a little. Her slow-acting poison of choice was, of course, an unpleasant enough way to go, but she and her accomplices were looking at years of staring at blank stone walls such as this one, and would doubtless die doing exactly that. She could think of no slower death.

Occasionally, she wondered what had become of her half-sister. She wondered if she had ever found their mother, in the end. Seventeen, Palm Avenue, Manehattan. Cloudshine half-smiled. The coltish little pegasus was certainly in for a shock.

Then, her ears pricked up a little. Down here, every sound was one she had heard repeated a thousand clockwork-regular times. The drip of damp from the walls, the iron-shod hoofbeats of the guards. These hoofbeats were different; they were heaver, and somehow more graceful, the chink of metal on stone ringing out with a higher pitch. A strange, mottled-gold glow illuminated the shadowy corners, and Cloudshine’s heart sank as she guessed the visitor’s identity.

Princess Celestia stepped into view, looking down at Cloudshine, her features impassive.

“I think we should start by agreeing to tell one another the truth,” Celestia said, quietly.

Cloudshine rolled her eyes. It was a remarkable talent of the princess’s to make even the bluntest of statements sound melodramatic. She did her best to keep her expression bored. “I think that goes without saying,” she replied. “You already know everything, and lets face it,” she looked around at the cell, a small smirk on her lips, “it’s not like my situation can get worse, is it?”

“I expect Dusk Tempest thought the same, but you proved him wrong,” the princess noted.

“You mean we proved him wrong?” Cloudshine countered, raising her eyebrow. “I’d say we had a pretty good collaboration on making his last few days hell.”

Celestia did not bother to ask how the unicorn knew of what she had done to Dusk. Even when prisoners are separated from one another, there is no such thing as a secret in a prison. Guards gossip, rumours circulate, and one way or another, word gets around in the end.

A note of anger crept into Celestia’s voice. “How much did you know?”

Cloudshine climbed slowly to her hooves, a hint of confusion in her eyes. “About what?”

“Remember that pegasus who visited you? Your half-sister?”

“Rainbow Dash?” Cloudshine cocked her head, suddenly interested.

“The very same. Did you know what Dusk Tempest was planning?”

Cloudshine snorted. “We put two and two together in the end. It was never about unicorns; for him, it was all about you.” She shrugged. “I dunno exactly what he planned, but I bet it was something bad for you.” She let out a humourless bark of laughter. "Word travels in prison. The guards heard the screams. Tell me, what drives a goddess to that?”

Celestia frowned. The words stung, but more significant was the understanding that Cloudshine genuinely knew nothing of Dusk’s plans. “Rainbow Dash was slipped a dose of Foolishness, and it caused her to crash at high speed. She’s in a coma now, and our best guess is that Dusk Tempest orchestrated the entire thing before his death.”

The revelation was harshly blunt, and for some reason Cloudshine felt a small pang of loss for the pegasus she hardly knew. “Why… why are you telling me?”

“You knew him,” the princess said, simply. “This had nothing to do with Sunset; that much is obvious. It was Dusk, working alone, using your resources. My main question is this: I need you to tell me how much influence he had, about his ability to lay backup traps. He might well have known she would survive the crash.”

To her surprise, Cloudshine nodded, sitting back down on the straw. “Sure.”

Celestia was taken aback; she had expected the unicorn to be belligerent. “You have to understand,” she added, her voice one of warning, “I’ve been around ponies for millennia. I know when I’m being lied to.”

The caged pony snorted. “Give me a break, I don’t owe Tempest anything. Hell, if I can make it so he died for nothing, if I can make it so his big old revenge plan ends up properly sunk, maybe staring at bars for the rest of my life might just be a bit more bearable.” She fixed Celestia with a deadpan stare. “I’m not doing this to help you or your little pegasus friends, I’m doing this because Tempest screwed me over, and I’d like to return the favour.”

Celestia half-smiled, but her eyes were sad. She had almost expected for Cloudshine to ask for immunity from jail in exchange for information, but the unicorn was intelligent enough to realize how much of a risk she was. She knew that if there was one thing that she could never taste again, it was free air.

It was not the young mare’s fault; that was what made the whole thing so much more unpleasant. The princess knew perfectly well, just as Dash had realized, that had the random hand of time arranged the world a little differently, it could all too easily be Cloudshine’s cyan half-sister sitting behind these bars, with the same achingly youthful, haunted eyes. The same bloodied hooves.

“First things first, then.” Celestia’s voice was a little louder than she had intended, as if she were trying to drown her thoughts out. “Do you know if Tempest had any contacts outside of Sunset, ponies of a similar mindset who he could have called on or paid to do his dirty work?”

Cloudshine thought for a moment, settling back on the mattress. Then, she smirked. “You know, I think I do.” She turned away momentarily, wistful. “He was the reason I first caught Sunset’s attention.”

“They tried to recruit you?”

Once again, the unicorn laughed, the sound bitter and humourless. “Not me. In my family, I was the second choice. Dusk was a friend of the family, he knew my dad from someplace. When he got out of prison, my dad was the first one he went to. He must have put Sunset on the scent of our family when he joined up in prison.”

Celestia leaned forwards a little, listening with interest. “And?”

“Dad was a fighter,” continued Cloudshine. “Still is, I guess. Big guy, for a unicorn. Charismatic. Looked good with a placard, they always gave him a front row spot at demonstrations, I remember riding on his back… the shouting; that sense of being in the teeth of a crowd. My mom was the opposite, she was a thinker. But after the way her last guy up in Cloudsdale treated her, she had just as much of a problem with the pegasi as dad did. Intelligent anger, that was what Sunset wanted. I took after mom, y’see. In fact, I way too young to be of much interest to Dusk back then, but I’d say I’m a little smarter than her.” She snorted, gesturing around at the damp, claustrophobic cell. “Shows, doesn’t it? Look where I am now. Make way for the young!”

Celestia ignored the outburst. “So, Dusk Tempest scouted her out. Did she join?”

“She wanted to, trust me, but Sunset were too cautious; they took too long. They came knocking a few years later for me. I signed up like a shot, but they’d missed their chance with mom. She couldn’t, you see.”

“Why not?”

“She wasn’t available, and do you know what? I guess we’ve got Rainbow Dash to thank for that.” She lay back on the makeshift bed, staring up at the ceiling, smirking. “Why don’t you pull up a seat? It’s quite a story.”

Rainbow Shine was seated beside her daughter’s bed, holding the inert cyan mare’s hoof between both of her own, and she was weeping openly. The bed-covers were dotted with tears. She was muttering under her breath, although the words were inaudible. She was rocking back and forth a little. Her headscarf lay on the bed, her mane a disheveled, prismatic mess. She was nothing close to the straight-necked, obviously intelligent mare who had resided in Dash’s locket. Time had been cruel to her.

She seemed not to notice Twilight’s entry, nor the four others who immediately followed her, each stopping in their tracks at the sight, and piling up a little in the doorway. None of them spoke, although Twilight imagined that they all felt every bit as awkward as she did.

Twilight heart seemed to shrivel a little in shame, at the sight of the crying mare. She felt deeply uncomfortable, as if they had intruded on something extremely private and personal. This was not ordinary grief; there was something very obviously wrong with the mare. Internally, she thanked Celestia twofold, firstly that their delay had not caused any harm to come to Dash, and secondly that they had not accosted and locked up this fragile, shaking pony. She felt cold at how close they had come to making a terrible mistake.

Somehow, Twilight wanted nothing more than to back away, to cease this intrusion, but it was not possible. As if suddenly aware of the additional presences in the room, Rainbow Shine turned and met Twilight’s conflicted, apologetic gaze.

“Twilight Sparkle?” Rainbow Shine’s voice was thick with tears, but somehow she did not seem surprised. Perhaps they had been less stealthy than they had imagined. The ochre mare half-smiled, but her eyes were pinpricks, somehow cold and fearful. “I heard about you. I… I guess I’ve got some explaining to do.”

She’s no threat. She’s just afraid; she’s as scared for Dash as I am, but I’m better at bottling it up.

Twilight shook her head. She burned for answers; her analytical brain drawing a blank. If Shine cared, why had she never come back? For that matter, why had she not simply taken Dash with her? Those questions, however, could wait. “It’s alright,” she said, quietly. “If you want some time alone with Rainbow, I’d be more than happy to wait.”

Shine looked back down at the comatose cyan mare, and sighed, still rocking gently backwards and forwards in place. “I know what you think I'm here for. Part of me still thinks I ought to be... Celestia knows I’ve hated this mare,” she murmured. “I'm not here to harm her, I swear. I thought she’d destroyed my life. It took me this long to see that she's probably saved it. She gave me the push I needed to redeem myself.” She stroked the unconscious mare’s hoof.

She looked back at Twilight, and registered the look of confusion on the unicorn’s face. “I’ve had all the time alone with her that I can bear. Ask whatever you want.” Her gaze darted back to Dash’s peaceful face. “I don’t think she’s got very long now,” she whispered, more to herself than anyone else.

“Don’t say that,” Twilight begged, taking a half-step backwards.

“Why not? Is there any point in lying?”

“Twilight doesn’t wanna hear it,” Applejack snapped, stepping protectively in front of the lavender mare, her voice a little higher than usual. “An’… an’ neither do Ah, come to that. We all know, alright? We know it’s gonna take a miracle.”

For what felt like the thousandth time, Twilight swallowed the numbing, empty pain, and forced herself to focus. “I don’t have any faith in miracles,” she whispered, not trusting her voice to hold if she spoke aloud. “But I’ve got faith in Rainbow. I’m not going to believe there’s no hope until… until I have to.” She shook her head, walking forwards into the room. “Now… please, tell me. What happened? Why are you here after all this time?” The knowledge was, she supposed, not really necessary, but it was a distraction. It helped to alleviate the sense that they were taking part in a vigil.

Rainbow Shine motioned to the grey plastic seats that skirted the windowless room, and the five ponies sat. The sheer strangeness of the situation was near-overwhelming. Fluttershy and Rarity looked particularly uncomfortable. Turning to face them, the ochre mare began her story. She seemed more focused now, as if the sudden absence of solitude had bolstered her will a little. Something was still strange, though; her eyes still seemed skittish.

“I don’t know how much you know already, so I’ll start from the top. I… I left when Rainbow was barely able to walk. Her father used to get violent, I guess she’s told you that much. Part of me wanted to take her with me, but back then I hated everything about that stallion, including his daughter. She reminded me of all the burns and bruises… it wasn’t fair of me, but maybe that’s just how I was. Besides, I wanted to build a new life for myself, and that’s so much more difficult with… baggage.”

Twilight’s eyes narrowed a little in anger at the word ‘baggage’, but she did not say anything.

“I left Cloudsdale entirely, I wanted that to be the end of it, and it seemed like a way to make a clean break of it. Long story short, I met a stallion. I… I hope you don’t mind, I’d rather not drag his name into this. This is a messy affair, and I’d rather he were in the clear, at least. We had the same mindset, for what it’s worth. By that time, I had quite a problem with pegasi. Aside from the obvious, I always attracted strange looks around Cloudsdale; I never really felt that they were welcoming ponies, in truth. Being a unicorn, I suppose I was something of an unusual sight.”

She sighed, but Twilight could not tell if the sound was regretful or reminiscent.

“We rented a place together. I don’t know if it was mutual dislike of pegasi, or if we really had something in common, but we clicked. I felt vindicated, I suppose, I thought that I’d made the right decision in leaving Rainbow behind. Next thing I knew, I was pregnant again. It was so soon, I never expected it, but when the news came it felt right. It felt like a second chance.”

“You’re talking about this like it’s all in the past,” interjected Rarity. “Aren’t you still with this stallion?”

Shine shook her head. “No. You see, that was when Sunset came into our lives. Cloudy was growing up so fast. I remember her first steps, her first words. That was when the guilt really started. You see, I remembered Dash’s first words, too. Her first steps had been only weeks before I left. Even Cloudshine’s mane reminded me of her, even though I saw the same one whenever I looked in the mirror. I couldn’t understand it. I hated pegasi, and yet there one was, gnawing away at me, and I couldn’t admit it. Because if I admitted it, I’d have had to admit that I still cared for Dash. I buried it with hate; you don’t know how much I hated that filly.”

She returned to absently stroking Dash’s unresponsive hoof, the motion almost compulsive.

“One day, some ponies came knocking at the door. They said they wanted to speak to my coltfriend, and when he came to the door they showed him some kind of symbol. He understood what it meant. An old friend of his, Dusk Tempest, had been sent to prison a while after Cloudshine was born. He was in a mood for weeks about it, but it looked like Dusk had made a few new friends in prison. They spoke to both of us for a while, but in the end they made it pretty obvious that I was the one they were interested in. They could see the way I felt about pegasi, and they could see I had the brains to back it up. Cloudshine must have been about ten, I guess. That was when I learned about Sunset, and what they stood for. How they keep the balance, how they stop the pegasi from walking all over us.”

Fluttershy shrank back in her chair a little, even though Rainbow Shine’s tone was not malicious, merely the detached tone of a storyteller. Rarity wrapped a protective foreleg around her shoulders, glaring at the ochre mare, who seemed not to notice.

“I… I’m not going to lie, I wanted it. Cloudshine did too… she got caught listening at the door when they were there. They liked that, strangely enough. One of them said she had the right mindset, that they’d keep an eye on her too. But they told me we had to wait, that they needed to be sure. The most dangerous thing for any underground organization is the recruiting, and they needed to be sure that they could trust me before they let me in, and of course, Cloudshine had to be older. It took them years, but by then it was too late.”

Twilight leaned forwards, sensing that they were reaching the crux of the matter. “Why was that?”

“Because before then, I had a nervous breakdown. Several, in fact. I didn’t know why at the time, or even what was going on. Mood swings, stress, I’d feel worthless and cry for days on end. Sometimes I’d just lock up and not talk to anypony. I tried to kill myself once, apparently, although I don’t remember it. Another time I went in the bathroom with a knife, and refused to come out or talk for hours. I don’t remember that, either. I was falling apart, and eventually I realized it. Cloudshine was in her teens, and she’d started going to demonstrations and clubs on her own. I promised myself I wouldn’t leave another child, so I told them both where I was going. They even helped me pack. Cloudshine didn’t cry. She never cried.”

“Where did you go?”

“I signed myself into a clinic. A mental home, you might call it, on the outskirts of Manehattan. Number Seventeen, Palm Avenue. It was… nice. Peaceful. It wasn’t all padded cells and restraints like you’d think. Obviously, they had that sort of thing for those poor souls who needed it, but most of us were allowed to wander around the place pretty freely. It was like a little village, really. My parents had passed on a few years earlier, and what they left me, along with my savings… it was enough to cover the fees.”

“Seventeen, Palm Avenue,” Twilight repeated, her mouth falling open a little. Her stomach clenched in anger at Cloudshine’s casual cruelty. On her instructions, without any warning, Dash would have made her way into Manehattan to be confronted not with her mother’s house, but with a mental hospital. The experience would have been, to say the least, frightening for her. “So… you’re still living there?”

The ochre mare shrugged. “Maybe. I might have damaged my chances yesterday, to tell the truth. Anyway, the therapists there are great. They helped me so much; they pinpointed exactly what the problem was. I hated pegasi, and yet I couldn’t help but love Dash, who was a pegasus. I wouldn’t admit it; I told myself I hated her, and felt nothing else, but every waking minute, I had two incredibly strong emotions just under the surface, utterly unable to reconcile with each other. I hated her and loved her at the same time, and that just made things worse because I blamed the guilt on her, too. Half of me wanted to find her to wring her neck, and the other half, not that I’d admit it, wanted to find her so I could apologize to her, and beg her to forgive me. In the end, the stress built up so badly that I couldn’t function properly anymore.”

She took a few deep, calming breaths, her eyes had become a little less focused, and she dabbed harshly at them with the fur of her foreleg. “I was making real progress, particularly these last couple of years. I had two outlets, you see. Firstly, there was the therapy. Those ponies were amazing. Secondly… I knew what Cloudshine was doing. She’d visit me from time to time, and although she couldn’t say anything direct, I picked up enough hints to make a good guess. It allowed me to live through her when things got bad. When the anger came, and it did come from time to time, I could tell myself that my daughter was out there, keeping the pegasi under control.”

Rainbow Shine laughed, bitterly. “It was a joke, of course. Sunset might pretend to themselves that they’re all high-and-mighty pro-unicorn heroes, but they’re like any other criminal group. They’re out for themselves, first and foremost. Anyway, one day, my therapist told me that Rainbow Dash would be attempting to break the pegasus speed record. I asked if I could go and watch. She thought that it was a bad idea at first, she was worried that it might set me back. In the end, I convinced her to allow me.”

The unicorn stood, stretching her legs a little, and turning away from Twilight and the others. “I was supervised, of course. They still didn’t think I was safe to go out on my own. I was still a danger to myself, at any rate. Probably still am, I guess. The point is, it did me far more good than they could ever have expected, because none of them had any idea what was going to happen.”

Her voice broke a little, her emotionless storyteller’s persona beginning to fracture. “When… when I saw her fall, I wanted more than anything to catch her. It felt like I’d been stabbed, to tell the truth. I didn’t have any choice at that point; I had to admit to myself that I cared… that I loved her. Right then, I realized that leaving her behind with… with him... It was inexcusable. I could have just broken down again, right there, but something made me hold it back. I guess I saw how stupid I’d been, and suddenly all I wanted to do was find her and explain everything. I wanted to ask her to forgive me.”

She turned back to face them, a little more composed. “In the end, it was easy. The crowd was in a mess, they were being shepherded out of the arena, ponies were shouting, pushing, some seemed pretty panicked. They sent this one old doctor to keep an eye on me, and in all the commotion it was easy to give him the slip. I knew if Dash had survived the fall, they’d bring her here. I snuck onto an airship heading out to Canterlot yesterday evening; I hid out on the deck last night. It was freezing, but the ticket collectors never found me. By the morning, I’d reached the hospital. I’d brought a little spending money from the clinic; they let you do that on trips. You never spend it, it just gives the patient a sense of… freedom, I guess. I bought some breakfast and a hot drink. Then I came here. I… I was terrified, to tell the truth. I didn’t know how bad her injuries were… I didn’t even know if…”

She stopped herself, swallowing hard, and looked at Twilight, her gaze almost expectant. “Well, you know the rest. That’s my story.”

“So… you came here to apologize?” Twilight asked, still going over the story in her head. She was amazed by how much sense it made, fitting the last pieces of the puzzle perfectly into place. Dash had believed for so long that her mother had abandoned her because she did not care. Now she knew differently; her mother had left her behind to try and convince herself that she did not care. In the long run, it had destroyed her. It explained the mare’s shadowed pinpricks of eyes, her compulsive motions, her nervous tics.

Shine nodded. “I… I suppose so. To apologize, or to lay her to rest, whichever was needed.” She looked Twilight squarely in the eye. “But now? Now I know my role in this. I must have caused her so much pain, so much uncertainty… but I know how I can mend it. I need to let her know that I still love her; that I never really stopped.”

There was a moment’s silence, then Twilight’s eyes widened a little as she understood what the mare meant to do. She opened her mouth to speak, with no idea of what she was going to say.

In the end, she never got the chance to say anything.

The smallest of signs can give away the greatest of upheavals.

On the bed, Dash’s chest gave a twitch; a small leaping motion. The clear tube running from her nose misted once with a sudden bloom of breath, then the pegasus seemed to relax. Twilight rushed to her side, gazing fearfully at the mare she loved, her heart-rate rocketing, her breathing uneven.

The steady, measured line of bleeps coming from the machine by the side of the bed suddenly broke their monotonous rhythm. Two beats in quick succession. A third, momentarily too late. Then a constant, high-pitched, droning tone. A sound that could mean only one thing.

Twilight stared at the flat screen in helpless horror, her chest seemingly contracting until she could scarcely breathe. She could not think.

There had been no warning; no precedent. No chance for farewells or preparations.

Rainbow Dash was gone.

Redemption

A Bluebird’s Song

~~~
Bring me home or leave me be
My love in the dark heart of the night
I have lost the path before me
The one behind will lead me
~~~

Redemption

“Luna, come here for a moment.”

The soft afternoon sunlight fell in gentle, multicoloured beams through the stained glass windows of Canterlot Castle. The ponies depicted in the leaded images seemed to glow, their achievements frozen in history, their images preserved even as their bodied withered and faded from life and memory. The history of Celestia’s reign was laid out here, if anypony cared to look, from the first imprisonment of Discord and the rise of the sisterhood, to the fall of Nightmare Moon.

The place was known to the sisters as the Hall of Memories, although in a twist of irony, few mortal ponies knew that to be its name these days.

At the far end of the carpeted hall, her alabaster body bathed in the prismatic light, stood Princess Celestia. She was gazing thoughtfully through the unlocked golden door into the Chamber of the Elements.

The five golden necklaces and the weighty, jeweled tiara lay on the wide stone table in front of Celestia, their case for the moment discarded. In the heart of each perfectly-shaped gem burned a gentle, pulsing light. The princess was waiting for something; a confirmation of her theory, her eyes unfathomable.

Cloudshine had told her everything; every part of her mother’s story. Each piece had fitted perfectly into the framework of facts as Celestia knew them, and had provided some respite from a question which had been nagging at her ever since she had left the hospital: The glimpse in the corner of her eye of a haggard, ochre mare, as she made her way to the waiting room. A mare whose headscarf could not entirely contain her distinctive mane; a mare whose eyes were all too familiar.

On an impulse, Celestia had not accosted her, nor had she decided to warn the others. Rainbow Shine’s appearance at this pivotal time could mean any number of things. The princess had lived for too long to believe in destiny or fate, but she knew that other forces could easily be at work beyond the random hand of chance.

Cloudshine’s story had helped her to confirm that suspicion.

“What is it, my sister?” Luna had been searching for Celestia, the elder sister having sequestered herself in the Hall of Memory without giving anypony a hint as to her location. Celestia must have heard her approach.

“Do you remember what I told you, when we first unearthed the Elements?”

Luna nodded, gravely. “You told me that they were not truly ours. We could dominate them; we could will them into submission and bend them to our purpose, but they would never be a part of us, nor we a part of them.”

Celestia stared down at the golden trinkets, glittering, almost tawdry in the sunlight, belying their power. “And that one day,” she murmured, “one day they would find themselves needed.” She sighed. “I underestimated their potency, in truth. They drew together six precisely compatible ponies for their needs, but it’s more than that. It’s so much more. I believe that these ponies were marked by the Elements from the moment of their conception, and moulded by them ever since, into the shapes that were needed for the roles they must play.”

“Why do you tell me this?”

“Because it’s still happening. I see no reason to believe that the Elements are not protecting and guiding Twilight and her friends to this day.”

“I see,” replied Luna. It was true; she understood what Celestia was telling her. She simply did not understand why it was significant. “Is it relevant?”

Celestia nodded. “It is relevant, Luna, because a pony’s duties should be through choice, not through an accident of birth.”

Luna snorted. “Nopony extended such courtesy to us, did they?”

“Exactly.” The alabaster princess turned to her sister. “Every night, I see eternity, and it terrifies me. I sometimes think that had I been given a choice, knowing what I know now, I would have not made the choice to live this life.”

“You made this land what it is today, ‘Tia. Your ponies would be lost without you.”

“Perhaps so, but fear makes ponies selfish, and I am no exception.”

Luna decided to change the subject, heading her sister off before she fell too deeply into introspection. “Speaking of the Elements, how is the pegasus? I remember our sparring with clouds on Nightmare Night; it was most entertaining in hindsight. It would be a dreadful shame for her not to pull through.”

Celestia sighed. “I hate to do this to Twilight, to leave her like this, without warning her of my suspicions. She’s going to be terrified, but this isn’t her choice, nor is it mine. I cannot be present until I am needed.”

“Needed for what?”

The elder princess did not so much sidestep the question as ignore it entirely. “I think that I finally understand how the Elements are playing their hand. Cloudshine gave me the final piece. I hope I’m right.”

“And if you’re wrong?”

“If I’m wrong, there’s every chance that we will lose Rainbow Dash. It would take years for Twilight to recover; they’ve been so strongly bonded together by what they’ve been through. I’ve seen the way they behave together; it’s not the foalish saccharine affectations that new couples so often put on. They seem like… soulmates, I suppose.”

“You did say that the Elements tend to draw together compatible ponies.”

Celestia nodded. “Certainly. An unexpected side effect.”

At that moment, her eyes widened, her gaze drawn towards the arrayed Elements. The gentle glow in the centre of Loyalty, the ruby-red Element shaped like a bolt of lightning, suddenly sparked bright. For a moment it shone, almost blinding, then it flickered. The light stuttered once, and then faded entirely, leaving the necklace’s centre an inert, lifeless stone.

Both sisters knew all too well what this signified, and Luna gasped in horror, her gaze turning from one of shock to one of condolence. “’Tia, I…” she began, but her words faded.

To the princess of the moon’s great surprise, Celestia smiled, grimly.

She turned, striding out across the marble hall, her hoofbeats soft yet purposeful on the thick carpet. “I was right,” she called back over her shoulder, moments before the great wooden doors slammed shut in her wake.

Twilight’s brain had frozen, as she stared at Dash’s motionless form. Whatever train of thought she had been entertaining had been sent spinning like a cobweb in a hurricane. Half of her wanted to break down on the spot and weep, and the other half wanted to simply run and run and never stop, to leave behind this room, this city, this world, to go somewhere where the shadows of the past could not haunt her.

She felt an insistent hoof on her shoulder, breaking a little into her panic-hazed mind. She turned to see Rainbow Shine; the mare’s eyes were wide and urgent. Doctors would be on their way, summoned by the alarm bells of the flatlining monitor.

“Twilight, I need you to listen to me.”

Twilight nodded, mutely, and Shine continued: “I came here to apologize, but I can do more, you know I can.” She gritted her teeth, obviously gathering her courage. “I overheard your friends talking in the waiting room. They mentioned a spell called Death’s Tally…” her eyes were determined and a little tearful. “I love Dash, it’s taken me years to admit it, but she’s my daughter, and I love her. Use the spell on me; use it on me now.”

Twilight closed her eyes for a moment, a little despairing. She had been horribly aware that Shine may well be planning this. “I… I can’t,” she whispered.

“Why not?” Rainbow Shine flared up angrily, taking a step towards the lavender unicorn. “I’m ready, I want this!”

“I know, that’s not what I mean!” exclaimed Twilight, her voice choked and tearful. “I mean I can’t… I literally can’t, I don’t know the spell.”

Her mind was beginning to clear of the initial shock, and a light of hope was rekindling, thawing out the horrible inertia of helplessness. She had a chance, and that was all that was needed, although she was conflicted about allowing Rainbow Shine to give her life, instead of giving her own.

You promised you’d leave her be.

If Rainbow Shine wants to bring her daughter back, I won’t stop her.

You said you’d leave her in peace.

Things are different now; she’ll have proof that her mother loved her. That question’s been hanging over her for years. Having the answer might be exactly what she needs. If Rainbow Shine gives her life, maybe Dash could have peace and life at the same time. We’ll be able to stay together.

“Then what do we do?” whispered Shine, looking to the younger unicorn for guidance.

Twilight closed her eyes for a moment, blocking out the incessant, keening tone of the heart monitor, blocking out everything but her own thoughts. “I think I know what to do,” she murmured, eventually.

At that moment, the door of Dash’s room burst open. A doctor entered, accompanied hastily by three assistants. Twilight and Rainbow Shine were forced back to the wall by the onrushing group of ponies and medical equipment, and suddenly the room was full of chatter and barked instructions.

“No heart activity, looks like cardiac arrest.”

“Somepony get on CPR, we need adrenaline drips and defibrillators!”

“Chest compressions and oxygen, now!”

A fifth unicorn, a mare, appeared in the doorway nursing a bruised knee. A small cloud of broken shards of metal hovered in the air before her, suspended by magic for a few moments before being tossed in the pedal-bin. Apparently she had slipped on them in her hurried state. “What the hell happened to the lock?”

Nopony responded to her, and a moment later she joined the throng around the bed. There was the distinctive electrical whine of a charging defibrillator. One of the assistants, a bulky blue stallion in a white coat, turned and gestured to Twilight and her friends. “We need more room to work, I can’t have all these ponies in here.”

“I’m staying, and so is she,” Twilight gestured to Rainbow Shine, her voice flat, her tone one that would brook no argument. She turned to her friends, her eyes softening. “I’m sorry, girls. Would… would you mind?”

None of them appeared to. As the doctor and his team worked, they left the room, each stopping to give Twilight a reassuring nuzzle or half-embrace, none of them speaking. All of them seemed a little tearful. Applejack was holding her hat to her chest, respectfully. Fluttershy’s head was resting on Rarity’s shoulder, her tears leaking into the unicorn’s expertly-styled mane.

The door swung shut, and Twilight’s heart hammered as she and Shine watched the doctors work in silence. The medical ponies had obviously decided not to argue against her presence, given her obvious belligerence and their much more immediate concerns.

Maybe they’ll bring her around. Maybe nopony will have to die today.

“Epinephrine’s in, how’re the defibrillators?”

“Charged.”

“Do it.”

The electrical whining cut off, followed immediately by a loud, sharp buzzing sound. Twilight had expected a violent convulsion, but Dash simply lay there, unresisting, unmoving.

The doctor in charge waved away the defibrillators as they began to hum again. “They’re not going to work, she’s flatlined,” he exclaimed in exasperation. “Keep up the CPR!”

Twilight looked away, unable to watch any further. She remembered something, some random fact that she had stowed away in the recesses of her brain during one of her reading trawls.

…If a patient flatlines after a cardiac arrest, the chance of survival is less than two percent…

Rainbow Shine was looking at Twilight, and could read all too easily the expression on her face. “It’s not going to work, is it?”

Twilight shook her head. “That means we need to work fast,” she muttered.

One of the unicorns was pumping Dash’s chest, another rapidly wheeling an oxygen cylinder over to the table. There was a great deal of visible activity for absolutely no gain, and in the end they seemed to realize this fact.

“It’s no good,” one of them said, quietly. “We’ve lost her.”

At this point, the medics were doing more harm than good, by keeping Twilight away from the bed. She had a plan, but was unable for the moment to enact it. She knew that every second was costing Dash a few brain cells, but if she tried to interrupt the doctors she would be seen as a hysterical, interfering mare and ignored. Either that or she would be made to explain herself, which in itself would be unbearably costly. This was no time for subtlety.

She stepped forwards, her horn flaring brightly. She wove a brief spell to amplify her voice, and when she spoke, her words echoed loudly around the room, almost menacing, immediately capturing everypony’s attention. “Listen to me!” Twilight boomed. “I need you to leave this to me, I know what to do.”

One of the doctors stepped forwards, his expression hovering somewhere between fearful and consoling. “Miss, I think you should-”

Twilight cut across him. “Trust me. I know how to save her, I just need you all to let me near her.”

The medical ponies still looked mutinous. Twilight snorted in exasperation, the magical field fluxing with her burst of anger, lifting her hooves a couple of inches above the tiled floor. “I’m Princess Celestia’s personal student, and if I have to use that authority, I will. I truly appreciate your efforts, but you have to understand that, right now, you’re working over a corpse. Only Rainbow Shine here can bring her back, but she needs my help, and I need to make my preparations immediately.”

The oldest of the group of doctors took charge, apparently coming to a decision. “Very well, Miss Sparkle,” he said with a small nod. “She’s beyond our help now. Do what you can.”

“Thank you,” Twilight said, gratefully, her voice returning to its normal tone. The doctors retreated from the bed, and Twilight’s hooves touched down once again. She trotted to Dash’s side, her skin crawling as she rested a hoof on the pegasus’s forehead. Her love was still relatively warm, and she knew what she had to do. She turned to Rainbow Shine, offering her one last chance.

“Are you sure you’re ready to go through with this?”

Shine nodded, without a moment’s hesitation. “I’m her mother. Of course I am.”

“Then I need you to do exactly as I say.”

Twilight’s horn suddenly flared, glowing purple and white. Immediately, the temperature in the room seemed to drop. A chill wind rippled the curtains, the spikes of cold vicious and biting. These effects, however, were nothing compared to what was happening to Dash. Her temperature dropped to near-freezing in the space of a few moments, a rime of frost encrusting cobweb patterns on her fur.

Death’s Tally was by no means a spell which created perfection. It could revive, but its healing powers were limited strictly to the cause of death itself. In Dash’s case, she would awaken from her coma, and her heart would be kick-started, but the rest of her injuries would remain untouched, and Twilight feared that the worst injury may have befallen her after her heart failed.

Without oxygen and a blood supply, Dash’s brain cells would destroy themselves extremely rapidly. Twilight was no medic, but her readings into equine biology had taught her enough to know that at this point, preservation was Dash’s only hope.

The doctors had left, but to Twilight’s annoyance, they had obviously warned the others not to re-enter, for there was no sign of her friends.

Her teeth were gritted with the effort of maintaining the spell. She was still not entirely recovered from her exertion in the Everfree, and already her forehead was beginning to burn. She turned to Rainbow Shine. “I need you to go to the others, get… get Applejack. She’s the fastest. Tell her to run straight to the castle, and fetch Princess Celestia. She’s the only pony I know who can perform the spell.”

Twilight felt deeply uncomfortable orchestrating another pony’s death in this cold, calculating way, but Shine seemed unfazed.

“Will the guards let her in?” she asked, turning to go. She appeared quite calm.

“She’s an Element; they ought to recognize her.”

Shine nodded, heading towards the door. “Alright.”

“I’ll keep her temperature down as best I can, but tell Applejack to be quick. Every second counts. Tell the others… tell them to come in here.”

The door swung shut behind the ochre mare, and Twilight turned back to look at Dash. Even in her shroud of frost, the pegasus looked strangely restful. “You’re going to come back,” Twilight whispered to her, her voice full of quiet determination. She hardly noticed the spots of ice forming on her own fur as the sphere of low temperature radiated outwards, biting at her. “You’re going to make it.”

“I believe she is, my student.”

The shock of hearing that mellifluous voice so close behind her almost caused Twilight’s spell to fail. Focusing hard on keeping Dash’s temperature low, she turned her head to see the shining form of Princess Celestia standing in the open doorway, Rainbow Shine and her other friends following close behind, shivering in the sudden cold.

Twilight’s mouth dropped open. “But… but you…? How…?”

Celestia held up a commanding hoof to silence her. “I know when I am needed, Twilight. We must attend to Rainbow Dash.”

Twilight felt the familiar burn of curiosity and half-formed fear rising inside her, but she quelled it for Dash’s sake, and nodded. She knew that she had nothing further to say; this was between Celestia and Rainbow Shine now.

Dash’s mother bowed hastily, lowering her head in respect. “Your highness,” she began, nervously, her voice a little louder than usual over the whistling of the ice spell. “I’m Rainbow Dash’s mother. I want to prove to my daughter once and for all that I care for her, even though I was never there for her. I’d like you to use the Tally spell on me; wake her up.”

Twilight risked a fleeting glance at Celestia, half-expecting her to react angrily or refuse. Somehow, though, she knew that that would not be the case. The princess had returned here without being asked, and that could only mean one thing. She knew, somehow, that she was needed. She was prepared to help.

The princess of the sun nodded; her expression was serious, but there was something close to triumph or vindication in her eyes. “You’re willing to give your life for her?”

“I am,” confirmed Rainbow Shine. Her voice held the same conviction as before, although the immediacy of her sacrifice lent a slight quiver to her voice. Despite the freezing air, her forehead was a little sweaty, and she was blinking rapidly. “Does it… will it hurt?” she looked angry with herself for asking, as if the question had slipped out against her better judgment and betrayed some kind of weakness.

“The spell is designed for a rapid exchange,” replied Celestia, quietly. “You won’t feel a thing.”

Shine nodded. “Alright then. Let’s get this done.”

Applejack stepped forwards. “Pardon me for interruptin’, but would ya’ll rather we left?” she gestured around to the three others, waiting on seats at the edge of the room. “This is a mighty personal thing, an’ Ah wouldn’t blame ya for wantin’ some privacy.”

Dash’s mother smiled a little sadly at the farm pony. “You’re all my daughter’s friends; you’ve looked after her for years, you’ve made her life worth living when I was too weak or cowardly to look out for her myself. I can’t think of any ponies I’d rather be with for this.”

She looked around at the others, still smiling her sad smile, and finally approached Twilight. “Thank you,” she murmured. “For sticking by her, and for going after her.”

“I’ll keep her safe,” Twilight promised, her gaze sincere and unblinking, despite the continued effort of the cold spell. In a moment of instinctual gratitude, she hugged the older mare, her eyes suddenly tearful. “I’ll keep her safe,” she repeated, her voice barely a whisper.

She pulled back, and Rainbow Shine smiled at her. The tinge of sadness was gone, and her expression was peaceful and trusting. “I know you will.”

The ochre unicorn turned to Celestia. “I’m ready,” she said, simply.

The alicorn nodded, deciding to delay no further. Twilight forced herself to hold her concentration. She would have to remove the freezing spell as soon as Death’s Tally began to take effect, and the timing was a matter of great delicacy.

Princess Celestia stepped forwards, a golden glow enveloping her horn.

At the last moment, Celestia leaned down, and whispered a few words in Rainbow Shine’s ear.

The unicorn nodded, her eyes fixed on the princess’s. Her face genuinely at peace, free of the guilt that had haunted her for so much of her life, free of the wild-eyed, compulsive motion. In these last moments, she was a different mare; a younger mare. She had been given a chance that so few were offered; a chance of redemption, for her and her daughter. She could not ask for anything more.

The tip of Celestia’s horn emitted two shining, pearly points of light, which rose freely into the air, dancing around each other in a complex, interlaced pattern. Then, as if tired of their dance, the tiny spheres separated.

Everypony in the room was utterly silent as they watched the spell’s progress. One of the glowing lights made its arcing way to Rainbow Shine, and sank into her chest. She felt no pain, but instantaneously she was aglow. Every vein in her body was suddenly filled with flaring light; pulsing, spiderweb patterns intricately weaving themselves together beneath her skin. The effects was beautiful, and yet at the same time utterly unearthly.

The second shining dot slipped soundlessly into Dash’s motionless chest. In the end, Twilight’s sense of timing was not needed. The instant that the spell made contact with Dash’s body, it rebuffed Twilight’s freezing spell. She felt the magical current in her horn immediately die out, and there was a hissing sound as the ice crystals forming on the pegasus’s body immediately evaporated. She understood what was happening; cold may preserve well enough, but it was anathema to the life that this spell brought in its wake.

Like Shine, Dash’s skin was suddenly alive with fine, interlaced patterns as the glowing magic worked its way through her veins. Suddenly, she convulsed violently, her body jerking upwards, and the strongest glow of all began to burn in the centre of her chest, pulsing in time with the rhythm of her newly-awakened heart. The mechanics of a living body were reinstated, but life itself was yet to be returned.

Without warning or preamble, Celestia took a single step forward, and bowed her head. All eyes were drawn to the motion, as her glowing horn descended through the air. Rainbow Shine was stretching her own neck forwards, craning upwards, eagerly accepting the princess’s gift, her eyes afire and pleading.

In a swift motion that would have been elegant were it not for its shocking savagery, Princess Celestia plunged her horn deep into Rainbow Shine’s forehead, shattering the ochre mare’s horn down its centre, and sinking effortlessly and smoothly up to the base. True to Celestia’s word, Shine never felt a thing.

Twilight had only the briefest of moments to reel in shock at the unexpected brutality called for by the spell, had only the briefest of moments to see the monarch and the mare, their bloodied foreheads and noses touching in a frozen instant of strange intimacy.

Then, her vision was whited out as Death’s Tally took hold. A magnesium-bright flare erupted from the point of contact, blinding her and sending her reeling backwards, colliding hard with the ECG stand by the side of the bed.

The strangest thing was the silence. Her blinded eyes could make out little beyond burning lights and points of shade, shapes and hazy, indistinct motions. She could hear nothing, not a single word, nor a hiss of magic.

Still the light hammered at her closed eyelids, its sun-bright zenith near unbearable.

Then, it was over.

Twilight opened her eyes, but for a few seconds could see nothing. When her vision began to return, she shook her head in an attempt to clear it, beginning to make out the hazy shapes of her friends. Applejack was clutching her hat to her chest, the pressure cutting deep creases into the leather surface. Fluttershy was holding on to Rarity, breathing hard. The alabaster unicorn herself was staring at Celestia, her expression caught between awe and fear. Pinkie Pie was blinking hard, her vision still apparently impaired.

Princess Celestia was breathing hard, her horn now inert and unstained. Of Rainbow Shine, however, there was no sign. The force of the magical exchange had utterly erased her, with the exception of four hoof-shaped scorch marks, melted several inches deep into the tiled floor.

Of course, right then, none of that mattered. Only one thing was of importance.

Twilight took a deep breath, ready to turn and face the bed, preparing herself for the worst, and refusing to allow herself hope for fear that it may be shattered once again.

“Hey, Twi’,” came a weak, coltish voice from the bed behind her, its rasping quality was exaggerated from lack of use, and unutterably beautiful.

Twilight whipped around, her heart hammering, and the world seemed to stop.

For several long moments, she simply stared in delight and amazement at the sight that awaited her.

Her gaze was met steadily by that shining, life-kissed pair of deep, magenta eyes.

End of Part Three.

Bleed No More

A Bluebird’s Song
Part Four

~~~
I just want to take my chance
To live through a miracle
~~~

Bleed No More

One week later.

Rarity had to concede that Fluttershy was a mare of her word.

In spite of everything, the canary pegasus had not forgotten her offer of dinner, and as a result, the drowsy, amber-swaddled Saturday evening found the alabaster unicorn wending her way through the cobbled streets of Ponyville, on her way to meet Fluttershy at Trottensons’ restaurant. Ponyville was winding down after the week, the streets sporadically dotted with wanderers and couples. A few gentle strains of a harpsichord melody issued from a top floor window to her right, mingling with the low whistle of the wind. Rarity sighed. It was good to be home, but the fresh meadow-tinged air smelled strangely bittersweet, knowing that two of their number were miles away.

Dash’s friends had been staying in a Canterlot hotel, courtesy of the princess, for most of the previous week, in order to keep the injured mare company. It was obvious from the start that the pegasus’s recovery was going to be a long and arduous one, so they had done all they could to keep her in a cheerful mood. Twilight seemed to achieve that much on her own, of course. She would sit by Dash’s bedside for hours, stroking her hoof or simply gazing at the pegasus as if she were a miracle. On reflection, Rarity supposed that she might well qualify as one. For her part, Dash had good days and bad days, but gradually the good days were becoming more frequent, and the bad days were becoming less painful.

None of them had asked Twilight how Dash had dealt with the truth of her reawakening, or indeed if she had yet been told of her mother’s sacrifice. There was a general unspoken sense that the matter was between Dash, Twilight, and Celestia.

Of course, there could be no funeral for Rainbow Shine. The entire event would have to remain tightly under wraps, as it may well have been extremely damaging for the princess were the truth to leak out. There was every probability that Celestia’s name would be dragged through the press, and Twilight could easily be dragged through the courts for her role in the matter.

In the end, however, the ponies had gradually realized that they had jobs and responsibilities back in Ponyville. Applejack had needed to be back in time for harvest, Rarity had something of a backlog of needlework to catch up with, and Fluttershy knew that to remain away much longer would bring down Angel’s wrath on her head. With varying degrees of guilt, but on the insistence of Twilight that she would be perfectly fine on her own, the four ponies had returned to their respective homes. As expected, Twilight had opted to remain in Canterlot until Dash was discharged from hospital, and so Spike was living part-time on Sweet Apple Acres at Applejack's invitation, opting to sleep at the farmhouse, but spending most of the daylight hours tending to the library, keeping the place neat prior to Twilight's return.

As Rarity arrived outside the restaurant, she halted for a moment, suddenly nervous. She nervously checked her reflection in a nearby mirror, hoping that she had dressed appropriately. She did not want to appear overdressed and come across as intimidating, but at the same time wearing something too simplistic may seem somehow condescending. In the end, she had settled upon a flirty little back-laced dress which she had made for herself out of lilac silk a few months previously. The gauzy mesh skirt floated lazily around her flank, and as she caught sight of herself in the window, she momentarily hoped that the ensemble did not come across as too suggestive.

Why are you so nervous? She shook her head, irritated with herself. Fluttershy had kissed her, for Celestia’s sake. She had admitted in perfectly plain words that she was attracted to her, and the usually timid mare had gone so far as to admit that she would like for her and Rarity to be together in front of two of their friends. The yellow mare had done everything short of signing a formal statement that she wanted to pursue this relationship, so Rarity felt that she had no right to feel the cold bite of nerves at this stage.

It was not even as if they had been apart for long; indeed, Rarity had met her at the spa only a few days ago. She had been relieved to see that the burn mark on the pegasus’s foreleg was far less inflamed now, the ointment obviously doing its job. Apparently it still itched near-constantly, however, and it was doubtful that the fur would ever grow back on that particular patch.

Stop distracting yourself. You see her all the time, you like her, and she likes you. Just go for it.

But, of course, this was their first genuine date. This was the few hours that could well make or break their relationship. On reflection, Rarity supposed she was entitled to a few butterflies at this stage.

Determinedly tearing her critical eye away from her reflection, she pushed open the door and trotted purposefully inside.

She caught sight of Fluttershy immediately, comfortably sequestered at a candlelit table in the corner of the dimly lit room. Her stomach gave a pleasurable lurch at the sight of the mare. Fluttershy was wearing a pale green sash dress, long and flowing with a curlicue vine pattern radiating outward from the wing holes, the style flattering the pegasus’s figure without appearing to cling or hug too tightly. The pearly unicorn’s concerns about her own appearance were immediately forgotten. Indeed, she personally doubted that anypony would look twice at her, given her companion.

Rarity found herself a little transfixed, her heart accelerating a slightly, but she suspected that being caught staring in this way might not be the best start to the evening. She began to pick her way between the tables, and at that moment Fluttershy turned and spotted her.

The pegasus smiled, blushing a little at the sight of the unicorn. “Hi Rarity,” she mumbled as the alabaster mare took her seat, and Rarity could tell that Fluttershy too was nervous.

She smiled back, doing her best to put Fluttershy at her ease. “Hello, darling.” She sat forwards a little in her seat, lowering her voice a little. “You look simply gorgeous,” she added, her tone warmly sincere.

Fluttershy looked both delighted and relieved, her cheeks heating up violently at the compliment. “Oh, I… Thank you, Rarity. You look beautiful too.” She leaned forwards, still blushing but seemingly more assured, no longer stumbling over her words. It was remarkable how much easier she seemed to find it to tap into her supplies of self-confidence these days. She gently touched the unicorn’s foreleg with her own, running the tip of her hoof once along Rarity’s fetlock. “Actually, forget that,” her voice dropped to a whisper. “You don’t just look it. You are beautiful.”

It was Rarity’s turn to turn pink. Celestia, she’s supposed to be the shy one! she thought to herself with the portion of her mind which was not thoroughly distracted. I could never pull off a line like that without sounding corny or affected.

For once in her life, she found herself at something of a loss for words. The atmosphere no longer felt anything like that of a first date anymore, and in truth, she would have liked nothing better than to kiss Fluttershy there and then. She had a sneaking suspicion that the canary mare wanted much the same thing, although something told her that the restaurant’s other patrons might object. She contented herself with squeezing Fluttershy’s hoof between her own, losing herself a little in the mare’s turquoise eyes.

She reflected once again that there was a surprising reserve of courageous, almost headstrong will in the pegasus. In a way, she was unpredictable, and Rarity found that aspect of her personality oddly exciting. She was attracted to Fluttershy largely for her kindness and her effortless grace, but deeper down she harboured an almost subconscious desire to explore Fluttershy’s darker, more traditionally pegasine side; perhaps to feel the mare’s infamous stare. Rarity was not normally a submissive pony, but the thought of surrendering her free will and self control to the timid, beautiful, sometimes frightening pegasus was simply intoxicating.

Rarity blinked, snapping herself out of that particular train of thought, knowing that it could all too easily become a downward spiral.

They sat there for a few moments, sharing sporadic, slightly teasing glances of eye contact with each other, chatting idly about this and that, from needlework to the difficulties of telekinesis. Quite apart from her substantial physical attraction to the mare, Rarity was thoroughly enjoying having a pony of such a similar mindset to talk with. Of course, this compatibility had kept them out of the clutches of awkward silences for years at the spa, and so was no great surprise, but combined with the atmosphere of the restaurant and the tantalizingly suggestive sparring of gazes, it only served to make the pegasus’s company all the more pleasant.

At some point, the drinks arrived, and they placed their orders almost unconsciously. There seemed to be an unspoken rule between them that serious topics of conversation could wait until after they had eaten. Now was a time to enjoy each others’ company. In truth, Rarity had expected the memory of their cloud-top kiss to stifle the conversation, perhaps make things awkward between them, but in reality it seemed to have done the opposite. Her nerves were subsiding a little, and now that the introductory jitters had been dealt with and put aside, the first-date awkwardness seemed to have left them largely alone.

“So,” Rarity began, tracing a hoof idly around the rim of her wine glass, the subtle sting of the Caberneigh still sharp on her tongue. She sighed a little. “You know, I feel awful leaving Twilight on her own up in Canterlot. Looking after Dash’s got to be quite a responsibility.”

Fluttershy nodded, but giggled a little. “I’m sure she’ll be okay,” she replied. “It was practically her idea for us to come back.” This much was certainly true. They had all been reluctant to return, but in the end Twilight had all but propelled them out of the door, insisting that they should not fall behind with their responsibilities any more than they already had.

“I suppose so,” replied Rarity, taking another sip of wine. She shook her head in mild annoyance. “Ah, listen to me fretting. You’re supposed to be having a good time, not listening to me worrying!”

“Actually, I don’t mind,” Fluttershy murmured. “It’s not a flaw; it just shows that you care.”

The unicorn laughed, quietly. “That’s kind of you, dear. Trust you to try and paint me in a better light.”

For a few moments, Fluttershy broke eye contact, looking around the candle-lit room as if struggling to pluck up the courage to speak.

Rarity settled back on her chair, straightening the hem of her dress. “Are you alright, Fluttershy?”

The primrose-yellow pegasus turned back to face her, biting her lip a little. When she spoke, her voice was hardly audible, and her cheeks were rosy once again. “I… I just wanted to tell you that… that I meant it.”

Rarity shuffled forwards a little, the better to catch the quiet mare’s voice. “Meant what, darling?”

“In… in Cloudsdale,” mumbled Fluttershy, suddenly bashful once again, looking down at the table. Apparently her self-confidence had been, for the moment, exhausted. Rarity was excited and intrigued in equal measure, and able to make a reasonable guess as to what Fluttershy meant by ‘Cloudsdale’.

“The Everfree’s not safe,” Fluttershy continued. “I didn’t know if I was going to come back or not, and I just couldn’t leave you without something to… to remember me by. Just in case,” She looked up again, tentatively meeting Rarity’s eyes. “I want you to know that I didn’t just kiss you out of fear or valediction.” She rested her hoof on Rarity’s once again, her gaze quite steady. “I did it because I wanted it so much. I… I couldn’t stop myself. I truly meant it.”

Rarity leaned towards the delicate mare, her eyes smouldering. “I could tell, darling,” she whispered, playfully nudging Fluttershy’s hind hoof beneath the table. The pegasus squeaked a little, her wings twitching in a way that Rarity found quite adorable.

Fluttershy smirked, recovering rapidly and apparently deciding to reciprocate. She took a sip of her drink with an attitude of faux-carelessness, and Rarity’s eyes widened a little as she felt the caress of Fluttershy’s rear hoof along the fetlocks of her hind leg. For the sake of decorum, she was relieved that the silk tablecloth reached down to the floor, sparing them the glances of the ponies seated at surrounding tables.

Unable to suppress a small giggle, Rarity joined in, catching one of Fluttershy’s hind legs between her own, and running her hoof up the back of the mare’s calf. She saw the canary pegasus bite her lip, exhaling a little more sharply than she had perhaps intended. Somewhere in the back of her mind, Rarity knew that playing hoofsies in this way could easily be looked on as being either juvenile or downright ill-mannered, but it did not matter. Both ponies were perfectly comfortable in each others’ company, and messing around in this half-joking, half-sensual way came just as naturally as their conversation.

The unicorn leaned forwards, her expression one of mock severity. “You know, this is hardly first-date behavior,” she pointed out, her eyes twinkling.

Fluttershy’s cheeks coloured a little. “Mhm, we’re doing things in a weird order, aren’t we?” She sighed, happily, looking more at ease than Rarity had seen her in a long time. “I don’t mind though,” she added, smiling playfully across the table. Rarity returned the smile, quite pleasantly surprised by how the evening was progressing. If anything, being in a romantic situation seemed to have brought Fluttershy out of her shell, rather than forcing her deeper into introversion. Rarity supposed that having spent so much of her life forcibly repressing herself, this was something of a liberating experience for the usually-timid mare, the sense of freedom overpowering her natural shyness.

“You know what?” the alabaster mare said, flicking her hair back a little. “I don’t mind either. In my experience, first dates are usually a couple of hours of treading very carefully and making awkward conversation. This is much better, darling.”

To emphasize her point, she stroked her hoof softly one final time across Fluttershy’s ankle, then darted upwards in a smooth flicking motion that teasingly encroached just minutely above the pegasus’s knee, slipping beneath the flowing fabric of her dress before falling back to the floor as if suddenly overcome by bashfulness. The tension in the air between them was palpable and delicious, and Rarity felt Fluttershy shiver minutely under her gentle touch.

Of course, the waiter chose that precise second to deliver their meals, shattering the moment and reminding both mares that they were seated in a busy restaurant. He cleared his throat, holding the tray aloft magically, and Rarity turned with a slight jump. “Oh! Oh, thank you,” she exclaimed a little too loudly, and Fluttershy noticed that she was blushing slightly.

The waiter smiled, recognizing the all-too-familiar symptoms of a new couple. “Which of you ladies ordered the quiche?”

Fluttershy half-raised a hoof. “Me,” she mumbled, reverting to her customary shyness as she always did in the presence of strangers. Inside, though, she was buzzing. The memory of Rarity’s secretive, caressing touch was intoxicating. The memory of the unicorn’s soft, urgent lips, whilst less recent, was even more so. She was finally free of the stress that had been wound tight in her stomach ever since Sunset first invaded her home, as she now knew that Dash was safe, and that the ponies responsible for her injuries were, one way or another, incapable of doing further harm.

Occasionally, memories haunted her. The sight of Frost preparing to strike her, the dragon closing in on her, the spear entering the beast’s eye… Celestia’s horn slamming home through Rainbow Shine’s skull. Sometimes, when she closed her eyes, the images floated before her, taunting and tainting her. She wondered if they would ever go away, but deep down she doubted it. Ivy had never left her; the look in her eyes, the splintering crack of the filly’s jaw…

But she knew that there were far worse things than memories. Memories could be contained, memories could be reconciled and lived with. All things considered, she had to admit that she felt happier than she had in years.

I should be terrified, she thought to herself. Everything’s going so well… I should be scared that I’ll mess it up.

That’s the beauty of it. You know you won’t; you actually trust yourself for once.

It took me long enough, didn’t it?

What do you expect? At flight school you lied to everypony, and eventually you ended up lying to yourself because it was easier that way. You lied to yourself for years, and now you’ve stopped. Is it any wonder you could never trust yourself until now?

I suppose not.

“Fluttershy, darling, are you alright?”

Her eyes snapped up, and she realized that she had been idly picking at her food for the last couple of minutes, her mind miles away. “Oh! Rarity, I’m so sorry, I just…”

“Had one of your moments?” Rarity smiled, understandingly. “Don’t apologize, dear, it’s not your fault.”

Fluttershy shook her head, beginning to tuck in in earnest. “I know, it’s just… I know I don’t need to talk to myself anymore. I guess it’s just a tough habit to break.”

Rarity leaned forwards, swallowing her mouthful of daisy salad. “It’s alright, Fluttershy,” she said, quietly. “I’ll always listen to you, no matter what. If you need somepony to talk to, I’ll be here.”

The canary mare smiled, her eyes contented. “Thank you, Rarity. That… that really means a lot.”

For several minutes, they ate their food in companionable silence, occasionally glancing around at the restaurant’s other patrons. At this time in the evening, it was mostly populated with couples enjoying some time together at the end of the week. Fluttershy was a little relieved to notice that they were not the only pair of mares in the place. Indeed, the couple at the table immediately to their left consisted of a pair of middle-aged earth pony mares who had quite obviously been together for years, chatting with a casual, familiar affection over a sharing platter of mushrooms.

“The waiter was surprisingly friendly, wasn’t he?” remarked Rarity.

Fluttershy nodded. “He seemed nice. I expected them to be more… snooty, I suppose.”

Rarity smirked. “I imagine snootiness doesn’t tend to yield as many tips,” she noted. “We’ll have to thank Twilight for the recommendation; it really is a lovely place.”

The food disappeared with startling rapidity, the quality being every bit the standard that Twilight had described. One the waiter had taken their plates away, the conversation turned inevitably to Dash, the memory of their injured friend casting something of a pall over the atmosphere.

“Do you suppose she’ll ever fly again?” Rarity asked, a little subdued at the thought of their sky-loving friend finding herself grounded.

Fluttershy sighed. “Twilight told me the doctor had spoken to her about that. He thinks that the chances are around fifty-fifty at this stage. It depends on if they have to fuse the bones or not.”

Rarity shuddered a little. “Fuse them?”

“That’s only in a worst-case situation,” Fluttershy hastily clarified. “Fusing the bones would make it impossible for her to move her wings precisely enough for flight, but they’ll only have to do that if the recovery goes badly, and they don’t see any reason why it should. At least they don’t seem to think there’s any risk of amputation.” She winced a little at the thought; the idea of a fellow pegasus losing their wings was uncomfortable, to say the least.

The unicorn nodded. “I suppose that’s the best we could hope for with an injury that bad.”

“I think that’s the way Rainbow sees it,” Fluttershy agreed. In truth, Dash had seemed to be taking her bedridden state remarkably pragmatically. Twilight’s company seemed to be a mellowing influence for her, and although she still got bored easily when left alone, she seemed to be coping surprisingly well with her incarceration.

For a couple of moments, they sat in silence. Rarity seemed to be deep in thought, and Fluttershy suspected that she knew what was coming next.

The unicorn shuffled a little on her chair, and after a silent moment’s slightly nervous deliberation, apparently decided to take the bull by the horns. “Fluttershy… What are we?”

Fluttershy leaned forwards, realizing that this time of clarification was quite possibly the whole point of the date. “You mean, are we together?”

Rarity nodded, blushing, apparently a little wrong-footed by taking such a direct approach. “Yes. I mean, I know in Canterlot you told the others that you’d like it, but it’s all so… I just need to know if…”

The delicate pegasus sighed, half-raising a hoof to stem Rarity’s flow of words before she could babble herself into silence. “Rarity, I know how badly I’ve handled this,” she began, quietly, “and I’m so sorry for messing you around like I have.” She shook her head in frustration. “First I say no, then I change my mind, then I let it slip out at the worst possible time, then… then I kiss you without giving you a chance to understand why I changed my mind. I don’t blame you for being confused, and I promise I’ll explain everything, but first, I know you’ll want a short answer.”

She closed her eyes for a moment, her heart accelerating for some reason that she could not place. After a few seconds, she opened them again, and met Rarity’s gaze, her mind made up once and for all. “I’d like for us to be together. I’d like it more than anything…” She smiled at the sight of the alabaster unicorn’s eyes as they lit up delightedly. “I’d like to call you my marefriend, if that’s alright with you.”

Rarity’s eyes were a suddenly a little watery, and she seemed to be fighting back a euphoric laugh. Apparently unable to resist, she darted forwards, leaning across the table, and kissed Fluttershy quickly on the lips, before drawing back and beaming at her. The pegasus felt her stomach flip excitedly at the all-too-brief moment of contact, relishing the lingering scent of jasmine, and the subtle bite of wine as she ran her tongue almost unconsciously over her upper lip. “That’s more than alright with me, darling,” Rarity whispered. She sighed, happily. “Actually, I’d… I’d be proud.”

Fluttershy found that her eyes were slightly damp too, a little overcome by the warm sincerity in the pearly mare’s voice. In truth, she wanted nothing more than to kiss the unicorn there and then; to re-forge that connection and simply not stop. The public nature of their positioning seemed suddenly irksomely restrictive, but she was glad to realize that it had been Rarity’s words that had touched her more than the kiss itself. It was comforting to know that her attraction to the mare was so far beyond being simply a physical one, or a passing emotion born of frustration.

In truth, that had been her greatest fear; that she reciprocated Rarity’s feelings not out of genuine sincerity, but simply as a result of years of self-repression. The more time she spent with the mare, able now to analyze her own motivations, the less that difficulty concerned her.

She remembered her words to Dash, what seemed like an eternity ago. She remembered telling her friend that she wanted to fall in love with Rarity, but doubted herself too much to be sure if she could. Now her self-doubt was crumbling away, melting back into her personality and losing its dominance.

Maybe this is it. Maybe this is what it feels like.

“Thank you, Rarity,” she murmured, simply. She looked up, biting her lip. “Now,” she began, steeling herself. “I think I owe you an explanation.”

By the time they left the restaurant, night had fallen in earnest. The sky was clear and speckled with stars as the two mares walked together in the warm night air towards the outskirts of Ponyville.

In the end, Fluttershy had told Rarity everything. She had begun with flight school, relating the way that the other foals had mocked her and Dash, her repressed feelings for Ivy, and the circumstances of her expulsion. She had admitted her uncertainties and fears, confessed to the years of self-repression, and explained why she had refused Rarity in the first place.

From time to time, the retelling had almost become too much for her, but Rarity had been there to dry her tears, and to gently steer her back on track with a few kind words if she began to berate or blame herself. In truth, she had been irrationally afraid that Rarity would give up on her, that she might begin to think of her as an unsalvageable psychological wreck, or perhaps simply too much work to consider trying to build a relationship with.

Of course, she had not done so. For Fluttershy, the experience was like drawing poison from a wound, but having Rarity’s attentive and sympathetic ear made the entire process so much easier. By the time her story had reached completion, they were nearly back at the pegasus’s house. Rarity had courteously agreed to accompany the mare back to her house, and they found themselves walking side-by-side up the winding path to the grass-roofed cottage.

Fluttershy sighed. “So, now you know why I messed you around the way I did.” She halted at her door, turning to face the unicorn. “Do… do you still want to be with me?” She broke eye contact, looking down and pawing at the ground, thankful that Rarity could not see the tears forming in her eyes. “I mean, I’d… I’d understand if… I must seem such a mess to you, and-”

Her words were cut off with a squeak by the intervention of Rarity’s lips. She felt her eyes drift closed, unconsciously pushing forwards into the slow, tender kiss. The unicorn wrapped a foreleg around Fluttershy’s neck, the ruffled silk of her dress tickling the pegasus’s withers. After a few seconds, Rarity broke the gentle contact, unable to resist tugging a little at the canary mare’s lower lip as she pulled away.

“Like I said, darling,” she whispered. “I’d be honoured to be with you. You’re not a mess, Fluttershy. You’re… you’re amazing.”

Fluttershy smiled, gratefully leaning forwards again to nuzzle Rarity’s cheek, breathing in that beautiful, cool scent. Her cheeks were red, and she felt as if the butterflies adorning her flanks had somehow found their way into her stomach. Being in the restaurant together had been one thing, but this was quite another. Now they were alone; unrestricted, far away from prying eyes.

“Would… would you like to come in for a while?” she whispered, her voice catching a little.

“That sounds lovely, dear,” replied Rarity, her tone of voice mirroring Fluttershy’s sense of nervous exhilaration.

The cottage was warm from the remnants of the fire that Fluttershy had started that afternoon, and she trotted across the room to reignite the still-glowing embers, while Rarity hung up her scarf. Angel was nowhere to be seen, perhaps having sensed that privacy was called for.

Rarity was still standing by the door, so Fluttershy motioned her into the living room as she stacked logs and kindling onto the glowing orange mass.

Within a few minutes, the flames were leaping up in the grate again, the waves of radiant heat washing the room with a pleasant warmth. Fluttershy turned to the unicorn beside her. “Do… do you mind if I change out of this?” She giggled, softly. “It makes it kind of impractical to walk around indoors.”

Rarity nodded, taking a seat on the sofa in front of the fireplace, burying her rear hooves in the thick rug and settling back. “Not at all, darling. I’ll wait here.”

Fluttershy trotted through the kitchen, and up the stairs to her room, clicking the door shut behind her. She bit her lip, doing her best to hold back a delighted giggle, fluttering a couple of inches off the floor. Her heart was hammering, blood singing in her ears as she quickly untied the olive-green sash and climbed out of the dress.

She tried to compose her thoughts into some sensible order, but it was nigh-impossible.

She forgave me… Celestia knows why, but she did.

A small voice of warning spoke up in the back of her mind: She gave you a second chance. Don’t let fear get in the way this time.

She grinned, catching sight of herself in the mirror. Her eyes were hungry and alight; more alive than they had been in years.

I won’t.

On an impulse, she reached up a hoof and let down her mane, dropping the pin with a clink to the wooden floor, and letting the hair cascade down in pink waterfalls around her shoulders.

As she was stowing the dress carefully in the wardrobe, an idea came to her. She trotted back down the stairs, glad to be free of the tightly-fastened, restrictive fabric. Rarity turned as Fluttershy re-entered the room, blushing a little and smiling at her. Her gaze was almost thoughtful, and her eyes wandered with a lazy desire over the mare's firelit form.

“You really are an incredibly beautiful mare, Fluttershy,” she murmured. The words did not sound as if they were intended as hyperbole; their tone was almost one of somepony who knew they were stating the obvious.

Fluttershy blushed, a strange sensation rising in her chest. She felt suddenly very exposed, but the sensation was an oddly pleasant one. She felt her wings twitch a little, the primaries flaring ever-so-slightly. “Oh… thank you, Rarity.” She winced internally, the response sounding horrible inadequate and mechanical. As she passed, she picked up a couple of large cushions from one of the room’s chairs, and placed them at the foot of the sofa, just overlapping the rug.

Sitting down on the rug, she lay back with her head against the cushions, her hooves by the fire. She looked up, flashing Rarity an uncharacteristically flirtatious half-smile, patting the rug beside her and motioning for the unicorn to join her.

The fashionista did not need asking twice. She climbed down from the sofa, lying back on the luxuriant rug and snuggling up beside Fluttershy, drawing the smallest of squeaks from the mare. The quiet pegasus leaned her head on Rarity’s shoulder, the pair of them lying in comfortable silence for a few minutes, gazing into the crackling fire.

An insistent voice in the back of Fluttershy’s mind was screaming at her to kiss the unicorn. There was no doubt that Rarity wanted it; the mare’s gaze was dusky, half-lidded and near-irresistible. She wanted that heated, euphoric sensation; that taste.

Wait. Just… wait. It’ll be so much better if you do.

“I’d like to show you something,” Fluttershy whispered, craning her neck a little so that her lips stopped just short of the unicorn’s ear.

“What is it, darling?”

In response, Fluttershy drew back, and whistled three low, short notes. Immediately, there was a rustle of small wings from the rafters above. A small, blue-winged bird descended through the flickering, fire-lit air, alighting with a musical chirp on Fluttershy’s outstretched foreleg. It looked a little suspiciously at Rarity with sleepy but undeniably intelligent eyes, its chirruping voice lapsing into silence.

Rarity, for her part, stared at the little creature. “You can just… just call them, like that?” she whispered, doing her best not to scare Fluttershy’s friend.

“Only the ones I know well,” smiled Fluttershy.

“What was that whistling sound you made?”

Fluttershy looked up from the bird, meeting Rarity’s eyes again. “His name. I call him Sapphire, though.”

Sapphire hopped curiously along the pegasus’s leg, a few steps closer to Rarity, who leaned forwards a little. “He’s beautiful,” she murmured, as awed as always by Fluttershy’s skill with animals.

“I thought you’d like to meet him,” whispered Fluttershy. “He was the one who saved Twilight and Rainbow in the forest. He led me to them.”

Rarity’s eyes widened, and she smiled. “We owe you a lot,” she said quietly to the diminutive bird.

Fluttershy giggled. “We do,” she agreed. Cuddling up close to Rarity again, she hummed a few notes of a tune; a haunting aria that Rarity did not recognize. After a moment, Sapphire reciprocated, chirruping back the melody in his high-pitched bluebird’s voice, the firelight dancing on his wings.

She held out her foreleg to Rarity. “Go on, you try.”

Rarity looked surprised at this. “I’m no good with animals,” she protested. “They… they don’t trust me.”

“I trust you,” Fluttershy replied, gently. “That’ll be good enough for Sapphire.”

“Are you sure?” Rarity still did not look quite convinced.

The pegasus nodded. “I’m sure.” She blushed a little. “I’ve always loved hearing you sing… your voice is wonderful.”

“Do you really think so?” The unicorn turned her head, meeting Fluttershy’s gaze with surprise and gratitude. “Alright, I’ll have a try.”

Clearing her throat, she sang a few quiet, tentative notes, forming a short and simple melody. Immediately, Sapphire took up the slack, reiterating the tune back to Rarity, his eyes sparkling and intelligent. Growing in confidence, Rarity sang out a few more bars, a more intricate, soulful phrase of music. Before she had finished, Sapphire had joined in, harmonizing with her voice as Fluttershy watched in delighted surprise.

The pony and the bird seemed attuned to one another, their voices blending together into an intricately woven pattern. For some reason, Fluttershy felt her eyes welling up. Ever since her youth, her animals had been the one thing that meant the most to her, but now she had found somepony of equal significance in her life. She had been terrified that she would be unable to reconcile these two parts of her life, that her animals would reject Rarity, or that the unicorn might find herself somehow averse to or fearful of the creatures.

Now, though, she saw that she need not have feared.

This is it, she thought to herself, half in triumph and half in relief. I… I really think I love her.

Eventually, Rarity’s singing stopped, ending with a graceful descending scale, and Sapphire halted in perfect synchronicity. Suddenly, as if tired of proceedings, he flared his wings and took flight. With a keening note of farewell, he circled the mares twice before darting out of the open window.

Fluttershy beamed at the unicorn beside her. “See?”

Rarity looked exhilarated, and she wrapped her forelegs around the mare by her side, pulling her into a close embrace. “That was amazing, Fluttershy. Thank you.” She seemed to understand how much of a step it was that the pegasus trusted her enough to allow her to be a part of something so personal. Fluttershy’s animals had been her one source of solace throughout most of her life, acting as her friends, as her company, as the bittersweet participants of a million one-sided conversations. The mare had allowed her into that world, that place to which she retreated when she was at her most vulnerable. Rarity knew that it was the first time that anypony had expressed that level of trust in her, and it meant more than she could say.

Fluttershy turned to her, staring into her eyes, their faces inches apart. All was silent, save for the crackling of the fire. She felt her heartbeat speeding up again, the unicorn’s silken fur pressed up close against her, the mare’s warm body dominating her senses. She felt courage rise like lava in her chest, and began to entwine her hind leg with Rarity’s, rolling over a little onto her side, so that they were held together, belly to belly.

“Rarity,” she breathed, “are… are you…?”

She felt a gentle hoof caress her lips. “Shh,” Rarity whispered. “No more words…”

The unicorn withdrew her hoof, and for a fraction of a second the mares gazed into each others’ eyes. Fluttershy felt as if she were falling from a great height. Waves of heat washed over them from the fire. She could feel Rarity’s heartbeat against her own, the mare’s lilac scent surrounding her, clouding her mind. Rarity’s hot breath was overwhelming, her eyes dancing and half-closed, her neck beginning to crane forwards.

No more words. No more fear.

Unable to resist for one second longer, Fluttershy kissed her, and kissed her hungrily. Both mares let out quiet moans at the moment of contact, their lips pressing together over and over, breaking apart for the briefest of moments to catch their breath and exchange fiery gazes before losing themselves once again.

Fluttershy’s lips parted, and she found Rarity’s willing tongue waiting for her. The unicorn’s breath was coming in short pants, and the pair rolled over to the side, so that Fluttershy was holding herself just above her lover, her hind legs gripping Rarity’s. Their heated tongues locked together, dancing and exploring, and Fluttershy pushed aggressively downwards into the kiss, doing all she could to prolong the sensation.

Right then, Rarity’s scent and taste were all that mattered. The unicorn pulled herself into a sitting position, and Fluttershy rose with her, her wings flared wide and shadowed in the firelight, relishing the cool, smooth sensation of Rarity’s silken dress pressed up against her fur. She pulled back, stroking her hooves compulsively through Rarity’s mane.

She looked at the alabaster mare with shining, victorious eyes.

“Rarity, I… I love you.”

The unicorn’s embrace tightened, and she nuzzled up Fluttershy’s cheek to her ear. “I love you too, darling,” she said, her voice quiet but utterly truthful.

On an impulse, Fluttershy half-stood, stumbling back to the couch, pulling the unresisting Rarity along with her. A half-acknowledged thought suggested to her that she ought perhaps to invite the mare up to her room, but in truth, neither of them were going to make it that far.

Fluttershy sank back into a prone position onto the sofa, pulling Rarity down on top of her. The alabaster fashionista gasped at the sudden motion, but let the breath out in a low sigh as the canary pegasus buried her face in Rarity’s jasmine-scented mane, stretching her neck upwards and taking one twitching ear between her lips, grazing it with the gentlest of nibbles, working her way around to the base. Sliding her forehooves downwards, she began fumblingly unlacing the back of Rarity’s dress, sliding the ruffled lavender silk urgently down over the unicorn’s shoulders.

“Mmm, Fluttershy,” Rarity purred in a mock-scandalized tone, giggling lightly before trailing a constellation of nipping kisses smoothly along the suddenly not-so-timid mare’s neck and jaw. Her horn flared, pulling her dress up over her head in a single swift motion, relieving the difficult task faced by the pegasus’s none-too-dexterous hooves. She let the garment fall, crumpled onto the rug, with a careless abandon that she would never have dreamed of were she not so blissfully distracted.

Moving her head back a little, Fluttershy wrapped both pairs of her legs around Rarity, pulling her closer, moulding herself into every soft contour of the unicorn’s trembling body. Rarity gave a low, throaty groan, and began kissing along her lover’s neck once again, moving downwards this time, sliding backwards a little to better feather her lips along Fluttershy’s collarbone and chest.

“I’ve... I’ve never…” Fluttershy whispered, her cheeks beet red, her expression enraptured.

Rarity looked up at the pegasus, breathing hard and fighting to keep herself in check, but wanting to ensure that she was doing the right thing. “Am I going too far, dear? Do you want me to stop?”

“Don’t you dare,” Fluttershy breathed, biting down hard on her lip.

Rarity grinned, and continued her ministrations, planting dancing rows of soft licks and kisses across Fluttershy’s chest, and lingering over the delicate thrumming sensation of her rapidly beating heart.

Just shy of the mare’s stomach, Rarity suddenly halted again, looking up to meet Fluttershy’s burning gaze with wide, submissive eyes. “What do you want me to do?”

“Teach me,” Fluttershy murmured, closing her eyes and leaning her head back into the cushions, her loose mane falling in cascades, pooling around her head. “Teach me, Rarity…”

Her thoughts were whirling as the caress of Rarity’s compliant lips began once again; she had been starved of this kind of attention for her entire life, and could finally enjoy it without guilt or pretence.

Maybe I’m not just fooling myself. Maybe I really can move on.

At that moment, free of fear and inhibition, with a pony who she could finally admit that she loved, she truly believed that she could.

Perhaps she would fail; perhaps her past would never stop haunting her. She knew better than most that there was no such thing as perfection or certainty; she had accepted that a long time ago. All that mattered to her was the realization that she had finally plucked up the courage to roll the dice.

She had taken her first steps away from her past, but now was not a time for looking forwards or backward. Now, she knew, was a time for learning. Her eyes were closed, her mind misted and deliciously lost as the ‘lesson’ continued.

There’s no such thing as perfection… But surely this is the closest thing.

Save Your Sky for Me - Part I

A Bluebird’s Song

~~~
Doubt truth to be a liar
But never doubt I love
~~~

Save Your Sky For Me – Part One

She seemed contented; that was the strangest thing.

Of course, there had been tears. Tears of joy, of sadness, of pain. Once the team of utterly bemused doctors had ensured that Dash was in a stable condition, the two mares had held one another in a close, gentle embrace for the best part of an hour, Twilight relishing the miraculous warmth, savouring every beat of her love’s heart.

Naturally, none of the doctors had asked too many questions about the pegasus’s revival, apparently preferring instead to do their job of tending to the living, rather than querying the living’s status as such.

It had, without a doubt, been a difficult week. The pegasus was by no means healed; since her awakening she had had undergone two minor operations, and her wide range of medications often left her drowsy and only semi-coherent. On the third day, the lacerations down her left side had picked up an infection which had thrust the mare into a state of delirium, but Twilight found herself blessing the times of fever for the way that they relieved the pegasus’s pain. She had sat at her love’s bedside for hours on end, dabbing the cold sweat from the prone mare’s brow, and whispering reassurances with no idea if Dash could hear her.

Even after three hideously long days of salves and ointments and medical spell-work had broken the infection’s hold, there were times when Dash’s stoic outlook buckled, when the pain or immobility began to eat away at her mind, but Twilight was always there beside her, with her kind words and her tender, anaesthetic kisses.

She had told Dash everything. In reality, there had never been any question of keeping her in the dark. Twilight had not intended to tell her the full story immediately; she had had a plan to wait until the pegasus had recovered her strength, to give her the truth as gently as possible, but she had not been able to help herself. As soon as they had been alone together, she had told her everything; told her of her coma, her death, of her mother’s history and sacrifice.

The bedridden pony had listened in silence, her eyes widening from time to time, either in surprise or understanding. In truth, Twilight had been terrified. She had half expected the news of her mother’s death to send the pegasus spiraling back down into depression again, but that had not been the case. Once the unicorn had finished her story, Dash had simply requested that she might be given some time to think about what had happened; to try and reconcile the new facts in her head.

Twilight knew that she wanted to focus on her recovery, rather than allowing the conflicting grief and relief to bury her. She respected that, and kept her silence.

From that point onwards, Dash had not mentioned her mother again. The week had not been easy for either of them, but most of the time the pegasus seemed in remarkably high spirits, almost unconscious of her own contentment. The others had returned, reluctantly, to Ponyville. Somehow, as with even the strangest times, a routine of life had formed.

The biggest fear for both of them was Dash’s wings. The doctor had told them that he was, in truth, not optimistic. The blood flow to the appendages was severely damaged, and whilst amputation had been ruled out to the enormous relief of both mares, the necessity to fuse or pin the wing-bones was all too likely. The doctor had talked of Dash’s options for what had seemed like hours, throwing around words like ‘joint replacement’ and ‘necrosis’, painting with an expert’s eye a picture of the worst case scenario. Twilight tried to keep herself from worrying, but each night was spent in fear, and each slow dawn came with a dull, cold expectation that more bad news may be around the corner.

Then, one week after her awakening, the news came that the bruising and lacerations had healed to the point where Dash could leave her bed, albeit in a wheelchair that Twilight volunteered to push. The lacerations on her side and hind legs were still deep and stitched closed, and any attempt to bear weight on the injured muscles would likely end in failure. The doctors were wary of allowing even this limited degree of movement, but the pegasus’s enthusiasm to once again be at least semi-mobile eventually won over their doubts.

Although, as Twilight had discovered through long experience, things were rarely simple when Dash was involved.

“Are you holding up okay?”

It was Saturday evening, and the sun had begun to set as Luna took up her station for the night. In Ponyville, Fluttershy’s date was in full swing.

The scene in Canterlot Hospital, however, was a somewhat different one. The two mares were making their first, nervous foray into the tiled hospital corridor, the wheelchair-bound Dash eyeing the relatively open space with an expression of nervous excitement.

After a few misguided attempts to use her hooves to propel the wheelchair, Twilight had abandoned the fiddly, cumbersome handles, and instead walked alongside the still-weakened pegasus, pushing the chair along with her magic. To her relief, the long-term effects of her magical overexertion in the Everfree were beginning to wear off, and she no longer felt that horrible burning sensation in her forehead when she cast her spells.

Dash shifted in the chair, grunting a little in discomfort. Her wings were still in solid plaster casts, strapped up so that they were held out straight at her sides. “I’m fine, Twi’,” she replied, stoically. “It’s just good to get out of that room, to tell ya the truth.”

Twilight nodded. “I can imagine.”

They moved down the corridor in silence for a few more moments, and Twilight caught herself gazing at the pegasus, her expression one of quiet amazement. In truth, she had found herself doing that a lot recently. She still could not quite believe that Dash was here, alive and awake. They had made it. They had both made it.

Focus! You don’t want to go running into somepony.

She shook her head, forcing herself to look where they were going. “Where do you want to go?” she asked, knowing that their choices for destinations within the hospital were somewhat restricted.

Dash thought for a moment, knowing that they had to stay at least on hospital grounds, in case something were to go suddenly wrong. “The roof,” she said, finally. “I’d… I’d like to be able to breathe properly again.”

“I’ll try,” Twilight replied, knowing that the chance to look down from the mountainside over the countryside of Equestria would offer at least a hint of the height and freedom the pegasus craved. “Getting up there with a wheelchair might be tricky, though.”

“I guess.” Dash nodded, gesturing to a pair of gunmetal grey doors to their left. “Try one of the elevators, we might find a fire escape or something.” The slight strain in her voice was evident, betraying just how much she wanted to taste the outdoor air again. Neither of them knew how long it would be before she was discharged entirely, and whilst Twilight suspected that there may, in truth, be no way up to the roof, she was more than willing to try.

She jabbed at the call button, and the pair of them entered the elevator. It was an aging contraption, and rattled grudgingly to life, the machinery grinding and hissing as it dragged them sluggishly upwards through the building towards the top floor.

“Twi’…” Dash said, quietly.

Twilight turned to her. “What is it?”

“I… I’ve been thinking about my mom… about what she did to me. About what she did for me.” She sighed. This was the first time she had spoken of her mother for the best part of a week, and Twilight leaned closer with interest and apprehension. “She gave me an answer,” Dash continued. “It was so many years too late, but she finally gave me an answer to the question I’ve been asking my entire life. She… she cared. In the end, at least. It’s made me happy, I can’t deny that. Apart from you, it’s what’s been keeping me going this last week.”

Her eyes were damp, and she held out a hoof, which Twilight grasped comfortingly between her own, leaning down to nuzzle the mare’s cheek. “Do you think you can forgive her?” Twilight murmured.

Dash was silent for a few seconds, her expression thoughtful and a little pained. “No,” she said, eventually, her voice barely audible over the grinding machinery. “No, I don’t think I can.”

At that moment, the elevator ground to a halt with a thump, the engines falling silent as they reached the top floor. The doors swung open, revealing two doctors waiting at the doors. Twilight fell silent, her response dying on her lips, and she looked sideways at Dash as she pushed her out of the elevator into the sparsely-populated corridor. The pegasus nodded minutely, as if to say that the discussion could wait until they were alone.

Taking the wheelchair in her magical grip once again, Twilight pushed out into the corridor, looking around for some kind of fire escape or other means of access to the roof. This floor of the hospital had obviously been built more recently, the walls oozing a clinical, white modernity. The falling evening sun streamed in through the closed windows; tantalizing.

For a few minutes, they walked on in silence, looking around to no avail until Twilight was on the verge of giving up. Then, Dash pointed to their left, her eyes widening. “Twi’, look.” Twilight’s eyes followed the pointing hoof, and alighted upon a small door, set beside a storage cupboard. A small brass sign beside it read: Staff only – Emergency rooftop access.

Twilight looked up and down the length of the corridor, eyeing the other occupants in mild irritation, waiting for the two of them to be on their own.

Dash looked up at her, her expression a little guilty that Twilight was chancing getting in trouble with the hospital’s staff on her behalf. “Do you wanna risk it?”

The unicorn raised one eyebrow, smiling a little. “Obviously.”

Slowly, the corridor’s occupants filtered away into one room or another, leaving nopony but the two mares, and an elderly couple who seemed to be waiting for something, and were apparently too distracted by reading the signs tacked up a notice-board to pay them any heed.

With a squeak of the wheels, Twilight pushed the chair briskly across the chequerboard-tiled corridor, magically pulled the door ajar, and the pair of mares darted inside.

Twilight’s heart sank.

Stairs. A short flight of functional metal steps rose up the walls of the red-brick stairwell, leading to a fire door at the summit which obviously led to the roof. Eight steps in all, but it might as well have been a mountain for all the chance they had of getting the pegasus up to the top. The sensation of falling at the last hurdle was utterly infuriating, although Twilight was berating herself for not expecting something so obvious. What had she expected? A lift? A winch? There was no way she could traverse the steps with the wheelchair, no matter how hard they tried.

I don’t have the strength to lift her with my magic yet, she thought, helplessly. There’s nothing I can do.

She turned to Dash, apologetically clicking the chair’s brake into place. “I… I’m sorry, Rainbow. Maybe we can find another-”

The pegasus held up a hoof, determinedly. “It’s okay, Twi’. I thought this was gonna happen.”

Twilight was somewhat confused. “Well then, why…?”

Dash gritted her teeth. “Because this is how I make progress. I knew if I told you, you’d never have brought me up here, but this is how I’ve always made progress. I find something I wanna achieve; something that’s just out of reach.” She paused for a moment, appraising the situation. “Then, I go and get it.”

Without further ado, the pegasus leaned gingerly forwards out of the chair, and planted her rear hooves on the concrete floor.

Twilight stepped forwards immediately, her eyes fearful. “Rainbow! Your stitches! They told you not to walk yet.”

“They told me to walk when I felt ready,” Dash corrected her, wincing in pain as she shuffled forwards, and began applying weight to her hind legs. “If it means getting some fresh air; if it means bein’ able to take a few steps outside of this hospital, then I sure as hay feel ready.”

Before Twilight could argue any further, she tipped herself forwards, and stood unsteadily on her own four hooves. She let out a low groan, and her knees shook with the combination of effort and pain. For a horrible moment, Twilight thought her legs were going to buckle under her, but somehow she remained standing, her teeth clenched, sweat pooling on her brow, an expression of consternation on her face that even so simple an action as standing up was almost beyond her capacity.

Twilight rushed forwards to help support the pegasus, looping her forelegs under the mare’s neck and belly. Dash leaned into her gratefully, closing her eyes and breathing hard. “Thanks, Twi’. That was always gonna be the hardest part,” she panted, her voice trembling and pained. “Thought I might as well get it over with quickly.”

“You silly pony,” Twilight murmured reproachfully, stroking Dash’s perspiration-coated neck with her foreleg. She was too pleased at the expression of relief on the pegasus’s face to be truly annoyed, however. She could see how much regaining even this small amount of mobility meant to her. “You’re lucky you didn’t burst your stitches.”

“I’ve always taken risks, and this isn’t gonna stop me,” replied Dash, her voice still unsteady but determined. “Sunset can hurt me all they want, but if they stop me from takin’ risks, they’ve won.” She paused for a moment. “You know what? I don’t even care about that. This isn’t about Sunset, or fresh air, or any of it. I wanna prove to myself that I can do this. I made a promise a long time ago, and I couldn’t keep it at the Cloudiseum. I couldn’t see what shoulda been obvious, and I fell because of that, but now… I’m gonna keep my promise. I’m gonna prove myself right.”

Gingerly, still leaning against Twilight for support, she took a few tentative steps towards the staircase. Each movement of her hind legs made her wince, and the dead weight of her plaster-embalmed wings was not helping, but she made her steady, dogged progress to the foot of the stairs.

She turned her head delightedly to Twilight. The pain in her eyes was obvious, but still she grinned. “See that?”

The unicorn nodded. Her expression was tinged with worry and sympathy, but she returned the smile, more pleased than fearful. “I did,” she whispered. She leaned in to nuzzle the pegasus’s jaw and cheek. Their muzzles met, their lips and noses brushing together. In a moment of excitement, Dash pushed forwards with a sigh, turning the light, brushing contact into a true kiss.

The setting was utterly unromantic; a dimly-lit stairwell, grimy and ill-maintained from lack of use, but it did not matter. Twilight pressed back against her lover’s lips, sharing in the joy of a pony who had just found her hooves again. This was utterly unlike the tender kisses they had shared thus far during Dash’s recovery, kisses of reassurance or sympathy. This was a kiss of fire; the kind they had so often had before the disastrous record attempt, and the beautiful sense of familiarity only served to add to the connection’s intensity. The taste was exactly as Twilight remembered, as their tongues shared a caressing, enthusiastic reunion.

They broke apart after a fashion, Twilight’s forehoof stroking through over Dash’s mane, whilst still supporting her and helping her stand upright. Thanks to their awkward position, they could not truly embrace, but instead entwined their necks together, holding each other close in a traditional pony-hug.

“Celestia, I’ve missed that,” panted Dash, her hot breath blooming against Twilight’s ear.

“I could tell,” Twilight murmured, pressing herself tighter against the pegasus’s warm neck.

Eventually, when the unicorn pulled back, Dash eyed the stairs before her with a look of resigned determination.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” the unicorn asked, in a voice of warning.

Dash gulped, but nodded. “Just… keep a hold on me, Twi’,” she murmured.

“Always.”

With that, the pegasus shook her head to dispel the momentary surge of nerves, and planted her hooves determinedly on the bottom step.

The first three stairs were relatively easy, eliciting small winces from the injured mare. The lavender unicorn walked beside Dash, her forelegs wrapped around the pegasus, who leaned on her for support. At the fourth step, she let out a low groan of pain, as her lacerated muscles stretched and complained. Twilight forced back tears at the sound.

She doesn’t deserve this. Why did this have to happen?

“You’re going to hurt yourself!” Twilight exclaimed in a panic.

“There’s no point going back now. Going down’s as bad as climbing. I can do this.”

Not wanting to break stride, Dash took the fifth and sixth steps rapidly, one after the other, before freezing on the sixth with a cry, gritting her teeth to bite back the sound. She snorted, lowering her head and pushing onwards, taking the seventh in absolute silence, her legs shaking horribly.

Oh Celestia, why her?

On the eighth, her strength finally failed her. Her right hind leg gave out, and she began to topple backwards down the stairs with a horrified gasp of shock.

Twilight, however, was ready for her. The pegasus found herself enveloped in a cushioning purple aura, which pushed her gently back into line, up and over the final step. The unicorn may not have regained her powers enough to carry the mare, but she could at least offer a helping hand.

Dash stood on the top step, gasping and shaking, but hugely relieved, and euphoric beyond even her normal thrill of victory. For a moment, she did not know why she felt so elated, but then it struck her. She remembered what she had promised herself months ago, promised herself on the day before Twilight had first kissed her.

I kept my promise. Maybe that wasn’t sensible, but I’ve proven that I don’t need revenge or fear to make me a winner. I didn’t do it to prove anypony wrong.

I did it, Fluttershy. I did what you asked, all that time ago. I proved myself right.

Not on your own, you didn’t.

She turned to Twilight, a new strength welling up in her limbs. “Thanks for the help, Twi’.”

The unicorn seemed to understand that the words meant far more than the mere physical assistance she had offered, and she leaned in to kiss the pegasus lightly on the lips.

“I wish you wouldn’t do things like that,” she murmured, but was unable to resist leaning in for another kiss. “Actually,” she blushed, disengaging her lips, “I guess I’m lying. I can’t bring myself to wish you wouldn’t, because it’s so… you.”

Dash blushed too, and decided that it was her turn to take the initiative, by leaning forwards and pressing her lips tightly to Twilight’s, the sudden force eliciting a delighted little muffled moan from the unicorn.

You need her so much.

I’ll always need her. But that’s not why I love her.

Are you sure about that?

For once in her life, she could quell the nagging voice of self-doubt without any difficulty. Of course I’m sure. I need her because I love her, not the other way around.

Breaking the kiss, she took Twilight’s hoof, feeling her stride beginning to grow more confident, overcoming the pain, and together they walked slowly out onto the rooftop.

The air.

The air was beautiful. It tasted of freedom and altitude, laced with the heady thinness of the mountain’s peak. The falling sun dazzled them, painting the mares with shifting liquid amber. She limped to the edge, with Twilight gently supporting her. The patchwork countryside spread out far below them, golden in the evening light. Cloudsdale hung like a diamond on the horizon, shining and prismatic. The wind whipped at their manes, singing in their ears.

Hoof in hoof, the two mares gazed out at the dusky, shimmering sky.

“It’ll be yours again someday,” Twilight whispered. “I promise.”

Dash nestled her head against the unicorn’s, sighing contentedly. She was in pain; she was far from healed, both mentally and physically, but right then she did not care. Soon, she would have to talk about her mother, of why she could not find it in her heart to forgive the mare who had given her life for her daughter, but right then it did not seem to matter.

Even the sky did not matter; she was not afraid of losing it any more. As long as Twilight promised her the sky, she trusted that she would find it again, but as long as Twilight was with her on the ground, the ground was all the world she needed.

“I believe you, Twi’,” she murmured, gazing into the glimmering purple eyes of the mare she loved. She turned away from the sky that she had, for the moment, lost. “I believe you…”

Save Your Sky for Me - Part II

A Bluebird’s Song

~~~
Search for beauty, find your shore
Try to save them all, bleed no more
You have such oceans within
In the end I will always love you
~~~

Save Your Sky for Me – Part II

The final sliver of the sun had lost itself beneath the horizon, but the flat stone roof of Canterlot Hospital was still warm to the touch from the heat of the day.

The weakness of Dash’s legs was beginning to catch up with her, so the two mares sat huddled together near the crenellated edge of the roof, watching the sunlight’s fading progression into darkness. Neither of them had yet made the decision to speak of serious matters, simply savouring the near-infinite vista and cool, free air. A little lost in the moment, they fell to nuzzling one another’s necks and faces, sharing soft, near-invisible kisses in the half-lit gloom.

Twilight pulled gently back from the pegasus’s lips, unable to resist darting momentarily back forwards and feathering a nipping kiss over a spot of Dash’s neck that she knew made the pegasus melt, just below the nub of bone where her jaw ended. Dash did not disappoint in her reaction, biting her lip at the moment of contact to force back a moan, a shudder running through her body.

“I love it so much when you do that…” she murmured, catching Twilight’s gaze.

“Why do you think I do it?” Twilight smirked, lazily stroking a hoof through her love’s prismatic mane, taking great care to avoid touching her injured wings. Edging forwards, the unicorn snaked her hind leg softly around Dash’s lower back. She felt the pegasus quiver against her as she leaned in to nip at her neck for a second time, before nuzzling along Dash’s jaw, and edging upwards over her chin to press their lips together once more.

Even now, the sensation of the pegasus’s breath blooming in her mouth, and the confident caress of that warm, strong tongue against her own was enough to steal the air from Twilight’s lungs, and leave her deliciously bereft of the rationality she prided herself on. She loved the way that Dash’s proximity robbed her so effortlessly of the walls of cynicism with which she had so often shielded herself.

They held the gradually deepening kiss for what seemed like hours, and yet when they finally broke apart, Twilight still felt as if it had ended an eternity too soon.

As pleasurable as this was, Twilight knew that she was stalling. Her mind was fogged with hazing sparks of desire, and she wanted nothing more than to allow the intimacy of the situation to develop; to reach its natural conclusion right there on the warm rooftop. Somehow, though, a small voice in the back of her head would not allow her to do so.

You need to talk to her. She brought it up in the elevator on the way up here, she’s ready. You can’t delay, no matter how much you want to.

“Rainbow…” Twilight pulled back a little, her heart beating hard, still cradling the mare gently in her forelegs. “Do… do you want to talk about what happened?” She sighed, turning her head away a little. “I’m sorry, I’d love to just lie here with you and forget everything, but if you feel ready to talk about it, I really think it might help.”

She felt Dash give her a reassuring squeeze with her forelegs. “It’s okay, Twi’. I’m ready.”

Twilight lay her head back on the smooth stones, looking up at the clear, darkening sky. Carefully, Dash joined her, nestling her head into the soft curve of Twilight’s neck, snuggling closer, drawing comfort from the warm proximity of the mare she loved.

“I didn’t really want to think about it until these last few days,” she began, quietly. “I just thought I’d end up depressing myself, and I wanted to pay attention to getting better.” She sighed, breathing out a short, wistful note of laughter. “It’s weird, really. The more I thought about it, the more I realized it’s actually made me happy. For years, I thought my mother didn’t care for me. Then, she did the one thing in the world that could have proven to me that she loved me all along.”

She turned her head, looking up to meet Twilight’s eyes with her suddenly tearful gaze. “It’s the last piece, Twi’.” She gripped the unicorn tighter, a single tear breaking free and losing itself in the fur of her cheek. “I… I think I’m free of it all.” Twilight felt a few warm droplets fall onto her chest. “I’m free,” Dash repeated in a choked whisper.

Twilight understood what she meant. The mare was finally free of uncertainty, of insecurity, and free of the unresolved sense of abandonment that had haunted her for so long. She was free of that nagging, unfair, inextinguishable doubt common to so many sufferers of abuse; that underlying fear that she was in some way to blame for what had been done to her.

The unicorn reciprocated the embrace, holding Dash tightly and rocking her gently back and forth as the pegasus wept in silence, tears of relief and sadness and a million pent-up emotions shining on her cheeks and staining Twilight’s fur.

Maybe it was worth it. All the pain and the blood and the tears. Maybe it was all worth it, if she can be healed.

“But you can’t forgive her?” Twilight murmured.

Dash shook her head, her voice still choked with sobs. “I… No, Twi’. I can’t.” She fell thoughtfully silent for a moment. “She was young and scared and angry, and I can understand why she did what she did. But… no matter how ya look at it, she was still a mother who abandoned her foal. She abandoned her foal to live with a monster, and then she took another foal and helped turn her into a monster. No matter what she’s done for me now, I can’t forgive that.” She sighed. “I guess it’s who I am. A mother ought to be loyal to her kids, no matter what.”

Twilight nodded. “I understand, Rainbow.”

The pegasus tipped her head back, resting it beside Twilight’s, looking up at the fading amber of the sky. “Maybe she changed, near the end. Maybe there were things about her that I don’t understand. I… I don’t hate her, I’m not angry or vindictive. I’m grateful to her. She gave her life for me; of course I’m grateful. But I can’t forgive what she did. Not just what she did to me; I could be healed. Cloudshine can’t be, she’s looking at a life staring at prison bars because of that mare.”

“Shine died thinking she’d redeemed herself,” Twilight murmured, a little sadly, more to herself than anypony else.

“I’m glad of that,” replied Dash, after a moment’s thought. “Whatever I think of her, she did give me peace. I guess she deserved to go in peace. But the way I see it, she lost any chance of redeeming herself the moment her daughter joined Sunset because of the way she was raised.” She turned to look Twilight in the eye, her expression a little apprehensive. “You’re… you’re not angry, are you? You don’t think I’m being unfair?”

“Of course not,” Twilight whispered, leaning forwards and kissing the pegasus soothingly on the forehead. “I can’t imagine what your life was like, or what you went through. I… I don’t for a moment think I’m qualified to judge you. Besides, you can’t force yourself into forgiveness, and it’s better to let what you feel out in the open. I love you, Rainbow. I love the real you, not the mask. Not the pony you pretended to be for so long.”

She gazed, unblinking and serious, into Dash’s shining magenta eyes. “I promise you, you’ll never need to pretend or be ashamed around me. You’ll never need to pretend to be something you’re not, ever again. I love you. I love your flaws and imperfections. I love you when you’re crying just as much as when you’re smiling. I love you when you need my help, and when I need yours. I… I want to grow old with you, Rainbow.”

Dash’s eyes welled up again, and she pulled Twilight into a heated, insistent kiss. “Thank you, Twilight,” she whispered gratefully as she pulled back. “I want that too. I… I know I can’t put it into words as well as you, but I love you too; I love you so much. I know I’m gonna end up sounding cheesy or old fashioned, but I can’t think of anypony I’d rather share my life with.” She smiled, meeting the unicorn’s eyes almost bashfully. “I feel like I’ve got some kinda closure now. Maybe it’s not the kind of closure Mom would’ve wanted, but… it’s enough.” She sighed, but the sound was a contented one. “It’s more than enough.”

For the next ten minutes, the two mares lay locked together in a still embrace, gazing up at the darkening sky, watching the amber glow recede as the first and boldest stars began their glimmering foray into the falling night.

Suddenly, Twilight registered a soft glow of golden light to her left, and she turned her head to trace its source. She jumped at the sight which greeted her, gasping in surprise. Dash followed her gaze, sitting up a little, her eyes widening.

“May I intrude, my student?”

Princess Celestia rose gracefully over the hospital’s crenellations on her wide, alabaster wings. Alighting gently on the smooth roof with a click of her golden-shod hooves, she smiled a little reproachfully down at the two mares.

Twilight hastily got to her hooves, and leaned down to offer Dash a helping hoof, her expression a little bashful. She was acutely aware that they were not, in truth, supposed to be up here. “Princess,” she mumbled. “Of course you can. How did you know we were here?”

Celestia laughed, the expression of mild reproach leaving her eyes. “I wanted to visit you both, but none of the doctors knew where you were. I know all too well the pegasine longing for freedom, and so I made an… educated guess as to your whereabouts.” She scrutinized the pegasus, whose bandage-wrapped legs were obviously still in a weakened condition. “Although, I have to ask. How exactly did you get up here? Are you back on yours hooves already, Rainbow Dash?”

“Kind of,” Dash replied, sounding a little uncertain. “I managed to take the stairs, although Twi’ lent a hoof.” She turned to Twilight, suddenly looking a little worried. “Oh ponyfeathers, I’d not thought of that. How am I gonna get down from here? There’s no way I can get past those stairs twice.”

The princess raised a calming hoof. “It’s alright. If the need arises, I’m sure I can offer you magical assistance.”

Twilight, who had not thought of the prospect of getting down either, breathed a sigh of relief. “It’s a good thing you’re here, Princess,” she remarked. “It’s a bit too cold up here to spend the night.”

“I imagine so,” agreed Celestia. A smile was playing on her lips, although now she was closer, Twilight could see that the princess was troubled, her eyes a little distant. “Please, feel free to sit down again,” she added, looking at Dash. “I don’t want you to risk worsening your injuries on my behalf. I must speak with you.”

A little hesitantly, the two mares sat down once again on the stone. To their surprise, the princess joined them, perhaps attempting to put them at their ease, sitting down opposite the couple and resting back against the crenellations that surrounded the roof.

“In the light of recent events, I am loathe to bring this matter up,” Celestia began, her gaze a little downcast. “I promised my Captain of the Guard that I would see the matter through personally, and I must do so, otherwise there will be little that I can do to prevent the guards from getting involved.”

Dash looked up, a light of understanding dawning in her eyes. “This… this is about Sergeant Quintus, isn’t it?”

The princess nodded, gravely. “I’m afraid so. Captain Gladius took it upon himself to send out search parties to the foot of the mountain. It took time, but they managed to locate and recover the sergeant’s remains two days ago.” She paused for a moment, as if at an unpleasant memory. When she continued, her voice was a little quieter. “Obviously, they could not discern any individual injuries inflicted in the fight, but Gladius is an intelligent stallion. He was the one who first confronted me about the matter, having worked out the truth. He agreed to keep the matter quiet to the best of his ability, and to allow me to deal with it personally. I owe him a lot for his discretion.”

Dash looked a little apprehensive. “Are they gonna arrest me?”

“Not while I have any say in the matter,” Celestia insisted, firmly. “They managed to recover blood samples, and they’re working on them now.”

Twilight leaned forwards, interested in the science of the situation despite its serious and gruesome nature. “But if they’re looking for the draught of forgetfulness in his blood, surely that won’t show anything up, will it? He took it so long ago now, it’ll all have passed out.”

The alicorn nodded, approvingly. “Quite so, but Sunset kept their hold over him by blackmailing him with small amounts of antidote, giving him back his life in weeks and months. There should still be traces of that antidote.” She looked momentarily wistful. “Cloudshine admitted everything to me. She knows it won’t make any difference now, and I think she wanted to help you.”

“Help me?” Dash looked confused. “Did you hear how she tried to trick me? I’m a pegasus, she must hate me.”

Celestia shrugged. “Perhaps, but I think she feels as if she owes you. It’s her fault that Quintus tried to kill you, and she knows it. I think, deep down, it’s the one thing she feels guilty for. So she confessed, she told me everything. I’ve been… I suppose you could say I’ve been working with her.” She turned to look at Dash. “She was the one who told me the full story about your mother, because she wanted to prevent Dusk Tempest’s personal plans from bearing fruit. But aside from that, she told me exactly what Sunset had done to Quintus, and exactly what Quintus tried to do to you. I think at this stage, we have overwhelming evidence that you acted in self defence.”

“That’s a relief.” Dash sighed, looking down. “It’s just… unfair. Not to me; to Quintus. They stole his life, they sent him to his death for no good reason, and what’ll he be remembered as, in the end? Evidence? Collateral damage?” She shook her head, disgustedly. “Ugh. I’m glad they can clear my name, because all this is doing is burying Sunset deeper. I keep telling myself what Twilight said to me when I came back.” Dash took Twilight’s hoof, squeezing it gratefully between hers. “She told me that I didn’t kill Quintus; that Sunset had killed him a long time ago. It’s how I can live with remembering his face, right before he fell.” A deep-set anger was burning in her eyes, and she met the princess’s gaze with a burning intensity. “If you need me to give evidence, I’ll be there. I don’t want any of them to see the light of day again.”

“I understand,” Celestia replied, gravely. “I presume, then, that you won’t want to see your sister again?”

Dash looked away, staring into the blackening sky, the anger in her expression melting into sadness. “She can’t be saved now. There’s no point.” She snorted, distractedly tapping at the stone beneath her with the edge of her forehoof. “We’ve got nothing to say to each other.”

The pearly alicorn nodded, apparently understanding that the pegasus would brook no discussion on this matter. “Very well. Do you want me to tell her?”

Dash raised an eyebrow. “About what?”

“About what happened to your mother.”

For a few long moments, there was silence. “I guess so,” the cyan mare replied, at length. “She ought to know, I think. Rainbow Shine was her mother, too.”

“She may take it badly,” Celestia noted, a little warningly.

Dash, however, seemed set in her decision. “I guess it’ll hurt her, but Mom would never have needed to die if it wasn’t for Sunset. Maybe it’ll give her a taste of the kind of pain her friends have been causing for years.” She sighed. “In a way, she’s like me. In the past, we’ve both played with fire because we thought we could take the burns. The only thing that ever makes you stop is when you realize you’re burning the ponies you love.”

Twilight rested a comforting hoof on the pegasus’s shoulder, and nodded in agreement. “If Cloudshine’s got any chance to willingly turn her back on Sunset, then this is it,” she remarked. “It might just be a wake-up call for her.”

The princess got slowly to her hooves. “I agree,” she replied. “I don’t hold out a lot of hope, but if I don’t tell her, she’ll still hear rumours. She’ll probably work it out on her own, and then she’ll just have one more reason to hate me.” She looked down almost appraisingly at Dash, and nodded in approval. “I’m glad to see you’re dealing so well with all of this.” Once again, however, Twilight caught a glimpse of pain or indecision in the alicorn’s eyes, so swiftly concealed that she could not tell if she had imagined it or not. “You’ve suffered quite a loss.”

“I never really knew her,” Dash replied. “But now I know she cared, in the end. It’s just lucky she came when she did, otherwise she’d never have had the chance to prove that.”

Celestia nodded. “Yes… Yes, I suppose it was lucky.” The pained expression returned for the briefest moment, her eyes filled with guilt. Then she turned away. “I need to return to the castle. I’ll speak to you both again soon, to ensure that all is well.”

The night air was beginning to bite at them with mountain chill, and Twilight found herself shivering. “P-princess,” she stuttered, “could you help Rainbow get down from here? I think we should all be heading back inside now.” She decided not to question Celestia’s obvious discomfort. She knew from experience that the Alicorn did not keep secrets from her without good reason.

The princess turned back to face the mares, and by this time her expression was quite composed. “Very well. You really ought to get some rest now, both of you.” She smiled, although it seemed a little unnatural. “I can teleport you both back to Rainbow Dash’s room; I really don’t think you should put your stitches under any further pressure today.”

Twilight nodded. “Thank you, Princess.”

Celestia closed her eyes for a moment, the unknown internal conflict once again undisguised. Then, she seemed to make up her mind; to resolve some internal conflict. Her eyelids flickered open once again, and now there was no trace of the pain that had distorted her face.

Before the pair left, Dash turned and kissed Twilight softly on the cheek. “Thanks, Twi. Just… thanks for being there for me.”

Twilight nuzzled her love’s forehead, a little embarrassed at showing this display of affection in front of the princess, but in no way dissuaded from showing it. “I always will be,” she promised in a low, burning whisper.

The princess smiled at the young couple, and this time it was obviously genuine. “I’ve been alive long enough to know how rare love is,” she murmured. “I’m glad to see you’ve both found it.”

Then, Celestia's horn flared. A shimmering, heat-haze corona formed around the mares, and Twilight felt her fur stand on end at the electric charge. Her body wreathed momentarily in golden light, and her vision whited out.

When the fog retreated from her vision, Twilight found herself standing at Dash's bedside. The pegasus had been gently deposited beneath the covers, a testament to the princess's incredible control of her magical abilities.

The cyan mare smiled up at her, sleepily. The sudden warmth and comfort had clearly caused her tiredness to catch up with her. "Hey," she mumbled blearily.

"Hey," Twilight replied, leaning down to kiss her love on the forehead, the gesture almost motherly. "You're not worrying about Quintus, are you?"

Dash shook her head, emphatically. "If the princess is takin' my side over it, I don't see there's any reason to. Besides, I'm not even thinking about it yet." She caught Twilight's gaze, and her eyes seemed genuinely at peace. "The future doesn't matter yet, Twi'. We're both here, and I'm gonna recover from this. I know I'm gonna fly with you again."

"I'll hold you to it," Twilight whispered, her voice catching a little, despite herself.

Suddenly, she felt Dash reach up and grip her foreleg, looking up at her with hopeful eyes. Twilight knew what she wanted, and knew with relief that the pegasus was not still so fragile that she could not comply with her wishes. With the utmost care, she climbed into the bed beside the cyan mare, and pulled the covers over the pair of them.

The pegasus snuggled gently closer to her with a contented sigh, tucking her head beneath Twilight’s chin as sleep began to rapidly overcome the pair of them. In truth, Twilight had not realized just how tired she was.

She felt herself drifting; her mind blurring and fading at the edges.

We're both here... Ever since Sunset had entered their lives, it was was more than Twilight had ever allowed herself to hope. Now Sunset were gone, and only now could Twilight truly convince herself that they could live free from fear.

Before sleep claimed her, the last thing she was aware of was the gentle motion of her love's chest, and the warm bloom of the cyan mare's breath along her neck as they lay entwined together, deaf to the world as it turned around them.

It was so much more than enough.

Sunrise

A Bluebird’s Song

~~~
Silent night surrounding me
On the shore of wistful sea
Her kindest heart made me believe
The world as I wish it to be
~~~

Sunrise

It was strange how light the world suddenly felt.

Fluttershy’s eyes cracked open, the morning light bedazzling. She let herself float for a few seconds in the hazing scents of jasmine and lilac, undercut by the tang of dried perspiration, its context made no less sweet by its earthiness. A warm body was curled up contentedly beside her, still snuggled into the grip of her forehooves, chest rising and falling with the regularity of sleep against the pegasus’s side.

After a few moments, her eyes adjusted to the light. Dust-flecked spears of light broke the air above her eyes, and she registered that they were lying in her bed, apparently having made it upstairs at some point during the previous night’s events. She turned to look at Rarity’s sleeping form, her once-styled mane flowing out over the pillow in a beautifully unkempt halo of lavender, framing her delicate head.

One by one, Fluttershy’s memories began to return to her, fitting into place in roughly the right order inside her mind. She expected to be overwhelmed with embarrassment or shame, looking back at all the things she had said; all the things she had done. Strangely, though, no blood rushed to stain her cheeks, and not even a tinge of that horribly familiar shriveling sensation gripped her chest. Instead, she let out a small sigh of contentment, cuddling closer to the alabaster mare.

This is what happiness feels like. Real happiness, without any worry or repression.

She knew that she had succeeded. Despite her fear of herself, despite the shyness brought forth by years of weakness and bullies and pent-up anger, she had fallen in love. She had been able to place her complete trust in the unicorn beside her; able to believe that Rarity would be willing to guide her first, fearful steps into the enticing, frightening world of intimacies, knowing full well that her lover would not hurt or abandon her.

Rarity shifted a little, apparently woken by Fluttershy’s movements. She mumbled something incoherent, still for the most part asleep. Giggling quietly, the canary pegasus leaned forwards to nuzzle the pearly mare’s cheek and ear, then edging downwards to leave soft kisses just above each of the unicorn’s eyes. Rarity gave a contented little nicker, her eyes drifting open and alighting on Fluttershy’s smiling face.

“Hello, darling.” She yawned luxuriously, planting a kiss on the pegasus’s nose, her cheeks blooming a delightful pink. Fluttershy felt her cheeks redden a little in response, but the blush was a response born of happiness, not of shame.

She held the unicorn a little tighter, stroking a lazy forehoof down her back, running her fetlocks over the soft curves that she now knew so well. “Oh, Rarity… Th-that was…”

“I know, dear… I know. Thank you.” Rarity traced a hoof along her love’s wing, and Fluttershy felt herself shiver as the caresses slipped beneath the warm feathers. The unicorn met her gaze, biting her lip a little bashfully. “Are you still… alright with this? With us?”

Fluttershy nodded, emphatically. “Of course I am, Rarity. When I’m with you, I feel…” She sighed, breaking off, unable to quite explain the thousand different facets of emotion that set her stomach whirling at the sight of the fashionista. “I… I don’t know what I feel. All I know is that I don’t ever want to stop feeling it.”

Rarity smiled delightedly, unable to resist leaning forward to draw the pegasus into a deep kiss, their lips meeting with a slow, deliberate passion. She hitched Fluttershy’s hind leg up, cupping it with a forehoof and draping it over her the subtle rise of her pearly-white hip, before continuing her feather-light touch up along the curve of that primrose-yellow thigh, brushing her fetlocks over the butterflies adorning the canary mare’s flank, knowing the reaction that the sensitive spot would produce.

Fluttershy did not disappoint, moaning sharply into the kiss, the sound shuddering into the unicorn’s mouth. Recovering quickly, she playfully clamped Rarity’s tongue between her lips, and they struggled back and forth for a few seconds, each tug drawing out a little coo of pleasure from one or the other. Eventually, Fluttershy let the taut connection slip, pulling back a little to meet her partner’s half-delirious, smoky gaze.

It all feels so… so overwhelming…

“I wish I could have fallen for you years ago,” Fluttershy panted, flopping back onto the pillow beside her lover. “I wish I’d not been hurting you for so long.”

Rarity laughed, quietly. “You are utterly worth the wait, darling.” She smiled at the pegasus, her eyes a little questioning. “You know, you seem somehow… different.”

The pegasus’s ears tipped back a little fearfully. “Is… is that bad?”

“Oh no, Fluttershy, of course not,” Rarity hastily clarified. “You’re still every bit the mare I fell in love with, but now you’re something more, as well. You always seemed so… repressed, I suppose. Sometimes I’d see it; I’d see the anger in your eyes. I’d see everything you were hiding.”

Fluttershy sighed, looking up at the ceiling. “I scare myself,” she admitted, in a small voice. “When I was a filly, the first rule was to show no real emotion. If you let the tiniest hint of your real self out, you’d be pulled to pieces for it. I was already such a weak flyer that nopony needed much of an excuse to pick on me. I… I felt anger, love, and lust, and I didn’t dare tell anypony. Eventually, I guess I convinced myself that it was wrong to feel like that, as if I were a freak because I loved and hated. It became something to be ashamed of, so I hid it all away.”

She closed her eyes for a moment, as she arrived at a still more unpleasant memory. She felt Rarity squeeze her shoulder reassuringly. “Then sometimes,” she continued, “I’d leave it to build up for so long that I couldn’t hold it in anymore. Something would happen to push me over the edge. That’s… that’s when I’d hurt somepony.” She turned to Rarity. “But I was wrong… I can see that now. Thanks to you, I can love again; I’m not ashamed anymore.”

“Darling, don’t sell yourself short.” Rarity stroked the pegasus’s cheek, her gaze almost reproving. “All I did was tell you how I felt, and rather a rude and ill-thought-out admission it was, too. You were able to unpick all of the puzzles; you were the one who realized what was going on in that beautiful head of yours.” For a few moments, she looked thoughtfully into Fluttershy’s eyes, as if wishing that she could read the mare’s mind. “The truth is, Fluttershy, you’re still a pegasus. All of that hot-headedness and brashness and determination; it’s all in there somewhere, no matter how much you repress it. The way you bottled it up for years, there’s no wonder you had… outbursts.”

Fluttershy suddenly looked a little frightened. “But… I remember what I was like after Iron Will’s lessons. At the time, it… it felt good. I was so horrible, but what if that’s what I’m really like? What if that’s what I’ll become if I let myself too much off the leash?”

Rarity rested a hoof on her cheek, looking into her eyes with the utmost seriousness. “You’re not a horrible pony, Fluttershy. Don’t even suggest that about yourself; power can make a fool of anypony. Of course it felt good; you were bullied and pushed around for so much of your life, I can see why the chance to reverse that position was irresistible to you. But… even if that Fluttershy is in your personality somewhere, surely she’s what gives you your courage. Iron Will’s lessons just let her… take over, I suppose. As long as you don’t let any one part of you take control, I’m sure that every part has something useful to offer you.” The unicorn’s eyes suddenly twinkled mischievously. “Besides, she hasn’t put in an appearance yet, and you were most certainly… ‘off the leash’ last night, weren’t you?”

Fluttershy blushed, but smiled nonetheless. “I suppose so… Thank you, Rarity.”

“Maybe that’s all you need,” murmured the alabaster mare, snuggling up against her pegasus once again. “A way of letting your inner pegasus out of her cage for a while, but without needing to turn all of that trapped emotion into anger. And believe me, darling,” she dropped her voice, biting her lip and gazing at Fluttershy with half-lidded eyes, “I’m more than happy to be that outlet.”

The pegasus felt herself heat up inside at the sensual voice breathing in her ear. She forced herself to hold onto coherent thought, a tiny seed of worry picking at the back of her mind. “Rarity, I… I can’t tell you how much I appreciate that. But… I care about you. I love you, and I don’t want this to just become something… physical.” Her voice trailed off into blushing inaudibility by the end of the sentence.

Rarity frowned, concerned that her love had misunderstood her motives. “Fluttershy, dear, do you think I’d have made that offer if I didn’t love you just as much? I don’t think for a moment that you would’ve let me teach you all of… all of those things if you didn’t put such trust in me.” She sighed. “I’ve heard ponies say that love and lust aren’t the same thing, and… I think they’re right. But that doesn’t mean the two can’t co-exist together; even compliment each other.”

The unicorn rolled onto her back, and Fluttershy draped a wing around her shoulders. “Look at it this way,” she continued. “I look at you, and I want you. I want you more than anything; the feeling of your wings around my back, your breath in my mouth, your lips…” She paused, stopping herself before she could become too distracted from her original intent. “…You must have seen what you do to me.”

“Y-you do the same to me,” Fluttershy admitted, her voice barely a whisper, her cheeks pink.

“Exactly,” Rarity nodded. “But it’s not just that… When I’ve been in relationships in the past, I always felt that I’d wait and see how they panned out; as if it didn’t really matter if they worked out or not. With you, I don’t feel like that. I want to do all I can to make this work; I can’t bear the thought of you leaving.” She smiled, but her eyes were suddenly tearful. “I want to cry with you when you’re sad, I want to just walk in the hills with you and not know where we’re going to end up… I want to wake up each morning and know you’ll be there beside me. Not just somepony; you. That’s why I love you, and that’s why I know that what we have is never going to become just an expression of lust.”

For a few still moments, the mares simply gazed at one another, blue into turquoise and turquoise into blue. Fluttershy knew that there was nothing more that she needed to say; that there was nothing that she could say make the moment any more complete. They understood each other perfectly.

She realized something else, as well: The little voice at the back of her mind, her companion, her devil’s advocate, had fallen silent. The one she had created to respond to her lonely thoughts, whenever the walls began to close around her. The one who had been by her side through solitude all the way along the years. How like her to leave in this way; to slip quietly away when she knew that she was no longer needed.

Thank you, she thought, quietly to herself. Thank you for everything. No reply came; her mind was silent and untroubled.

She allowed her eyes to roam in lingering sweeps over the mare in her forelegs, leaning forward almost unthinkingly to nuzzle her cheek in a moment of blind affection. The unicorn giggled, and a realization came crashing into place in Fluttershy’s mind, so utterly obvious and yet so persistently invisible that it took her breath away.

It had been Rarity’s voice.

It had been Rarity’s voice for so many years now; her subconscious recognizing just how much she needed the mare, before the idea had so much as impinged as a spark against her well-defended conscious mind. Rarity’s voice, coaxing her out of bed on those mornings when the world did not seem worth re-entering. Rarity’s voice, pulling her back to herself after her outbursts, setting her gently back on her hooves when the road she had chosen left her too tired to continue. Her voice of reason. Perhaps once it had been Rainbow Dash’s voice, or maybe even her own, without the shakes and whimpers of her eternal nerves. She did not know. It had always been such an integral part of her that she had never thought to question its familiarity.

Now, she understood why her companion had left her; why her voice had changed to represent what she could never, for so long, see that she wanted. It was not just because Fluttershy no longer needed to fear a lonely life; it was because she no longer needed to fear a loveless life.

“I love you, Rarity,” she whispered, her voice almost awed by the truth of the words, the back of her mind pinpricked by bitter regret that she had not been saying them for years.

The alabaster mare’s smile widened, her eyes lighting up just as they always did when she heard those words. She leaned forwards to whisper directly in the pegasus’s ear. “I love you too, Fluttershy. I promise you; I’ll never leave you, just as long as you want me by your side. I won’t let you down.”

Perhaps she would have said more, but suddenly her lips were otherwise engaged. In a single, smooth motion, Fluttershy pulled her into a spine-tingling kiss, rolling atop her lover and bearing down into the smouldering connection, letting the heat of the moment grow to fill the space between them, robbing them of the faculties of thought or breath. The pearly mare’s hooves rose to caress over her sides, before pressing without warning into a spot just below the first joint of her wing. Fluttershy felt herself exhale sharply, her back arching downwards, and she gripped the unicorn’s flanks tighter between her knees. Obeying the whims of the spur of the moment, she bit down on Rarity’s lower lip, toying with the warm, rubbery flesh held between her teeth, and drawing a loud and unsuppressed groan from the unicorn. Momentarily, she panicked a little inside at her own audacity.

Oh Celestia, did I just do that?

But Rarity was looking up at her with smouldering eyes, her gaze suddenly alight at the stinging pleasure singing in her veins.

“Oh, do that again, darling…”

Grinning down at the mare she loved, her fears allayed, Fluttershy wasted no time in complying. Breakfast could wait. Breakfast could wait forever.

She was awake; she was alive. At that moment, she was a pegasus, and was utterly unafraid of that fact.

She knew that her shyness and nerves would never truly leave her, and she knew that some of her memories would never truly stop haunting her. There would be bad days; she knew that perfectly well. There would be days when her fears and faults would bring her low. There may even come a day when Rarity was no longer at her side to take her hoof, to hold her tightly through whatever storms the world could hurl her way.

Today, though, it did not matter. Impermanence only ever added to the present’s beauty. Today she was in love, and was free to explore that love without falling into the tangling snares of fear. Today, idealism did not seem such a fool’s errand.

Today was a good day.

It was strange how dark the world suddenly felt.

Drip.

Cloudshine stared up at the ceiling’s damp lime-sheen, her head pressed morosely back against the packed lump of straw that served as her pillow.

Drip.

The clockwork-regular drops of water spattered against the floor, providing some semblance of the passage of time.

Drip.

With a snort of frustration, the olive-green mare got to her hooves, seizing a pile of straw and dumping it angrily beneath the falling water, masking the sound. Time was something of which she had in far too much abundance these days; it was not something of which she wanted to be reminded.

She knew that they could not keep her in this cave-like dungeon forever; that eventually their trials would roll around, and she and her colleagues would doubtless find themselves imprisoned elsewhere; perhaps one of the more modern prisons in Manehattan or Las Pegasus, somewhere where the world could be safe from their activities. At that moment, she had accepted the fact that she would never taste free air again. She almost welcomed the fact that her sentence would likely begin so soon; anything was better than being buried alive, down here under the mountain.

Of course, one of the greatest hardships of solitude was the time for thought that it allowed. When left alone, when forced to live with nothing but its past decisions for company, a mind will begin to pull itself apart, wondering what might have been done differently. Time and time again, she cursed herself for ordering Dusk’s death in a moment of anger. He should be here beside her, trapped with her in this lifetime of meaningless nothingness. At the time it had felt like revenge, but now she realized that she had given him freedom.

That, naturally, was not her only concern.

Why in Equestria did you tell Celestia about Quintus? You were helping her screw Dusk over, why did you blurt that out as well?

I’m already buried deep enough that admitting what I did to him won’t make my life any worse.

But why did you do it?

The answer took its time coming, but in the end, she could not deny it. She’s my sister, even if she is a pegasus. We’ve dragged her through hell, and I don’t even know if she’s alive. If she is, I’m not going to let her be brought up for murder on top of all that.

Do you even care anymore? The unicorn cause; all of those things you believed?

She sighed, falling back onto the straw, lying once again on her back and idly tracing the tip of her wooden-sheathed horn against the black stone wall.

Was there ever a cause? Maybe we believed in something once, but in the end, nopony needs a good reason to hate. Besides, what does it matter? Sparkle’s research is out there now; we’ve failed.

What happened to you, Cloudshine? What the hell happened? Is this how you got to be a leader?

She looked around at the dank cell, and snorted derisively.

Look at where being a leader left me. I’ve had enough; I don’t even care if I was right or wrong. Whatever I believed, it’s not worth fighting for any more.

Idly, she ran her hoof again over the yew-and-silver cone that was clamped down over her horn to dampen her powers. A small smile tugged at her lips, despite herself, knowing that one small victory had been handed unwittingly to her. They had fitted her with a new damper the previous day, because the suppressing powers of yew diminish as the fresh-cut wood begins to die, and as such all unicorn prisoners had their cones replaced every few weeks. This cone, however, was flawed. A hairline crack ran up the surface, nigh-invisible to the naked eye, but enough to allow a single spark to worm its way through the deadly dousing influence of the silver-laced wood.

It was, of course, useless. She could do no harm with such a miniscule force as was available to her. But, as she channeled her full and considerable magical capacity into worming the field of energy through to the outside world, she was rewarded by the sight of a single straw, as it detached itself from her bedding and rose, shimmering with the faintest of near-colourless auras, to her eye level. It allowed her some sense of retained identity, of freedom to act within her confines, no matter how crippled her actions were.

It seemed almost fitting, in a way. Her domain was now barely five paces from side to side; a dank black cage, buried deep beneath the city of those whose interests she had tried for her whole life to protect. How right it was that her powers should equally wither.

Above her came the now-familiar creaking groan of the dungeon door swinging open. Twin, synchronized cracks of hooves saluting on stone accompanied by muffled, respectful voices told Cloudshine all she needed to know of her visitor’s identity. Her heart sank a little; the princess was not often one to bring good news to those she had hidden away. Perhaps Rainbow Dash had awoken from her coma… or perhaps not.

Either way, this is Dusk’s fault. If things ended badly, I don’t need to feel guilty about it.

You’ve done so much in your life. Are you seriously judging what you should feel guilty about now?

She did her best to quell the nagging voice, attempting to focus on the approaching metallic hoof-falls. This is different.

How many is it, Cloudshine? Quintus and Dusk; they make your tally up to… what is it now? Seven? Eight? How many of their names do you even remember?

I didn’t kill Quintus.

That’s no excuse, he died because of your orders. Face it; you’re starting to grow a conscience. After everything you’ve done, and with all the years you’ve got left ahead of you, a conscience is really not something you want to develop…

She shook her head slightly, trying to dislodge the thoughts that clung like lichen to the inside of her skull. The miniscule flow of escaping magic was broken, and the straw fluttered silently to the stones below. A few moments later, the telltale golden glow splashed over the corridor wall outside her cell. With a rattle of magically-levitated keys, the door swung ajar, and Princess Celestia stepped into the oppressive stone cage.

Cloudshine turned her head to look at the princess, and nodded slightly, acknowledging her. She did not, however, rise from her prone position on the straw, the deliberate implication being that her co-operation should by no means be taken as an indication of respect for the alicorn. She gestured carelessly at the balled-up lump of straw on the floor, into which the ever-regular drops of water still fell. “Still got that leak in here.”

Celestia ignored the jibe, not quite meeting the mare’s eyes. When she spoke, her voice was quiet, and a little sad. “Do you ever think that maybe there was another way?”

The olive unicorn raised an eyebrow, and her reply came short and defensive. “I’m not here to talk philosophy.”

“Nor am I,” the princess replied. “I’m merely curious. Do you… regret any of it?”

Cloudshine snorted. “Don’t try to act holy. You’ve killed more ponies than I have.”

“That’s exactly the reason I’m asking.”

The unicorn sighed. “Of course I regret it; it landed me in here, didn’t it? It’s weird… I was fighting for what I believe in, but looking out from in here, it all seems kind of meaningless.”

Celestia turned away a little, eyeing the open door, a little wearily. “You know that’s not what I meant. Ponies have died because of me; directly, or on my orders, or because of my negligence. Sometimes because they needed to, for the good of everypony… sometimes because they wanted to. Sometimes I had no choice or chance to save them. They… they haunt me. I was wondering if anypony ever visits you when you try to sleep?”

Cloudshine was silent for a few moments, avoiding the alicorn’s gaze. “Not yet,” she replied, eventually. There was no point in lying anymore; not now. “Maybe they’ll start to, someday. Probably soon.” She shook her head. “I dunno why. I feel like I’ve been running for my whole life, but being in here… it’s a brick wall. There’s nothing to distract me, nothing to stop me from thinking. Even so, I can’t see why things feel so… different for me now.”

“I think I know. May I?” Celestia gestured to the bedding where Cloudshine sat. The unicorn grunted indifferently, and the princess leant back on the straw, resting without quite sitting. “Think about it. Your entire life, you’ve been taught to believe that pegasi are barely equine. You’ve been surrounded by unicorns; you’ve never been exposed to any other point of view. Your father was a unicorn supremacist, and your mother hated pegasi just as much. Sunset was involved in your life from an early age; all in all, it’s no surprise that you fell into crime. Killing a pegasus would seem no less morally excusable than trapping a rat to you. Combined with your mother’s intelligence, and your father’s ruthlessness… no wonder you were good at it. In the long run, it’s no wonder that you are where are now. You never stood a chance.”

The alicorn sighed, closing her eyes for a moment. “I’m not surprised it’s starting to hit you now. This is almost the first time that you’ve been faced with being separated permanently from your family or Sunset; it’s the first time that you’ve truly been allowed to have your own thoughts.”

Cloudshine eyed the monarch, torn between suspicion and acceptance. It made sense; she could not deny that much. “So… what are you offering? Why tell me this?”

“Because I don’t like to see you here,” the princess admitted, bluntly. “You’re young; this is no place for you. Had you not been raised so neatly into the role of evil, you would be utterly unrecognizable. In a way, you’re not so very unlike Rainbow Dash.” Her eyes seemed genuinely saddened. “But you have to understand that I can’t let you go. You’ve done too much; you’re too damaged. If I thought that you could change on your own, if I thought I wouldn’t be putting my subjects in danger, I would give you a second chance. But… I don’t believe you can. Not as you are, not with the personality that’s been beaten into you.”

Her voice took on a low, dangerous undertone. “I’m not going to lie to you, Cloudshine. I hate the pony you’ve become. You’re an irredeemably evil, twisted mare, and if I must lock you away until the end of your life, if that’s what it takes to ensure that you never harm my subjects again, then so be it.” The anger dimmed a little in the alabaster princess’s eyes, and she looked at the floor, as if ashamed of her outburst. “But you could have been so, so different. I pity you, Cloudshine. It’s remarkable how harsh a hand the world has dealt you.”

Cloudshine looked up, her interest momentarily flaring. Celestia had not told her anything that she was not already aware of, but a certain name had caught in her mind. “You mentioned Rainbow Dash… is she alive? Did she wake up?”

The alicorn stood, turning to face the green mare. “Yes. Yes, she did. She’s alive.”

The unspoken qualification hung in the air between them, tempering Cloudshine’s relief with apprehension. “…But?” she prompted.

Celestia paused for a moment, as if weighing up the best way to approach the matter. “Have you ever heard of Death’s Tally?”

“The spell?” Cloudshine thought back for a few moments, trying to recall why the name seemed familiar. “Oh yeah, I heard about that. It was in the news a while back, wasn’t it? The one that lets somepony trade their life to bring somepony else back from the…” She stopped, her words grinding to a halt as she realized the implication. “She died?”

The princess nodded, gravely. “As I told you, she was in a coma. She just… slipped away.”

“But… but who…?” Cloudshine’s eyes widened. “It was Twilight Sparkle, wasn’t it?”

“No… she wanted to, but I refused to allow it.”

“Well then, who else cares for her enough for it to work?” Cloudshine felt her heart accelerate a little, a fear that she did not quite understand encroaching on the corners of her mind. “Is there anypony else who…?” For the second time, her voice trailed off into silence, as she fitted the pieces of the puzzle together in her mind. There was only one possible answer. “Oh no,” she whispered.

“I’m sorry,” murmured Celestia.

A swell of anger and grief rose in Cloudshine’s chest at the sheer unfairness of the situation. She could have dealt with the news of Dash’s death, but this… this was cruel. “That’s not possible!” she exclaimed, leaping to her hooves, her cheeks stained with tears. “You… you killed Mom. Anypony else, I could have dealt with, but… but this… how did she even get out of the psychiatric hospital?”

“I’m sorry,” the princess repeated. “I truly am, but I promise you that it was her choice.”

Cloudshine’s eyes narrowed, and she turned on Celestia, furiously. “It was you, wasn’t it? Yeah, right, of course she’d turn up at the exact right moment. Do you think for one moment I’d believe that? You were pulling the strings all the time.” She suddenly gasped, horrified. “I… I told you. I was the one who told you where she was. What did you do? Kidnap her?”

“I had nothing to do with-” the alicorn began, but the olive unicorn cut across her.

“You tricked me!” she screamed, her voice suddenly rising, echoing off the walls and filling the cramped cell. “You twisted bitch! You planned this; it was never even about Dusk… you used my mother like a bargaining chip, in case anything happened to your precious Element!”

The fury at this betrayal was boiling in her stomach, and clouding her mind. It was suddenly uncontainable. Subconsciously channeling her anger, a pulse of magic beat with a deep, bass rumble inside her horn, roiling against the magic dampener clamped into the fluting. It would have held up against the onslaught, were it not for the hairline flaw. The wooden cone shattered, shards of silver and yew peppering the walls with a rain-like rattle. Cloudshine knew that this could all too easily be suicide, but she did not care. At that moment, she could not think; she was acting on instinct.

A second pulse of magic rapidly coalesced at the end of her horn, and before the princess had time to recover from the surprise, she flung the crackling ball of light with all her might at the alicorn, an inarticulate cry breaking from her lips.

Of course, she never had a chance. In a single motion, Celestia dipped her head, flicking a single golden spark from the tip of her horn. It intercepted the projectile at the last moment before it struck the princess’s chest. The sphere of light imploded with a dull thud, tearing itself into charred, glittering shreds which began fluttering gently to the floor.

Cloudshine saw the princess raise her head again, her horn beginning to glow. The next thing she knew, she had been picked effortlessly up in the tingling grip of magic, and slammed like a ragdoll into the wall. Her head struck stone, and stars burst in her vision, the world’s colours shifting momentarily to sparking blackness. Her horn was grasped in an iron grip of magic, and she felt a great wrenching tug, the force twisting her head to the side so that her cheek was pressed against the cold cell wall.

“One more twist and you’re an earth pony,” Celestia warned in a low, cold voice. “You’re going to listen to me, Cloudshine.”

The olive mare groaned, still pinned to the wall, throbbing pain burning in a dozen places, her dirty face streaked with tears. The princess took a step towards her, and when her words came, they were quiet and carefully measured.

“I planned none of it. I only knew that Rainbow Shine was coming at the moment she walked through the hospital doors. Dash’s life was hanging in the balance, and there was a pony trying to reach her. One of two ponies in the world who loved her enough; who was prepared to give her own life to bring her back. She could have arrived too soon, or too late, but she was in the right place at the right time.”

Cloudshine snorted, the sound turning into a hacking cough. “A miracle, huh?”

Celestia sighed. “If only. The Elements of Harmony have a way of protecting their bearers; of keeping them alive and well. They cannot, as you say, perform miracles. But, if somepony needs to be at the right place, at the right time… I doubt that such a manipulation of chance would be beyond their influence.”

The alicorn turned away, the light of her horn dying. Cloudshine dropped the few feet to the floor, collapsing with a grunt of pain, and nursing the back of her head with a hoof. “Don’t blame me for this, Cloudshine. I may have cast the spell, but it was truly what Rainbow Shine wanted. Besides, I am a ruler. Without Rainbow Dash, the single most powerful tool I have to defend my realm would be crippled. The Element of Loyalty may have taken years to choose a new bearer, and I could not risk that. Not if I had any possible alternative. You must understand that, no matter what else I may have done, I did not trick you.”

The unicorn half-stood, staggering over to the straw and collapsing down onto it. Her anger was gone, replaced with a cold emptiness. She did not want to believe the princess, but she had no idea who or what to believe in anymore. She felt utterly defeated. “I don’t want to live like this,” she murmured. “I just wish I could start over, but it’s like you said. I can’t change now; I’m in too deep. I’ve done too much.”

For several long minutes, there was silence. Cloudshine half-expected the alicorn to turn and leave. Indeed, that was what she wanted. She wanted the silence to stretch out forever, and simply wallow in the cruel wanting for the life she could have had; for the pony she could have been. Celestia, however, stood where she was, statuesque.

“This is my fault,” Cloudshine whispered, eventually. “I recruited Root Blacksap… if it hadn’t been for him, Dusk would never have been able to kill Dash. Mom would never have needed to die.”

She looked up, and saw an expression of indecision in the princess’s face. A moment later, she nodded almost imperceptibly, as if coming to a conclusion. “You know,” she began, a little tentatively. “I don’t see why you can’t start over.”

Cloudshine looked up, in surprise. Pain flared in the rapidly-swelling lump on the back of her head at the motion. “I thought you said that I couldn’t change?”

“And I stand by that,” replied the princess. “I don’t think you can. But that’s not to say that you couldn’t start over. There is a choice that I’m willing to offer you.”

“What do you mean?”

Celestia’s horn flared, and she drew a small crystal phial from beneath her wing. It sparkled in the light from her horn, the viscous amber liquid within swirling sluggishly from side to side. “I trust you recognize this.”

Cloudshine’s own horn began to glow, and she took the phial from the princess’s grip. Her eyes widened a little. “Forgetfulness,” she breathed.

The alicorn nodded. “Made by your very own Root Blacksap. It’s part of a batch the guards picked up when they raided your safehouse. Extra concentrated.”

The olive unicorn eyed the phial, suddenly fearful at its implication. “How concentrated?”

“It’ll wipe out everything; your entire life,” replied Celestia. “It only blocks long-term memory though; you’d still be able to speak, and so on. You’d be able to function normally in society, but have absolutely no memory of your earlier life.”

Cloudshine looked down at the floor, deliberately avoiding looking at the terrifying, tempting liquid. “So, that’s my choice, huh? Lose everything I am, or live out the rest of my life behind bars, wishing I’d done things differently?” She sighed. “How would I be supposed to survive? I might be able to speak and find my way around, but I’d have literally nothing.”

Celestia raised a calming hoof. “We’d set you up with a house and enough money to start you off. You’d be somewhere up to the north; well away from here. I have the advantage of enough resources to be able to reconstruct you. We’d write you a new history. From your point of view, it would have been an accident, perhaps some kind of head injury that made you lose your memory. The doctors would tell you who you were; an entirely ordinary unicorn who had lived an entirely ordinary, if rather solitary, life. Your brain would be trying to fill in the gaps, so you wouldn’t find any difficulty in believing it, or any reason to question what they told you. Maybe we could change the colour of your coat, just to make sure you’re not recognized.”

The unicorn looked up, meeting the monarch’s gaze. “Why?” she asked, simply. “Why are you offering me this?”

“Because I believe that some ponies are born with the seeds of evil naturally and permanently embedded within them,” replied Celestia, “and I also believe with equal conviction that you are not one of them. Your fellow leaders, I think, are truly irredeemable, but you… I don’t know. Call it an instinct, but something tells me that you were driven to this life; you never had a choice. Left to normality, I expect things would have been very different for you. Look at your sister.” She sighed. “I wish there were a better way; I’m not going to lie, it would be a terrifying road for you to take, at least at first. There would be some very bad times ahead for you, but you would have a life. It would take time to build it, and to settle into it, but you would have a life. You could have at least some chance at the youth you were denied.” She took the phial back with her horn, and dropped it into the straw beside the unicorn. “The choice is entirely yours.”

Cloudshine closed her eyes, nowhere near a decision, the facts of her choice still too loose-weave and ill-understood in her head. “But… you said you hated me. I’m one pony out of billions, why give me a second chance?”

“I’m not giving you a second chance,” replied Celestia, and her voice was momentarily icy. “I’m offering you the death you so obviously want. The potion will obliterate everything you are, every event that shaped you into the pony you are today, and you will effectively cease to exist.” Her tone dropped to a murmur. “But, years ago, your parents took a young foal and set about turning her into a killer. I’m giving that foal a second chance.” She turned away, swinging the cell door ajar with a flick of her horn. “Your trials begin in a week. You have until then to make a decision.”

“And what then? If I choose to begin again, what will the world hear?”

Celestia halted. “Nopony will know the truth beyond myself, and those who help in your rehabilitation. To the rest of the world, you will have killed yourself. A suicide pill, smuggled into your cell.”

Cloudshine did not quite know why her next words came blurting out, but blurt they did. “If I go through with this… I’d like for Rainbow Dash to know the truth as well. Twilight Sparkle too, because I know Dash would just tell her anyway.”

The princess nodded once. “Very well.” She walked from the cell, closing and locking the door behind her. Turning, as if seized suddenly by an afterthought, her horn glowed once more. With a rattling chink of wood and metal, the shattered shards of the magic damper picked themselves off the floor, forming themselves in mid-air into a cloud of fragments, before coalescing into a crack-crossed cone once again. There was a blinding flash of light, and when it dissipated, the damper was whole once again. Cloudshine felt it click down over her horn once again, twisting into place around the fluting.

“I hope we need not meet again, Cloudshine.”

Celestia turned away, turning to leave her alone in the cell with her thoughts, and the phial.

“Princess!” Cloudshine called out suddenly, as the alicorn began to make her way along the corridor. The alabaster monarch halted, turning her head.

“Yes?”

“Why… why do you care? Like I said, I’m one pony among billions. I understand that I’ve been robbed of my life, but… but it’s just one life. Why go to such lengths for that? You’ve lived so long, you must have seen so many lives.”

Celestia faced her, looking her in the eye. “Because some lives, I remember. I care about them all, but I can’t save them all. Sometimes I feel like I can’t go one more step, or sleep one more night, without doing something to prove to myself that time need not kill kindness. I have to save just one.”

Then she turned away again, and a moment later she was lost in the blackness, and Cloudshine was left quite alone.

She picked up the phial, drawing it out from the straw, and cradled it carefully in her hooves.

What I wouldn’t give to see the sunrise again…

You know. You know what you have to give. You have to give everything.

Her heart was pounding, the blood roaring in her ears.

She stared, almost hypnotized, at the shifting amber liquid.

She turned her head, and looked at the cold metal bars, and at the wet black blocks of stone that made up her cage. That would always be her cage if she did not act.

I have to give everything. But what is my everything worth to me anymore?

She looked back to the phial, and smiled slightly to herself, despite the fear of the unknown that flowed like ice floes in her veins, despite the sensation of standing wingless atop the tallest of ledges.

She smiled to herself, because, in a way, she was grateful. Had it been a cyanide capsule cradled in her hooves, it would have been equally tempting, equally worthy of her gratitude.

She smiled because, in the end, there had never been any choice at all.

Epilogue - Night Air

A Bluebird’s Song

~~~
So I'll wait till midnight tolls
Two souls almost touching
In the dark
I’ll be alright…
~~~

Epilogue – Night Air

Three Months Later.

Autumn had drawn its slow amber gaze down over Ponyville. The days were shortening; the summer’s lazy heat giving way to gentle winds, and the once-green world was rusted by its carpet of fallen leaves.

The town’s cobbled streets were quiet as the afternoon began to wear on into evening. Most ponies were sequestered in their houses, taking a well-earned break and preparing for the evening’s celebrations. Today had been the final day of the harvest season, and the last of the crops had finally been brought in from the now-bare fields.

The day’s work, however, was not quite complete. Led under the scrupulous eyes of the Apple family at the town’s outskirts, one of the town’s many bonfires was being constructed, surrounded by banners and sundry other trappings of celebration, in observation of the traditional earth pony festival of Harvest’s End.

A few of the more enterprising ponies had already set up their picnic blankets or trestle tables on the grass, so as to ensure that they were within a comfortable range of the bonfire and fireworks.

Across town in Ponyville’s library, however, the imminent festival was not the only source of excitement.

“Rainbow!”

The lavender librarian cantered up the stairs three-at-a-time, holding a letter magically aloft with her horn.

Dash lay curled up on the bed, her nose buried in a copy of A Picture of Dorian Neigh. Her absence of flight over the last few months had extended the length of her stay with Twilight, and by this time her life in the library had practically become the norm for her. The place looked a little different now; a few posters adorned the walls, and the floor was dotted with magazines and the occasional piece of exercise equipment. It was still neat; Twilight could not function with it any other way, but it felt somehow more relaxed.

Along the mantelpiece ran an extensive collection of get-well-soon cards, among which stood, in pride of place, a hoof-made glitter-encrusted affair, with the obvious hallmarks of being made by a foal, that had arrived shortly after Dash’s survival had been officially announced. It was, of course, from Fizzle. The filly’s relief at her idol’s recovery was palpable in the time that had obviously been invested in it.

The card’s arrival had brought a tear to Dash’s eye, and she had written back immediately to express her gratitude. She had also sent the pair of flying goggles that she used in training along with the note, as a token of her appreciation. She knew how much it would mean to the filly; indeed, had her best pair not been lost in the accident at the Cloudiseum, she would quite probably have sent them instead.

Despite these bright moments, the time still passed with an excruciating sluggishness. Even Sunset’s trials had scarcely impinged upon their lives. The testimonies of the late Dusk Tempest and the supposedly-late Cloudshine, along with the evidence collected at the organization’s safehouses had been more than enough to ensure that Twilight and Dash had only been required to offer little more than witness statements. Both mares were grateful for this; it was doubtless Celestia’s influence that had kept them out of the trials as much as possible, giving Dash maximum time to spend resting in Ponyville, rather than being forced into taking the train up and down to Canterlot every few days, or finding herself snowed under with stacks of pedantic court documents. Besides, there had never been any reasonable doubt as to the verdict, given the evidence at hand. It was reasonable to assume that none of Sunset’s leaders could expect to taste free air again.

Of course, much of the time spent grounded in Ponyville had hardly been heavenly. It had not taken long for the bookshelves to exert their peculiar magnetic tug over the pegasus. She had swiftly progressed to exploring the wider world of Equestrian literature, having devoured the last of the Daring Do series some time ago, and had been eager to tackle more challenging material.

Twilight could appreciate all too well her need for escapism; it had not been an easy few months. A pegasus’s flight was every bit as integral to their lives as a unicorn’s magic, and the crushing sense of helplessness associated with its loss had driven Dash into protracted bouts of depression, overcoming her usually cheerful outlook. One thing, however, that had never wavered was her gratitude to Twilight. The unicorn’s unfaltering ability to offer assistance or kindness or simply a willing ear had made the whole process considerably less painful. The most reassuring aspect was the fact that Twilight never once showed the slightest sign that she considered the time she spent helping the pegasus to be wasted, or some kind of chore or duty.

To the huge relief of everypony involved, the blood had continued to flow into Dash’s wing bones throughout the healing process, and the looming threat that the bones might need to be fused had not, in the end, come to pass. Dash knew that she would, in any case, still have been able to fly through pegasine magic, but any manual dexterity her wings had once had would have been utterly lost, and with it the finely-honed aerodynamic finesse of her aerial technique.

Nevertheless, her recovery had not been without its complications. In spite of the casts, the bones had refused to remain in quite the right places, and in the end the only option had been to surgically embed a series of metal pins in the wing joints, to hold the bones firmly in place as they healed. At the time, the idea of yet another operation had been crushing for the pegasus, knowing that it meant still more scars and pain and anaesthetic haze. When they had wheeled her away to the theatre, she had gripped Twilight’s hoof all the way to the sterile double doors until her love could be with her no further. Her gaze had been almost pleading.

Eventually though, the blade of routine had fallen, and the weeks had begun to slough from the calendar, the periods of monotony broken by brighter days and broken milestones. By the end of the first month, Dash could walk unaided into town, encouraged every inch of the way by Twilight and her words of encouragement. By the end of the second, she could just about run again, just in time to take part in the Running of the Leaves.

She had only been able to keep up a gentle canter, but Applejack had gladly passed up the chance of a place on the winner’s podium in order to run alongside her friend at the rear of the pack; a concession that had brought tears to the pegasus’s eyes. Even with Twilight on her left, and the stoic farm pony on her right, it had taken every last drop of Dash’s resolve to carry her over the finishing line.

On reflection, it had definitely been a difficult few months. Now, however, felt like the final stretch. Two weeks ago, they had taken the train back up to Canterlot Hospital, so that Dash could have the pins at long last removed, in what they all fervently hoped was the final operation. She had been under strict instructions to make no attempts whatsoever at flight whilst the pins were in place, and after their extraction she had been told firmly that the new incision scars needed time to heal up before she could take to the sky again.

For once, she had heeded the doctors’ instructions and kept her hooves firmly on the ground. It was a mark of how important Dash’s flight was to her that she was not prepared to risk its recovery, even for a taste of the freedom she craved. In a way, things were better now, but equally Twilight could tell how much the pegasus was suffering, knowing that she was so close to recovery, and yet having to wait through these excruciatingly lengthy last few days.

This, naturally, went some way to explain the expression of joy on Twilight’s face as she burst into the bedroom, the official-looking letter clutched in her magical grip.

Dash looked up to meet her gaze with tired eyes, that widened in surprise as she got to her hooves, crossing the room to meet the unicorn. Her wings were wrapped in thin gauze bandages, to protect her new scars from infection after the pins had been removed. “What is it, Twi’?”

Twilight grinned broadly, unable to resist wrapping the pegasus in a tight embrace, her eyes a little tearful. “It’s from the hospital,” she whispered. “They say… they say you’re ready. You’re ready to fly again.”

She felt Dash’s body stiffen under her forelegs. The cyan mare pulled her head back, the better to look at the unicorn, her expression almost disbelieving. There had been times, far too many times, when Dash had expected never to hear those words; had expected never to be able to reclaim her sky.

“Are… are you serious?”

The unicorn nodded, smiling. “I am.”

Twilight had no idea how Dash would react to the news, but, in hindsight, she supposed that she should not have been surprised. Three months of pain and tension and worry had built up like toxic waste inside the pegasus, and suddenly it was no longer needed; now it needed to be let out. Dash sank to the wooden floor, weeping openly. Wave upon wave of tears broke over her eyelids and soaked into the fur of her cheeks, born of gratitude and relief and a million unvoiced fears.

The unicorn lay down beside her love, cradling her tightly in her forelegs and rocking her gently back and forth, realizing that her own eyes were swimming in sympathy. Dash nuzzled into her neck, tucking her head under Twilight’s chin and locking her own hooves around the lavender mare’s back, stroking in smooth, compulsive motions through her fragrant mane.

“So it’s… it’s over?” she murmured, her voice a little unsteady.

Twilight nodded. “I think it is, Rainbow.” She craned her neck down to kiss the mare’s cheek, reassuringly.

Dash let out a small, watery laugh. “This isn’t how I thought I was gonna take it,” she remarked, quietly. “I mean… this is good news. It’s the best… why the hay am I all…?” She dissolved into tears again, her words losing themselves in gentle sobs.

“It’s okay,” Twilight whispered, softly nuzzling her love’s face, kissing away the tears as they flowed until the cyan mare’s sobs began to subside. “It’s okay… This means so much to you, you’ve been so strong… I’m not surprised you’re letting it all out now.” Her mouth was millimeters from Dash’s, her lips dampened almost imperceptibly by the blooms of moisture riding on the pegasus’s breath.

Dash hiccoughed, smiling through her tears. “This is gonna sound really cheap and clichéd, but… I don’t know where I’d be without you, Twi’. I wish I could think of some better way to say it; some way that’s more original, but I… I mean it. I know I must’ve been such a bind these last few months. I guess what I’m really trying to say is… thanks. Thanks for everything, Twi.” She tightened the embrace, letting her lips brush up close against the lavender mare’s as she spoke her next words. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too, Rainbow,” Twilight murmured, the motion of her open mouth caressing against the pegasus’s as they held the sensual half-kiss, the gentle flow of breath between them enhancing the moment’s personality and intimacy. “And you’ve not been a bind. I love having you here more than I can say. I know I’ve had to look after you sometimes, but I don’t mind that. I’m… I’m proud to have been able to help you.”

The pegasus sighed happily. Apparently unable to articulate a suitable verbal response, she sank her lips deeper onto the unicorn’s, the light, teasing contact growing gradually in intensity, locking into a true kiss. Now that the pegasus had recovered from the initial shock, she had obviously begun to revel in the news of her freedom. Twilight could practically taste Dash’s reinvigorated enthusiasm; every touch, and every dancing flick of her tongue spoke of that old joie de vivre that her long and painful recovery had worked so hard and unsuccessfully to quash. Raising her forehooves, Twilight pushed her ecstatic lover gently down onto her back before sliding atop her, wrapping herself tightly around the pegasus’s defined, muscular curves.

After a few minutes of gleeful struggle, a flushed and lightly panting Twilight pulled back from the kiss. She smirked slightly, nibbling on the mare’s lower lip and tracing a hoof in lazy circles around the prismatic lightning-bolt on her flank. “As much as I like where this is going,” she whispered in a voice that made the pegasus shiver a little, “don’t you think it’s time to get those bandages off?”

Dash nodded, loathe to tear herself away from the unicorn, but grinning happily nonetheless. “Good idea… I’d say it’s long overdue.”

They stood, descending the stairs together with an air of nervous excitement. They would have to tell Spike the good news when they met at the festival, as he was presently over at Sweet Apple Acres to help with the preparations and generally revel in the pre-celebration atmosphere.

Standing on the rug, Dash spread her wings wide, and Twilight set about unwrapping the gauze from her wings. Some of the fur had not quite grown back over her more prominent scars as yet, and they stood out warningly against her skin. “You’ll have to be careful,” Twilight warned. “They say you’ve got to take it very slow to start with, so no Rainbooms or anything.”

Dash nodded. “Don’t worry, Twi’. I’ve come this far; I’m not gonna mess up now.” She smiled. “I’d better take off outside, though. Not sure how precise I’m gonna be at first, and I don’t wanna wreck the library.”

She shook her wings out, spreading them to their fullest extent, and Twilight let out a small sigh at the sight of them. Before the pins had been removed, there had been times when the pegasus had gone without bandages, but even in those times she had kept the appendages firmly folded to her sides. Seeing them once again as they were meant to be seen filled Twilight with an almighty sense of relief. Dash laughed aloud, obviously feeling much the same as the unicorn.

It is strange how the most unpleasant of developments can announce themselves in the smallest of ways.

Feeling suddenly playful, Twilight darted forwards and stroked a forehoof through the mare’s primaries, being careful to avoid any of the scarred areas but relishing the sensation of the downy feathers under her hoof after such a long time. Leaning down, she nuzzled a spot just below the wing’s first joint, knowing from experience the way it made the mare’s knees buckle.

To her surprise, however, Dash hardly reacted. She turned her head, a look of slight concern in her eyes, to meet Twilight’s uncertain gaze. “Uh… Twi’?”

“What is it?”

The cyan mare shook her head, apparently a little embarrassed. “It’s… it’s nothing, really. It’s just a bit weird. I just… I didn’t feel anything.”

Twilight’s eyes widened. “Huh?”

The pegasus’s cheeks reddened a little, and she awkwardly tried to clarify. “Uh, I mean… I felt it; I could feel what you were doing, but it didn’t feel… ya know… good. Not like it normally does.”

For a few moments, Twilight looked pensive, but an expression of dawning fear was growing on her face. “Oh Celestia,” she whispered. “I think something’s gone wrong. You’re sure you didn’t feel anything particular?”

Dash nodded. “Yeah… I mean, you know as well as I do how sensitive my wings are, but it just felt like being touched anywhere else, to be honest.”

“Oh no…” Suddenly, Twilight looked almost panic-stricken. “Rainbow, try to take off.” Dash opened her mouth to protest, but the lavender unicorn cut across her, urgently. “I don’t care if you knock a few books down, I just need to see you fly.”

“Um, okay then…” Dash looked thoroughly confused, obviously unsure why the sensitivity of her wings should affect her flight. She beat her wings twice out of sheer force of habit, and grinned, eager to retake what was rightfully hers. Then, she leapt up off the rug, up into the dusty air of the library.

Twilight watched in helpless horror as she came crashing back down to the floorboards.

Dash had only fallen from a couple of feet, but the shock of finding herself suddenly flightless made her knees give out on landing, and she toppled over onto her side. Twilight rushed to help the mare up, but she thrust herself angrily to her hooves, shaking her wings out with a snort. Looking determinedly up at the ceiling, she strained upwards for all she was worth. In desperation, knowing it would do no good, she began beating her wings furiously, the wind of her flapping blowing a neat stack of newspapers off the library’s table and onto the wooden floor. The unicorn could see the bleak horror dawning in her love’s eyes, and swiftly transforming into anger.

The pegasus turned to Twilight, her eyes furious at the sheer injustice of the situation. “What the hell happened?” she yelled, her wings flared wide, the outermost feathers quivering with emotion. “All this time; all this work! What went wrong? Why can’t I fly?” She stood in silence for a couple of seconds. “This isn’t fair,” she whispered, brokenly.

Twilight’s brain seemed to have jammed. There had to be a logical explanation for this; there simply had to be. But seeing the mare she loved so distraught had robbed her of all her resources of rationality.

There really is no justice in the world, is there?

“I don’t know, Rainbow,” she muttered, hating herself for having to say those words. “I… I don’t know.”

Yes you do. You always know, but sometimes you can’t see that you know.

The defeated pegasus lay down on the rug, burying her face in her hooves. The anger was gone from her eyes, and she was not even crying. She seemed utterly spent. After all that had happened, this was what had finally beaten Rainbow Dash.

I can’t do it… not this as well, not on top of everything else.

She wanted nothing more than to hold the inconsolable mare against her, whisper to her that everything would be alright, but it would be a lie. The pegasus had no tears left to dry. At that moment, she did not need Twilight’s love. She needed Twilight’s mind.

I… I can’t think. I can’t do this anymore.

Rainbow Dash needs you. Of course you can.

It doesn’t feel like that.

You made her a promise; you’ve made her a thousand promises. You’re a genius, Twilight. It’s why Celestia chose you. It’s why you beat Dusk. It’s why Rainbow’s still alive. You realized a long time ago that everything’s either easy or impossible, and this is definitely not impossible. Think, Twilight. Think fast.

Her conscience was screaming at her to comfort the pegasus, but right then there was only one way to achieve that. She closed her eyes, turning away slightly, so as not to be distracted.

Magic flowed in a pegasus’s wings; the very same magic that flowed in a unicorn’s horn. The very same magic that had first drawn Sunset’s eyes down on them. It was deeply receptive to emotion and physical contact, and provided a direct link into the pony’s mind. It made both appendages exquisitely sensitive to the touch of a lover; a pleasurable quirk of magic that now comprised some of Twilight’s most intense memories of her time with Dash.

The fact that Dash had felt nothing beyond the signals of her physical nerve endings when her wings had been touched was deeply troubling; it implied that there was no flow of magic whatsoever through the alicorn of her wing-bones, as if they had simply ceased to generate the life-blood of pegasus flight. Twilight could otherwise have attributed her absence of flight to simple lack of practice, or drained willpower, or some other impermanent, repairable affliction. This, though… this suggested that Dash’s wing-bones were simply dead, lacking even a single spark of the magic that was so essential to her pegasine life. Twilight had no doubt that, had she dropped the pegasus onto a cloud at this very moment, she would have fallen straight through without leaving so much as an indentation.

She can’t live like that. Why did it have to happen to her? Why couldn’t it be me?

Don’t be weak, snapped her inner cynic. What are you going to do? Cut your horn off? Do you think that’d make things right? No. You’re going to think.

Think… What kills magic?

A memory sprung into her mind; Fluttershy’s cottage, what seemed like an eternity ago. Dusk advancing through the shimmering storm of magic towards her. A shining cone clamped down over her horn, followed immediately by a horrible, numbing, powerless sensation. His cold, sadistic smile.

“Yew heartwood. Laced with silver. Not good for you spellcasters, eh? Oh yes; we planned for you, Miss Magic.”

Silver.

Thank you, Dusk.

Twilight’s eyes snapped open, and she turned, rushing to the statuesque pegasus’s side. “Rainbow, it’s the pins!”

Dash looked up, her eyes near-empty. The unicorn thought, however, that she caught a spark of hope re-ignite, somewhere deep in those magenta pools. “Huh?”

The lavender mare clutched her love’s shoulders, urgently. “The pins they put in your wings… I bet you anything they were plated with silver, to protect from infection. Silver; the most powerful magic dampener in the world.”

Dash flinched as if struck, her mouth falling open. “Oh Celestia… But they’re gone now. Shouldn’t the effects have stopped?”

Twilight shook her head, grimly. “You were exposed for months, Rainbow. If you can’t use a muscle, it withers. If magic can’t flow… eventually it just stops.” She smiled slightly, an inexplicable sense of relief flooding her at the solution to the mystery. “We can fix this,” she murmured. “All you need is a kick-start.”

She held out a forehoof, and Dash gripped onto it with renewed vigour, climbing back onto her hooves. Her eyes were afire, her moment of defeatism tossed aside; she was back in the fight, refusing to fall at this final hurdle. “What do you need to do, Twi’?”

Twilight continued to hold the cyan mare’s hoof comfortingly between her own. She found herself blushing a little at what she was about to suggest.

Are you sure you’re prepared to do this?

Of course I am… it’s not like I’ve never considered this before.

So you’d have asked her anyway?

I think I would.

“It’s possible for two unicorns to… to bond their magic together,” she began. “It’s an exchange, I suppose. Each unicorn gives the other a little of their power, and each one gains a little of the other’s more focused magical abilities, whatever they are. It’s a permanent change… I’ll be honest, it’s a bit unpredictable, but it makes each participant an inextricable part of the other.” She paused for the briefest of moments. “You’re every bit as magical as a unicorn, and I don’t see why it couldn’t work between us. The spell allows each pony direct access to the other’s magical reserves, and if I could tap into your wings, I’m sure I’d be able to restart the flow. You’d gain a little of my magic, and I’d gain a little of yours.”

The pegasus nodded, solemnly. The relief and gratitude were palpable in her eyes. “That sounds perfect, Twi’. I’d love that, if you’re alright with it.”

This is quite a step to make, the chiding voice piped up again in the back of the lavender mare’s mind. She’s not a unicorn; she won’t understand the significance of what you’re offering.

Twilight nodded, determinedly. “I’m more than happy to go through with it.” She raised a hoof to stroke Dash’s cheek, her eyes a little concerned. “I just need you to understand, Rainbow, before we go ahead with this… This isn’t something that unicorns do lightly. I’m not saying you’re impulsive, but I need you to know how important this is. It’s… I’m not going to lie, Rainbow. It’s considered the most intimate experience that two unicorns… that two ponies can share, and I don’t want you to commit yourself to something like that without understanding what it means.”

Dash gazed steadily into her eyes, and there was no trace of laughter or pain; no sign of bluster or hurt or indecision. “Twilight, if I’d known about this… forget about flight; it would’ve been something I’d want to share with you anyway. I love you, and I want to share my life with you; I made my mind up about that a long time ago now. If this is how I can show that, then…” She sighed, resting her forehead against the unicorn’s, biting her lower lip a little bashfully. She never once broke eye contact. “Lead the way.”

There was nothing more to say; no more reason to wait.

Gently, Twilight look her lover by the hoof, leading her unresistingly across the room. This was not a spell that she had been taught, but the force of instinct should be more than sufficient in its guidance.

The mares stood together, face to face on the rug before the fireplace; the site of their first kiss. Twilight took a half-step forwards, brushing her muzzle in a long, sweeping nuzzle down the length of Dash’s neck. There was no hint of teasing playfulness in the motion, and she felt the pegasus grow serious and shivery in return beneath her touch. The unicorn’s heart was fluttering as if it were a caged hummingbird as she repeated the motion, before taking Dash’s lower lip between her teeth, and tugging gradually downwards.

She sank slowly onto her back, her heightened senses aware of every one of the rug’s fibres as they caressed her shoulders and haunches. Dash followed suit, resting her knees on either side of the prone mare’s flanks. She planted the gentlest of moth-like kisses at the very base of Twilight’s horn, and the unicorn bit her lip, letting out a miniscule gasping cry, her back arching reflexively and pressing tightly up against the cyan fur above her.

Perhaps none of this was necessary; perhaps they could have progressed straight to the matter of spell-casting and left it at that. Of course, that was never an option that either of them considered. Neither mare wanted this to be merely meaningful; it ought surely to be memorable as well.

There was a second’s silence, as Twilight gazed up at the mare above her. The prismatic mare’s lips were parted a little, her mane a beautiful mess.

That was the moment Twilight chose to attack. She tangled her forelegs over Dash’s shoulders, rolling sharply over onto her side and pulling the surprised but utterly willing pegasus down with her, their bodies locking together, belly to belly. Wrapping a hind leg tightly around her lover’s waist, she pulled the mare into an aggressive, inelegant, all-consuming kiss.

After what might have been a minute or an hour, Twilight tipped her head back, grinning with a passionate abandon as she bared her neck to the cyan mare’s ministrations. Both ponies’ tongues were lolling from their mouths slightly, exhausted by the kiss’s intensity and linked for the briefest moment by a thin, shining strand of saliva. Dash needed no further encouragement, leaning in and swirling her tongue in quick flicks over the surface of the unicorn’s neck, before darting across to nip at the soft skin of the nape. Twilight felt a sharp coo of pleasure drag itself from between her lips, and she slid her hind leg down over the curve of Dash’s flank, twisting the prismatic tail twice around her rear hoof and giving a sharp downward tug. This time, it was the pegasus’s turn to moan aloud, the resonance of the deliciously unrestrained sound shuddering up Twilight’s neck, further hazing her already misted mind.

Looking down, she met Dash’s eyes. The need behind those magenta windows was burning and obvious, mirroring Twilight’s own. The pegasus was clearly an inch away from losing what little control she had left, and Twilight could feel that irrepressible, bubbling ache of desire, boiling away in the pit of her stomach.

She’s ready… we both are. It’s time.

Twilight ran her forehooves lovingly down Dash’s sides, shifting her own position and flipping the panting pegasus over onto her front. She forced herself to concentrate on what she wanted, as she rolled atop the cyan mare, lowering herself so that her face was inches from Dash’s wings. In spite of the damage to the appendages, they were still spread out stiffly at their owner’s sides, making no attempt to disguise her emotions.

The unicorn’s horn began to glow with a translucent blue-purple sheen, and she craned her neck out to the side, sliding the tip of her horn along the upper edge of first the right wing, and then the left. Where it touched, it left a faint, pulsating glow behind, just visible beneath the skin and feathers. Dash gasped, and Twilight felt a shiver pass through her body. Encouraged, she repeated the motion, the glow growing in intensity. The pegasus’s eyes fluttered closed.

Twilight felt a warm, tingling sensation in her forehead. She leaned down to kiss the smooth, sensitive indentation between the cyan mare’s wings, and finally rested her horn on that spot, directly between the joints that connected Dash’s wings to her body. Before letting the magic flow, Twilight focused on building the connection between them. Ordinarily this process would be shared between two unicorns, and both participants would build the connection. In this case, however, Twilight’s work was an act of revival. She found herself blessing her own, admittedly prodigious, skill. A unicorn of less power would never have been able to link their magic with another’s without effort from both sides, much less maintain the union.

Gradually, a hair-thin tendril of magnesium-bright light began to glow vividly under Dash skin, at the point where the horn connected. It shone, ice-blue beneath the surface, before splitting off into two mirrored strands that darted out into the mare’s wings. They traced along the shape of the bones, spreading out like a shining armature. The vivid cobweb continued to expand, making its way into the shaft of every feather, until the pegasus’s wings were aglow with a delicate, cobweb illumination.

A final flowing coil of light made its way up Dash’s spine, before vanishing deeper under the surface at the back of her neck. Another, stronger shiver passed through the cyan mare’s frame, and she lowered her head, muffling her moan down into the rug.

At the moment of the final connection, Twilight gasped aloud.

Suddenly, more vividly than ever, she could see the pegasus. For a moment, she shared and understood the depth of the mare’s yearning for the sky. For the briefest second, she wanted to soar, to lose herself in the eternal blue and be utterly, entirely free. The sensations and memories that she held for the briefest of moments took her breath away, and her blood chilled at the thought of what Dash had come so terribly close to losing.

Then, she saw herself. She saw herself through Dash’s eyes; through Dash’s mind. Her eyelids drifted closed, and her contented sigh was mirrored by the pegasus beneath her, who had obviously been granted similar access. Feeling Dash’s thoughts drift, she found herself reliving their first kiss, but from the perspective of her lover. The mixture of the emotions in the pegasus’s memory was almost shocking; paralyzing surprise, excitement, confusion, joy… but most of all, sheer gratitude, and the knowledge that, for once in her life, she did not need to hide.

Twilight could feel the ghostly memory of insistent, inexpert lips moving against hers, and experienced a slightly bizarre jolt of realization in which she reminded herself that the lips were, in fact, her own.

Celestia, I was a terrible kisser back then… Twilight thought to herself, her overactive brain tossing the pointless thought up out of nowhere. Dash giggled at the thought, and Twilight remembered that the magical link between their minds was a gate that could be traversed from either direction.

“I’d say practice has made perfect, though…” murmured the pegasus, smiling to herself. Twilight laughed quietly, and felt the stinging hint of tears in the corners of her eyes.

The unicorn knew perfectly well how Dash felt for her, but she had never before quite grasped the depth or intensity of those feelings. She could never have known the impact she had had on the pegasus’s state of mind, or just how much her love had made Dash’s life worthwhile.

Knowing the degree to which her love was reciprocated, she felt more sure than ever that she had made the right choice to go through with this. A unicorn could only bond in this way once, but now she was more sure than ever that this mare would be at her side until the hand of death broke them away from one another.

A shimmering corona was forming around the ponies, hissing like a static charge, and Twilight knew that the connection was ready.

Keeping her horn firmly between the pegasus’s wings, she let an experimental spark of magic flow through the bond. The porcelain-crack lines of light glowed even brighter for a brief moment.

Both mares let out low groans at the deeply pleasurable sensation, and Twilight felt the cyan mare squirm beneath her. She had to fight the instinctual urge to tip her head back, knowing that keeping her horn in place was vital.

Taking a deep breath, Twilight focused her mind, ready to release as much magic as she could muster. Knowing the effect that a single spark had created, she braced herself, gripping the pegasus’s haunches tightly between her knees.

“Ready?” she whispered.

“Ready,” affirmed Dash. She was breathing hard, her tail flicking from side-to-side, every aspect of her body language screaming willingness.

Twilight closed her eyes, and everything was silent for one, eternal moment.

Then, she let the magic flow.

The final, cresting sliver of Celestia’s sun had vanished in the dusty haze under the horizon, dipping beneath the furthest fields of Sweet Apple Acres. The bonfire roared, and the flames leapt up, dancing in the darkening oil of the night. On the grassy, rolling hillsides around the town of Ponyville, flickering pinprick points of light could be seen as other towns marked the harvest’s end.

The festival was in full swing. Chestnuts and mugfuls of hot cider were selling by the dozen, lanterns swung like fireflies in the breeze from the apple trees, and the warm atmosphere of cheerful festivity went some way to match the heat of the flames.

Around a wooden table sat four friends, near enough to the fire defeat the growing chill of night, but not so close that any tails were at risk of singeing. An excitable Pinkie Pie was retelling with great enthusiasm the tale of the year she had attempted to load her party cannon with fireworks, and Applejack was at her side, looking a little sleepy after taking, as usual, the brunt of the harvest work upon her own shoulders. A slightly-tipsy Fluttershy was reclining affectionately against Rarity’s side, laughing a little disharmoniously at the pink mare’s story. The alabaster fashionista, for her part, was more than content to listen to her friends’ banter, with the comforting warmth of her marefriend held close against her.

Spike had last been seen relaxing in the blisteringly heat on top of the bonfire, an experience that was considered therapeutic in draconic circles, more or less akin to a hot bath. It was a rare treat for him; fires of sufficient size to feel so much as warm to a dragon were rare in pony society.

“…And then,” declared Pinkie with an air of conclusion, thumping down her wooden cider mug emphatically on the table, perhaps a little pinker around the muzzle than was usual for even her vibrant shade, “that was when the police-ponies showed up.” She leaned back on her stool, sighing happily. “Anyway, that’s how I landed a munitions contract with the Royal Guards.”

Applejack ceased chewing, turning to stare at the boisterous pony with her mouth half-full of chestnut. “Huh?”

Pinkie snorted with laughter. “Just kidding, silly.”

The farm-pony shook her head, smirking. “Ah never rightly know with you, Pinkie.”

Rarity leaned forwards a little, looking slightly concerned. “I wonder where Twilight and Dash have got to, they said they’d meet us here.”

Fluttershy turned her head, looking up at the mare against whom she was snuggled. Even after several months, at a point where their relationship was well established and accepted, it still took a few mugs of cider and a jovial atmosphere for her to feel capable of airing even this gentle affection in public. Some things, it seemed, never changed. “Don’t worry about it,” she murmured, bumping her nose playfully against the pearly unicorn’s chin. “Rainbow had a hard day helping with the last of the apples; I wouldn’t blame her if she wanted to sleep it off.”

“I know somepony who’ll have something to sleep off tomorrow,” remarked Pinkie, smiling at the pegasus.

“Hey, s’not as if I’m drunk or… or anything,” countered Fluttershy, the slight slur in her voice belying her words. “I’ve only had… what is it? Two?”

“You’re a lightweight, that’s what you are,” Rarity giggled, giving the mare a squeeze.

“I’m not a lightweight,” Fluttershy mumbled, looking up at the fashionista with an expression of faux-indignation in her eyes.

“You’re my lightweight,” Rarity whispered warmly in the pegasus’s ear, smooching the tipsy mare affectionately on the cheek.

Pinkie turned to the farm pony by her side, apparently tiring of watching the couple’s playful antics. “Do you think Dashie’s going to show up? I hope she’s not too tired.”

“Ah worry about that mare,” Applejack admitted, in a small voice. “Sure, she puts a brave face on it, and Twilight’s there for her, but…” she sighed. “Ah dunno. It must be eatin’ her, not bein’ able to fly.” Leaning forwards, the orange mare tossed a chestnut into her mouth, crunching down with gusto. “I jus’ hope she’s gonna be okay.”

“Oh, I think she will be,” the late arrival’s voice piped up behind them. A mug of cider, held in a magical grip, was dropped down onto the table in front of the vacant stool between Rarity and Applejack.

The ponies turned, to see that Twilight had eventually made it to the festival.

Applejack grinned. “Hey there, Twi’.”

“Hi Applejack,” Twilight returned the smile, looking around with admiration at the festivities, “your family does the best Harvest’s Ends.”

“Heh, thanks. Ah guess it must seem pretty tiny to you, though; bet it’s nothin’ like what they put on back in Canterlot.”

Twilight shook her head. “Actually, they barely even acknowledge it there.” She shrugged. “Not enough earth ponies, I guess.”

It was strange; illuminated by the bonfire’s radiance, there seemed to be something different about the unicorn. All four of the friends could see it. She was holding herself somehow taller, and there was an unmistakable glow about her. Her cheeks were flushed with obvious happiness, and her horn was giving off a gentle purple corona. A small smile was playing on her lips; the smile of a pony with good news.

Fluttershy looked up, meeting Twilight’s eyes. “Glad you made it, Twilight,” she said, with a slight hiccough. “Is Rainbow coming, or is she resting up?”

“Oh,” Twilight waved an airy hoof, with an air of nonchalance. “I’m sure she’ll be around.”

“Yeah, you know, somewhere,” a throaty, slightly coltish voice added, from somewhere just above them.

All of the ponies jumped, with the exception of Twilight. Five gazes snapped upwards, tracing the source of the voice to its source.

Sure enough, barely ten feet above them, shining in the firelight with her wings beating smoothly and her eyes aflame, hovered Rainbow Dash.

There was a moment of stunned silence, and Dash grinned down at the expressions of consternation on her friends’ faces.

Fluttershy was the first to react. With an excited squeak, she extricated herself from Rarity’s side, and fluttered skywards to catch the pegasus in a tight mid-air embrace. “Rainbow!” She squealed, sounding a little tearful. “I’m so happy for you!”

“Thanks, ‘Shy,” Dash replied warmly, returning the canary mare’s embrace before coaxing herself downwards to alight on the grass. Her descent was none too graceful; a slight wobble was visible in her flight born of lack of practice, but the simple fact that she was able to leave the ground once again was enough to increase tenfold the air of celebration.

The moment her hooves touched the earth, her friends rose as one from their seats, and she was enveloped in a group hug.

“Not bad, Sugarcube,” Applejack said, her eyes shining, and her voice cracking a little with emotion. She had stayed stoically at Dash side in the fields, ever since the mare had felt strong enough to begin some light work helping with the harvest. Apart from Twilight, the farm pony seemed the most emotionally invested in the pegasus’s recovery. “…Not bad at all.”

“You’re getting such a party for this,” added Pinkie, in a tone of utmost seriousness.

“Rainbow… I wish I had something a little more eloquent to say, but you’ve been simply incredible,” murmured Rarity. “I’m just glad that everything went so smoothly,” she added. Shifting in the embrace, Twilight looked up to catch Dash’s eye, and they shared a small, secret smile.

“Thanks, you guys,” Dash whispered, but her eyes and tone said so much more. The heat of the firelight danced on her back, the forelegs of her friends and her love were tight and comforting about her.

I’m home. Maybe… maybe I’ve done enough. All the broken bones, all the deaths, all the tears and blood and pain…maybe it was all worth it. I don’t feel like a fraud anymore.

Gradually, one by one, the ponies disengaged from the hug, until only Twilight was left. The mares shared a still moment of eye contact, a gentle simpatico shared between them, both ponies still glowing inside from what they had shared earlier that evening. The unicorn pecked the pegasus softly on the lips, flashing her a small smile that seemed to whisper some unspoken secret, before breaking away as well.

The night was wearing on, and the babble of conversation had died down to a pleasantly relaxed trickle, matching the bonfire which was now a glowing heap of embers, licked from time to time by a flaring flame, determined to cling to life. At some point, Spike had decided to come down from the orange-flickering summit to join the ponies at their table, although it was probably past his usual bedtime at this point, and he kept dozing off with his head on his claws.

Pinkie suddenly looked up, an uncharacteristic absence of lightheartedness in her expression. “Dashie… do you ever think about her?”

Dash looked up, a little surprised. “Who? D’ya mean Mom?”

The party pony shook her head. “No… I mean Cloudshine. I mean, you never seem to talk about her.”

The cyan pegasus sighed gently. After she and Twilight had been given the news of the choice that her sister had made, she had been perfectly honest with her friends. The truth was of no danger to them now, so there was no reason for them not to know everything.

“Sometimes I do,” she admitted. “But the way I see it, Cloudshine’s dead. She was a monster, and she probably deserved it. I never really knew her, so I’ve got no reason to mourn. But out there, somewhere, there’s a mare with another name, and another life. She’s never heard of Sunset, she’s never heard the name Cloudshine, and she’s never killed anypony. Maybe she’s nice… maybe she’s even happy. All I know is that I’ve got no business with her, and I’ve got no business wondering about her.”

Dash sat back, absent-mindedly crunching down on a chestnut. Twilight touched her hoof gently beneath the table, once again taken by surprise at the clarity of thought that the pegasus possessed. This was the first time that she had spoken of her half-sister since she had first told Twilight and her other friends. It had occurred to Twilight at the time that her love had not seemed unduly concerned about Cloudshine’s fate, and to hear it confirmed was a relief. Here, at least, was one pony who would not haunt Dash’s memories at night.

“I’m just glad you two can put this behind you now,” Rarity said, quietly.

Applejack nodded. “Gotta agree with you on that one, Rare’.” She raised her mug in a hopeful gesture. “Here’s to the future, huh?”

The others followed suit, raising their drinks into the flickering air. “The future,” they murmured as one. It was a strangely bittersweet moment; several of their number had been deeply and permanently changed in one way or another by the events of the last few months, and this seemed an opportunity to draw a line under the events of the past, as much as it seemed the chance to herald in a brighter future.

Rarity still woke some nights to see Fluttershy lying on her back beside her, eyes wide with memory, compulsively rubbing the shiny patch of burn-scarred skin on her foreleg, over which the fur had never re-grown. Twilight sometimes still caught the residue of pain within Dash’s eyes, the last hint of her history floating in those infinitely deep magenta pools. Some hurts went too deep to ever entirely be forgotten; time may heal all wounds, but it cannot offer freedom from scars.

The toast was a tribute to all they had lost, but equally it spoke of a tentative hope. The pasts that had dogged Dash and Fluttershy for so much of their lives finally lay acknowledged, confronted, and in the end, defeated. Both mares were at last free to live and to love, and to express their lives and loves in the ways that they wanted, not in the ways that their worlds had seemed to demand from them.

As if acting on this impulse of release, Fluttershy craned her neck up and drew Rarity into a gentle kiss. It was a simple affair, although it was held for perhaps a little longer than was ordinary in such a public location. Twilight smirked, noticing with amusement the ever-so-slight twitch in Dash’s wings, as the latter did her best to break her eyes away from the soft motion of the mares’ lips. When the canary pegasus eventually drew back from the kiss, her cheeks were bloomed with a soft pink. “The future looks wonderful to me,” she breathed.

“Ya know, I’ve gotta admit I never expected this,” remarked Dash.

Fluttershy turned to her, smiling, her forelegs still draped over Rarity’s shoulders. “Never expected what?”

“This time last year, I’d never have believed that you and Rarity were gonna end up together.” She turned to Twilight. “I gotta admit, I never saw us coming, either. I mean… I liked you, but I thought I was the only one of us who thought about one of my friends in… in that way.” She laughed quietly, winking at the lavender unicorn. “I’m glad I wasn’t, though.”

Applejack snorted in amusement, smirking. “Heh, yeah. Now me an’ Pinkie are the only ones livin’ the single life.”

Pinkie turned to face the orange earth pony, latching onto her with a gaze that was suddenly half-lidded and seductive. “We don’t have to be…” she murmured in a low, smooth voice.

“Aw hay no!” Applejack spluttered in a panic, turning brick red and very nearly toppling backwards off her stool onto the grass.

The party pony’s lip twitched; after a moment she could keep a straight face no longer, and dissolved into uncontrollable snorts of laughter. The others joined in when they saw the expression dawning on the farm pony’s face.

“That ain’t funny, Pinkie,” muttered Applejack, but she could not mask a small smile at her own gullibility as she sat back up, re-adjusting her dislodged hat.

Before any of the others could say anything, an arcing line of light shot into the sky from a distant hilltop, breaking into a flowering plume of stars. It was the first of a great many fireworks that had been prepared for this night, and soon enough the Ponyville display would likely begin.

Twilight felt a tug on her hoof, and she turned to look at the pegasus beside her. “I… I wanna show you something,” Dash murmured. “C’mon.”

The unicorn complied, getting to her hooves. “We won’t be too long,” Dash said to the others, who nodded, respecting that the mares might like some privacy on what was obviously an extremely significant night for the pegasus.

As they walked away from the table, Twilight turned her head to steal a look back at her friends. Pinkie was laughing again, and Applejack was grinning, still a little pink in the cheeks. Rarity was talking animatedly to Fluttershy, who was snuggled up against the unicorn once more, trying to fight the cold that the dying bonfire was beginning to let in. Things seemed almost as they had always been. Friendship, it seemed, was in no way diminished by the presence of love or the memory of pain in its midst.

Twilight smiled in contentment, as they walked away from the happy scene.

“What did you want to show me?” she whispered to the pegasus, as they made their way between groups of ponies, catching snatches of a dozen lazy conversations.

“You’ll see,” Dash replied, leading her ever onwards, until the crowds began to thin out.

Eventually, they reached a clear spot, in a small, secluded orchard beyond the bonfire’s heat, and the cyan mare turned to her love, flaring her wings without preamble. “Fancy a flight?” she asked with a small smile. “Ya know, see the fireworks from where they’re meant to be seen?”

Twilight’s eyes widened. “Oh… Rainbow, I’d love to, but surely you won’t be strong enough yet. They told you to take it slowly.”

Dash nodded. “Sure they did, but they weren’t expecting me to get a boost from the strongest unicorn in Equestria, did they?” She walked towards the unicorn, nuzzling her cheek gently. “Thanks to you, I’m as strong as I’ll ever be. I feel like I could fly to the moon.” She took a quick step back, hastily clarifying her intentions. “I mean… if you wouldn’t feel safe, then I don’t want ya to feel like I’m forcing you or anything. It’s just… this’ll be my first proper flight since I fell. I’d like you to share it with me.”

The lavender mare smiled. It meant more to her than she could express in words that the pegasus would share something so personal and meaningful with her. “I… I trust you, Rainbow,” she said, in a low voice. “Of course I trust you. If you promise me you won’t hurt yourself, then of course I’ll fly with you.”

She took a tentative step forwards, and rested her forehooves on the pegasus’s shoulders. In a smooth motion that was beautifully familiar to her, and yet made new by the passage of time, Twilight climbed up onto her love’s back, gripping tightly with both pairs of legs. Her heart gave its telltale pre-flight swoop, and once again, she felt for the briefest of moments that enthusiasm and lust for freedom that all pegasi held.

Perhaps that yearning was the part of Dash that had been bequeathed to her by the bonding. Just as Dash had taken on her magical strength and fortitude, so too had Twilight taken on a little of her lover’s desire for the open sky. It was the perfect gift; at last, she could truly appreciate her flights with the pegasus every bit as much as Dash herself did.

Below her, a pair of cyan wings spread out wide. She felt a powerful thrust of the pegasus’s hind legs against the ground, and her stomach seemed to flip as they shot up into the glittering night sky.

As the wind whipped past her, Twilight felt like shouting aloud, or perhaps laughing. The sense of freedom took her breath away; it was utterly unlike any of the flights she had shared with Dash in the past. For the first time, she could see the sky with pegasine eyes.

The cyan mare bore her effortlessly, the speed granted by her confidence bolstered by the enhanced strength that Twilight had granted to her. Suddenly, she twisted in mid-air, and Twilight instinctively released her grip for the briefest of instants, holding herself magically in place as the pegasus spun to face her, before locking her forelegs tightly around her shoulders again. Now face-to-face, the mares exchanged grins, and Twilight saw her own exhilaration mirrored in Dash’s eyes.

Darting to the right, Dash led them into a series of wide corkscrews, the amber-tinted spiderweb that was Ponyville flashing in and out of their vision. She broke out of the spin, speeding upwards towards the cloud-layer, before snapping her wings to her sides and letting them begin to descend into a freefall.

Twilight knew she should have been terrified; that once upon a time, she would have been. Now, though, all she felt was adrenaline. A whooping cry whipped out from between her lips as gravity claimed them, her voice distorted by the wind and utterly unlike her own. The streetlight-studded town was rushing up to meet them, but then the pegasus’s wings flared out to their fullest width once more. It was for show, of course, but Twilight could not deny that the show was one worth attending as they leveled out, swooping in a great arc back towards Sweet Apple Acres.

Gradually, they slowed to a halt, hovering together in the chill air. The ground was a mere patchwork beneath them; the bonfires little more than match-like pinpricks of light. The Ponyville display had not yet begun, but fireworks burst in the distant night below where the lovers floated.

“Wow…” Twilight breathed.

“I know,” the pegasus whispered, but when Twilight turned to meet her eyes, Dash’s gaze was fixed not on the cobwebbed lights of the night, but on the unicorn in her embrace. “…I know.”

Then, almost at their eye level, the first of Ponyville’s fireworks hissed skywards, breaking with a sharp crack into a thousand golden stars, the light from the blast dancing on the mares’ fur.

Maybe things would never be quite as they had once been. The flames fanned by their actions had leapt so much higher than they ever could have dreamed, but Twilight knew with utter conviction that their lives had changed for the better. This place felt like the centre of the world, and they could shape it with a word; they had weathered the sunset, and the dawn was fast approaching.

The unicorn felt her love’s heart beating suddenly hard against her chest, as more fireworks hissed, crackling into every burning colour before them, their gun-smoke tang hanging on the air. She turned to look into Dash’s eyes, and was surprised to see that she looked almost scared. Her cheeks were flushed, and her eyes were the eyes of a filly standing at the edge of a cloud, with nothing but the open sky before her, with nothing but a hope that her wings would hold fast. Her eyes were the eyes of a mare about to take a leap of faith.

“Twilight Sparkle…” The pegasus gazed into the eyes of the mare she loved more than anything, and when her voice sounded again it was warm and sure, with no further hint of fear or hesitation. “Will you marry me?”

Twilight’s eyes widened, for a moment unable to do anything other than simply stare right back at the pegasus, utterly lost in those magenta oceans which, at that moment, held not the merest trace of pain. There was only one answer. There had only ever been one answer.

“Of course I will, Rainbow,” she whispered, her voice choked with a sudden sting of tears.

When the pegasus heard Twilight’s reply, she could hardly bring herself to trust the reliability of her own ears. She had known for months now that she would ask Twilight on the day she flew again. It was a moment she had played out so many times in her mind’s eye, that the moment itself seemed utterly, beautifully unreal. She was deaf to the screaming crack of the pyrotechnic flashes, and oblivious to the whipping wind. The only thing that existed was Twilight; the mare who had saved her so many times, the mare who had loved her, no matter what pains were thrown into their lives by circumstance. The mare who shared her sky.

Twilight leaned forwards, looking almost happier than the pegasus had ever seen her. In lieu of further needless words, Dash felt soft lips dancing against her own, in a slow kiss that spoke of all the time in the world. All the time they could ever want.

Dash sighed into the gentle contact, never once breaking eye contact from this mare, still half-convinced that she may yet slip away and prove this otherworldly night to be the dream it should so rightly be.

She had been burned and scarred and broken, but as she looked into her librarian’s singing eyes, she knew that she was going to be alright.

Because Twilight would be at her side, now and forever.

Because Twilight had made her better.

Waiting To Happen

A Bluebird’s Song

~~~
After all this time
Cynical and jaded
All the stones are diamonds
All the blues are faded
~~~

Waiting To Happen

For about half a minute following Twilight’s indignant outburst at the fouling up of Rarity’s name, there was silence, in which Dash could tell that Twilight was thinking hard. Behind them, blissfully oblivious to the atmosphere, Spike left, closing the front door behind him, off on a quill-acquisition mission. Owloysius was dozing peacefully on his perch. The silence seemed to balloon around them, and Dash was still avoiding her friend’s eyes, gazing at her own hooves. Eventually, Twilight spoke.

“Rainbow, I’m so sorry, I know how much this must’ve hurt you.”

Dash’s head snapped up, in surprise. “Huh? Ya don’t think I’m being petty?” Her face fell again. “I know I do,” she finished in a mumbled undertone.

Twilight walked over, and gently rested a hoof on the pegasus’s shoulder. “Of course I don’t,” she said, softly, “and you shouldn’t either. This meant so much to you, so I’d have no right to call myself your friend if I refused to be there for you.”

For the first time, Dash looked up and met her eyes, smiling weakly. The smile scared Twilight, it was so fragile, so unlike her usual cocky grin. “That really means a lot, Twi’.” Her voice cracked slightly, and the corners of her eyes were shining. “I only read it this morning… I’m not gonna lie, it hurt.” Dash turned away slightly, walking back over to the paper lying on the table, her eyes narrowing in irritation at the grinning face of Lighting Flare. She took a deep breath, as if steeling herself. “You know what?” Her voice was bitter, the words coming out in a rush. “It wasn’t just the record that hurt, it was him. ‘Cause I saw his face, read what he’d said, and you know what I saw?”

Twilight had joined her at the table, looking down at the picture, the arrogantly grinning face of the young stallion. “What?” she asked, nonplussed.

Dash hung her head dejectedly, replying in a guilt-laden whisper. “…Me.”

Twilight took a step back in surprise, and felt a stab of something close to exasperation. “Rainbow, look at me!” she insisted, and the pegasus reluctantly raised her eyes again. “Sure, you’re proud, you’re even cocky sometimes, but none of us think any the less of you for it. You’re Rainbow Dash, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.” She stamped her hoof on the ground to emphasize the last word, her eyes burning with a sudden intensity.

Dash did not look at all convinced. “Sure, you can live with me being around,” she muttered, “but I dunno if I can. I mean look at him,” she stabbed a hoof down onto the stallion’s picture, crumpling the paper slightly, “he’s a dumb, big-headed showoff! None of us would’ve liked him if we met him. But he could just as easily be me.” Her voice was almost inaudible by the end of the last sentence. Twilight could think of nothing to say in the face of her friend falling apart like this. “Face it, Twilight.” Dash’s voice sounded suddenly older, her usual thousand-words-a-minute exuberance nowhere to be heard. “If it wasn’t for the whole Elements of Harmony thing, you’d all have hated me. I’d have just been another Trixie.” Her eyes were full again, and in a sudden outburst of anger she swept the newspaper off the table with a wave of her wing, scattering the crackling sheets across the floor, leaving them tumbling like falling petals. She turned away, lying down morosely on the rug, staring into the empty fireplace with self-disgust etched on her face.

Dash was still for a moment, wings drooping resignedly. She suddenly looked utterly defeated. “I’ll just go,” she sighed, closing her eyes. “This isn’t even worth your time. None of this’d be happening if I wasn’t such an arrogant, jealous waste of…”

She broke off. Twilight was suddenly beside her, and in a moment of compassion had wrapped her hooves around the pegasus, holding her in a tight embrace. After a moment of surprise, Dash responded, hugging the lavender unicorn in return, feeling the cold self-hatred, that had been like a ton-weight in her chest ever since it had ignited that morning, become a little easier to bear. For a few long, peaceful minutes, they lay there together, Twilight feeling Dash’s breathing returning to normal, catching on the air the pleasant, fresh scent that usually hung around her friend.

“Dash…” murmured Twilight, and her voice was choked with tears as well. “Never say that about yourself, it’s not true, and you know it. I told you, you’re Rainbow Dash, not just some arrogant fool. Everyone’s got flaws, but you more than make up for yours by being such a great friend to us all. You are who you are, and we all love you for it.” Twilight was blushing slightly as she finished the last sentence, but she didn’t care. All she wanted was to see her friend smile again, she wanted to see the happy, carefree Dash that she knew so well.

“I… I don’t know if I wanna be me anymore.” Dash choked, painfully contradicting Twilight’s hopes.

“You don’t mean that, I know you don’t,” Twilight promised, with utter sincerity, holding the cyan pegasus closer, wiping away her tears with a gentle hoof. “If you really think that you’ve got a problem, then I’ll do my best to help you make changes, but I’d never want you to stop being you.” She looked Dash directly in the eyes. “We can get you through this. We’re going to make you better.”

Rainbow Dash said nothing, but Twilight could see in her eyes how much her words had meant. “I just don’t wanna be him,” the pegasus whispered.

“You don’t have to be,” Twilight replied gently, “confidence and arrogance don’t have to be the same thing.”

Dash nodded, a little light rekindling in her eyes, and a small smile appearing almost unwillingly on her face. Twilight, sensing that this was the right moment, began to disentangle herself from the other mare so that they could stand, but Dash held her there. For just a moment longer, they looked into each other’s eyes, and Twilight saw a glint of Dash’s old flair shining there. The ticks of the clock seemed to slow around them. Then, the moment ended, and they both stood, stretching their legs and wings, and not quite meeting each other’s eyes. Twilight began magically gathering up the loose sheets of newspaper that now covered the floor around the table. An aura of awkwardness had stolen into the room, sucking away any chance of conversation, as if the treehouse had become a vacuum. They both cast around for something to say in order to break the billowing silence. Twilight knew that her friend had suffered a great shock today, having been shown a grim caricature depicting the wrong side of her personality. She wanted more than anything to be able to help, to convince her friend that she was not a bad Pony. She knew that had to do this for the sake of her friend, but could not think of how. All of her books on behaviour had not prepared her for this cold reality.

“I wasn’t always like this, ya know.” Dash spoke at last, her voice still subdued.

“How do you mean?”

“Don’t get me wrong, I’ve never exactly been Fluttershy,” Dash smiled wryly, and Twilight could not suppress a small chuckle, finding the comparison comically improbable. “But… I dunno. I used to do stuff without having to talk about it.” Dash rested a hoof on her forehead, close to wishing that she had studied psychology instead of attending flight school. “I never needed to show off, not when I was younger. I dunno exactly when it started, I just… I just wanted to prove ‘em all wrong.”

“Who?”

Dash snorted, rolling her eyes. “Everypony. All the ones who thought I was useless. The other foals, the teachers… Dad.” Her voice cracked slightly on the last word.

Twilight’s eyes widened. Now that she thought about it, she could not quite believe that she had never asked Dash about her parents. In reality, she knew very little about her friend’s past. Dash had never been a great supporter of extended conversations, at least not two-sided ones. “Was he…?” she began.

“He wasn’t that great,” Dash cut her off, avoiding her eyes again. “Sorry Twi’, I don’t really wanna talk about my parents right now. Not on top of everything else that’s going on.”

Twilight was burning with curiosity and apprehension, but she did not pursue the subject for her friend’s sake. “That’s okay, Dash,” she smiled. “If you ever need somepony to talk to, I’m here.”

“Thanks,” Dash smiled back at her, eyes still a little watery but seemingly in slightly higher spirits. “Look,” she continued, “I’d better go. I reckon I need a bit of time to get this stuff sorted out up here.” She tapped the side of her head with a hoof.

“Sure, of course.” Twilight nodded, pedantically fiddling with the restacked newspaper, ensuring that it was correctly folded.

“Is it… Is it okay if I come back tomorrow?” asked Dash, sounding almost nervous.

“Of course! Whenever you feel ready.” Twilight smiled encouragingly at her friend. “Let me know what you come up with.” Suddenly, something occurred to her. “Actually, I’ll probably need to see you sometime this week anyway. I’m doing a bit of research into pegasi, and it’d be ideal if I could test my new hypothesis out on you.”

Dash squinted at her, slightly suspiciously. “Sure I will, but… uhh... It doesn’t involve needles, does it?”

Twilight shook her head, smiling. “Nope, but it does involve flying.” She chuckled out loud as she saw Dash’s face light up at the mention of flying.

“Count me in!” she grinned, flaring her wings, her worries momentarily forgotten. Then she winced in pain. “Ouch!” she exclaimed, looking vaguely skywards in irritation. “Looks like the head’s still not that good.”

“Oh, sorry!” Twilight gasped, realizing that she had completely forgotten about the headache cure, what with all of the drama and emotional outbursts. “Hold still,” she instructed the pegasus, who froze on the spot almost comically, a look of apprehension on her face. pegasi were often a little nervous of magic, probably mostly due to their lack of understanding of it. Twilight concentrated for a few moments, feeling her horn warm up and crackle slightly. The painful lump that was clearly visible atop Dash’s head seemed to ripple up and down like disturbed water, then, after a moment, its surface smoothed, leaving her head lumpless and pain-free. “You can move now,” smiled Twilight.

Dash unfroze, gingerly prodding at the top of her head, and looking relieved when she found it to be painless. “That’s way better, thanks a bunch.”

“Anytime.”

Twilight watched as her friend launched herself a few feet off the ground, and began hovering towards the library’s front entrance. “I’ll have a think about this stuff,” Dash said, halting at the door. “Maybe I should go see a shrink or something if it gets worse, but I’ll try and sort it out in my own head first. Thanks again for all the help, I feel way less of a wreck now.”

“It’s no problem,” Twilight smiled. “You know I’ll always be here for you if you need me.”

Dash’s face coloured slightly, and she turned away to try and hide it. Twilight also blushed and looked away, running over what she had just said inside her head. Oh dear, she thought, that didn’t sound too flirty, did it? She looked back at Dash, hoping that she had not made her uncomfortable. “Let me know if you come to any conclusions,” she added, mostly to say something in order to fill the silence.

“Will do,” replied Dash, seemingly back to normal, and Twilight breathed a silent sigh of relief. “Tomorrow, right?”

“Sure. Whenever you’re ready.”

“Got it!” With that, Dash turned and exited the library, swiftly gaining altitude as soon as she was out of the door, leaving behind a trail of disturbed dust that hovered, billowing in the air, carving the light from the windows.

I hope she’s okay. Twilight sighed with concern as she closed the door. Turning away, she suddenly halted, as a thought occurred to her. Was I seriously just worrying about sounding flirty? She felt her face colouring again as she remembered. Now that the haze of worry had passed, and she had time to think about it, the more bothered she was by the last ten minutes. Why did I hug her like that? I guess I was concerned, but still…If she was honest with herself, she knew that something else had come close to happening as they lay together in front of the empty grate. She put a hoof to her head, mentally berating her heart for choosing this moment to spring something like this on her. Oh Celestia, this is such a bad time. I don’t know anything about this kind of thing!

This was perfectly true. In the years she had spent under the Princess’s tutelage, it was rare that she would speak more than three consecutive words to another pony outside of study conditions. This isolation had been largely of her own creation, driven by her inclination for academic work, but had largely precluded her from having any kind of romantic involvement with other ponies. She was not entirely oblivious of the feelings involved in such situations. Indeed, she would be a liar if she claimed never to have harboured slightly inappropriate fantasies concerning her regal mentor, (she went even redder at this thought, rapidly locking it back up again in some sealed box in back of her mind.) However, she had honestly never even thought about that sort of thing since she had arrived in Ponyville, particularly not about her friends. She supposed that this was understandable, after all, fighting dragons, hydras and goodness-knows-what else was bound to be fairly distracting. But now, she was forced to accept that seeing Dash without her bluster and abrasive brashness had changed the way she saw her.

Suddenly her friend was beautiful.

“Why now? Why her?” she whispered. Remembering looking into her friend’s eyes made her heart pound almost painfully, seeing Dash’s gentler self behind the gleaming magenta windows, without the shields of boastfulness that she had spent so long building.

She pondered writing a letter to Celestia about this, but it seemed somehow inappropriate, even crass. I’ll think about this later, she thought. We’ve got bigger problems right now. Twilight sighed, trying to make herself concentrate on the issue at hand. It was a struggle. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw magenta. Shaking herself mentally, she magically seized a roll of parchment in case she needed to take notes, and forcibly tied her mind down, to prevent it drifting.

At some point, probably everypony that she knew had accused Rainbow Dash of bigheadedness, and it always seemed to bounce right off her. For the most part, her friends regarded her competitiveness and cockiness as endearing traits, with the exception of a few occasions which had become somewhat out of hand. It was painful to watch Dash tearing herself up with self-disgust in this way. You’d all have hated me, I’d have just been another Trixie! These words in particular echoed in Twilight’s head. It was as if the pegasus thought that she had somehow cheated her way into their friendship. As if her many positive facets and list of achievements were utterly unimportant. She had jotted a few words down as she thought, and now looked back over them with a critical eye. At the bottom of the page, two words stood out questioningly: Impostor Syndrome?

Suddenly, seeing the core of the problem written down in front of her, inspiration struck. Twilight skimmed down the bookshelves with her eyes, flicking from section to section. Ornithology, Philosophy, Physics…Aha, Psychology! Using her magic, she gripped a scuffed and well-hoofed copy of Equine Mental Disorders from near the top of the shelf. She remembered this book all too well, having used it to attempt self-diagnosis a short while after the Smarty Pants incident. In the end this had failed, because she had become so irritated with an asymmetrical corner on the page she was reading that she was forced to put it back. In hindsight, she realized that this was probably all the diagnosis that she needed. She would not be distracted this time, however, not even if she spotted any dreaded ink smudges. She had a job to do. Grinning happily at the prospect of imminent study, she lay down, and began flicking through the pages. Dash might be mulling over her problems tonight, but when they met the next day Twilight was also determined not to show up empty-hoofed. It was time to put those eye muscles to work.

These Cold Reflections

A Bluebird’s Song

~~~
But you fly above the clouds
Where the air’s too thin to think of falling back again
When you fly above the clouds
You see the shadow of a doubt
An eternity away upon the ground
~~~

These Cold Reflections

The smell of Old Thunderhead whiskey was always overpowering, filling the cramped kitchen like a noxious mist. Some was absorbed by the walls of cloud, but still the scent rode bitingly on the back of every breath that the young pegasus filly took. Through her childhood, she had learned to fear that smell. Its source stood on the opposite side of the table, the misdirected rage of an angry drunkard bright in his eyes as he shouted.

“Why won’t you let these stupid fantasies go?” The filly on the far side of the table took a step back, touching against the end wall, trying her hardest not to show fear. The stallion, it hurt her to think of him as her father, suddenly changed his tone of voice. It was quieter, mocking, infinitely more unpleasant. “You think you’re special, my girl?” he smirked. “Well, well, well. I’ve got some news for you. You’re not. You never will be. If you’re so special, explain to me why your mother couldn’t even live in the same house as you!” His voice rose in volume again, the ends of his words slurring together. He slammed the near-empty bottle down onto the kitchen table, and it sank a few inches into the amorphous cloud-surface.

“You drove her away!” The filly yelled back defiantly, unable to keep a slight tremor from her voice, despite her best efforts. “She was right to go! What kind of mare wants to live with a drunken scumbag like you? I tell ya, as soon as I can fly, I’m flyin’ right out that door and I hope I never see you again!”

“Oh? Oh? I’m to blame, am I?” The stallion adopted a mock-thoughtful pose, his voice full of spite. “Who keeps a roof over our heads, eh? Who puts food on your plate? Maybe it’s time I reminded you!”

He began to advance across the kitchen, around the table, his face a mask of anger and sadistic satisfaction at the fear in his daughter’s eyes. She made a run for the door, but he was too quick for her, pinning her against the wall and drawing back his hoof. “Sorry, Dashie,” he grinned, “but you’re not dashing out of here today.”

Rainbow Dash shook her head violently to clear it of the memories that had descended upon her. Her cheeks were wet, and she pressed her eyes hard shut, forcing herself to block the past out. “It’s over. He’s gone. It’s over,” she muttered to herself, eyes still tightly closed. She had left Twilight’s house some five minutes ago, wending her way home at low altitude, taking a detour from her normal route to pass through the countryside. She did not want to be surrounded by the townsfolk of Ponyville right now. She would be home in a few minutes, and she had a lot to think about. The memories of her foalhood had caught up with her quite unexpectedly, just as they always did in times of stress, worming their way in through her subconscious until they filled her mind. She could still smell the whisky, even through such a veil of years. She knew that she would have to tell Twilight about her past at some time, but had been unable to face the prospect earlier, on top of everything else.

She was still flying, almost unaware of the fact. Suddenly, her eyes still tightly closed, she heard a frightened squeak. You idiot, you’re flying with your eyes shut! Land! She reprimanded herself internally as her eyes flew open. It was too late. Her vision was obscured by a panicking mass of canary yellow. There was a soft thump, and both she and her unintentional victim fell the few feet to the grass below. Fortunately, she had not been flying overly fast, although whoever she had collided with had fallen on top of her, and was now flailing around, emitting squeaks of fear and surprise. It did not take much deduction work on Dash’s part to tell with whom she had collided.

“Fluttershy?” she muttered, realizing that her voice was still choked with tears from her memories. Fluttershy had rolled off, and was skittering in small circles, apparently searching for a bush or similar receptacle in which to hide. The flowers that she had been holding up for inspection before the collision had scattered to the winds. “Hey, Fluttershy!” Dash stood, and waved a hoof in front of her friend’s face. The yellow pegasus stopped turning in circles, and seemed to see Dash for the first time. The panic drained swiftly from her eyes, and she released a long breath.

“R-Rainbow Dash? What d-did you do that for?” She sounded a little irritated, which was in all honesty the most she could manage under normal circumstances.

“Sorry, ‘Shy.” Dash smiled weakly. “I didn’t mean to hurt ya, I seem to be getting under everypony’s hooves today.”

“Oh, I’m not hurt, just a- a little surprised, that’s all.” Fluttershy smiled back, seemingly recovering from Dash’s sudden appearance in her day’s events.

“No, it was stupid of me, I shouldn’t go ‘round bashing into ponies like that,” Dash mumbled, guiltily.

“Don’t worry about it, Rainbow.” Fluttershy seemed to have picked up on the fact that something was wrong. “Is everything alright? Were… were you crying?”

Dash turned away slightly, a little defensively. “Me? Crying?” Then she seemed to deflate. “Ah, what’s the point? Yeah. I was.” Her voice was flat, emotionless.

Fluttershy’s eyes widened. “W-what’s the matter?” she exclaimed, then her voice shrank to a whisper. “Um, if you don’t mind me asking, that is?”

Dash did mind. She had very little desire to discuss what she had already discussed with Twilight all over again, not even with a pony as understanding as Fluttershy. However, she knew how sensitive her friend was, and did not want to say this to her face. “I’m… I was just thinking about my dad,” she muttered.

It was true. It was not the only reason that she had been crying, but it was certainly true. Fluttershy looked saddened, her eyes welling up slightly in sympathy for Dash. The two pegasi had known one another since their fillyhood, having met at Flight School, and Fluttershy was the one pony that Dash had fully confided in regarding her past and her family. As adolescents, Fluttershy had lost count of the times she had found herself in Dash’s dormitory room after a weekend, comforting her crying friend, even once or twice holding an ice pack to her more obvious bruises. To the rest of the world, Dash had passed these off as flying injuries. She called them results of her own carelessness, earning herself a reputation for clumsiness in the air, and the nickname ‘Rainbow Crash’.

Only Fluttershy had known the full truth. Perhaps some of the others suspected, from time to time Dash would detect a glint of doubt in the eyes of the more perceptive ones as she span a new yarn about colliding with a column or a mountain. If they did, however, none of them had spoken up. Dash was clearly beyond any of them in terms of flying ability, and this made her a target for bullies who were motivated by jealousy. The cool colts, the ones constantly surrounded by crowds of admiring fillies, the ones with plenty of swagger but little substance, all shunned her. They liked to think that they were supremely skillful, but Dash could take apart the best of them in the air, and they knew it, so they tried to get to her on the ground. She found her flying skills mocked and put down at every turn, her every new injury laughed at.

Unfounded, well-planned rumours had circulated about the nature of the close friendship between herself and Fluttershy, and they became the target of wolf-whistles and jeering whenever they walked down a corridor together. Everypony knew that Dash liked mares, indeed she made no secret of the fact, however it had stung to see others projecting those feelings onto Fluttershy, whom she considered to be practically a sister. Fluttershy, already an easy target for bullying given her aerial ineptitude, was driven still further into herself by the unwanted limelight. Dash had gone the other way, in her determination to prove them wrong she had begun preemptively attacking, boasting of her skills and achievements, counteracting every jibe with a grin and witty riposte.

Inside, she had craved acceptance. She had wanted to be cool, wanted to become the very ponies she hated, the ponies who made her and Fluttershy’s lives a misery on a daily basis. She would lie awake at night, wondering if she was in the right, wondering if she was justified, until she could not wonder anymore, and fell into flat acceptance. The forced coolness, the sarcasm, the boasting, they all had fallen seamlessly into her personality, becoming a part of her because she was too tired to question them. All those nights, asking herself those same questions. She had not known the answers then.

She still didn’t.

Dash realized that she had slipped into the past again, and was staring vacantly into space, Fluttershy still looking sympathetically towards her, waiting for her to speak. She knew that Fluttershy had always been there for her, and that she would be there for her still despite this new difficulty that Dash had encountered. Now was as good a time as any to tell her. She would have to tell all of her friends at some point, but she wanted to get her head right first, and having another sympathetic ear, and another opinion to work with, seemed like an excellent way to start.

“’Shy, do you still get the Cloudsdale Bugle?” Dash asked.

Fluttershy shook her head. “Not since I moved into my tree house, I never took out a subscription to the new address.”

“In that case, is it okay if I come back to yours for a bit? If you’re not busy, that is. I need to talk to you about something.”

“Of course you can,” Fluttershy smiled at her, “I’d finished feeding all the animals, I was just out looking for some fresh daisies for the soup. I’d like somepony to talk to, actually. I’ve been rushed off my hooves the last few days with all of the animals who’ve been getting sick. It’ll be nice to talk to somepony who can talk back.” She giggled a little, and Dash smiled back. She had not properly spoken to Fluttershy in some time, and it would be good to catch up at last. In comfortable silence, the two friends began to make their way back to Fluttershy’s home. Dash knew that she had found acceptance at last, in her friends. She knew that they would never let her down. She wished that she could trust herself to do the same. As they walked, Fluttershy did not notice the shine in her friend’s eyes, and Dash was glad of that. Try as she might, she could not tell if the tears were of happiness or pain.

“…So now she says she’s going to try and help me. I’d just left when I… uh… bumped into you.”
Fluttershy’s usually tidy living room was somewhat cluttered today, the coffee table currently stacked with six empty teacups and a box of tissues. Outside, Celestia’s sun had begun to sink lower in the sky as the afternoon wore on, bathing the room in soft floods of sunlight. A few bags of animal feed were strewn around the floor, Fluttershy having originally intended to clear them up when she came home. Her unexpected guest lay on the sofa, eyes a little red from recounting her day in its entirety. Fluttershy herself sat opposite on an old tattered beanbag that she had owned since foalhood, listening intently and sympathetically to Dash’s story. Despite her wet eyes, Dash could not avoid feeling a sense of peace. Fluttershy seemed to emit an aura of quiet gentleness that made it difficult to be stressed in her presence. Being several cups deep in her homemade herbal tea had also certainly seemed to help.

“Rainbow, why didn’t you come to me straight away when you read this?” Fluttershy asked, her eyes wide and almost reproachful.

“I dunno, ‘Shy,” Dash replied, “I wasn’t really thinking straight this morning, ya know? I thought a good practice session might clear my head.”

“Of course.” The canary pegasus nodded understandingly. “Would you like another cup of tea?”

Dash’s stomach sloshed a little as she shifted on the sofa. “I think I’ve had enough for now,” she said with an embarrassed grin.

“I’m really glad you told me about this, Rainbow,” Fluttershy still looked worried, but she smiled back. “I’d hate to think that you were thinking all those things about yourself.”

“I dunno, I still kind of am.”

“Don’t say that!” Fluttershy’s voice rose a little, so that she was almost at normal speaking volume.

“There's no need to worry about me, I’ll be okay in the end,” Dash tried to look reassuring, “I just need a bit of time. I wanna stop being so bigheaded, I guess.” She sighed, her mood swinging back to despondent again. “Maybe I’ll do something to actually deserve you and the others as friends.”

Fluttershy stood up on hearing the last words, and fixed Dash with a glare. “Rainbow Dash, you listen to me!” she exclaimed, “you are a wonderful pony, and you deserve every friend you have. You’re the Element of Loyalty! You don’t get to be the Element of Loyalty if you’re not a loyal friend!”

It was possibly the worst thing she could have said. Dash slumped, seeming to deflate into the sofa. “Yeah, Loyalty,” she muttered. “Tell me, Fluttershy. If it wasn’t for the Elements, what would I be to you guys? Okay, maybe I’d still be friends with you, because of everything at Flight School. You helped me, even when I wasn’t nice to you at first, you still helped me. You see the best in ponies, you stick with them. But the others? You’ve got to be friends with somepony before you can be loyal to ‘em, and who’d wanna be friends with me?”

Fluttershy sighed, sitting down again, kneading her forehead with a hoof. “You aren’t a bighead, Dash.” Her voice was almost a whisper. “Remember Gilda? When she walked off, what did you do? If you were so cool, you’d have gone with her. Remember what you said to her?”

Dash’s voice was choked as she replied. “If… If being cool’s all you c-care about, maybe you should find some cool friends… s-somewhere else.” She looked up at Fluttershy.

“Exactly.” Fluttershy’s face was gentle.

“But that’s me as well!” Exclaimed Dash. “You don’t know how long I’ve been afraid one of you’ll come up and say that to me. But you’re all so forgiving, every time I cross a line, you all just smile and tell me it’s okay. We learn our lessons, we move on. That’s how it works. I don’t deserve any of you guys.”

Fluttershy threw up her hooves in frustration. “You can’t think that!” she almost shouted, and Dash edged back in surprise at her usually timid friend. “How many times do I have to tell you? You didn’t cheat, you didn’t sneak into our friendship, you’re here because this is where you belong. Elements or no Elements!”

“Answer me this, then,” Dash leaned forward, “if I deserve friends as good as you guys, then how come hardly anyone liked me at Flight School? Hay, even my Dad knew what a useless sack of horseapples I was!”

“They were jealous! All of them were!” Fluttershy’s voice was still raised, hoping that she could penetrate the barriers that her friend had built around herself. “As for your father,” her voice grew harsh, a dark anger flowing through it that Dash had only ever heard her use when referring to that one stallion, “never, ever pay any attention to what he said to you. He was nothing but a sack of horseapples, and you know it!” With a squeak of horror, Fluttershy clapped a hoof to her mouth, appalled at herself for using such language. Unbalanced, she toppled backwards off the beanbag with a soft thud, and when she pulled herself back to a sitting position, the anger had gone from her eyes, replaced with a look of deep concern. “If… if you don’t mind me saying so,” she finished, almost inaudibly.

Suddenly, Dash saw how badly she was scaring her friend. She had never before heard Fluttershy accuse anypony of being a sack of anything, and understood how strongly her friend felt on her behalf. Slowly, the worst of her anger at herself drained away, reduced to a dull bubbling in the pit of her stomach. She buried her head in the sofa for a few seconds, then raised it, her mane disheveled. “I’m sorry, ‘Shy,” she murmured, “I guess you can see why I need help at the moment, huh?”

“I guess so.” Fluttershy smiled slightly, going a little pink as she remembered her own outburst. “I agree with Twilight, though,” she continued, “we’re going to try to make you better.”

“I’m seeing Twilight again tomorrow,” Dash involuntarily smiled a little at the prospect, “she’s gonna talk to me about this whole thing. Who knows, it might all seem a bit clearer after I sleep on it tonight.”

“I think you made a good choice going to the library first, by the way,” Fluttershy said, “Twilight’s got a whole section on psychology in her library, and I’d bet anything she’s going through it now. If anypony’s going to get you sorted out, it’s Twilight.” Dash’s cheeks reddened involuntarily as Fluttershy spoke the final sentence, and she was unable to suppress a slight twitch in her wings.

“Huh?” Fluttershy looked confused, then her own cheeks flared. “Oh!” She shot a reproving look at Dash. “You know I didn’t mean that,” she said, unable to restrain a small amused smile which was tugging at the corner of her mouth.

Dash laughed nervously, momentarily distracted from her immediate mindset. “I know, I know. Sorry, I’ll get my mind out of the gutter now.”

Fluttershy suddenly looked rather suspicious, and also perhaps a tad gleeful. “You didn't happen to have any, uh, ulterior motives for going to the library today, did you?” She smiled, knowingly. Being the shy pegasus that she was, she would never have dared bring up a topic such as this with anypony other than Dash. Several years of idle conversation at flight school had made her less inhibited when she was around the blue pegasus. They had often spent the evenings at Flight School in Fluttershy’s room, deep in conversation, well away from the bullies. Fluttershy would be gossiping freely about colts that she never dared make eye contact with, let alone make a pass at, whilst Dash shared her somewhat in-depth opinions concerning the other fillies in her class. Spinning the hours away talking to her best friend had been some of Fluttershy’s best times at flight school, hidden from the other adolescents, a small oasis of peace before being tossed into the clutches of another flying lesson to be spent falling on her face, to general laughter.

Dash was avoiding her friend’s eyes as she sought for a reply. “Umm, I had a headache,” she blurted, “no other reason.” Annoyingly for Dash, this was more or less true. Her decision to go to the library earlier had been mostly the product of the pain in her head. Unfortunately, that was not the reason behind the majority of her library visits recently, and it seemed that Fluttershy had picked up on this fact.

Fluttershy grinned, glad to have seemingly distracted Dash a little from her morose state of mind. “Come on, how long?” she asked, a little teasingly.

Dash’s eyes were roving the room, looking anywhere but at her friend. It was pointless lying, Fluttershy knew her better than anyone. “Okay, you got me,” she admitted, raising her front hooves in surrender. “…About two, maybe three months now.” She blushed, finally looking at Fluttershy again. “Happy now?”

Fluttershy certainly seemed happy, her eyes were large and her smile equally so. She let out a little squeak. “That’s so cute!” she exclaimed.

“I’m glad you think so,” Dash deadpanned, rolling her eyes.

“Why, though?” Fluttershy was still smiling, looking curiously at her friend. “She’s… umm… a bit bookish, isn’t she? I’d have thought you’d go for Applejack or somepony athletic like that?”

“Applejack?” Dash exclaimed, “Are you kidding? Granny Smith’d rip my wings off! Besides, I dunno. She’s not really… My type.”

“Not your type?” Fluttershy looked unconvinced.

“Trust me, Twilight’s definitely more my type.”

“Oh!” Comprehension dawned in Fluttershy’s eyes, as she remembered back to their discussions together in Flight School. “I remember now, you have a… a thing about unicorns, don’t you?” Her cheeks went a little pink.

“…Kinda, yeah,” Dash admitted, “but that’s not the only reason!” She backpedalled rapidly, realizing how shallow it would seem if the best reason she could come up with was ‘she’s a unicorn’.

“Why, then?” Fluttershy was grinning now.

“Well, you’ve got to admit the whole bookworm thing is kind of adorable,” Dash began, her cheeks colouring up again. “She’s brave, I mean remember that time you told me about when she charged down a hydra? That’s the kind of thing I mean. She never gives up, we all know that. If she did, we’d all still be getting played around with by Discord right now!” Fluttershy gave a little shudder at the memory of her own behaviour that day. Dash looked a little guilty about bringing it up, but then continued: “And well, come on, how can you not go for that smile?” she finished, a slightly dopey grin on her own face.

Fluttershy giggled a little, hugely relieved that she had managed to prevent Dash from focusing on her own flaws, if only for a while. “Do you think she knows?” she asked.

“I dunno.” Dash tilted her head, thoughtfully. “I went pretty red when she was hugging me earlier, but I don’t think she noticed.” This was something of an understatement. At the time, the portion of her mind had not been full of self-deprecation and sadness had been concentrating as hard as it could on keeping her wings well and truly in their proper place by her sides.

“Are you going to tell her?” Fluttershy pressed.

“Maybe. At some point. I hope so.”

“You don’t sound too sure.”

Dash sighed. “I’m not! She’s probably not even like that, and how awkward would things be then? It was different at school, it never got awkward, ‘cos if they turned you down you hardly ever had to talk to them again, ya know? But she’s one of my best friends. I don’t wanna mess that up. What if she freaked at me?”

“I’m sure she wouldn’t,” remarked Fluttershy, “something like this has got to be up to you, though.”

“Yeah,” Dash rested her head on her forelegs, “anyway, I wanna get my head straight before I go doin’ anything like that.”

And we were going so well, thought Fluttershy in mild frustration. Dash evidently did not wish to dig herself back down into depression however, because she stood up, stretching her legs after lying down for so long.

“Thanks for listening, ‘Shy.” Dash smiled warmly at her. “I still dunno exactly how I’m gonna try and make changes, but you’ve really cheered me up. I feel properly happy now.”

“Anytime, Rainbow.” Her eyes held only kindness, and Dash knew that she truly meant it. It made her unspeakably glad to know that she had a friend like Fluttershy, but still a little bite of sadness gnawed at the pit of her stomach. What did I ever do to deserve somepony like her as a friend? What did I ever do to deserve Twilight in my life? She broke the train of thought forcefully off, and deliberately pulled herself back before she could space out again, concentrating on Fluttershy.

“I’d better head home, it’s getting pretty late an’ I’m sure you’ve got plenty of stuff to do.”

“Oh, only if you’re sure you’re okay.” Fluttershy stood, walking over to give Dash a hug. “If you need to talk, I’m here.” She grinned, a little mischievously, “Oh, and let me know if anything happens with Twilight!”

“I’ll keep you posted.” Dash chuckled slightly, trotting over to the front door. “See you soon, ‘Shy. It was good to catch up.”

“It was, it’s really been too long.” Fluttershy opened the door for her, and Dash stepped outside.

“Thanks again, ‘Shy.” Dash said, quietly, almost humbly. Then, her voice rose in volume as she trotted outside, about to take flight. “See ya later!”

“Rainbow?” Fluttershy called her back at the last moment, and Dash turned, looking back at her friend standing in the doorway.

“Yeah?”

“Try not to hurt yourself anymore.” Fluttershy’s smile was kind, eyes full of peace and understanding. For a moment, it seemed that her usual nervousness was gone. “I remember when we first met. You never bragged about anything, you just went out there and did amazing things. You didn’t chase your horizons to beat anypony else to them, you chased your horizons because they were there. That’s who you really are. You can be that pony again.”

Dash smiled back at her friend, suddenly grasping the truth behind her words. Almost immediately, she felt a little warmer inside, as if some of the icy self-contempt in the pit of her stomach had melted. She was not who she wanted to be yet, but she had finally accepted that she could be if she tried. She had hope again. “I’m going to do this, Fluttershy. I’m going to be better than this, I really am,” she called, taking to the air, and hovering a couple of feet from the ground.

“Well then,” replied Fluttershy, a twinkle in her eye, “go and do it. But not to prove anypony else wrong, this time. Do it to prove yourself right.” With a wave to her friend, she gently closed the door. Feeling a little of her pain begin to thaw, Dash set off for her home. She had begun to understand some of the reasons behind her boastfulness, and felt as if change was a little more attainable. She would have a lot to tell Twilight the next day.

All I Never Told You

A Bluebird’s Song

~~~
Take me by the hand
You’ll either kill me or you’ll save me
Take me to the island
Show me what might be real life
~~~

All I Never Told You

The next morning was grim and overcast, the rain thrumming and stuttering as it hurled itself intermittently against the library’s windowpane. The occasional bolt of lightning split the sky outside, but it was not sufficient to wake the unicorn sleeping contentedly in her bed, exhausted from the previous night’s study. Two piles of books had been constructed beside the bed, the smaller consisting of psychology textbooks, the larger bearing titles relating to pegasine physiology and flight. Atop the desk on the other side of the room lay pages of hoof-drawn diagrams and calculations that Twilight had meticulously worked through the previous night. Tacked to the wall above the desk were two more diagrams, one of a Pegasus’ wing-bone, the other of a bird’s, each heavily coated in hastily-inked annotations.

With a rattle, the door swung open, and Spike entered. He halted for a moment, slightly wrong-footed by the room’s sudden and radical redesign, taking in the sheets of parchment pinned to most available surfaces, and what appeared to be the majority of the Pegasus Physiology section built into a pillar by the bed. After a second, he shrugged, having been granted quite well-fortified walls of cynicism by years spent living with Twilight’s eccentricities. He pottered across the room, and prodded the sleeping unicorn gently in the shoulder. “Twilight?” he whispered, not wanting to startle her. She mumbled something incoherent, but did not stir. “Twilight? It’s almost ten,” he said, a little louder, shaking her shoulder slightly.

Twilight stirred, blearily half-opening one eye. “Rainbow?” she murmured, still mostly asleep.

Spike was a little nonplussed, but after a second came to an interpretation of what she had said. “Don’t worry,” he said, a little proudly, “I sent off to Cloudsdale for some more crude Rainbow myself yesterday. Should be here in a few days.”

By this time Twilight was considerably more awake, and realized what she had said while still half-asleep. She blushed slightly, her dreams having contained a rather different, but no less volatile, Rainbow to the one Spike thought that she talking about. She could recognize a lucky escape when she saw one, and decided to leave the subject there. “Thanks, Spike.” She smiled blearily at him. “Sorry about the mess in here.”

Spike looked around at the state of the room, one eyebrow raised. “Isn’t the basement enough?” he asked, wryly. “I’m sure there’s a rule somewhere that says ‘only one mad scientist room per house’.”

“Probably.” Twilight was not much of a morning pony, and was heavy-eyed as she dragged herself out of bed. “Look out coffee, here I come,” she muttered.

“What’s all this stuff about, anyway?” Spike gestured around at the somewhat repapered room.

“Pet project of mine,” Twilight grinned, running an eye over her calculations from the previous night. “Been working on it for a while now. I couldn’t sleep too well and I’d finished all of the other stuff I was reading up on,” she glanced at the small pile of psychology books with a satisfied glint in her eye, she should have plenty of information to give Dash when she came over today. “So, I decided to try and finish up this other project.”

“I’m guessing it’s something to do with pegasi?” Spike tapped an anatomical wing diagram that had fallen from the desk, and was lying on the floor by his foot.

Twilight nodded. “Yes, everything.” She cleared her throat a little, and Spike rolled his eyes a little, regretting his curiosity as he recognized Twilight’s Lecture Face. “I’ve double checked the calculations, and I’m sure I’m correct. I need to do some tests on a live subject, but I’d bet my last bit that I’m right. You see, I first became interested in Pegasus flight at the young flyer’s contest. I noticed there that a lot of Pegasus flying styles didn’t conform to the usual flight techniques exhibited by most avian creatures. In fact, many maneuvers resulted in effects contrary to-”

She broke off with an exasperated sigh. Spike’s eyes had glazed over, and he was clearly not taking a word in. Twilight shook her head, half-amused by Spike’s lack of attention span. In his boredom, he had picked up the diagram, and was glancing with mild interest down the list of attributes associated with the Pegasus wing. “Do their wings really have hollow bones?” He asked, in a barely-veiled attempt at heading her off. Twilight nodded, and was about to elaborate when Spike caught onto another item further down the list. “What’s an erogenous zone?” he asked, with genuine interest.

“I- Uhh- Let’s get some breakfast!” Twilight exclaimed loudly, yanking the parchment magically out of Spike’s claws and rolling it up. There were some questions that you just don’t want to have to answer so soon after getting up.

The members of the weather team were not entirely happy with Rainbow Dash for vanishing from active duty the previous day, especially so close to a storm. In all honesty, she had not thought about her weather commitments ever since reading the article and suffering from her unwanted epiphany. She was only reminded when she met several members of her team heading towards her house in varying degrees of irritable sogginess, just as she was leaving for Twilight’s library. The news of her accident outside the farm the previous day had filtered back to the weather team, but they had heard the news of Dash crashing into solid objects once too many times in the past. As such, there was little sympathy to be had from any of them, with the exception of Ditzy Doo, who had smiled, and silently handed her a damp get-well card with the enigmatic message: ‘Elephants are not afraid of strawberries” scrawled within in what appeared to be wax crayon. Dash had appreciated the gesture nonetheless.

A few minutes after this uncomfortable meeting, Dash could be found flying above the cloud layer to avoid the rain, heading towards the library. She had explained to the weather team that she was having ‘personal problems’, and guiltily requested a few days of leave. They had reluctantly agreed, although Dash could have sworn that she heard a few unsavoury remarks thrown her way as soon as she was facing the other way. She felt that she deserved them, if she was honest, although she was trying hard not to be too negative about herself. It’s gonna get worse before it can get better, you saw that yesterday, she told herself sternly. The pit of her stomach was fluttering a little as she approached the treehouse. The sensation was reminiscent of how she had felt before the Young Flyer’s Competition the previous year, only much less intense. It took her a second to realize that she was actually feeling nervous. Come on! She shook herself, mentally. Why’ve you got the jitters now? It’s only Twilight, you’ve liked her for ages, it’s not like today’s any different.

But it was different, no matter how much she told herself otherwise. Yesterday, as she explained how she felt to Fluttershy, it was as if her feelings had crystallized into a form that she could examine. Previously, at Flight School and in her life generally, her attraction towards the other mares had never been more than a crush. If they did not return her feelings, it had never really mattered, she could move on with perfect ease. With Twilight, however, it was important to her. She had only now realized just how important it was. Maybe it was because they had been friends for a long time, or perhaps it was because she knew how awkward things would be if it didn’t work out. Whatever the reason, it was causing her heart-rate to rise as she headed towards the library. She had always been able to act calm and collected around the subjects of her crushes, but now it felt as if something important were at stake. She could not help but see the irony of the situation. There you go, Dash, she thought, yesterday, you didn’t know if you wanted to be cool anymore. Well, you’re not so cool now, are you?

She could see through a gap in the clouds, and spotted the spire of the library approaching fast on the right. Banking, she flipped over and smoothly arced down into a dive. As she reached the cloud layer, she pulled herself to a halt, touching down on the rain-cloud directly above the library with a muffled squish. Bracing herself, she hoofed the cloud hard with her back legs, and it dissolved into a shining cloud of mist, wispy strands of cloud fraying off the edges and floating away as it evaporated. Looking down with a satisfied grin, Dash saw that her landing zone was now rain-free. Dropping out of her hover, she plummeted down a few hundred feet, only flaring her wings at the last second to come to a mid-air halt outside the library window. She was just about to knock, when an internal voice stopped her, remembering something that Twilight had said yesterday. Oh yeah. Use doors. Right.

Alighting on the waterlogged ground, she trotted squelchily over to Twilight’s front door. Before she had the chance to knock, however, she found herself overtaken by sudden, irrational nervousness. I’m not too early, am I? Wings behaving? Do I look okay? I’m not too muddy, am I? ...Dear Celestia, I sound like Rarity… She shook her head, stamping her hoof in frustration. She might be trying to make changes, but she had no intention of becoming a soppy, bothered-about-personal-appearances sort of pony. Come on, Dash! Pony up! It’s not like you’ve got to tell her any time soon! Determinedly, she raised a hoof and knocked three times at the door.

Twilight was halfway through a hay-and-daisy roll when the door knocked. She put down the plate in a hurry, swallowing a little too fast and coughing a few times to dislodge a mutinous daisy. Attempting to regain her composure, she trotted over and opened the door. She could not help but break into a genuine smile at the sight of the Pegasus standing there. “Hey Dash!” She greeted her friend enthusiastically, then hoped that she had not been too enthusiastic. If Dash had fallen into another bout of depression since yesterday it could seem insensitive to be so cheerful. She was relieved when Dash grinned back.

“Hi, Twi, sorry about the mud.”

“No problem, come in!”

Dash trotted inside, wiping her hooves on the doormat. Twilight chuckled. “I’m honoured,” she remarked, “normally you just track mud everywhere!”

“Yeah, well, workin’ on being more considerate,” replied Dash, shrugging.

“So…” Twilight’s brain worked feverishly trying to work out something to say next. She had very little idea of how to act around somepony for whom she was concealing feelings. She had always been very open in the past with her opinions of other ponies, but she knew that her feelings for Dash would have to wait for their airing until a later date, if at all. “Do you want anything to drink?” she asked, finally hitting on a way to break the stretching silence.

“Sure, whatever ya got, I’m parched.”

Dash waited in the main library while Twilight trotted into the kitchen. “Okay,” her voice floated through the open door to Dash, “we’ve got tea, coffee, apple juice, that’s about it, really.”

Dash yawned a little. “I could do with a coffee,” she replied, gratefully.

A few moments later, Twilight trotted back out of the kitchen, the sound of a kettle beginning behind her. “We’ve got a lot to talk about,” Twilight said, smiling at Dash.

“Yeah, we do…” Dash’s voice petered out towards the end of the sentence, and she realized that she was staring at Twilight’s eyes, lost in her smile. The unicorn’s expression changed from a cheerful grin to a look of concern.

“Are you okay, Dash?”

“Huh?” Dash blinked. “Oh, yeah, I’m fine. Didn’t get much sleep.” Nice save, she thought to herself, relieved. Then, it struck her what she had done. Hang on a second, since when did I get this gooey over her? Why the hay did I have to get it so bad for her now? We’ve got stuff to do, I can’t be distracted!

Twilight broke into her internal self-disciplining. “How’re you feeling this morning? Have you worked out what’s behind all this?”

Dash sighed, brought forcibly back to reality by the question. “It’s still a mess,” she replied, not meeting Twilight’s eyes, “but I went around to Fluttershy’s for a bit, yesterday. I told her all about this stuff, and she got all… perceptive on me.”

“Perceptive?” Twilight raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah, I guess.” Dash shrugged. “I’ve known her since we were both foals, I guess she knows me.” She looked at the floor, voice dropping. “…She knew my dad too. I reckon that helped.”

She looked back up into Twilight’s eyes. “I don’t want you to talk about anything you’re not comfortable with,” Twilight said, gently.

“No, no.” Dash shook her head. “What 'Shy said doesn't really matter right now. Ya need to know about my Dad.” She took a deep breath, never having told anypony other than Fluttershy about her history with her father. As she looked at the unicorn, however, she knew that there was nothing that she could not tell Twilight, and that there was nothing she could say that Twilight would not listen to with kindness and understanding. Her nerves and awkwardness melted away, and for the first time in as long as she could remember, she did not feel the need to impress. She knew that she could be herself, and Twilight would accept that. Maybe it was the first step to recovery, but right now that did not matter to her. Dear Celestia, she thought, eyes widening in surprise, I think I’ve fallen in love with her.

Her courage bolstered by this knowledge, she began to speak.

For quite some time, Twilight said nothing. She listened to Dash’s story, sympathetic tears forming in her eyes at how unfair her friend’s early life had been. Dash told her about how her mother had left when she was a filly, as a result of her father’s bullying behavior and drinking. How her father had been left with nopony but Dash as the target of his temper and casual violence. How the other foals at Flight School had tormented her mercilessly. As she talked, Dash kept going with a rugged determination, never letting a single tear fall throughout her explanation. Twilight saw that Dash was avoiding her eyes as she spoke, but understood her reasons, understood how hard this was for her.

The previous night, Twilight had read chapter after chapter cherrypicked from her psychology books, and all of the evidence seemed to point to Dash suffering from Impostor Syndrome. Now, she could see the cause. Her friend, throughout her early life, had seen her achievements rubbished and denied so regularly that she had almost started to believe her detractors. To avoid this, she had forcibly convinced herself that she was superior to all of them, that she was in the right. She had begun boasting and showing off her skills at every opportunity, to try and prove them all wrong. She had set herself impossible standards, and that what had brought her down. She had not been crushed by the bullying as many other, weaker ponies would have been. Instead, she had grown to expect too much of herself. Yesterday, she had seen that no matter how hard she tried, however high she rose, she could never live up to what she expected of herself. That realization had convinced her that she was a fraud, a failure. It had convinced her that she did not deserve her achievements, and was not good enough for her friendships. The only thing that she could see were the negative sides of her personality, the ones that she had hidden away from her own sight for as long as she could remember. She felt as if she were an imposter in her own life.

“…So, in the end, Fluttershy dropped out of Flight School. I came with her, I couldn’t live with it anymore. For three, four years I couldn’t even look at Cloudsdale anymore, so we came over this way. ‘Shy had her eye on Ponyville ‘cause of the wildlife, she’d wanted to set up a place here for years. Living space costs so much in Cloudsdale, but out here you can get it for practically nothin’. ‘Shy got that old cottage for free, they just gave it to her so it wouldn’t sit there rottin’ for years, all she had to do was spend a few bits fixing the place up properly. I basically built my place myself, and bunked with ‘Shy while I was waiting for the clouds to get settled.” Dash let out a sigh, looking at the floor, her voice suddenly tiny. “I only saw my dad a couple more times, he was in and out of the cells all the time after I went. Usual stuff for ponies like him. Drunken brawling, petty theft, that kind of thing. He’s probably inside now.” For the first time since she had begun speaking, her voice shook and a tear appeared in the corner of her eye. “I don’t even know if he’s still alive. I wouldn’t be surprised if he wasn’t, the way he was screwing himself up with Old Thunderhead.” She wiped the moisture from her eyes forcefully, almost angrily. “That’s pretty much it. The rest’s history.”

For a few long moments, Twilight could only stare at Dash. Conflicting emotions flitted through her brain, each battling to be acknowledged and acted upon. She felt enormous respect for Dash’s courage in telling her this, and sympathy for her thoroughly unpleasant past. However, the predominant emotion was anger. Anger at Dash’s father, at the bullies, at everypony who had done this to her friend. Twilight was not a violent pony, but now she wanted nothing more than to hunt down those responsible and make them go through what they had made her friend go through. Not because of the bullying, or even the violence. Not because they had hated Dash. Because they had made Dash hate herself.

Twilight opened her mouth, with no idea what to say. The weight of the past that Dash had just confided in her was staggering, and she felt immensely touched that the Pegasus trusted her enough to tell her this. “I… I never had any idea.” Of course you didn’t! What an idiotic thing to say! she thought, irritated with herself. “Thank you for telling me, Dash,” she said, voice low, “it’s an honour that you’d trust me with something like this.”

“Of course I do, Twi’,” Dash looked her in the eye again, for the first time since she had begun her story. “I’d trust you with anything.”

Twilight noticed that the Pegasus was flushed in the face as she said that, but was too preoccupied to pay it any mind.

“Does… Does anypony else know?”

“Nah, not except ‘Shy, and she lived through it with me. She's like a sister to me. She basically saved my life back then. I dunno what I’d have done without her. It wasn't a fun few years.”

Twilight's heart broke at the brave understatement. “Oh Dash, I’m so sorry.” Acting almost entirely on instinct, Twilight ran across the room and wrapped Dash in a tight hug. “You didn’t deserve any of it,” she whispered in her friend’s ear. “Not one minute. You’re the best friend that a pony could ask for, how dare they do this to you?”

Dash’s face was scarlet, but her eyes were closed in contentment as she hugged the unicorn back. “Not as good a friend as I could’ve been,” she replied. “So, now you know why I’m like I am. All I need to do is do something about it.”

Twilight sighed. “I think that this is all the change you need. You’ve looked your past in the eye, that’s the first step to acceptance. The rest should happen on its own.”

The Pegasus still seemed depressed. “I just wanna be who I should be. I want to deserve you guys as friends, that’s why I want to change.”

Twilight felt a surge of something between frustration and fiery courage. Now that she truly knew Dash, could see beyond her exterior to the damage that she kept locked up inside, she finally appreciated how she felt for the Pegasus. Looking at her was like staring into the sun, it was beautiful and painful.

She pulled back a little so that she could look Dash straight in the eye. They were both blushing violently now, but Twilight was beyond caring. She could see how much persuasion Dash would need to convince her that she deserved her friends. She needed to persuade her. It was time for desperate measures. “What if I don’t want you to change?” she said, fiercely.

Dash’s eyes widened. “Huh?”

“What if I wouldn’t want you to be any different?” Twilight took a deep breath, steeling herself. “What if I said I couldn’t live without you, just as you are?”

Dash’s eyes went still wider, as a million thoughts cascaded through her head. “Twilight, are you saying…?”

Twilight’s eyelids drooped a little. No turning back now, she thought. Her heart was hammering, roaring in her ears. To her, the library was gone. The world had faded away. She felt wonderful and terrible at the same time, pride and guilt and sheer nervousness crashing down in waves and overtaking her. Suddenly, she did not care about consequences. All she wanted, more than anything, was to make Dash’s life a little brighter.

“Yes,” she whispered. “Yes, I am.”

With that, before her friend could react, she pressed her lips tightly against Rainbow Dash’s.

There's Nothing Stranger

A Bluebird’s Song

~~~
I woke up to feel no pain
Day from night
Anti-gravity and light
It’s so clear, just what I’m doing here
~~~

There’s Nothing Stranger

For so much of her life, Rainbow Dash had hidden behind a mask. However, as she stood, dumbfounded on the rough wooden floor while Twilight kissed her, she felt it slip away, felt it shatter into a thousand pieces, and was glad to let it go. She knew that she would never need to hide herself again. Dash could not feel her heart hammering, or her eyes drifting gently closed. She was numb to any part of the world beyond the unicorn in her forelegs. As the initial shock faded, she began to run her hooves softly through Twilight's mane, and pulled her closer, kissing her back for all she was worth.

Twilight relaxed under Dash's hooves, the tension and nerves leaving her. For her, the first few seconds had been full of fear, she had been waiting for Dash to push her away, been waiting to see the rejection in her friend's eyes. Somehow though, miraculously, it had not come. She felt her friend's lips begin moving against hers of their own volition, the sensation sending lightning bolts tingling down her spine. The pegasus was gripping her closer, pressing their bodies together, her wings spreading, then sweeping out to encircle Twilight's back.

She could feel Dash's leftover tears wet against her own cheek, and broke away from the pegasus' lips momentarily, moving hesitantly now, and began shyly kissing away the moisture under Dash's eyes, nuzzling the fur until her lover's face was dry. She felt a sudden, burning need to justify herself, to let Dash know that she was not trying to take advantage of her while she was in such a weakened state.

"Rainbow..." Twilight whispered, and Dash's half-opened her eyes. The unicorn's breath caught in her throat at the sight of them up so close, with the years-old shutters that had hidden Dash's real self cracking and falling away, no longer needed. Twilight half-expected to see hurt, or reproach, or confusion in Dash’s face, but all that she could see was clear, honest understanding. No more words were necessary, for Twilight felt that there was nothing that she could say to improve on the cadence dancing in the pegasus's eyes. There was so much life in those eyes.

"I know..." replied Dash, gently, “I… I know.” She tightened her grip, and drew Twilight back into another kiss.

When they split apart about a minute later, both flushed and panting a little, Twilight broke Dash’s gaze and looked down at the floor, suddenly bashful. “I- I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I don’t know what came over me. When you told me about everything you’ve been through… I couldn’t stand to see you tearing yourself apart like that.”

Dash was still looking at her; her gaze had never wavered. When Twilight met her eyes again, they were deep and serious, almost wise. “Did you mean it?” Dash asked, simply.

Twilight closed her eyes for a moment. She had to be sure about this. Sure that her feelings for the pegasus went beyond simple compassion. If she had the slightest doubt, she had to tell Dash now, rather than risk stringing her along and creating even more painful memories for her. Remembering the kiss, she thought that she knew the answer, and when she looked up, gazing back into Dash’s magenta eyes, she was sure of it.

“I’ve never meant anything more,” she replied in a quiet voice, smiling shyly.

In truth, she had no idea where the kiss had come from. Her attraction to the mare had formed scarcely half a day ago, and in that time she had been so caught up with unpicking Dash's mind that she had spared no thought to unraveling her own. Maybe these nascent feelings were stronger than she realized, or maybe her intention in the kiss had been more an act of reassurance than of romance. Either way, she knew that she had a long history of making insane, compulsive decisions, and they almost always ended in some form of disaster. It seemed today, however, as if a moment of insanity had led her straight and true, into the waiting arms of a better future.

Dash opened her mouth as if to say something, then closed it again, unable to put adequately into words what Twilight's response meant to her. She seemed more at peace than Twilight had ever seen her.

“You… didn’t mind?” Twilight asked.

Dash grinned. “Mind?” She chuckled a little incredulously. “Okay, time to confess.” She closed her eyes, contentedly. “I’ve… I’ve been dreaming about that for months now.”

Twilight blushed a little, both surprised and delighted. “Really? Oh… I never realized. You must’ve hidden it well.”

“Yeah, well. I never thought I was in with a chance.” Dash sighed, “I never even realized ya liked mares.”

This was a reasonable point, and as Twilight thought back over her life, she realized that she had never actively categorized herself as liking any particular group, never having considered it important. If Dash had been a stallion, with the same personality, the same history, those same eyes, would she still feel the same way? She had to admit, it was likely.

“I don’t like mares,” she replied at length. “I like you.”

Dash laughed, flattered. “Well, that’s good, ‘cause I like you too.” She left Twilight’s side for a moment, wandering over and lying down on the rug. After a second’s hesitation, Twilight followed, lying down beside her. “I feel way better than last time I was lyin’ here,” Dash joked.

Twilight’s brow furrowed in concern, remembering Dash’s recent psychological problems. “How are you feeling about… all of that now?”

“I’m not even thinking about it, if ya want the truth,” Dash replied. “It still hurts when I do, but I’ve got one hay of a good reason to be happy today. I reckon I know now, I know what I’m gonna do about it. But it can wait till later.”

Twilight, despite her curiosity, knew not to press her for further details of this plan. They were both still on a high, and she did not want to bring them down. “So,” she smiled a little suggestively at the pegasus lying next to her, amazed at how much her own courage had increased since this morning. “Where does this leave us?”

Dash appeared to think for a moment. “I dunno,” she replied with a grin, her eyes bright. “Wanna find out?”

Twilight could not hold herself in check any longer. Without speaking or breaking eye contact, she pulled the pegasus into a tight embrace, wrapping both pairs of hooves around Dash, and she felt Dash respond eagerly, mirroring her actions as they lay there on the rug. Their lips met, both of them having moved forward at the same time, and to Twilight, the world seemed to melt into a blur for a second. Time meant nothing. Somehow Twilight found herself lying on top of Dash, able to feel both of their hearts beating. She sensed that the pegasus’s mouth had opened a little, and she followed suit almost unthinkingly, the butterflies in her stomach leaping into a whirlwind as their tongues met, each struggling to enter the other’s mouth. She heard Dash give a little moan, feeling the vibration from the noise passing through into her own mouth. This was all so much more than Twilight had ever expected, and she closed her eyes in contentment. Nothing could spoil this moment.

As if borne by the unerring fist of inevitability itself, Spike chose that exact moment to emerge from a back room that he had been, until a moment ago, reorganizing. He flung open the door with a thud, striding proudly into the room, his chores for the morning completed. He halted. For a moment, he stood, stunned. He saw the two ponies on the rug. He noted that they appeared to be hugging. He also noted that Twilight appeared to be attempting to eat Rainbow Dash’s face. The penny dropped.

“Whoa!” Spike yelled, turning scarlet and throwing one scaly arm up to cover his face in embarrassment.

The kiss broke. Twilight and Dash both turned as best they could from their awkward position, and spotted Spike. “Whoa!” They both yelled in synchronicity, frantically attempting to untangle themselves. After a few moments, they succeeded in separating, and scrambled to their feet, manes somewhat bedraggled and faces bright red. Twilight realized, to her eternal shame, in the heat of the moment she had completely forgotten that Spike was even in the library.

“Spike!” Twilight exclaimed, “I can- it’s- this is-”

“Exactly what it looks like?” Spike deadpanned, recovering with surprising rapidity from the initial shock.

“…Yeah, pretty much,” Dash replied, sounding a little embarrassed but still grinning elatedly, attempting with little success to force her wings back to her sides, using her hooves.

“I’m really sorry, Spike!” Twilight was still mortified. “I completely forgot you were here, I didn’t want you to have to see…”

Spike could not hold it in any longer. He snorted, then burst out into raucous laughter, toppling over onto his back and rolling on the floor. Twilight raised one eyebrow as she watched, caught somewhere between irritation, and relief. Having to explain to the Princess that she had managed to traumatize a baby dragon was not an enjoyable prospect, and one that Twilight was glad that she seemed to have avoided.

“Your faces!” Spike choked out, scarcely able to speak. Glancing behind her, Twilight saw that Dash was smirking guiltily, and she could not help but crack a small smile herself.

As soon as he could speak properly again, Spike sat up, wiping tears of mirth from his eyes. “So…” He pointed a claw from Twilight and Dash. “Are you two…?”

Twilight and Dash glanced at one another, a little awkwardly. They had not got around to talking about their situation yet, it had all moved so quickly, and neither of them wanted to seem presumptuous by answering first. There was silence for a few seconds, each waiting for the other to speak. Oh, what the hay! Twilight thought, suddenly emboldened. She smiled at Dash. “I think we might be,” she said. “If Rainbow wants to, of course.”

Dash walked up beside her and nuzzled her cheek. “Oh, I definitely want to,” she replied with a grin. Twilight grinned back, a little lost in the moment.

Spike gagged slightly at the display of affection. “You know what?” he muttered. “Next time, I’m just turning right round and closing the door behind me!”

“Ya know, Spike,” Dash remarked, “you don’t seem too surprised by all this.”

Spike shrugged. “What can I say? Something like this was gonna happen someday.”

“So ya don’t have a problem with Twilight bein’ with… uh, me?” Dash seemed genuinely concerned. She knew that Twilight was like a sister to Spike, and clearly did not want to do anything to make things awkward between them.

“You mean a mare?” Spike chuckled, knowingly. “Doesn’t surprise me.” He shot Twilight a smirk. “Especially after I found those… uh… drawings of the Princess you did back when we lived in Canter-” There was a fizz of magic, and a zipper appeared from nowhere across Spike’s mouth, and promptly zipped itself, cutting off the rest of his sentence before he could further butcher Twilight’s reputation.

“You told me you threw all my old sketchbooks away!” Twilight exclaimed, cheeks burning. Spike probably tried to explain himself, but very little sound emerged. Twilight turned to look at Dash, who raised one eyebrow and grinned cheekily at her.

“Well now, Twilight dear, whatever have you been getting up to?” Her impression of Rarity was a dreadful one, and she kept snorting with laughter as she delivered it. Twilight growled a little. She felt as if her head were about to catch fire.

“One more word…” She threw Spike a warning glare, and he rolled his eyes as if to say; okay, fine then! Twilight’s horn glowed, and the zipper vanished.

Still snickering, Spike headed for the door. “Anyway, I’ll see you two lovebirds later,” he said with a wave back to them. “I promised Rarity I’d help her dig some jewels out today.”

Twilight smiled, a little relieved that she and Dash would have some time to talk alone. “You just keep your eyes on the right gems, okay?” she called after him, and this time it was Spike’s turn to flush.

“Aaand, chalk one up for Twilight!” Dash smirked.

“Very funny…” Spike rolled his eyes, and left, closing the door with a snap.

Twilight let out a relieved breath, looking back at Dash, who was smiling affectionately at her. “So,” Dash said, “you’d really like for us to be together? I know Spike kinda put ya on a spot back there.”

Twilight nodded, moving closer and putting her hoof on Dash’s shoulder. She was a little hurt that Dash had thought she might not have been truthful, but she supposed that the other mare had been let down enough times in her life, and naturally shielded herself against further disappointment. It was a fear that Twilight intended to do her best to allay. “I’d love to,” she replied, and pecked Dash on the lips, feeling a little sting of heat in her own cheeks.

Dash chuckled, looking a little punch-drunk. “Twilight Sparkle, my marefriend.” She sighed a little. She was still smiling, but her eyes were saddened suddenly by the memory of loneliness. “Never thought I’d get to say that outside of a dream.”

Twilight could still see the pain of Dash’s past hiding in her eyes. Perhaps it would always be there, maybe even between them there was nothing they could do to entirely wipe it out. However, she promised herself that Dash would never have to hide her thoughts away again. She wanted her to know that she could trust her friends with her feelings. Not just Twilight, but all of them. That she could freely express what she felt without fear of mockery or violence, without the constant need to shine, to boast, to be cool.

“You know what?” Dash asked, a look of excited determination on her face.

“What?”

“I’ve decided what I’m gonna do.”

Twilight was intrigued, if not a little taken aback by this sudden turn in the conversation. It seemed that Dash had been thinking about exactly the same things that she had. “What are you going to do?”

Dash leaned against the wall, looking pensive. “Back in the old days, I’d just go out and do stuff. I never tried to prove anypony wrong, I’d just go out and be the best because that was what I did. I’m gonna do that again.”

“How?”

Dash flared her wings, hovering a little way above the floor in excitement. “I’m gonna go get my speed record back!”

Twilight could not help but break into a smile at this. Not only was the pegasus’s excitement contagious, it was just such a blatantly Rainbow-Dash-ish thing to declare, fired by great enthusiasm and very little forethought.

“You want to beat Lightning Flare, then?”

Dash dropped to the floor, suddenly looking serious, a strange counterpart to her earlier effervescence. “No.” She shook her head emphatically. “I don’t care about him.” Her face was open and honest. It was quite obvious that she was telling the truth. “He doesn’t matter to me. Maybe a week ago he would have, but things are different now. This isn’t about him. This is about me.” She sighed, looking at the floor. “More or less all the stuff I’ve done in my life, I’ve done ‘cos I was trying to beat somepony else. Yesterday, I saw what that’s made me turn into.”

Twilight opened her mouth to protest, fearing that Dash was sinking back towards depression again, but the pegasus held up a hoof to silence her.

“It made me think I didn’t deserve you guys, but you made me think different. It doesn’t matter what I’ve done, it doesn’t matter what’s happened to me. All that matters is what I do about it. Like ya said, I’ve looked my past in the eye. I’ve accepted it. Sure, I could go out for revenge, I could go and teach Lightning Storm a lesson, I could find all those ponies who screwed my childhood up and rub my success in their faces, but you know what? I don’t want to. I’m starting over. I’m going back to how I was, and that’s not the way I wanna start out. I wanna start out by going and chasing my horizon, just ‘cause it’s there to be chased. That’s how I used to be, and that’s how I should be.”

Dash smiled warmly at her, a quiet, understated confidence burning in her eyes that Twilight had only ever caught glimpses of in the past. Twilight realized that her mouth was hanging open a little, and she closed it again. It was hard to believe how much Dash had changed in the last two days, and she could barely understand how she had ever regarded the mare in front of her as being childish, as she had done so many times in the past. She tried to think of something to say, but her tongue felt tied. She felt an intense respect for the pegasus, and something deeper, waiting to be acknowledged, something that burned slower and hotter and with much more intensity. Her tongue seemed to untie itself. There was only really one thing to be said, if she was honest with herself. She met Dash’s gaze, unblushingly.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.” Dash spoke quietly, making no fanfare of the fact, speaking as if it were a foregone conclusion, the sincerity and truth of her words dancing in her eyes. They both knew how soon this was, how fast they had moved, and in Twilight’s case, how recently these feelings had manifested themselves. Right then, however, none of it seemed to matter. Twilight found herself unable to look away as Dash walked slowly over, and kissed her. This time, it was not a hungry, fiery, passionate affair like last time, it was gentle and tender, both of them taking their time. They kissed as if they had all the time in the world. In that moment, it felt as if they did.

As they finally broke apart, Twilight’s heart was turning somersaults in her chest. She hoped that she would never get used to the sensation. Dash looked equally euphoric. Looking down, they realized that, through sheer lack of situational awareness, they had moved across the floor and were standing on some of Twilight’s pegasus flight notes from the previous night.

“Oops,” Dash chuckled, and they hurriedly stepped away, with a scrunch of parchment.

Treading on my notes? I must have been distracted, Twilight thought, absently.

“So,” said Dash, looking down at the crumpled sheets of parchment with an inquisitive grin. “What’s this experiment all about, then?”

Pulling The Puzzles Apart

A Bluebird’s Song

~~~
Strangers don’t hide
The morning hunts you down
And there’s nothing stranger
Than to love someone
~~~

Pulling The Puzzles Apart

The daylight had finally worked its way through the dissipating storm clouds, and the early afternoon sun beat down upon the town, drying it off a little after the waterlogged morning. Deciding to escape from the cluttered, stuffy library, Twilight and Rainbow Dash could be found trotting through the quiet cobbled streets in search of somewhere to get lunch.

Despite the sun, the weather was still chilly, and the wind gusted unpleasantly from time to time. Shortly after leaving the library, Dash noticed that Twilight was shivering a little, so she extended a wing and draped it a little nervously over Twilight’s back. The unicorn smiled, relishing both the sudden warmth and the gesture of affection, and she leaned in closer to Dash as they walked side-by-side. Dash felt her sudden nerves evaporate, and grinned back.

She suddenly felt a sense of elation, almost of unreality, not quite able to believe that the unicorn whose image had disturbed her sleep for so long was walking beside her, wrapped up in her wing. Her marefriend. At that moment, neither of them cared that they were airing their affection so overtly in public. Right then, it hardly seemed to matter what anypony thought of them. Besides, the streets were practically deserted in the aftermath of the storm.

“So,” Twilight began, “this experiment.”

Dash was jerked out of her reverie. “Huh? Oh, yeah.” She winked cheekily at Twilight. “Just go easy on the science, eh? We don’t all have brains like you.”

Twilight giggled, and nuzzled Dash’s cheek. “I’ll do my best.” She cleared her throat. “I’ve been studying pegasus wings recently,” she began. “I’ve looked at their lifting ability, I’ve looked at how fast they can flap, how much force the wing muscles can create, all that stuff. I’ve done all the calculations.” Twilight paused for a second, looking a little nervously at Dash. “You might not like the conclusions I’ve drawn.”

The pegasus did not seem particularly worried. “Go on, then,” she smirked, “aren’t we using our wings well enough?”

Twilight sighed. “Actually, no. You’re using them far too well, as a matter of fact.” She took a deep breath. “You see, pegasi shouldn’t be able to fly.”

For a moment, there was silence. Dash stopped walking, and Twilight followed suit. Then Dash started laughing.

Well, that’s just brilliant, Twilight thought, and rolled her eyes as the pegasus struggled to stay upright, laughing uproariously. She could feel the wing draped across her back shaking. The few ponies who happened to be walking by turned their heads, trying to see where the noise was coming from.

“Th-that’s a good one, Twi!” Dash choked out in-between snorts, patting her on the back. “Pegasi shouldn’t be able to fly? Next you’ll be saying that you shouldn’t be able to read!”

“I’m not kidding!” Twilight exclaimed, a little annoyed.

Dash finally controlled her laughter, and removed her wing from Twilight’s back. With a flourish, she flapped her wings once, and launched herself into the air in a cloud of dust, coming to a halt and hovering about two feet above Twilight’s head, lazily beginning what appeared to be a mid-air swim, grinning triumphantly. “Look, Twilight,” she called down, “flying’s what pegasi do, it’s what we’ve always done. If we’re not supposed to fly, why d’ya reckon we built Cloudsdale?”

Twilight gritted her teeth. A corona of purple magic enveloped the hovering pegasus, and deposited her swiftly back on all four hooves beside Twilight, with a small thump. “Listen!” Twilight said firmly, looking Dash in the eyes. “Look at your wings, just look at them!”

Dash obligingly stretched out a wing, and looked up and down it, glancing at the feather groups one by one, not really seeing where this was going. She was still clearly trying not to laugh.

“Now,” continued Twilight, “how fast can the average bird fly?”

“Umm,” Dash looked blank.

“About fifty miles an hour, I’d guess, tops,” Twilight said, answering her own question in her haste to get to the point. “You broke the sound barrier!” Her voice rose on the last sentence, and she stomped a hoof on the ground emphatically. “I’ve done the calculations, pegasi don’t even have low bone density, you might have hollow bones but you weigh almost the same as the rest of us,” she continued in a rush. “pegasus wings are small, they’re really, really small for your size. You shouldn’t even be able to get off the ground with them!” She prodded Dash gently in the chest with a hoof. “You went at nine hundred miles an hour on wings that shouldn’t even work. Doesn’t that bother you?”

Dash blinked, momentarily silent. She stretched out her wing and looked suspiciously at it, as if expecting it to drop off. She had to admit, Twilight was right. It had never actually occurred to her before, but when she looked at her wings properly, it was obvious how ineffective they should be. “…Fair point.”

Twilight let out a sigh of relief. “I thought you’d need more convincing.”

Dash smiled distractedly, still a little put off by the revelation. “Hey, why’d you make it up?” She shrugged, then nudged Twilight. “Besides, no offence, but I don’t see you as being much of a prankster, so you’re probably not tryin’ to trick me!”

She fell to looking worriedly at her wings again, frowning at them intensely. She was not particularly worried; it did not matter to her how she flew, provided that she still could do so. She was intrigued, however, unable to help being caught up in the mystery. “So…” She looked back up at Twilight. “How come I can fly? How come all pegasi can?”

“I’m not absolutely sure,” Twilight admitted, “that’s why I need your help. I’ve got a theory, though.” Her teeth were chattering a little as the wind gusted again. “Look, can we talk about this over lunch? It’s freezing out here.”

Dash nodded, hastily. She was mostly protected from the cold air by her feathers, and it was easy to forget that her companion had no such protection. “Good call.”

They began walking again. “Ya know,” Dash whispered conspiratorially to Twilight, “maybe they’re not much good for flying, but these wings sure come in useful for some things.” She draped her wing around the cold unicorn’s back again, pulling her close as they walked along.

Twilight laughed. “I can’t argue with that.” She pecked the pegasus lightly on the cheek, no longer feeling the cold underneath the well-insulated wing. As they walked together in peaceful silence, her eyes drifted closed in contentment. At that moment, there was nowhere in the world that she would rather be.

“Now wherever has that dragon got to? He’s never been late before.” Rarity was awaiting Spike’s arrival on the edge of town, with her ornate umbrella perched upon her back in case the rain decided to relapse. She glanced at the distant clock tower, seeing that Spike should have turned up almost ten minutes ago, which was most unlike him, especially when Rarity was concerned.

Suddenly, she spotted him approaching from the direction of the town, apparently deep in thought. As always, he seemed to perk up instantaneously when he saw her, and jogged over to meet her.

“Really sorry I’m late, Rarity,” he called as he approached. “I got kinda held up at the library.”

They began to walk away from town, side-by-side, and Rarity could not help but notice Spike’s distraction. Admittedly, he was usually distracted around her, but today she did not appear to be the cause. “Held up?” Rarity echoed, inquisitively. “Why, Spike, you look positively flustered.”

Oh ponyfeathers, what do I tell her? Spike panicked internally, not having any idea if Twilight and Dash wanted to tell their friends about their being together. He knew that such a revelation was up to them to make, it was not for him to gossip about.

“Uhh, yeah. It’s no big deal. It’s just been a weird day.”

Good one, Spike. Nice and vague.

“Oh?” Rarity seemed to be able to tell that he was stalling, or at least holding something back, but she did not press the matter any further for the moment. “I thought we could go looking for emeralds today,” she said brightly, changing the subject entirely.

Spike grinned in anticipation, he had not tasted emerald in quite some time, and he missed their cool, citric tang. He hoped that he could manage to sneak a few without Rarity noticing. “Awesome!” he replied, enthusiastically. Rarity giggled a little at his excitement.

“Remember, I’ll need some left to use by the end,” she warned him with a lighthearted smile, seemingly reading his mind.

Spike lost all speaking capacity for a few seconds as a result of Rarity’s smile, and nodded. Rarity was used to the little dragon’s moments of muteness when around her, and no longer considered them odd, merely endearing. They were outside the town now, in the mountainous wasteland to the east, their steps kicking up plumes of dust behind them.

They walked on in silence for a few more moments, then Rarity’s appetite for gossip successfully got the better of her. “So…” she began, trying to broach the subject as delicately as possible, knowing how cagey Spike was being about it. “When you say it’s been a weird day…”

Spike reddened, and he tried to think up some excuse that was suitably prosaic and unromantic. Unfortunately, no inspiration struck. “Uhh,” he mumbled, and paused, playing for time. “Yeah.”

Don’t be specific.

“At the library…” he mumbled, twisting his claws together nervously.

Don’t be specific! Stop blushing!

“…Twilight was acting kind of… Odd.”

They had stopped walking. Spike’s overactive imagination was flipping vividly between the kudos he would gain with Rarity for telling her the truth about this, and the slow and painful death that Twilight would doubtless enact upon him when she discovered that he had blabbed about her private affairs to the most gossip-happy pony in Ponyville. He would not have been surprised if both of his ears had been venting steam with a noise like a whistling kettle, such was his indecision.

Rarity’s interest was obviously piqued. Spike would not be so obviously flustered over something uninteresting. Whatever this was, it had to be something juicy. She fluttered her eyelids at him, not deliberately trying to charm him, but reacting as she naturally did when intrigued or excited. “Really? How so?”

Spike gritted his teeth, internally shouting at himself. Don’t say anything. Don’t say anything. Twilight’ll turn you into a carrot and feed you to Angel.

“I… I saw…”

She’ll never let you have a moustache again. She trusts you! Ignore the eyes, you can resist the eyes. Do. Not. Tell. Rarity.

“I walked in on Twilight and Rainbow Dash kissing on the rug this morning!” he blurted out in a single breath, before he could prevent himself.

You’re dead.

Rarity’s eyes lit up in sheer excitement, and she beamed at him.

Worth it.

“Oh my goodness!” Rarity exclaimed. “How absolutely fantastic, how wonderful for them! Has this happened before?”

Spike shook his head, guiltily. “Not that I know of.” The cat was out of the bag now anyway, so he supposed it could not do any harm to answer further questions.

Rarity dropped her voice, and leaned in conspiratorially. Spike could not help but sigh a little at her proximity, despite the florid and distracting mental image of Twilight angrily tearing up his lifetime’s worth of moustache privileges. “Do you mean they were kissing, or kissing-kissing?” Rarity whispered, face lit up with the joy of a gossip at work.

Spike scratched the back of his head. “There’s a difference?” He shrugged blankly. “The second one, I guess. They were sort of like…” He stuck out his tongue and made vague gurgling sounds with his head on one side, squinting like a cowboy before a gunfight.

Rarity could not help but laugh at the sight. “Hah! Spike, you’re quite the impressionist.”

Spike did not laugh. He looked at the floor, a suddenly irrepressible feeling of guilt rising inside him. He could not believe that he had betrayed Twilight’s trust like this. He hoped with all his might that his lapse of judgment would never find its way to her ears.

“Rarity,” he began, his voice quiet. She looked down at him, her laughter dying in the face of his obvious concern. “Please don’t tell anypony I told you this, Twilight’d kill me.”

Rarity rested a hoof on his shoulder, consolingly. He nearly fainted there and then, but he forced himself to stay upright and listen to what she had to say. “Don’t worry, I won’t breathe a word,” Rarity promised. “You took me into your confidence about this, I won’t betray yours. I truly appreciate that you’d trust me enough to tell me this.”

Like I had a choice, you beautiful, dangerous pony, Spike thought darkly, although he could not help but feel his heart swell proudly at Rarity’s words. He smiled. “Thanks, Rarity. I mean, I was the only one who saw them. If word got out, they’d both know it was me.”

Rarity chuckled. “And with Twilight’s transformation spells at hand, I doubt that such a thing would end well for you.”

Spike nodded, hurriedly. “Exactly. Well, it’s not really that. I don’t think she’d ever hurt me, but… I don’t wanna hurt her, she’s done so much for me. She’s practically my sister.”

They continued walking, and Rarity’s horn beginning to glow as she wove the gem-detection spell. She threw him a reassuring look. “Don’t worry, you can trust me.”

Spike hoped fervently that she was right, but he knew perfectly well that nothing was ever quite so simple.

“Alicorn? You mean like the Princess?”

Twilight and Dash had located a pleasant café named 'Trottensons', tucked away in a secluded back alley near the square. It was a cosy little red-painted place, dimly lit and windows curtained, filled with potted plants and hoof-carved wooden ornaments. The two ponies had headed straight for a table as near as possible to the open log fire. They virtually had the place to themselves.

It had taken Twilight quite some time to explain the reasoning of her theory, as their conversation kept getting diverted. They could not help but hold hooves sporadically underneath the table. Occasionally they found themselves simply lapsing into silence, losing themselves in one another’s eyes. For Twilight, it was most distracting, but no less wonderful for it. However, at length, they had arrived at the crux of the matter.

Twilight shook her head, hesitating a moment to swallow her mouthful of her perfectly-cooked tulip au gratin, before replying to Dash’s question. “Not that kind of alicorn,” she explained, “I’m talking about the material that a unicorn’s horn is made from, the material that generates magical energy.”

Dash cocked an eyebrow, halfway through a bowl of tomato and daisy soup. “So you’re telling me… what? That the bones in my wings aren’t really bones at all?”

Twilight nodded. “I’ve not got any concrete proof yet, and obviously I don’t want to start chopping up pegasi to take a look.” They both laughed, finding it comically easy to picture Twilight in such a mad-scientist-esque role. “But I have good reason to believe that pegasi are every bit as magical as unicorns. I believe that your wing-bones are in fact made from alicorn.”

Dash sat back, looking again at her wings as if seeing them in a completely new light. “So, we fly by magic?”

Twilight nodded. “Exactly. It’s much more instinctual than unicorn magic, it requires no study, it comes as naturally as walking to most pegasi. If I’m right, it’s the same magic that allows you to walk on clouds.”

Dash still looked a little skeptical. “So how come we still need to flap our wings if it’s all magic?”

“They’re actualizers,” Twilight said with a cunning grin, leaning forwards.

“Sorry?”

“It’s my belief that pegasi could once fly using your wings alone, and your magic merely augmented your flight. Over time, your magic became more and more dominant, so your wings shrank, no longer needed. But the pegasus instinct still directs you to utilize the same flight motions that you always used in the olden days. In reality, it’s not necessary, but you have a mental link to the physical actions creating the motions, so the actions still create the motions. Although sometimes, the link can be broken in times of stress, leaving flying purely a mental exercise.”

Dash suddenly thumped the table in annoyance. “What?” she exclaimed. “So you’re telling me all those hours doing wing strengthening exercises were for nothing?”

“Actually, they probably did help, but not for the reason you thought they did,” Twilight smiled enigmatically, winking before continuing. “I have a hunch that a pegasus’s flying ability is linked directly to their determination, to their confidence, even to their self-expectation. So, if you expected those exercises to make you better at flying, they probably did. Take the Young Flyer’s Contest for instance. Your confidence was shot to pieces, and you expected yourself to fail. Right up to the last minute, that expectation was making you fail. Then, you went after Rarity. You forgot all about your expectations, about your fears. All of those self-confidence issues, you just forgot about them. All you cared about was going as fast as possible to save your friend, and, well. Look at what you did.”

The warmth and admiration shining in Twilight’s eyes was evident even in the dim flickering of the fire. “And,” she added as an afterthought, “the whole time you were speeding after her, you never flapped your wings once.”

Dash sat back, looking a little shell-shocked as the pieces clicked together in her mind. “Wow,” she said, unable for a moment to come up with anything more erudite. “I need some time to think this over, it all sounds crazy, but I gotta admit, it makes sense. Why hasn’t anypony realized it before? It all seems pretty obvious, when you think about it.”

Twilight laughed. “Everything seems obvious in hindsight.” Her voice dropped, a little sadly. “The truth is, even now, the scholars in Canterlot have very little time for pegasi. Some do, but the majority are hidebound old fools. Not one of the universities would dream of siphoning off their magical research budget into looking at pegasi, and the pegasi themselves don’t often tend towards science. Sometimes I think some ponies are still living in the past.” She sighed, frustrated at the continued existence of such an outdated rift. “Besides,” Twilight shrugged, “pegasi can fly. Pegasi have wings. Why would anypony think to question such an obvious cause-and-effect?”

Dash raised one eyebrow. “So why’d you?”

“As I say, I saw you going after Rarity. It only occurred to me afterwards, I was kind of panicking at the time, but I’d have thought you’d at least need to flap if you wanted to accelerate that much. It intrigued me, It got me thinking. I guess I should thank you for that.”

Dash giggled. “Anytime, Twi’.”

Twilight blushed, smiling shyly. Dash had often called her that in the past, but now it meant something more. It was no longer just a nickname.

Looking down, Twilight realized that her food was rapidly getting cold, and they both fell back to eating, spending a few minutes munching away in comfortable silence. Suddenly, Dash chuckled to herself as a thought occurred to her. “I guess we know why Fluttershy’s not the best of flyers. She’s not exactly got bags of self-confidence.”

Twilight smiled, and was suddenly gripped by curiosity. “You’ve known Fluttershy longer than any of us,” she said, “I was wondering you two were ever…” She felt a bloom of heat in her cheeks. “If you don’t mind me asking.”

Dash cottoned on to what she was getting at. “No!” she exclaimed, then hastened to clarify. “No, nothing like that ever happened between us. I mean, for one thing, she only swings one way. Besides…” she paused for a moment, trying to find the right words. “She’s like a sister to me. Me and Fluttershy are a bit like you and Spike, I could never even think about her in that way.” She rested a gentle hoof on Twilight’s cheek. “And of course I don’t mind you asking, you can ask me anything. I want you to know that.”

Twilight looked back into her magenta eyes, savouring the moment. There was a remarkable sensitivity to the pegasus, invisible to the casual observer, and Twilight felt honoured that Dash trusted her enough to let her shields down and show her this side of her personality, without restraint or fear of mockery.

“Thank you, Dash,” she whispered, kissing her lightly on the lips for a moment, unable to do so for any longer given the presence of the café’s few other patrons. Somepony behind them gave a slightly disapproving cough, but neither of them cared enough to look around for its source. Twilight could taste a lingering sharp flavour from the tomato in the soup that Dash was eating, and she could see her own longing echoed in Dash’s face. “Later,” she murmured, smiling a little suggestively at Dash, whose face coloured, looking simultaneously ecstatic and a little pained.

“Are you okay?” Twilight asked Dash in concern, seeing her distracted expression.

Dash’s face went redder, and she appeared to be concentrating hard. “You’re not makin’ this easy on the wings, Twi’, I’d only just got them behaving.”

Twilight blushed too, but could not help but grin as she realized what Dash was getting at. “I’m flattered,” she said with a little laugh.

“What can I say? Seems you have that effect on me,” Dash smirked, apparently having managed to get her wings under control.

The pegasus finished the last of her soup with a slurp, Twilight having taken the last bite of tulip a few moments previously. “Good find, this place,” Twilight remarked.

“Mmm, the soup was great,” Dash agreed. “Do ya think we should split the bill?”

Twilight waved a hoof dismissively, trying and failing to spot a waiter to call over. “Don’t worry about it, I’ve got this.”

“But-” Dash began to protest but Twilight hushed her. She received a generous allowance from the Princess, and it would easily cover this meal.

“It’s fine, really.”

“You’ve already done so much for me these last couple of days!”

Twilight gripped Dash’s hoof tightly between both of her own forehooves, looking her in the eye. “You’ve done just as much for me,” she said with complete sincerity. “It’s fine, honestly.” They looked at one another for a moment, both hoping that the other could feel the same sense of completeness.

“Thanks, ‘Twi,” Dash replied simply, smiling warmly at her. Twilight smiled back, something unfathomable and beautiful in her eyes.

As much as Dash herself had changed over the last few days, in her eyes the unicorn sitting across the table had undergone just as much of a transformation. From what had begun as a simple crush, she now felt a genuine connection. She knew how rapidly these feelings had developed, but she could not question them. She felt no presumption or dishonesty in calling these feelings love. Twilight had made her better, woken her up, brought her back to herself. More than that, she offered kindness and love untainted by judgment. Falling in love with her had been more natural than breathing, and Dash promised herself, there and then, that she would do her utmost to be worthy of the mare that had fallen into her life.

For the first time, she felt that she might be up to the challenge. For the first time, she met Twilight’s gaze, and felt that she was home.

My World Is A Meteor Tonight

A Bluebird’s Song

~~~
Take me to the fantastic place
Keep the rest of my life away
~~~

My World Is A Meteor Tonight

Celestia’s sun was low in the sky, a hazy orange-tinted mist lying low over the hills around Ponyville, as the day drew to its close. The town was still and silent, house lights casting beams of illumination that spilled over the darkening cobblestones. The buildings showed every sign of sleepy habitation, their occupants winding down after a long day. At least, except the library, whose windows were dark and obviously deserted.

If you were to look up above the town, and above the hills, up into the sky, you might catch sight of an entwined speck hovering in the stillness. Two figures, ripple-hazed and silhouetted by the blinding orange disc of the setting sun, floating together in the warm evening air, high enough that the town below was nothing but a spiderweb patchwork spreading out across the fields.

Twilight never loosened her grip on Rainbow Dash. At first, she had been holding on tight through nervousness, but now she was doing so through joy of the proximity to the pegasus that she loved. She had flown before, using the balloon or sometimes the Princess’s pegasus-drawn carriages, but it had never been anything even close to this. Dash supported their weight effortlessly, and at first they had arced dancingly through the sky in lazy loops and spins, but now they felt content to simply hover among the dust-motes in the dusky air.

Surprisingly enough, their flight had been Twilight’s suggestion. They had spent the day in and around Ponyville, simply walking together and enjoying one another’s company, not wanting to discuss Twilight’s theory any further that day. They had parted ways for a few hours to eat and run various errands, but had met up in the square again, still drunk on each other’s presence and incapable of staying apart for very long. As they had arrived back at the library, when the sun had begun to sink in the sky, Twilight could tell that Dash was itching to take to the air, and so had suggested that she might come along too. Dash’s had seemed surprised that she wanted to undergo such a potentially frightening experience, but delighted nonetheless at the idea. Twilight, for her part, could not help but freeze up with jolts of nerves at first, feeling the rush of the wind and seeing the ground fall away so rapidly below them, but relaxed after a while. She trusted her bearer implicitly to bring them both safely back to the ground.

Now, they were floating together, both a little dazzled by the sun, but neither caring. They were face-to-face, each holding onto the other with both sets of hooves, Twilight lazily stroking her forelegs through the softness of Dash’s mane. Her magenta eyes were half-closed, an expression of longing dancing deep inside them. Neither of them had spoken since they had taken off, but both knew that no words were needed.

Letting her eyes drift entirely closed, Twilight finally gave in to her desires, and pressed her lips to Dash’s, feeling the pegasus sigh and respond with vigour. The wind whipped at them, tossing their manes from side to side as their tongues moved lovingly together. One of Twilight’s hooves was tangled in Dash’s prismatic mane, the other falling to begin stroking down the side of her body in smooth, compulsive motions. During one of these, she brushed up against the base of Dash’s beating wing, and felt her give an involuntary shudder, gasping a little through their kiss, and pulling Twilight even closer.

Dash broke the kiss, and Twilight found herself gasping for breath, her vision filled with orange-tinted blue, painted by the setting sun. She felt Dash begin softly kissing her neck, and her eyes drifted closed again as she lost herself in the moment, nuzzling her partner’s ears, occasionally nipping gently at the tips. With each nip, she felt the pegasus exhale sharply and shiver a little, the warm breath playing across her neck in-between kisses. After a minute or so, Dash pulled away, raising her head again to look Twilight in the eyes. Both were flushed, and panting a little.

“Let’s go home,” Twilight whispered with a smile, still idly toying with Dash’s mane.

Dash nodded. “I kind of wanna stay up here forever, but that’s a good idea.”

Still holding tightly onto Twilight, Dash arced down into a smooth dive, streaking towards the library. Glancing down for a moment, she saw that the unicorn’s eyes were wide with excitement, she was glad that she could share with Twilight some of the joy that always filled her when she flew. Leaning back, they touched down gently just in front of the library, kicking up a small cloud of dust.

It took Twilight a few moments to find her hooves again after the exhilarating flight, and swayed drunkenly around, bumping into the door of the library and nearly falling over.

Dash chuckled. “Yeah, that takes a bit of getting used to.”

Attempting to walk in a straight line, Twilight pulled the door open and motioned Dash inside. Without the pegasus to keep her warm, the air was still distinctly chilly and not worth staying out in for long.

“That was really amazing,” Twilight murmured to Dash as she passed.

“I’ll have to take you up again sometime,” Dash replied with a wink, “flying’s way better when ya have somepony to share it with.”

Twilight laughed. “Definitely, although I didn’t just mean the flying.” She saw Dash’s cheeks light up a little, and smiled, finding the sight quite adorable.

“I’ll get a fire going, shall I?” She asked, and Dash nodded appreciatively.

It seemed that Spike had arrived back home before they had, and had already gone to bed. When Twilight checked his basket, he was snoozing peacefully, a large emerald tucked tightly against his chest, evidently a souvenir from they day’s gem hunting. There was already some kindling stacked in the fireplace, and Twilight ignited it with a cascade of sparks from her horn, suddenly deep in thought.

Is this all happening too fast? I hope Rainbow doesn’t feel I’m pushing too hard. She leaned down to set up a few larger logs on top of the pile, trying to block out the wheedling portion of her brain that was flinging half-formed worries at her with startling sadism. When the fire had caught, she turned to catch Dash staring at her, an almost awestruck look on her face. Twilight giggled, and the pegasus quickly whipped her eyes away, blushing slightly, but smirking a little nonetheless.

Twilight smiled, albeit a little distantly. She felt contentment, but her over-analytical brain was suddenly nagging at her, not letting her fully enjoy it.

We’ve only been together for one day! What if she thinks I’m just impatient? What if she thinks I might have trouble being committed? A few moments of silence passed between them as she tried to reconcile her thoughts, to prevent them from spiraling into paranoia. The warmth of the growing fire spread gently throughout the room.

“So,” she said, a little bashfully, “what do you want to do now?”

Dash had apparently picked up on her distraction, and crossed the room to rest a comforting hoof on her shoulder. “Are you okay, Twi’?” she asked, softly.

“I’m fine,” Twilight smiled, but it was a little weak. “I wish I could stop overthinking things,” she admitted in a rush, almost babbling. “It’d make things so much less complicated if I could just do things without thinking about them so much. I guess I’m paranoid, but I really don’t want to just go rushing ahead, and make a mess of this,” she finished, in a small voice.

“Twilight,” Dash hugged her, and murmured in her ear, “if you feel we’re moving too fast, just let me know. I don’t mind. I don’t wanna do anything that you’re not comfortable with.”

“That’s the thing, though,” Twilight replied, pawing the floor in frustration, but unable to stop herself relaxing with Dash’s hooves around her, “I don’t feel that, not really. I know how fast we’re going, but it just feels right. I’d be more than comfortable with anything you wanted to do. But my brain, my stupid, analytical brain… It’s telling me that I’m rushing. It’s telling me that if we keep on going like this I’m going to mess things up and ruin what we have, and…” She buried her face in Dash’s mane, holding her close. “I… I don’t think I could stand that.”

They stood like that for a few moments, and Dash was deep in thought. “Hey,” she whispered at length, “I’m moving just as fast as you. We’ve been together for all of one day, but I can look you in the eye and tell you that I love you. And when I say that, it’s not because I’m rushing into this, I’m not being impulsive, it’s because I actually mean it. I’ve been around long enough to tell the difference between want and love. Does that mean I’m moving too fast?”

“I guess not,” Twilight conceded, still amazed by the depth of the reserves of wisdom that Dash could draw on when necessary. “I’m being silly, it’s just… this is the first time I’ve really gotten involved with another pony in this way. I really care about this. I care about you.” She paused for a second, and then pulled back to look into Dash’s eyes. “I love you too. That’s why I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I messed this up because I was too impatient, or because I tried to force it.”

Dash was glad that Twilight could trust her enough to confide her feelings to her in this depth, but it worried her that the unicorn seemed to blame herself for the speed at which their relationship was moving.

“Neither of us has forced anything, Twi’,” she said, reassuringly. “We’ve known each other for a long time now, and that combined with the way you helped me sort my head out, if anything was gonna happen, it was gonna happen fast. When ponies rush into stuff like this and it doesn’t work out, it’s usually ‘cos they’ve just met, ya know, at a party or somethin’ like that, they don’t know each other, and they don’t really care. I saw enough of that kinda thing at Flight School. Things like that don’t usually really mean anything, but this is different. I feel like this does mean something. We just didn’t need to do the whole getting-to-know-each-other part, because we already knew each other so well. I guess we kinda took a shortcut.” She chuckled. “I’ll be honest, I still can’t work out why ya chose me, but I’m sure as hay glad you did.”

She leaned forwards and planted a kiss on the end of Twilight’s nose, making the unicorn giggle.

“I’ll try to stop worrying,” Twilight promised.

“You? Stop worrying about things?” Dash winked cheekily at her. “I’ll believe that one when I see it!”

“Fair point,” Twilight smirked. They broke apart, both lying down on the rug in front of the flickering fire. For some time, they just lay there, floating in the warmth and each other’s company, occasionally talking a little about this and that.

Then, a thought occurred to Twilight, breaking through her sleepy, peaceful mindset. “Should we tell our friends? About us, I mean.”

Dash shrugged. “I don’t see how we’re gonna keep it quiet, really. If we don’t tell ‘em, somepony else’ll probably just find out anyway. What do you reckon?”

“I see what you mean,” Twilight nodded, “I just hope they don’t react badly. I don’t want to risk my friendship with any of them.” She began fiddling nervously with a few loose strands of the rug.

“Sometimes there aren’t any easy answers to something like this,” replied Dash. “If you’re not sure about it, we’ve probably got a bit of time to think it over.”

“How do you think they’d take it?” Twilight’s eyes were worries, although she tried to tell herself that her worries were baseless.

Dash shrugged. “Fluttershy’d be fine with it. She wouldn’t even be surprised, probably.” She went a little red at this point. “Actually, she was the one I first owned up to about… uh… liking you.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Well, ‘owned up’ probably makes her sound a bit passive. She wouldn’t let it drop ‘till I confessed, but it all comes to the same thing, I guess.”

Twilight giggled a little, her concerns momentarily pushed to the background. “That’s remarkably assertive of her. We do both know the same Fluttershy, right?” Her eyes widened a little as the face of one of their other friends swam to the forefront of her thoughts. “Oh Celestia, what will Applejack make of us?”

Dash raised an eyebrow. “Why Applejack?”

“They’re not the most modern of families, are they?”

“…Fair point. Granny Smith’s probably pretty traditional when it comes to the birds and the bees.”

“Exactly. I hardly think Applejack’ll have been raised to approve of the bees and the bees.”

Dash snorted with laughter. “The bees and the bees? That’s one way of putting it, I guess.”

Twilight paused for a moment, still worrying about Applejack’s reaction. “Do you think she’ll mind?”

“It’s not our fault if she does, Twi’. Besides, she’s a modern pony, even if her family aren’t.”

“We’ll have to wait and see, then.” Twilight sighed. She wondered why nothing could ever be simple. “I can’t see Pinkie Pie finding it a problem.”

“Nor me,” Dash replied, thoughtfully. “Dunno about Rarity, though.”

There was silence for a few seconds, as they stared into the fire, listening to the flames crackle and the wind whistle outside. It was quite dark on the far side of the window now, the evening wearing on into night.

“Do you mind if we wait a few days?” Asked Twilight, yawning a little. “Before we tell them?”

The pegasus seemed relaxed, the warmth from the fire making her tired as well, and she replied almost lazily. “No worries, whenever ya want to.”

Twilight giggled, shifting her gaze across to the pegasus beside her. “I’m only just getting used to this myself,” she admitted.

“I know what you mean,” Dash replied with a wry grin, “it all seems like a dream right now.”

“I’m glad it’s not a dream,” Twilight remarked.

“Definitely,” the pegasus cut herself off with a wide yawn, seemingly finding it contagious.

Twilight glanced at the clock mounted on the wall, surprised at how the time was slipping away from them. “We should probably be heading to bed soon,” she said quietly, “I mean, that’s if… Would you like to stay the night here?”

Dash reached a foreleg out, bridging the few inches gap between them on the rug and taking Twilight’s hoof in hers. “I’d love to,” she said with a warm smile, “but I don’t want you to feel like ya have to ask me to stay or anything, y’know, if you need some time to think things over.”

“I’ve done all the thinking I need,” Twilight replied, clasping Dash’s hoof between both of hers. She kissed Dash softly on the lips to emphasize her point, and then stood, magically dousing the dying fire.

Whenever she looked at Dash, Twilight still could help but feel a sense of sadness. It was dwarfed by the feelings of warmth and love, but still gnawingly present, through no fault of Dash’s own. Behind the pegasus’ eyes was the unmistakable echo of hurt, of betrayal and pain.

Twilight lived for the moments when she could simply gaze into those deep magenta pools, but each of those moments were tempered with sympathetic pain for the scars that her love still bore inside her, long after her father’s hoof-marks had faded, and long after the Flight School nicknames and taunts had stopped echoing in her ears. Twilight wished that there was some way for her to help, some way that she could change Dash’s past, but she knew that it was a challenge beyond her intellect. All that she could try to do was to give her the future she deserved.

The few candles dotted around the treehouse flickered and danced, illuminating their faces as they left the room together in silence, Twilight extinguishing the candles with small hisses of magic as they passed, throwing the library into darkness behind them.

Both of them were pleasantly exhausted from the eventful day, as they lay down together in Twilight’s bed.

“G’night, Twi’,” Dash whispered, pulling the covers over herself, and draping a wing around the unicorn as she climbed in beside her, lying so they were face-to-face, their coats touching lightly together.

“’Night, Dash,” Twilight murmured back, snuggling closer into her lover’s warmth and wrapping her hooves around her middle, feeling Dash’s breath on her nose, their muzzles almost touching. As she thought back, her eyes drifting closed, she found it hard to believe how much had changed in a single day. When she had woken up that morning, she had never for a moment dreamed that Rainbow Dash would be sharing the bed with her as they fell asleep that night.

She also felt relieved knowing that, tomorrow, Dash had agreed to help with her flight experiment, and Twilight had a suspicion that if her hunch proved to be correct, then Dash would find very little difficulty in reclaiming her title. She found it amusing that, perhaps, she might even find herself training Rainbow Dash in flight technique. She would certainly have never seen that one coming.

Just before she allowed sleep to take her, she opened her eyes for a moment to simply look at Dash. The pegasus was already asleep, which was quite impressive considering the fact that she was on a bed rather than her usual clouds. Twilight smiled to herself, as she closed her eyes again and felt herself drifting contentedly into the warm abyss.

Today had certainly been a day for the unexpected. Tomorrow looked to be quite interesting, too.

To Catch A Bluebird

A Bluebird’s Song

~~~
Your mind will find a way
To be unkind to you somehow
But all we really have
Is happening to us right now
~~~

To Catch A Bluebird

“So, what do ya want me to do?”

It was the next day, the morning wearing swiftly onwards. Twilight had been up practically with the sunrise, excited for the upcoming test, but it had taken her the best part of an hour to rouse Dash and to get her out of bed. She had not minded, though. Having the pegasus in her bed at all was compensation enough for her morning apathy.

Currently, they were standing together in a large, overgrown field a short way outside Ponyville. The morning mist was dispersing around them, and the last of the dew clung to their hooves. Twilight knew that Dash would probably be up in the air a lot, unable to keep her warm, so she had taken the useful precaution of bringing along a hat and scarf. Dash was standing a short way from Twilight, in an area of the field where the grass had been magically flattened to create an ad-hoc takeoff zone.

Twilight had a clipboard and a few bits and pieces of portable lab equipment lying in the grass beside her, although she doubted that she would need them today. For the theory she was testing today, eyes alone were more than adequate. “Okay,” she replied, “I need you to spread your wings and hold them by your sides. You might need to align the magic field with the ground, and that should do it.”

Dash nodded, not quite understanding what a magic field was, and why it needed aligning, but deciding not to ask questions at that moment. She stretched her wings out by her sides, locking them into a horizontal flight position that she usually used for gliding.

“Good, now this might sound weird,” Twilight paused for a second, unsure how Dash would react to this request. “I’d like you to try to take off and hover without flapping.”

Dash blinked. “You what?”

“Try to take off without flapping your wings,” Twilight repeated, then tried to explain her reasoning a little. “Remember that the flapping was never necessary, it was just a kind of shorthand that your brain used. It connected the motion to the magic. If we can eliminate the motion, then the magic won’t be limited anymore.”

“I’ll have a go…” Dash did not sound at all convinced. Twilight sighed. It was obvious that the pegasus was not expecting to get a single hoof off the ground like this. She knew full well that as long as Dash believed that this would not work, she would get nowhere.

It was not for lack of trying, however. Dash pressed her eyes shut, and suddenly locked her legs, physically straining upwards with her neck and back. Up! Go up! she thought, with determination. She concentrated as hard as she could on levitating herself. A few moments later, she opened her eyes, breathing heavily through her nose. All four hooves were still firmly planted in the flattened grass.

She tried again, trying to push herself upwards, as Twilight watched apprehensively. Eventually, after a few minutes of huffing and puffing to no effect, she stopped and shook her head.

“I’m not exactly going places,” she remarked, dryly.

Twilight rolled her eyes. “What exactly were you thinking when you were trying to hover?”

“Uhh, ‘up’, I guess.”

“Do you normally think ‘up’ when you’re taking off?”

Dash raised one eyebrow. “’Course not. I just flap and off I go.”

Twilight pawed the ground in mild frustration. “I can't say I hadn't expected this, but still. That’ll make things tricky. The wing motion’s so connected to the flight by now that it’s become instinctive. The same’s probably true of all pegasi. Try taking off using your wings like normal, but pay attention to what you’re thinking.” She was a little worried that Dash’s patience would run out before they reached any useful conclusions, but the pegasus gamely flapped a few beats of her wings and effortlessly took off.

Dash hovered there for a moment, her wings beating, apparently replaying her thought processes for the last few seconds in her mind.

“I don’t even have to think about it! I just flap, and the wings do the rest,” Dash said, irritated, still stationary, a few feet off the ground. “Sorry, Twi’. I dunno if I can do this. I’ll keep trying, though.” She alighted softly back on the ground, her head hanging in dejection. “I’ve always been the athlete, you’ve always been the brain. Now you’re telling me that I need to do all this… this brain stuff. I couldn’t analyze my way out of a paper bag, ya know that as well as I do!”

“But you know your own brain, surely!” Twilight exclaimed, then let her voice drop, reassuringly. “Look, maybe we’re going about this the wrong way. I think that flying’s all about confidence. If you’d just trust yourself, the rest should happen on its own.”

Dash sighed. “I wanna trust myself, Twi’, but I spend my entire fillyhood around ponies who reckoned I was useless. No matter how big a loudmouth I was, that’s still gonna knock a hole in the self-confidence. No matter how I might’ve behaved, no matter how well I do, those ponies were always in the background. They still are. He still is.”

“And they’re wrong!” Twilight replied, insistently.

Dash closed her eyes for a second. “Hearing that from you, Twi’, it means something. Maybe it’ll make enough of a difference.” She smiled weakly at Twilight. “Don’t worry, I do know that this’ll be worth it if it works. I’m gonna try again.”

Twilight smiled back, but was still a little nervous about the side-effects of her experiment. It was obvious that failing in this way was opening up old wounds in the pegasus, letting in old doubts. She admired Dash’s bravery for opening herself up to her memories in this way, but hoped that it did not trigger a relapse of depression. After all, the pegasus’s state of mind was still fragile. Why are you letting her do this? If she goes downhill again it’ll be your fault!

“Dash!” she called out, overcome with a sudden burst of worry.

“Huh?” Dash had taken up position in the flattened area again, when she heard Twilight’s voice.

“I’m not sure we should go through with this.”

“Why the hay not?”

“It’s hurting you, I can see it is. This was always going to take a long time, I never expected you to get it first try. I just don’t want you to start thinking you’re a failure again because of that.”

Dash walked over, looking her in the eye. “I won’t,” she promised, gently. “Failing might not be fun for me, but I’m not gonna mess myself up like that again. Besides, I’ve got you now. I can’t be all that much of a failure if I’ve got somepony like you for a marefriend.”

Twilight smiled, blushing at the compliment. “You know, Dash, you really are sweet.” She kissed the pegasus lightly on the cheek.

“Maybe I am, but don’t you go tellin’ anypony,” Dash replied, giggling and returning the kiss before walking back to the takeoff area. Twilight decided to take Dash’s word for it that she would be alright, although she still somewhat guilty.

Dash stood still in the centre of the circle, and closed her eyes, flaring her wings. This time, she did not strain her muscles or her mind. Instead, she tried to invoke the feeling of freedom that shot through her whenever she took to the air. Come on Dash. You can do this.

She purposefully relaxed, imagining the feel of the wind in her mane, feeling that easy, assured confidence flow through her.

For a moment, she could feel the soaring euphoria that built steadily within her as she flew, and swore that she felt herself become lighter, the pressure of her hooves on the ground lessening a little.

I can do this. The wind was plucking at her outstretched wings.

I can do this. She felt as if the ground was pressing her upwards, repelling her, but she still did not have enough lift to take to the air.

I’m still here, Dashie. That’s why you’ll never be able to do this.

Suddenly, it was not her voice inside her head. It was her father’s. She could smell the ghost of the acrid tang of Old Thunderhead whiskey filling her nose. Furiously, she redoubled her efforts.

No! You’re wrong! I’m gonna prove you wrong!

In that moment, the sense of lightness vanished, the ground was no longer pushing at her, and her euphoria drained away. Any progress she had made was suddenly gone. She had come so close, but her bitterness had stopped her yet again.

I’m still here, in your head. I’ll always be here.

She knew where she had gone wrong. She had promised herself that she was not doing this for her father, not trying to show up his errors of judgment. She was doing this for her, but that had slipped in a moment of stress and brought her back down to earth.

I’m right here, Dashie.

Just like he had promised, all that time ago. He was there. He was haunting her. What if he was right? What if he always would be there, eating her from the inside? Her eyes drifted closed, and she sank to her knees, shaking uncontrollably. She saw Twilight begin rushing fearfully over to her, but it was too late. She could not stop herself from falling down into her memories. The world went dark, and suddenly she was somewhere else. Somewhere long ago.

“Let me in, I’m family.” The words hurt; they felt like red-hot coals on her tongue. They weighed her down.

The guard stepped aside, keys clinked, doors opened.

The reinforced walls were cold to the touch, not springy and light like ordinary cloud. The cells beneath Cloudsdale police station were built for functionality, not comfort. A few bare candles dotted the walls in brackets, illuminating the yellowish walls and metal bars with a hazy, flickering light.

The row of cells was short, with six on either side of the aisle, a grim-looking police-pony standing vigil at the entrance. A few drunken slurs and addled propositions met her ears from a few directions, but she ignored them, and her eyes were drawn to a cell on the left, almost at the far end.

“Over here,” a gruff voice called, resignedly.

She felt a familiar tightening in her chest at the voice, and walked down the row, keeping her eyes straight ahead so they could not betray her. She looked into the cell, through the narrowly-spaced bars in the door. The stallion lying on the floor within was a mess, one eye purple and bloodshot, the other drooping and shadowed with an obvious hangover.

“Why’re ya here?” he asked, his voice rasping, a rough Manehattan accent just distinguishable through the haze of drink and tiredness. “Need a laugh? It’s not nice to kick a stallion when he’s down.”

He chuckled throatily and humourlessly, but it turned into a hacking cough. He turned to face her on the floor, gesturing to his swollen eye. “Like it? Courtesy of some bastard down the bar last night. Heh. Should see the state of his face. Took three guys to get me off him, but they didn’t get there fast enough.” There was a note of something close to pride in his voice, that made the bile rise in the young mare’s throat.

“So that’s it?” she asked, contemptuously. “That’s what ya got yourself done for this time? A bar fight?” She laughed, equally mirthlessly. “Even for you, that’s low.” She shook her head. Earlier, she had let her mane down from the bunches she usually kept it in, and it whipped from side to side. The stallion followed it with his eyes.

“Ya got that mane from your mother,” he said, voice almost wistful, “I mentioned it to her when I first met her. Never seen nothin’ like it before or since ‘till you came along. And ya know what, Dashie?” He leaned forward, grinning. “You’re just like her, too. Call me low, go on, say it again. Make yourself feel all better. You’d never dare if this door wasn’t between us, and you know it as well as I do. Just like her. She never dared tell me what she thought of me. Put it all in a note instead.” He snorted. “So. What brings ya here? Come to bail me?”

Rainbow Dash was barely fully grown, her wings only having reached their full span a few months back, but she knew what she wanted. She knew how she could get it. She had come here today to put her demons to rest.

“Bail you?” Her look was one of incredulity, but she forced herself to remain calm in the face of such nerve. Her voice was low. “No. I’m her to tell you that you’ll never see me again.” She walked close to the bars of the cell, speaking slowly and purposefully, each word measured. “You think you’re cruel? I can be just as cruel. Look at yourself. I’ve left Flight School. I’m leaving Cloudsdale. I just wanted you to know that I’m gonna have a good life.

She smiled, but there was no emotion in her eyes. “This is the last time you’ll ever see me, and it’s how I want you to remember me. You’re the one on the floor, locked up, beaten up, slowly killing yourself. I’m the one looking into your cage, looking down on you, and telling you that you’ve failed in the one thing you’ve really tried to do in the last few years; make my life a bucking misery. Goodbye, Dad.”

Dash turned away, and began to walk back towards the door, but her father called to her from his cell. “Maybe you’re right.”

Just keep walking, don’t turn back, don’t listen. You’re free, just go!

But she could not prevent herself from hearing as she walked away.

“Maybe I’ll never see you again. But you’ll see me again. I can see how much you hate me, I can see how much you care. Remember all the bruises, all the little white lies at school? Remember your ma? Before she went? She always told you that burn on her face happened to her accidentally, when she was ironing, didn’t she?”

He barked out a short laugh, and this time there was genuine, sickening humour there. Dash had reached the door now, and signaled to the guard on the other side to let her through. “Such a kidder. But you? You want me to fail, oh, you want it so badly, you want to rise so high just to imagine the look on my face. But you know what that means? You can rise as high as you want, Dashie, but you’ll always see my face. If I rot away in here, if I drink myself to death, I’ll still be right there with you.”

The door to the row of cells opened, and Dash walked purposefully through, doing her best to block him out as he yelled after her. “As long as you hate me, I’ll be right there-”

The police-pony slammed the door behind her, cutting off his last words with an echoing bang, that rang in Dash’s ears with an air of finality.

He was gone. Her father was gone from her life. She was free.

“Are you alright, miss?” asked the police-pony. She ignored him, not wanting to stay here a second longer.

Never breaking stride, she walked straight past the Sergeant’s desk, out of the front door of the station, and launched herself from the side of the cloud, taking off into the sky with a flare of her wings.

As long as you hate me.

As she flew, those words echoed in her head, but she shook them away. She paid no attention to what he had said, unaware of the trap that was closing around her, the pitfall her father had so skillfully dug waiting to swallow her up.

I don’t need him, she told herself, I can live my life like he never existed. I’m gonna prove him wrong.

I’m gonna prove him wrong.

The words that she knew so well. The words that she would come to live her life by. The words she would come to hate herself for.

“Rainbow! Come on, talk to me!”

Her eyes snapped open. She was lying on the wet grass, and she was being shaken. Her vision was filled with Twilight’s frantic face looking down at her. The unicorn had no idea what had just run through the pegasus’ mind, but Dash had no time to explain. She knew what she had to do.

“I’ve been wrong,” she said, simply. “I’ve been so, so wrong.” She stood, gently detaching herself from Twilight’s concerned hooves.

“Wrong? What?” Twilight was utterly confused, and still panicking, fearing that some part of her experiment had caused further harm to Dash.

“Don’t worry,” Dash said, gently, standing in the centre of the grassy circle and spreading her wings. “I’m alright. I just need a moment. You’ll see.”

Twilight did not know what was going on, but had the sense to stand back. She had a feeling that, whatever this was, it was important to the pegasus.

Dash closed her eyes, feeling the lightness flow through her, beginning in her wingtips, and spreading out to fill her entire body. It came easier this time, now she knew what she was searching for. She also knew what she was waiting for, what she was laying a trap for.

Go on, her Father’s voice taunted her inside her head. Go on, prove me wrong! Show me just how wrong I am. I know how much you hate me, so go on! Fly!

Dash did not react for a moment, simply listening, waiting for the voice to stop talking. Then, she calmly folded her wings back to her sides. The feeling of lightness was still rushing through her, igniting her. You are wrong, Dad, she thought. But not for the reasons you wanted to be. It’s taken me years to realize it, but you’re nothing to me. It doesn’t matter to me if you’re wrong or right. I never should have been cruel to you, I should never have needed my revenge. If I rise, I’m not rising despite you. I’m rising because of me.

…I forget you.

Then, her the echo of her father’s mocking voice was gone. She could still picture him, but now he was nothing but a picture, nothing but a memory, faded and tarnished by the passage of time. He was of no importance anymore. It had taken the worst part of her history, the culmination of all the bad times, the cause of it all, to finally give her the tools to defeat her own mind. Reading the newspaper article had shown her the problem. Now, after teetering on the brink, she finally had the solution. This catharsis, this purge.

It was no longer self-deception, or forlorn hope, or even self-expectation. She was truly free of him. She was free of her past. It was time to find her future.

She heard a hastily muffled gasp from Twilight. Opening her eyes again, she looked around. She was floating, at least six feet from the ground, her wings tucked tightly to her sides. The lighter-than-air sensation still filled her, and she realized that, in order to move, all she needed to do was think. With total confidence, she tucked her hooves up to her underbelly, and spread her wings out, locking them at their full extension, but not flapping them. With a thought, she propelled herself forwards, coasting up and around in a lazy, sweeping arc, following it with a series of twists, bringing herself around so that the flattened area of grass was below her again. Moving her gaze to the ground, she saw the purple unicorn staring up at her with a mixture of shock, amazement, and joy. She folded up her wings again, coming to a mid air halt above Twilight.

Well, so much for needing to align the magic field, amusedly thought the small part of her brain that was not busy shooting out bolts of euphoria at these twin rediscoveries of flight and psychological peace.

She alighted gently on the grass before the unicorn, and immediately kissed her deeply, in a moment of sheer enthusiasm. She knew that she had a fair amount of explaining to do, and that Twilight would doubtless be hugely relieved at her recovery, but all of these things could wait. She broke away from Twilight’s lips, and gazed at her for a few moment, trying to think of something to say. Nothing occurred that did not feel redundant, so she simply kissed the unicorn again, feeling Twilight smiling against her lips, eagerly and passionately meeting them, Dash’s excitement evidently proving infectious.

They broke apart again, and Dash sighed, feeling as if a great weight had left her chest, a weight that she had become so used to bear that she could only notice it from its sudden, wonderful absence.

“Well,” Twilight began, and paused, for once in her life at a loss for words.

Dash winked at her. “I dunno about you,” she said, “but I’d say this experiment’s been a great success.”

In The Interests Of Harmony

A Bluebird’s Song

~~~
I need a place to hide
Before the storm begins
~~~

In The Interests Of Harmony

Rainbow Dash alighted on the porch of her cloud-house, still reveling in the new ways of flying that she could now achieve. Her entire return journey had been conducted with her wings tucked tightly to her sides, occasionally flipping upside-down for a while, giggling like a schoolfilly. She still preferred to have her wings spread, and indeed she thought it looked cooler to fly that way, but for the moment the novelty was irresistible.

She had been forced, reluctantly, to part ways with Twilight after they returned to town. The unicorn had needed to write up the details of the experiment into a formal report, and Dash had thought it best if she clocked in for a few hours with the weather team, to show that she was back on form.

To avoid awkward questions, she had made sure to fly normally during the cloud patrols, although she found it remarkable how redundant the flapping motions suddenly felt. They still came naturally, through force of habit, but at the same time were obviously unnecessary. They were not holding her back any more. It had occurred to her then how different the pegasus world could easily become if Twilight were to make their newly-discovered information public.

Now, it was nearing five in the afternoon, and Dash felt cheerful as she deposited her goggles on a table near the door.

What to do? She flopped down on the cloud-sofa, a few wisps of water vapour hissing out from under her, grabbing a back issue of Wonderbolts Weekly from the floor, but not making any attempt to read it. For a few minutes, she lay there, running back over the last few days in her mind. No matter how hard she tried to think seriously, however, her thoughts kept drifting back to Twilight.

Eventually, she realized that her stomach was growling, so she reluctantly hauled herself off the sofa, rudely interrupting the latest in a string of steadily more inappropriate fantasies concerning the unicorn, and trotted out into the cluttered hallway with a small yawn. It had been an active day, after all. She felt that she deserved a snack or five. Then, her ears pricked up.

Pegasi are perceptive creatures. They can tell when something is amiss. They can always tell, but sometimes, it comes too late.

Dash was walking through the hall, when she froze. The unmistakable fizzing sound of a spell being cast sounded behind her, and she felt warm tendrils of magic playing over her. She tried to whip around, but could not move. No matter how hard she tried, she could not so much as blink. Still, the silvery magic cocooned her, the immobilization spell being held in place by somepony standing directly behind her. Her eyes darted rapidly from side to side, in a panic, but she could not catch sight of the pony that had caught her.

“I’d say ‘don’t turn around’, but I suppose that might seem a tad redundant,” came a voice. It was male, relatively young, the affected Canterlot accent hinting at a privileged upbringing. It exuded a sense of confidence, an easy authority that always comes with well-controlled power.

“Let me make one thing perfectly clear, Miss Dash,” said the voice, calmly. “I would have no qualms whatsoever about picking you up, walking out of the front door, and dropping you off this cloud whilst you were still immobilized.” Dash’s heart was hammering, and her eyes were still moving feverishly, more in fear than in expectation of catching a glimpse of the speaker. She was not an easily-panicked mare under normal circumstances. Taking on dragons was fine in her book, but she could not stand this sense of trapped helplessness.

“I could do that, go home, and not lose a wink of sleep tonight. But I don’t want to, I’ve got nothing against you, besides the obvious. You just know the wrong things at the wrong time.”

Dash tried to cry out, tried to make any kind of noise, but it was impossible.

“So, I know what you’re thinking. You’re wondering if there’s any chance that I’ll just go away and leave you alone. Well, I’m a reasonable old colt, and I can tell you that the answer is yes. We never need to see each other again, on just a few conditions.” The voice’s owner cleared his throat. “Your little fillyfriend has been asking some interesting questions, and we think that she should stop. But for you, that’s another story. All that matters here is what she told you. What she taught you. So, here’s what I want. You will never tell anypony what Sparkle showed you. You will never use the skills she showed you again. You will never assist her in any future research into this subject.”

There was the sound of soft hoof-falls on the cloud surface, and Dash heard the door opening. She was sweating profusely, fearful for her own situation, but infinitely more terrified for Twilight. If this was happening to her, then what was happening to the unicorn right now? The sound of hoof-beats paused at the door.

“I expect you’re wondering why I don’t just throw you off the cloud anyway, you know, seeing as I’m going to such trouble to shut you up.” The stallion sounded almost guilty. “Well, my organization is all about protecting certain interests. In a way, we’re much like you; we’re protectors of balance, of harmony. You are the bearer of one of the Elements. I don’t doubt that the next time some monster or spirit shows up, it’ll be you and your friends bailing us all out. If you’re not here to do that, then that’s in nopony’s best interest. However, we do have our limits. If we need to silence you, we will. You get one warning, and this is it. Some things are too important. So, if you break our little agreement, we’ll know. Trust me on that. If we hear that you’ve been naughty, then I’ll pay you another visit.” The voice chuckled. “Then, after that, I’ll pay your lovely little Twilight a visit.”

A single tear formed in Dash’s eye and rolled down her cheek. A strangled, inarticulate yell somehow found its way up her paralyzed throat.

“I’ve not enjoyed our conversation, if it makes you feel any better. Necessity is not always pleasant. I hope we don’t have to see one another again, Rainbow.”

There was the sound of the door slamming shut. For a moment, there was silence. Then, the spell was lifted, and Dash collapsed to the floor, shaking uncontrollably due partially to the magic, and partially to the shock. Her heart was racing.

The moment she regained control of her legs, she leapt to her feet, and charged furiously out of the front door, ramming it out of the way in her anger.

“Come back here an’ say that again, ya bucking coward!” she screamed out, but knew that it was useless. She could smell a sharp metallic tang on the air, one that she had always noticed left behind whenever Twilight teleported herself. She knew that the unknown stallion was a skilled unicorn spellcaster, and that he could be anywhere by now.

I need to tell Twi’ about this. Whatever it is, she thought. Then, she suddenly panicked at the thought of her marefriend, alone and undefended in the library. Perhaps not alone.

Oh Celestia. “Twilight!”

She had never taken off so fast in her life. Hoping against hope that the unicorn was alright, she darted towards Ponyville, and the library, like a bolt of lightning.

A few minutes previously.

“Okay, last one.” Twilight magically seized a paperclip, and connected together the wedge of parchment that she had been working on. Now that she had first-hoof visual evidence that her theory was correct, she had formally written up her ideas into an essay, complete with diagrams and some rudimentary formulae. She smiled as she reread the title page.

The Sparkle-Dash Theory Of Pegasus Thauma-aviation.

She intended to construct three copies; one to keep for herself, one to send to the Princess, and one to submit to the Royal Canterlot University’s science journal. Obviously, further work was needed. She had evidence, but if she wanted to expand her ideas she would have to be a lot more precise in her experimentation. She wished that Spike were here to help with the tidying up, but he was out helping Fluttershy dig her garden over, or at least that was what he claimed. Twilight had noticed that he seemed a little shifty as he delivered this explanation on the way to the door, but had been too engrossed in her work to enquire further.

After magically cleaning off her quill and replacing the cap on the inkwell, she wandered idly up the stairs to clean up the bits of parchment that still littered her bedroom. The room was quite dark, the curtains still drawn and candles blown out. The bed was still messy from where the pegasus had been sleeping in it. She paused for a second in the doorway, sighing.

I wish Rainbow were here.

She shook her head, and started gathering up the sheets of parchment covering the desk and floor. Don’t be clingy, she chastised herself mentally.

Then, there was an almighty crash of breaking glass from downstairs, followed almost instantaneously by a second, louder one. Twilight jumped in shock, her head snapping up and the parchment pieces falling to the floor with a shower of leaves. She whipped around, and dashed down the stairs to see what the disturbance was. She ground to a halt at the base of the staircase, staring at the scene before her in limp surprise.

Somepony had hurled a brick through her window. The glass lay strewn across the floorboards and rug, covering her written work which, fortunately, appeared undamaged. The offending brick had continued through the air, crashing into an empty vase which had crashed to the floor, creating the second smashing noise. As Twilight moved closer, picking her way carefully around the shards of glass, still in a state of blank shock, she noticed the brick itself lying on the floor by one of the bookshelves. It appeared to have something wrapped around it, but she did not investigate any closer at the moment.

Cold anger filled Twilight, and she swept the glass out of her way by magic as she trotted purposefully towards the front door, and rushed outside. She looked all around the library, but could catch no sign of anypony in the immediate area, certainly nopony who looked liable to throw a brick through a window.

“What the hay did you do that for?” she yelled in ineffectual frustration to the world in general, and headed back inside, fuming. She had insurance, but the prospect of getting the window replaced was irritating nonetheless. She focused her magic to specifically pick up glass, and a thousand shards rose up into the air, glittering like a dusty galaxy of stars around her. Had she not been so infuriated, the sight would have been almost beautiful.

With a snort, she clumped the glass together into a ball, and dropped it into the bin with a clinking crunch. Then, she remembered the brick, and more specifically, the thing that had been wrapped around it. Trotting over, she saw that it was a piece of parchment, and she unwrapped it with a flick of her horn.

It was ripped in a couple of places from its journey through the window, but was otherwise unharmed, and the writing upon it was still perfectly legible. She deposited the parchment on the table, spreading it out and dragging over a candle to read by. The writing was tall and spindly, strongly italicized with skillful penmanship, but clearly written in a hurry nonetheless. As she read it, her frown changed to a look of wide-eyed fear and incredulity.

Miss Twilight Sparkle,

I believe I have your attention.
Your research into pegasus magic ends now.
You will make no part of your research public.
You will not speak of your research to anypony.
You will conduct no further experiments.

If you do not concede to do this,
there will be recriminations.
We are both able and willing to carry these out.
Miss Dash will be able to testify of this.

In time you will understand us.
In time you may even wish to join us.
I hope that you will consider this.

Yours, with my apologies.

Twilight read the note through several times, her mouth hanging open a little. Her brain was churning feverishly. What was so dangerous about her research that these ponies were going to such trouble to put a stop to it? She had to do something, but had no idea what.

One line of the note stuck painfully in her mind. Miss Dash will be able to testify of this.

“Rainbow,” she whispered, horror-stricken. If something had happened to Dash as a result of her experiment, it would be her fault. She spun around, about to head straight for Dash’s house, but at that exact moment the front door burst open.

Twilight watched in amazement as Rainbow Dash charged into the library, looking furiously from side to side, her eyes scanning the room and catching sight of the unicorn.

“Where are they?” she yelled. “If they’ve put one hoof on you I’ll bucking kill them!”

“Who?” Twilight exclaimed, in confusion.

Dash paused, letting her breathing return to normal and allowing the feral instinct to defend Twilight drain from her system. Then, she ran across the room and grabbed the unicorn in a bone-crushing hug. “You’re okay… You’re okay. Thank Celestia.”

“Can’t… Breathe…” Twilight choked out, and Dash released her, still looking immensely relieved. “Does this have something to do with the brick? Rainbow, what’s the matter?” she wheezed.

“A unicorn,” Dash exclaimed, “some stallion, he broke into my house. Must’ve cast some kinda freezing spell on me, ‘cos I couldn’t move. He threatened me, told me if I had anythin’ else to do with this flying stuff you’ve shown me, he’d... he’d… oh, Twi’. I thought somepony was here, doing the same to you.”

Twilight was staring at Dash in horror. “He threatened you?” she asked, trying to keep her voice calm.

“Yeah, but what about you? Hang on, what brick were you talking about?”

It took Twilight a moment to remember her own problem, she was so angry on Dash’s behalf, at the invasion of her marefriend’s home and at the threats leveled at her. “Oh, yeah. Somepony bricked my window just now.” She gestured to the message spread out on the table. “It had this wrapped around it, it’s got to be the same ponies.”

Dash looked up at the remains of the broken window. She had noticed the chilly draft earlier, but had been too distracted to bother looking for its source. Shaking her head in disgust at the vandalism, she quickly skimmed the letter. “That’s pretty much what he said to me, too,” she remarked, “although I didn’t get an offer to join up with them. Why do ya reckon they’re doing this? Why’s your research such a big deal?”

Twilight shook her head. “I’ve got no idea. I wonder why they spoke directly to you, but contacted me in this way?”

Dash shrugged, but then her face lit up momentarily as an idea struck her. “I think I know why,” she said with a small, wry smile.

“Why?”

“They’re cowards, that’s why. The stallion in my house was a unicorn, and whoever bricked your window was in with the same gang as him. They knew all about the Elements and everything. No unicorn in their right mind would go up against you magically, not if they know anything about you. You’d have wiped the floor with him.”

Twilight nodded. “Makes sense. I could have broken through that immobilization spell in a second.” She sighed. “This is crazy, why do they have a problem with us?”

Dash was clearly thinking hard. “Write to Celestia,” she said, at length. “She needs to know about this. Are you gonna carry on with your research?”

“Naturally I am,” replied Twilight, speaking as if it were a foregone conclusion. “If they want me to stop, they’re going to have to give me a better reason than threats and broken windows. I’m not caving in to blackmail.” She looked at Dash, conviction blazing in her eyes, then her face fell in concern. “Of course, I wouldn’t dream of involving you any further in this. I realize that I’m being stubborn here by not caving in, and I don’t want you to suffer for it. I can handle myself against unicorns, but I don’t want you putting yourself in harm’s way for the sake of my research.”

Dash shook her head, firmly. “Oh no, Twi’. I’m gonna be right here with you. If you’re keeping on with this, then I’m keeping on with it too.” Twilight opened her mouth to protest, but Dash cut across her. “It’s my choice, and I’m choosing to stick with you. I trust you to keep me safe, I hope you can trust me to do the same for you.”

Twilight realized that her eyes were a little damp. She could not adequately put into words how much Dash’s trust meant to her. She embraced the pegasus for a few moments, trying to put a great many unsaid things into it. She felt her love nuzzle her cheek. “I trust you too,” she whispered in Dash’s ear.

They broke apart, and Twilight began walking over to the writing desk by the wall. “You’re right,” she said, “I need to write to Celestia about this.” She magically reached for a piece of parchment and a quill, unscrewing the lid from her inkwell. She looked over her shoulder at Dash. “Oh, by the way,” she said with a grateful smile, “thanks for coming over to check on me. I really appreciate it.”

With that, she fell to writing. Dash sat down, resting her head on her forehooves, thinking hard and listening absently to the background scratching of the quill.

Unicorns… Why would unicorns want to stop another unicorn from researching? Why does pegasus flight even matter? Maybe they’re from a university and they don’t like private projects? Nah, that’s ridiculous. They wouldn’t go around making those kinds of threats. I hope Celestia has some answers.

“Okay!” Twilight declared after a couple of minutes. “What do you think?” She passed the letter over to Dash so that she could read it. To the back was attached her complete notes on pegasus flight. There was no time to make copies, she would just have to send her mentor the original, in case there was any chance it could shed some light on the unknown group’s motives.

Dear Princess Celestia,

I am writing to you with a matter of some urgency.
I have been engaged for some time in a private research project,
regarding pegasus flight, recently aided by my friend Rainbow Dash.
(Please find enclosed my notes and conclusions.)
Today, Rainbow Dash’s house was broken into,
and she was magically immobilized by the intruder.
She was threatened by an unknown unicorn whilst unable to move.
After making his threats, he departed. Dash never managed to look at him.
At the same time, a brick was thrown through the window of the library,
containing an equally threatening message intended for myself.
We were both given demands that we cease research into pegasus flight.
Neither of us intend to give in to this blackmail.
However, we thought that you would want to know about these events,
and we were wondering if you could offer any advice.
Do you have any idea who could be behind this?
If so, what might their motives be?

Your faithful student,
Twilight Sparkle.

Dash finished reading, looking up at Twilight. “Sounds fine to me, as soon as Spike gets back you can send it off. I’ve just got one query though.”

“What’s that?”

Dash winked at her. “Why’d you only describe me as your ‘friend’? I’m wounded!”

Despite the stress of the situation, Twilight chuckled. “I think we’re giving the Princess enough to worry about as it is.”

“Yeah, fair point.” Dash lapsed back into silence, still thinking hard. “I’m still goin’ for that record, ya know,” she said, at length.

“Record?” Twilight asked, absently. This afternoon’s events had addled her brain a little, and at that moment she found it hard to think about anything else.

“My airspeed record, ya know,” Dash clarified. “I haven’t tried it out properly yet, but who knows how fast I can go if I’m not worrying about my wings. These ponies aren’t stopping me from getting my record back, no way.”

Twilight smiled, admiring the pegasus’ commitment. “Let’s wait to get a response from the Princess first, eh?”

“Sure,” Dash nodded. “Hey, Twi’, can we go upstairs? That window’s really letting in a draft.”

“Good idea,” Twilight noticed for the first time how cold the room had become. “I’ll try and get hold of some board later so I can block it up.”

Twilight tied a piece of string around her letter and notes, so that they would not fall apart, then jotted a brief memo for Spike, asking for him to send them all on his return. She dropped the stack of parchment onto the table, and she and Dash walked side-by-side up the stairs. Both of them had a sensation of slight unreality, as if the world were suddenly a little less safe. They had been through a lot in their time in Ponyville, and had become hardened to strange, frightening events, but somehow these cold, precise threats were different. They made Twilight’s blood run cold, although Dash’s presence was soothing. They were on the wrong side of a group of ponies who seemed quite ruthless in getting what they wanted, and suddenly their pleasant life in Ponyville seemed terribly fragile.

“Are you okay, by the way?” she asked Dash in a voice of concern. “You know, about earlier, that unicorn in your house?”

Dash shrugged. “It was pretty horrible at the time, I’m not gonna lie. But I’ve had worse in my life. It’s not gonna keep me up at night or anything. I just wanna know why they’re out to shut us up. Anyway, I bet the Princess’ll come up with something. She’s not gonna take this lying down, is she? Somepony threatening the Elements.” She met Twilight’s eyes. “How ‘bout you? That brick could’ve hurt ya badly, not to mention the threats.”

Twilight sighed, but smiled weakly. “I’ll be fine. Everything seems weird right now, but I’ll be okay. Nothing’s ever simple, is it?” She rested a hoof on Dash’s shoulder. “Besides, I feel safe with you here.”

Dash blushed. “That’s really nice of you, Twi’, but I never even saw that unicorn coming. If he turned up with his friends, you’d probably have to be the one looking out for me.”

“I tell you what, then,” Twilight whispered, a sudden smouldering heat flaring up in her voice. “Let’s look out for each other.”

“I like that idea,” murmured Dash, gazing almost hypnotized into her eyes. The atmosphere in the room had suddenly changed, as if an electric charge were hanging in the air between them.

Neither of them could quite tell how, or even why, but the next moment they were kissing. They both knew that this was hardly the right moment, considering the threat to their very lives that was hanging over their heads, but that just made it seem all the more important, all the more right. Twilight was backed against the bedroom wall, pressed up to it by Dash, their tongues locked together. Twilight’s hooves were stroking urgently through the tips of Dash’s outstretched wings, eliciting a low moan from the pegasus, whose knees sagged a little. They stumbled backwards, collapsing onto the bed in a tangle of hooves, never breaking eye contact, both knowing perfectly well where this was going.

It was as if their fear for each other’s safety had brought the extent of their feelings for each other into clearer focus. Twilight had felt the molten lava that had surged up inside her when she heard about the intruder in Dash’s home, and she had seen the way Dash had rushed straight for the library, even after undergoing such a traumatic experience herself. For the first time in her life, she felt love, and she felt truly loved in return.

Neither of them had any idea when the unknown ponies would return, and what might happen when they did. They did not know what Celestia could do to protect them. Suddenly, the future seemed dark and uncertain, the illusion of safety in everyday life had been shattered, and that knowledge had driven them closer. All they could be sure of was the present, and in the present they had each other.

It was more than enough.

Author's Note: I hate adding notes to chapters, but I think this is necessary. The reader attrition rate for this chapter is pretty high, I'm guessing because of the sudden shift in tone which seems to rub a lot of people up the wrong way. Just so you know; the story is still primarily a romance from hereon in. Fear not!

Draconic Measures - Part II

A Bluebird’s Song

~~~
How do we now come to be
Afraid of sunlight?
~~~

Draconic Measures – Part II

As the two unicorns stood, inspecting their captured prey, Spike’s mind was whirling. Who were these ponies? What did they want? Why him?

“You’re sure this is the right one?” asked the blue one on the left, clearly a subordinate, his voice muffled a little by his dark blue hood. He closed the front door with a snap, and lowered his horn, the spell fizzling out, allowing his leader to maintain the immobilization.

“Green and purple baby dragon. How many do you reckon there are around here?” drawled the white-coated one derisively, in a lilting Trottingham accent, his horn sparking as he held the dragon and pony in place, pinned hard against opposite walls. “We need to head out soon.” He leveled his gaze at Spike. “You’re coming with us. Understand?”

Visible over his shoulder, Fluttershy’s eyes were wide and terrified. Spike felt a surge of anger towards their captors, overpowering his fear for his personal safety. He strained his arms, but could not move no matter how hard he tried. It occurred to him that the unicorn in charge was clearly a powerful magic user, made obvious by the fact that his spell was affecting a dragon, who were notoriously magic-resistant.

“Relax,” the blue unicorn sighed. “I’ve been following the little guy since he left the library. I heard him tell this one,” he jabbed a hoof at the statuesque Fluttershy, “that he was just passing by when he called in. Nopony outside this room knows where he is.”

They’ve been following me? What’ve I done? Spike thought, feverishly. He could not help but feel a little relieved; had he been honest with Fluttershy about his reasons for coming over, they would be taking him away much more speedily. They did not know that Twilight could come looking for him at any time, although he hoped to goodness that she was not too distracted by Rainbow Dash to notice his extended absence.

“Hey! We’re all set in here,” the white unicorn called to the door. With a sinking heart, Spike saw a third unicorn open up the door to look inside, this one a dull, mottled shade of grey. He was thin and wiry, evidently fast.

“No trouble?”

“Nope,” replied the leader, “you can deliver the message to Libra. As soon as you’re back we’ll be on our way.”

The new unicorn nodded. “I’ll just get away from here, so nopony can trace the teleport,” he grunted, disappearing from sight, closing the door behind him with a snap.

The white unicorn, the one obviously in charge, trotted over so that he was standing near Spike. He was utterly ignoring Fluttershy, as if she were an irritating distraction. “So, kid. I expect you’re wondering why we’re here.” He seemed at his ease, his horn still casting ripples of light around the room as it glowed.

You could say that, Spike thought, unable to articulate a response through the magical bonds that still gripped him.

“Well, your… owner, Twilight Sparkle, has made some mistakes,” he said, grinning sardonically when he saw Spike’s eyes narrow angrily at the use of the word ‘owner’. “We’re just going to hold onto you for a while, until we’re sure that she won’t make the same mistakes again. If she does, we’ll send you back to her. Bit by bit. Until she learns her lesson.”

Had he not been frozen, Spike would have been shaking with fear. It was not the threats so much as the coldness in the unicorn’s eyes, leaving him in to doubt that this pony would live up to his threats, without a second’s hesitation.

Fluttershy’s eyes were no longer wide, and instead she was glaring furiously at the back of the unicorn’s head, as if attempting to set him on fire with her mind. The blue-coated subordinate noticed her, and chuckled at her predicament. “You’re a fighter, aren’t you?” He smirked. “Hey, Dusk,” he called across to his leader, “what do we do with this one?”

“What did I tell you? No names!” snapped the unicorn named Dusk, and the other shrank back apologetically. His anger diminishing as quickly as it had flared, he cast an appraising eye over the immobilized pegasus. “Hmm,” he grunted. “As much as I’d like to clip her wings, she’s an Element. Libra says we can’t touch them. She’ll just have to be in on the deal.” He closed the distance to Fluttershy in a few strides, resting a hoof on her shoulder. “Look,” he said, smoothly, “I didn’t want to mix anypony else up in this, but now you know, the same goes for you. If you tell anypony about this, about what happened tonight… Well,” he glanced over his shoulder at Spike. “You might just get a few claws in the mail. Isn’t that right, little fella?”

Spike looked desperately towards the window. The world outside the window was black, with no sign of Celestia’s sun to be seen. Surely Twilight was wondering where he was by now. It had to be at least ten or eleven o’ clock. The runner would return soon, and then he would be spirited away to Celestia-knows-where.

Come on, Twilight, he thought anxiously, but more in hope than in expectation.

“There, that should keep the draught out.”

Twilight released her magical hold on the final book, letting it drop into place. Dash looked on, half-amused, half-impressed. Over the last few minutes, the unicorn had entirely covered up the broken window using a pile of stacked books.

“I’ll get some board tomorrow,” she said to Dash, with a smile. “See? You really can do anything with books.”

Dash chuckled. “Got to give ya that one, I guess.”

The atmosphere in the library was still warm between the two of them, despite the worry hanging over their heads. Dash kept thinking back to earlier in the day, and the memory of that voice still sent a shiver down her spine. What would they do when they found out that their demands were being ignored?

Twi’ can keep us both safe. You know that, she reminded herself.

Twilight glanced out of the window, seeing the black night sky. “Ugh,” she groaned. “Spike needs to stop being out late like this. We need to get the Princess’s opinion on this.” She threw a worried look to Dash. “I mean, we don’t know if these ponies are just a bunch of cranks, or if they’re actually dangerous.”

“My bet’s on cranks,” remarked Dash. “I mean, come on. Lobbing bricks through windows? Not exactly professional, is it?”

“You might be right, but even so. Full-body immobilization’s tricky, apparently.”

“Apparently? Haven’t you tried it?”

Twilight threw Dash a withering glance. “I can’t say it ever looked like it was going to come in useful. I don’t go around blackmailing ponies.”

Dash laughed. “Who knows? You might have some very dodgy photos of me by now, just waitin’ to mess up my good name!”

“Yeah, that’s me. Twilight Sparkle, master blackmailer,” Twilight smirked, then she sighed, her eyes wandering to the package. “Do you reckon Fluttershy’s offered him tea? I’m kind of worried about him; he seemed really shifty when he was going out earlier.”

Dash cocked an eyebrow. “You reckon he knows anything about this?”

“No,” Twilight shook her head, “he doesn’t even know about the window yet, but even so, it’s an odd coincidence.” She thought for a few moments, and then came to a decision. “Let’s go to Fluttershy’s.” She scooped up the tied-up package with her magic, and Dash sighed.

“Seriously? It’s pitch black out there. It’s not like he’s gonna be eloping with Fluttershy or anything.”

Twilight smiled at this image. “She doesn’t seem the type, I’ll admit. But I need this sent. The sooner it gets to the Princess, the sooner we can get an answer. Besides, we might find out why Spike was being so furtive earlier. So, how about it?”

“Ah, fine then.” Dash rolled her eyes, but headed upstairs while Twilight checked the sheaf of parchment, and returned a few moments later with Twilight’s scarf, which she planted over the unicorn’s neck. “But I’m not gonna let you freeze out there.”

“Thanks,” smiled Twilight, pecking the pegasus gratefully on the cheek and opening the door.

As they approached Fluttershy’s cottage, the air was cold, the moon hanging above them, its light dancing in their manes. Dash had wrapped her wing around Twilight’s back as they walked through the streetlight-bathed streets, and held her tighter as they passed into the dark outskirts, heading for the pinprick beacons that shone from Fluttershy’s windows.

Twilight felt annoyed that their journey was such an important one. Had circumstances been normal, a moonlit stroll with her marefriend would have been a perfect end to the day. Unfortunately, the day itself had borne its fair share of imperfections, and it was these that weighed on Twilight’s mind as they walked. She could not put a hoof on the source, but she felt a strange sense of foreboding as they approached Fluttershy’s home. It was as if there was something she had missed. Some element of the puzzle that she had not picked up on.

She leaned her head against Dash, burying her cheek in the pegasus’s soft mane, trying to convince herself that she was merely being paranoid. She did not need paranoia on top of the very real problems facing them. A few times she caught herself wondering if she might not be better to simply abandon her work, burn her notes, and hope that these unicorns left them alone. She did not want to concede, but felt that it would be the responsible thing to do, for Dash’s sake. However, she knew that the pegasus would not accept it if Twilight were to give in on her behalf.

“Am I being stupid?” she asked Dash, her voice a little mumbled because her head was still in her marefriend’s mane. “You know,” she clarified, “about this whole carrying-on-with-my-research thing. Should I just stop?”

“’Course not,” replied Dash. “You can bet that if you give in to these ponies, they’ll just come back wanting more. Besides, you’re sticking up for yourself. That’s good, isn’t it?”

“But just yesterday,” Twilight sighed, “you were telling me that you didn’t think it was worth doing something stupid for the sake of pride.”

“Exactly,” said Dash, nuzzling her cheek encouragingly, “an’ I still say that. But this isn’t about pride, not really. It’s about right and wrong. I never said anything against doin’ something stupid for the sake of what’s right.”

Twilight laughed, softly. “Okay, I can live with that.”

They had just crossed over the bridge to Fluttershy’s cottage, her well-tended garden illuminated by the lights from the front room. They passed by Angel’s little house, seeing him fast asleep within, surrounded by a few half-eaten carrots. As they walked out the garden path towards the front door, Twilight saw Dash’s ears prick up, and the pegasus halted, pulling Twilight to a stop.

“Wait,” she muttered, her voice tense. She was obviously listening hard. “Something’s up.”

Now Twilight was paying attention, she too could hear something odd. There were voices coming from Fluttershy’s cottage, that did not belong to Spike or Fluttershy. Twilight’s heart-rate picked up, as she realized that there were at least two unknown stallions inside her friend’s cottage.

“They might be guests,” she suggested, lamely, in a whisper.

“At this time?” Dash glanced up at the moon, then back at Twilight. “Come on. We both know what this is about. Let’s have a listen.”

As she followed the pegasus tentatively across the grass, Twilight was suddenly gripped with fear, both for Fluttershy and Spike. Her ability to think logically had ceased to function out of stress, and she could not fathom what these unicorns could want with either of her friends, after all, neither of them had been involved with her experiment. Perhaps they had assumed that Spike was involved, seeing as he lived with her, but that made Fluttershy unnecessary. Expendable.

Oh Celestia. Come on, Twilight. Keep it together. You might need your magic.

Dash beckoned her over to the window, and she ducked down, joining the pegasus, crouched beneath the flower-box. She placed the package for the Princess on the ground by her feet. At this distance, they could hear the voices within. The current speaker was male, with a pronounced Trottingham accent.

“…She’s an element. Libra says we can’t touch them. She’ll just have to be in on the deal.”

“Libra?” Dash mouthed to Twilight, who shrugged.

She was still frightened, but her heart flooded with relief that Fluttershy must be unharmed. There was the sound of hoof-falls within the cottage, as the owner of the Trottingham-accented voice walked across the room.

“That’s not the one from my house,” Dash whispered. “He sounded like he was from Canterlot.”

Twilight nodded, and was about to reply, but the voice began speaking again, and they both fell silent to listen.

“Look, I didn’t want to mix anypony else up in this, but now you know, the same goes for you. If you tell anypony about this, about what happened tonight… Well.” There was an ominous pause. “…You might just get a few claws in the mail. Isn’t that right, little fella?”

Cold anger flooded Twilight at these words. How dare they threaten my little brother like that? Then, another thought occurred to her. At least we know Spike's in there. They’re going to dragon-nap him and use him to blackmail us! She looked across at Dash, who looked equally furious. “If they lay one single hoof on either of them…” Twilight growled, under her breath, and Dash grimaced, nodding curtly in agreement.

“We need to get them out. Fast,” Dash whispered.

“Wait,” Twilight gasped, looking down at the package in horror. “This is the only copy of my notes. If they get their hooves on it we’re back to square one, they’ll have got what they wanted anyway.”

“Leave it out here, then,” Dash suggested, but Twilight shook her head.

“Too risky. What if they overpower us? They could just pick it up.” Her eyes widened, and her voice dropped. “I’ve got an idea.”

Dash kept glancing nervously at the door. “Whatever it is, make it quick. I dunno why they’re not leaving yet, but if this is a dragon-napping they’ll be out of here soon enough.”

Twilight nodded quickly, and closed her eyes, concentrating hard. Her horn flared, and a glowing ball appeared on the grass in-between them, it turned in mid air, shrinking and coruscating brighter for a few moments, then fizzled out, leaving behind a quill and inkwell. Twilight looked triumphantly up at the pegasus, who did not appear wildly impressed.

“Look, Twi’, I know they say the pen’s mightier than the sword, but I’m not sure…”

“Shh,” hissed Twilight, “I know what I’m doing.” Flicking her horn, she picked up the package, and extricated the letter from the top. Dipping her quill, she hastily scrawled some words across the bottom of the letter. The lack of light and bad writing angle made the letters into a large, untidy scrawl, but it was at least legible. She showed it to Dash.

“Princess, we need you, they have Spike,” Dash whispered, reading aloud, squinting in the dim light cast by the window. She looked confusedly at Twilight. “Yeah, that’s exactly the problem. They’ve got Spike. How do we send it?”

Twilight sighed, steeling herself. “That’s the hard part. We’ll only have one shot at this.”

Dusk turned his back on Fluttershy, standing centrally in the room, and motioned the other unicorn to join him. “Where’s our runner got to?” he hissed. “He should be back now.”

“If anypony comes after us, they might pick up on his teleport trail,” replied the blue one, whose name Spike did not know. “We don’t want the guards sniffing around and following us home.”

“There won’t be any guards!” exclaimed Dusk, his flaring horn cracking in tune with his annoyance. Spike could not help but be reluctantly impressed by the length of time that he had held the freezing spell in effect. It appeared to be taking something of a toll on him, however, and beads of sweat were forming on his brow. “Sparkle wouldn’t dare report him missing. We’ll know if she does.” With a snort, he opened his leather saddlebag, pulling out a length of rope and tossing it to his subordinate.

“Truss up the dragon. We’re not staying here. The runner can meet us, he’s taken too long.” He stamped his hoof in annoyance. “This was supposed to be a quick swoop, I don’t get why Libra always needs to be so cautious.”

“If he wasn’t cautious, he’d be in jail by now,” noted the blue unicorn, moving towards Spike.

“As for you,” Dusk turned on Fluttershy, whose eyes widened. “You just remember what I said. If you squeak, then we’ll-”

He did not have a chance to finish his sentence. With a smashing sound, the front door was bulldozed for the second time that night. A rainbow-coloured aerial blur shot into the room like a bolt of lightning, slamming into Dusk and knocking him clean off his hooves. The entangled pair careened through the cottage, and he collided face-first with the rear wall, with Rainbow Dash on top of him, using him as a shield. He was distracted by this, to say the least, and his concentration broke at roughly the same time as his nose. The immobilization spell fizzled into nothingness, allowing Spike and Fluttershy to fall to the ground, gasping in surprise and relief.

Half a second later, Spike watched in astonishment as Twilight charged through the open door, hot on Dash’s heels, levitating a large sheaf of parchment ahead of her. The other kidnapper, the blue unicorn, simply stared in shock, momentarily immobilized.

What the hay has been going on today? Spike had time to wonder, before Twilight hurled the package at him.

“Spike! Send this, now!” she yelled. More out of instinct than his own volition, Spike sharply exhaled, sending a plume of green flame into the air before him, catching the pile of papers and disintegrating them. He knew that, any moment now, they would reappear in the general vicinity of Princess Celestia. He wondered why the message could not wait, but there were more important things happening currently, and he supposed that Twilight had her reasons.

There was a moment of stunned silence within the cottage, except for the sound of Dash and the somewhat-dazed Dusk pummeling at one another from beyond the partition. Then, something rather surprising happened.

With an inarticulate cry of fury, Fluttershy hurled herself at the blue pegasus, who regained his wits just in time to turn and see the canary-yellow ball of screaming rage careering towards his head. The scene seemed to unfreeze, and Dusk kicked out strongly with his rear legs, launching Dash off him into the living room, and giving him time to clamber to his hooves and wipe the blood from his nose. Dash’s head collided with the corner of the coffee table, and she collapsed to the floor, semi-conscious.

Snorting in anger, Dusk's horn flared, ready to immobilize the new arrivals, but Twilight was ready for him. Staring him down, she too concentrated, her horn crackling, projecting a magic-dampening field into the room. Dusk redoubled his efforts, trying to break past her defences, but to no avail. The air between them rippled like a heat-haze, motes of light popping within it, as both unicorns dug in their heels. Spike ran across to kneel beside Dash, checking her head to see if she was alright, keeping his head down to avoid the sporadic flares of magical energy crackling around the room.

Suddenly, the third unicorn, the messenger, appeared at the door, staring in horror at the chaotic scene unfolding before him. He saw the two dueling unicorns, the concussed form of Rainbow Dash lying on the floor, and finally, he spotted his friend taking a savage beating from the infuriated yellow pegasus.

“Hey!” he yelled, slamming the front door closed and wading into the melee.

Fighting to stagger through the storm of magic in the air around him, Dusk advanced on Twilight, reaching into his saddlebag with his teeth whilst still battering at her magical defences. He extricated a small, conical, wooden object, gripping it in his teeth and squinting to see through the rippling air. Apparently forgetting his no-names rule, he yelled to the blue unicorn; “Frost! Pin the purple one!”

Meanwhile, Frost was weakly raising his hooves to try and fend off Fluttershy’s assault. He was relieved when he saw Swift, the runner, rushing over to relieve him. He felt the weight on top of him lessen as Swift tackled the struggling Fluttershy to the floor. Hearing Dusk’s command, he dragged himself awkwardly upright, painfully aware that he would have some impressive bruises the next day.

Twilight was only aware of Frost’s approach when she felt his hooves close around her neck, forcing her head down. She struggled, crying out, and out of the corner of her eye she saw Dusk approaching through the magic-haze, the cone-shaped object held in his mouth. With one last effort, she blasted a beam-shaped punch of magical energy out of the end of her horn, catching Frost in the chest and throwing him clear of her with a yell, but it was too late. With a triumphant snarl, Dusk raised the hollow cone, and slammed it down onto her horn, covering it completely.

Immediately, Twilight’s magic was cut off. She felt the cone clamp into place on her horn, and no matter how hard she tried, she could not raise a spark. Dusk smiled. “Yew heartwood. Laced with silver,” he spat, the anger in his voice evident despite his cold grin. “Not good for you spellcasters, eh? Oh yes, we planned for you, Miss Magic.”

Fluttershy was pinned against the sofa by Swift, the messenger. “This was gonna be so easy,” he growled, his voice gruff and scratchy. Angrily, he drew back a hoof, and Fluttershy cowered back, her anger suddenly drained away from her, and replaced with terror at what she had just done.

I hurt somepony! I actually hit him! She panicked internally, scared speechless by her own actions.

“This’ll teach you not to mess with things that aren’t your business!” Swift exclaimed, beginning to swing his hoof down. Fluttershy half-closed her eyes in fearful anticipation of the blow.

Then, out of nowhere, Spike hurled himself at Swift, attaching to the grey unicorn’s head, and digging his claws in tightly, refusing to let go. “Don’t you touch her!” he yelled, loosing a gout of flame over Swift’s blue hood, catching it alight. Swift’s strike at Fluttershy missed as he careered backwards, ripping at the fabric with his hoof, and Spike jumped clear, his work done. The infuriated messenger finally tore his hood clear, an instant before it set alight to his fur, and then stamped it out on the carpet, looking around to find Spike, bent on revenge.

An instant later, Dusk’s horn flared. With Twilight unable to block his magic, he could easily control the situation. Twilight was wrestling with the yew-and-silver cone, but it would not budge. One by one, Spike, Twilight, Fluttershy, and Dash were all paralyzed, and hoisted into the air by Dusk’s spell.

In the moment of silence that followed, Dusk looked around angrily at the others, blood still dripping from his injured snout. Frost limped over to join him, a throbbing lump on his head where Twilight’s spell had flung him into the ceiling, and Swift reluctantly followed suit, his ears singed, glaring daggers at Spike.

“Come on,” said Dusk, coldly, his eyes flashing. “We’re walking out of here. The dragon comes with us. Just think, we could have done this the easy way. We still might be nice later, but as soon as we get back, we’ll send you his tail for your trouble.”

Swift smiled, his hoodless face gleeful. “Let me do it. I owe him one.”

Dusk nodded. “Fine. And I want to know what idiot thought that nopony knew where the dragon was. But later. Let’s get the buck out of here, before anypony else shows up.”

He separated the terrified Spike out with his magic, and hovered him over to Swift, who grabbed him. “We’re gonna have some fun later, little guy,” he murmured.

Frost cast a baleful eye over the hovering ponies. “You all know the score. You talk. We hurt the dragon.”

“They know, let’s make tracks.”

Twilight’s heart was hammering frenziedly as the three unicorns walked towards the door. They had Spike. They had hurt her friends. It was all her fault. She looked from side to side, taking in her friends’ faces, frozen in expressions of pain or defeat. She knew that she would never forgive herself.

With one last contemptuous look back over his shoulder, Dusk threw open the door.

A blast of light struck him, and he screwed his eyes shut. The light pulsed, and he skidded backwards across the floor, snorting in fear, a wild panic in his eyes as he gazed outside the cottage. A tall, blinding figure walked serenely through the door, surveying the scene before her. Nopony in the room could look directly at her, for none could bear to meet the anger in her eyes.

“Put that dragon down. Now,” commanded Princess Celestia.

Fallen Stars

A Bluebird’s Song

~~~
It’s all so clear
We can see the madness
Perfectly from here
~~~

Fallen Stars

The three would-be kidnappers huddled together in the middle of the floor, shrinking away from Celestia’s gaze. None of them were courageous or foolish enough to attempt escape. Dusk’s horn had ceased sparking out of sheer nerves, and Spike had fallen to the floor with a bump, as had Twilight and her friends. They were all staring, transfixed, at the Princess. Her horn crackled once, and the wooden magical dampener attached to Twilight’s head cracked in two and fell away, thumping onto the floor. Twilight ran a grateful hoof over the horn, letting out a relieved sigh when she found that it was undamaged.

In the middle of the room, the three unicorns were arguing skittishly, in low voices, each speaking rapidly.

“Y-you never said royalty was gonna get involved,” babbled Frost, looking to Dusk for leadership.

“I didn’t know!” Dusk shot a glare at Twilight. “They told me Sparkle was just a student, nopony told me she could bring the Princess down on us!”

“Be quiet,” Celestia said, softly. She raised her voice, but the bickering unicorns fell silent immediately. “Dusk Tempest,” she cast a cool eye over the burly, white-coated ringleader. “You’re in with the Sunset Association now, are you? How times change.” Celestia looked over her shoulder, and called out of the open door. “Guards?”

Three pure white pegasi, clad in the distinctive golden armour of Royal Guards, entered the cottage. Dusk growled furiously as he saw them, an old anger flaring up in his eyes, but he did not dare make a move for them. “Well, look who it is,” he muttered. The Guards saluted the Princess, ignoring Dusk, and looked to Celestia for instruction.

The Princess motioned towards Frost and Dusk. “Rope these two up, and take them back to the castle. I’m sure they’ll have some interesting things to tell us later. As for you,” she addressed Swift directly, who shrank back but met her gaze defiantly. “I’m letting you go. Go back to your leaders. Tell them that the Elements of Harmony, and their friends, are under my personal protection.”

She paused, surveying him thoughtfully. “It was you who volunteered to injure Spike, wasn’t it?” A momentary surge of anger flashed in her face, and Swift broke eye contact, looking nervously at the floor. “Even after today, perhaps your organization will still think it a good idea to try and get to my student through the ponies that she cares for. If so, then I have a message for them.”

She nodded to one of her guards, who passed her a small, sealed scroll. With a spark of her horn, she levitated it across to Swift, and placed it into his saddlebag. “That scroll contains a trapped spell. It’s good for one teleportation, so you can get back to wherever you came from and tell your leaders what happened here today.”

Swift looked a little confused. He was not the most powerful of unicorns, but he was perfectly capable of teleporting himself. He looked back up at Celestia, unrepentantly, his courage somewhat back in place. “What’s this message, then?” he asked, derisively.

Celestia closed her eyes, a corona of magic forming around her forehead. For a few moments, it whirled and glowed, and then a single spark detached itself and drifted across to Swift, all eyes tracking its progress. It touched his forehead, sinking beneath the surface without a sound. For a moment, all was silent.

With a resounding snap, Swift’s horn broke in two, clattering to the floor.

He reeled back in horror, staring disbelievingly at the powder-blue cone that was even now rolling away across the floor. Frost backed himself against the wall, staring at his associate in shock. Dusk let out a low snarl of anger, but was silenced by a look from the Princess. Swift was in no pain, as there are no nerves in a unicorn’s horn, but panic dawned in his eyes as he realized what this meant. Once a unicorn’s horn was broken, there was no replacing it. He closed his eyes, concentrating with all his might, but could not summon so much as a spark from the broken base. He would have to find a prosthesis, but even then there was no returning his magic. He had, to all intents and purposes, become an earth pony.

“I am sorry,” murmured Celestia. There was no triumph in her voice, only sadness. “A clear message must be sent to your leaders. My protection of these ponies is not to be taken lightly.”

Two guards stepped forward, expertly tying together the front legs of the shell-shocked Dusk and Frost. They produced anti-magic cones, similar to the one that Dusk had used on Twilight, and placed them over their horns, preventing them from escaping magically. “Shall we leave now, your Highness?” Captain Gladius enquired.

Celestia nodded. “Yes. Detain these two in the castle. I will speak to them myself later.”

Gladius saluted, motioning to the other guards, who shepherded Dusk and Frost out of the door, the two unicorns unable to walk faster than a slow shuffle due to the bindings tying together their front legs. The final guard to leave closed the door behind him, after a rapid bow to the Princess.

For a few moments, there was silence, then Celestia turned to look at the ponies and dragon that she had rescued, none of whom had yet spoken. None of them had seen the Princess angry before, and although it had been fleeting, none of them felt quite brave enough to be the first to speak. Swift was still pawing at the jagged stump of his horn, grimacing as he envisaged a lifetime of attempting to use cutlery with nothing but his bare hooves.

“I’ll speak to you all in one moment,” Celestia said to Twilight with a reassuring smile. “I feel I owe you an explanation. But first, I must have a few moments alone to speak with… What was your name?”

“S-Swift Zephyr,” he replied, his voice shaking.

“Come. I must talk to you, outside.” She noticed his obvious nerves, which he was attempting with little success to hide from her. “Don’t worry. You have nothing further to fear from me.”

She led the way out of the front door. Swift looked mutinous, but did not appear to have the nerve to remain where he was, so he followed the Princess through the door, letting it swing shut behind him. His horn was still lying where it had rolled, partially hidden beneath Fluttershy’s sofa.

There were a few seconds of silence, in which the ponies and dragon simply looked at one another, each trying to make full sense of the last ten minutes. Twilight winced as she remembered the sound of Swift’s horn breaking. Even after what he had tried to do, it was still an unpleasant experience to watch that happening to a fellow unicorn.

Then, Spike sniffled. Running over to Twilight and Dash, he hugged them both. “Th-thanks for coming after me and Fluttershy, you guys,” he choked out. “I owe you one. More than one.”

With a little squeak, Fluttershy joined him, gratefully throwing one hoof each around Twilight and Dash. “Me too,” she whispered. “I can’t imagine what they’d be doing to Spike right now if you’d not turned up.”

Twilight and Dash smiled at each other, blushing a little at the praise. “Anytime,” Twilight replied, returning the hug.

“As for you,” Fluttershy smiled, releasing the two ponies and scooping up Spike in her hooves, “you were amazing. You stopped that big one who’d pinned me down; you were so brave jumping at him like that!”

Spike flushed, embarrassed, but smiled nonetheless, hugging Fluttershy back. “Aw, come on, ‘Shy. It was nothing, really.”

Fluttershy giggled, setting him down. “Why can’t all dragons be like you?”

Spike shrugged, smirking. “Hey, what can I say? I’m unique.” He turned to Twilight, his smile fading as he remembered something that Dusk had said. “Now, what the hay was this whole dragon-napping thing about anyway? They told me it had something to do with you.”

Twilight sighed, looking at Dash for moral support. “I guess I’ve got some explaining to do,” she replied, quietly.

“Not as much as I have, my dear student,” came a voice from the door. Celestia re-entered the cottage, looking saddened. “Swift has left now,” she added, “he used the scroll.” She looked apologetically at Twilight. “I’m sorry you had to see that. As a unicorn, it cannot have been pleasant.”

There was silence for a few moments, then, deciding to take the initiative, Twilight walked over to her. The others were still hanging back. “Thankyou for coming after us, Princess,” she said, looking at the floor.

Celestia looked at Twilight, and then around at the others, her expression was almost fearful. “You’re afraid of me.” It was not a question.

“No-” Twilight began to protest, but the words died in her throat.

“You are. I can see it in your eyes.” Celestia sighed. “Twilight, tell me honestly. Did I do the right thing?”

Twilight looked up at the Princess, in surprise. “I’m sorry?”

“I promised myself a long time ago that I would never use my powers in anger,” Celestia said. “I fear I may have just done so, but I believe that it was the right decision. However, I need your opinion. I need outside perspective, and too few are willing to provide me with it. Please, be honest with me.”

Twilight thought for a few moments, remembering. In reality, she was surprised at the Princess’s doubt in her own judgment. She had felt the breaking of Swift’s horn to be entirely justified. The only reason she was afraid was because she had never seen Celestia truly angry before, and that fear was seeping away now that her mentor was back to her usual self.

“I think you were right,” Twilight said eventually, meeting Celestia’s eyes again. “Letting him go might have been taken as a sign of weakness. It might have made them not take your protection seriously, and you needed to make sure that didn’t happen. I would have done the same.” She paused. “Actually, after what they’d threatened Spike with, I’d probably have done worse,” she finished in a small voice.

Celestia nodded. “I understand.”

“One other thing, Princess,” Twilight added, hesitantly, knowing that this needed to be said; “yes, I am afraid of you. Of course I am, what pony wouldn’t be? But that doesn’t change the fact that you’re one of the greatest ponies I’ve ever known, and I’m more proud than I can say to be your student.”

She looked anxiously at the Princess, hoping that she had not broken some rule of royal etiquette, but then she saw a tear glinting in Celestia’s eye. Twilight quickly looked away, embarrassed. “Thankyou, Twilight,” the Princess said quietly, with a small smile.

“So,” Dash chipped in, moving forwards. The others followed suit, seemingly more at ease now that the Princess’s anger had clearly dissipated. “Who was that Dusk guy? It seemed like ya knew him.”

“I’m afraid I do,” said Celestia, gravely. “I will come to his story in a moment. Firstly, though, I owe Twilight an apology.”

“Me?” Twilight was confused.

“Yes.” The Princess nodded. “The ponies who tried to kidnap Spike are, as you have probably realized, the same ponies who threatened yourself and Rainbow Dash earlier today.”

Spike seemed taken aback at the news that his attempted capture was not the first interesting event of the day. “Huh?”

“I’ll explain later,” whispered Dash.

“They are members of a group known as the Sunset Association,” Celestia continued. “I owe you an apology, Twilight, because I never warned you about them.” She cleared her throat. “I thought they had disbanded a long time ago now, but I should have known better. I also should have foreseen this.”

“Foreseen what, Princess?” Twilight asked, nervously.

“You have an enquiring mind,” Celestia said, “I would go so far as to say that you have a great mind.” Twilight blushed a little at the compliment, but the Princess moved swiftly on with her explanation. “Did you think you were the first to question the impossible? I should have realized how likely it was that one day you would begin to wonder about pegasus flight, just as so many scholars before you have done.”

Realization suddenly dawned on Spike’s face. “So this is about that thing you mentioned to me yesterday?” he asked Twilight. “All those diagrams and notes in your room?”

Celestia nodded. “I expect so.”

“B-but what does flight have to do with anything?” Fluttershy squeaked, and then shrank back. “If… If you don’t mind me asking.”

“Yeah,” added Dash, “it’s not like it’s hurting anypony, why do they care?”

The Princess held up a hoof. “One thing at a time. Allow me to explain who Sunset used to be. Evidently, who they still are.” She looked out of the window, staring for a few seconds at the night sky outside before continuing. “Every night, the sun sets. Nothing changes that. No matter what kind of a world it’s setting on, the sunset carries on. The perfect name for an organization that existed to fight against change. Putting it simply, the Sunset Association were a group of unicorns, dedicated to protecting unicorn interests. They existed for many hundreds of years, based at numerous locations in Canterlot. They believed that the status quo in Equestria must be preserved. Specifically, the status quo between unicorns and pegasi.” Celestia looked around at the small gathering. “I’m not sure how much you follow politics, but there has long been a rift between pegasi and unicorns. It has healed somewhat over recent times, at least partially through my own political effort, but in the distant past the two groups have often found themselves at each other’s throats.”

Dash nudged Twilight, playfully. “Funny, that,” she muttered. “We seem to get on just fine.”

Twilight silently shushed her, but could not hold back a small smile.

“Sunset,” Celestia continued, “still considered pegasi a threat. They could tolerate the ‘usual’ situation, in that unicorns monopolize magic and scholarship, and pegasi stick to their territory of flight and weather control. However, they believe that pegasi are constantly seeking power. What’s worse, is that they think I am secretly backing the pegasi, favouring them over the unicorns.”

“What?” Twilight exclaimed. “That’s ridiculous. Everypony’s a subject of yours. Why in Equestria would you be biased towards one particular group?”

“They think it’s a conspiracy,” Celestia said, unable to keep the scorn from her voice. “In reality, of course, they’re just prejudiced against pegasi, but if they can justify their claims to themselves, it makes them feel better. I say a lot of things that are on record, and if you’ve got enough quotes from somepony you can make them seem in favour of anything. I don’t doubt if they wanted ‘proof’ that I was pro-unicorn, they could cobble some together somehow.” Celestia shook her head, disdainfully.

“Confirmation bias,” muttered Twilight.

“What now?” Dash raised an eyebrow.

“Exactly, Twilight.” Celestia nodded. “They believe what they want to believe. But in the end, their motives aren’t relevant. Now, this is where your experiment comes in. Like so many unicorn scholars before you, you realized that there was something very wrong with pegasus flight. Sunset are already aware of this. They know the truth, and one of their primary purposes is to keep that truth from the pegasi.”

“But why?” Dash exclaimed.

Fluttershy was looking surprised, experimentally waving her wing in mid-air, obviously trying to work out what exactly was ‘wrong’ with it.

“Magic,” said Celestia, simply. “They think that magic should belong exclusively to the unicorns. To their minds, if the pegasi realize their magical capacity, they would be at an advantage,” she said the last word with distasteful emphasis.

“Pegasi are magical?” Fluttershy looked a little excited at this news, and was hovering a couple of inches from the floor in interest.

Celestia smiled at her. “Yes, Fluttershy. I’m sure Twilight will be pleased to explain the details later.” She cleared her throat, looking from Twilight to Dash. “So, you decided to experiment with pegasus flight. Your work, evidently, did not go unnoticed. Sunset needed to silence you, although I don’t doubt they wanted to leave you capable of fulfilling your capacity as the Elements of Harmony.”

Dash’s eyes widened. “That’s what the one in my house said!”

Fluttershy and Spike both looked at her, in surprise. “They were in your house?” spluttered Fluttershy, indignantly.

Twilight was kneading her forehead. “This makes no sense, though,” she growled. “You told me that they’re an old organization, that they’re professional. You told me that they knew what they were doing. But they clearly didn’t know much about me, did they? For one thing, they had no idea that I could directly contact you, your Highness. I mean, they threw a brick through my window! That’s not exactly the mark of a professional, is it?”

Celestia nodded. “That’s a good point. I must admit, I think it was a deliberate ruse. They threw the brick through your window to make their introduction, as it were, intending for you to believe that they were simply cranks. Then, when Spike went missing, you would make the connection yourself. By the time you realized that the threat worth taking note of, it would be too late. They would already have won; they would have had leverage over you. It was simply good fortune that stopped them from getting away with Spike. As for not knowing about your connection with myself, I don’t imagine they had much time to gather information about you before moving in. They had to react quickly. For all they knew, you could have gone public tomorrow.”

Twilight sighed. “I see what you mean. So you think they deliberately tried to me make me believe they were loonies? I mean, hearing about Dash, reading that message, it scared me, sure. But part of my brain was telling me it wasn’t worth worrying about, that they were just some bunch of idiots. I still don’t know why they didn’t just get away with Spike immediately, though.”

Fluttershy spoke up, nervously. “Uhh, Twilight? One of them heard Spike tell me that he just happened to be passing, when he offered to help with my garden. They thought that nopony knew that he was here.”

“Huh. Really?” Twilight raised an inquisitive eyebrow at Spike, throwing him a look that said; what are you up to?

Spike flushed, realizing that he had told Twilight that he was specifically going to Fluttershy’s before he had left. He could not help but let out a sigh of relief, however, as it occurred to him that had he not been deliberately nonchalant with Fluttershy, the whole kidnapping would probably have been over much more rapidly. He would never have had a chance.

He nervously shook his head at Twilight, mouthing; “later!” He hoped that Fluttershy had not noticed. Twilight still looked suspicious, but evidently decided not to press the matter.

“Well, it looks like today was a very lucky escape,” Celestia remarked.

Fluttershy pawed at the floor nervously, trying not to look at the pale blue horn still lying beneath the sofa. “W-will they be back?”

Celestia sighed, shaking her head. “I don’t know, but probably not right now. I told Twilight I owed her an apology for not warning her about them. The truth is, I never even realized that they were back. I thought they had disbanded at least ten years ago, when we arrested the three ringleaders. They’re still in jail to this day. I can only presume that they took on new leadership, and as for their trying to silence you again, I can have no way of knowing. You saw Dusk Tempest, the one clearly in charge of the dragon-napping?”

Twilight nodded. “It seemed like you recognized him.”

“I did. All too well,” Celestia looked saddened. “He was my Captain of the Guard, until some fifteen years ago.”

Dash and Twilight exchanged looks of surprise at this news.

“I know how rare it is for unicorns to be members of the Royal Guard, but I had him elevated specially after old Captain Magnus retired. I don’t know quite why I did so, even to this day, but there was something about him, a spark of some kind. My hunch proved correct, for a good few years at least. The Guard went from strength to strength under his command. However, he had one fatal flaw. His temper.” She snorted, quietly. “Turns out, he was quite a lapse of judgment on my part. One time, fifteen years ago, I dispatched a unit of Guards to deal with a drunken brawl that had broken out in one of Canterlot’s squares. In all honesty, he made a mess of it right from the start. I don’t know why, perhaps he was simply having an off day, but he managed to become separated from his unit. He found himself in the thick of the fighting, and was struck an unfortunate blow to the temple, knocking him unconscious. Most of the ponies involved in the scuffle escaped, and when he came to, the Guards had only made three arrests.” She paused for a moment.

“So he was demoted for messing his assignment up?” Dash asked, curiously.

Celestia shook her head, with a bitter laugh. “No. One of the detainees kept needling him while they were being escorted, kept mocking him for getting himself knocked out, telling him that he didn’t deserve to be Captain. Doubtless he was already stressed over exactly that, perhaps he was still in pain from being struck in the head, perhaps he was just frustrated. I do not know. Whatever the case, in a moment of anger he kicked the prisoner in the face with his back leg, without realizing his own strength. The detainee’s neck was broken by the blow, killing him instantly.”

The assembled ponies winced, and Fluttershy let out a horrified squeak, covering her mouth with a hoof.

“I had no choice,” Celestia continued, sadly. “He was dishonourably discharged from the guards, and was sentenced to twelve years in prison, for ponyslaughter and dereliction of duty. Two pegasi from his unit who had witnessed his outburst gave evidence at the trial. As he was taken away, he was cursing all pegasi for this perceived betrayal.”

“…A ready made recruit for Sunset,” Twilight surmised, a little queasily.

“Exactly,” Celestia replied. “I don’t doubt that they searched him out the moment he was released from jail. He probably joined in a flash when they came calling. I expect he’ll fill me in on the details when I speak to him in the castle later.” She paused, regretfully. “He was my greatest lapse of judgment.”

“So, what do we do now?” Twilight’s eyes were determined. “If they come back, we’ll need to be ready.”

“My protection is not something that they will take lightly,” Celestia reminded her. “Even so, we can’t be too careful. I’ll keep your research notes safe in the castle vault. As for you…” She appraised the group for a few moments, thinking. “I think it’s safe enough for Fluttershy to remain here,” she said at some length. “Now that they know the dragon-napping attempt failed, and that the cat’s out of the bag, they won’t have any further reason to come after Fluttershy.”

The canary pegasus gave a little sigh of relief, and Celestia turned to look at Twilight, Dash, and Spike.

“Regarding you three, I don’t think they’ll show their faces around here, at least for a while. However, just to be safe, I think it might be a good idea if Rainbow Dash were to move into the library for a while, if there’s some room. That way, neither of you is ever isolated, just in case.”

Twilight and Dash exchanged a knowing grin. “I think we can live with that,” Twilight said.

“I’m definitely alright with it,” laughed Dash.

Celestia raised an eyebrow, smiling at Dash. “You seem remarkably enthusiastic. Have you taken a liking to reading recently?”

“Ehh,” Dash noticed Twilight was blushing a little, which set her off too. “You could say that.”

Celestia looked from pegasus to unicorn, a hint of gleeful realization forming in her eyes. “So, was I mistaken? Is it perhaps the librarian rather than the library that you find so appealing?”

Spike slapped a claw to his head. “Why did I even try to keep this quiet?” he muttered to himself, under his breath.

Fluttershy was smiling widely at the expression on the Princess’s face. Twilight and Dash were blushing violently, but finding it difficult to keep straight faces. To both of them, the unpleasant evening had given them both a sense of perspective. It hardly seemed to matter who knew about them. It seemed pointless to keep it a secret any longer.

“Okay,” admitted the red-faced Twilight. “We’re… We’re together.”

“I’d say so,” nodded Dash, gently nuzzling Twilight’s cheek to emphasize the point.

Celestia was grinning broadly. “Oh, this is wonderful! I’d never have expected this. You ponies never fail to surprise me. Might I ask how long?”

Twilight and Dash looked at each other, each waiting for the other to reply. “Two days,” Dash said, at last, her head resting on Twilight’s shoulder.

“Oh no!” Twilight suddenly exclaimed, spinning around to face Fluttershy. “I’m sorry, Fluttershy! You didn’t know, did you? I didn’t mean to spring it on you like this! Are you alright with us… being…” Her gabbling trailed to a halt as she noticed the reassuring smile on Fluttershy’s face. A careful observer might have noticed that Spike was no longer in plain sight. A still more careful observer may have noticed the quivering tip of a purple tail protruding from behind a squashy armchair, a few feet behind Fluttershy.

“Don’t worry, Twilight,” Fluttershy said, gently. “I don’t mind at all, in fact I’m really happy for you.” She let out a little high-pitched noise of delight. “You two are so cute together!”

Twilight let out a sigh of relief. She remembered now that Dash had already mentioned her feelings to Fluttershy, and assumed that this was why the yellow pegasus did not seem at all surprised. She was not the only one seemingly relieved. As if reappearing from nowhere, Spike was suddenly standing nonchalantly in front of the armchair again, trying very hard to look as if he had been there the whole time, and surreptitiously wiping a bead of perspiration from his brow.

Celestia’s horn glowed suddenly, and she magically swept up the splintered, powder-blue horn from the floor, and stowed it carefully beneath her wing. She addressed Twilight directly. “I’ll be in touch when we know more about what Sunset’s game is,” she said, still smiling delightedly at the news about Twilight and Dash. She managed to return her tone to a businesslike one, obviously with difficulty. “I’d best return to Canterlot, I need to set an investigation in motion.”

“What about my research?” Twilight asked.

“I’ll have a copy made, and return the original to you.” Celestia looked curiously at Twilight. “It’s not for me to say if you continue your work on pegasus flight or not. That must be your decision to make.”

Twilight looked across at Dash, who nodded almost imperceptibly. “I’ve already made my decision,” she said. “I promised I’d help Dash, and this might be the perfect way to go about it.”

Celestia smiled at the pair of them. “Alright. Remember; contact me straight away if you come across any leads.” She walked to the door, and then turned back in the doorway to look at them. “Well done tonight, all of you,” she said, warmly. “The Elements made their choices well.”

With that, she left, closing the door behind her. There was a soft glow from outside the window as she spread her wings, rising away into the silent night sky. For a few moments, there was silence inside the cottage. The three ponies and one dragon all looked at each other, an aura of something between relief and late-onset shock hanging in the air between them.

“This has been a really weird day,” Spike remarked, reflecting the general mood.

Fluttershy’s eyes brightened a little, as she voiced that eternal solution to so many of life’s problems. “Um, would anypony like a cup of tea?”

Hopes And Fears

A Bluebird’s Song

~~~
What the hell do we want?
Is it only to go
Where nobody has gone?
~~~

Hopes and Fears

It was close to midnight, as two ponies and one dragon finally re-entered the dark library. They had bade the outwardly calm and collected Fluttershy goodnight, after a few mugfuls of tea and much retelling of the last few days’ goings-on. Owloysius was away on one of his night-time excursions, leaving the library silent and still.

Spike yawned, as the door swung shut behind him. “I’m gonna hit the hay,” he mumbled, traipsing tiredly towards his bed. “Thanks again for coming after me, you two,” he called back at the foot of the staircase.

“No worries,” Dash replied, also yawning a little.

“’Night, Spike,” Twilight smiled at him, watching him as he collapsed into his little bed and, almost instantaneously, begin snoring.

“He’s had a long day,” smirked Dash.

“I think we all have,” Twilight replied, leaning on the pegasus for support, and stealing a kiss on the corner of her lips.

Dash giggled, affectionately nuzzling the unicorn behind the ear. “You are okay with me stayin’ here, aren’t ya?”

Twilight was a little surprised by the question. “Of course I am, I’m more than okay with it! Why?”

“Oh, y’know,” Dash was pleased with the response, but wanted to explain herself. “It’s not that I wouldn’t love to, it’s just I thought maybe you’d need some space. I don’t want ya to think I’m crowdin’ you.”

Twilight smiled, relieved that this had been the only thing to trouble Dash about staying at the library. “There’s no need to worry about that,” she said with a wink, and then her tone became a little more subdued. “I just hope you’re okay with this. I mean, it’s going to seem pretty stuffy for you, isn’t it? Stuck on the ground, in a library. Maybe we can get you a cloud in if you need something you can sleep on easier.”

Dash waved a hoof dismissively. “Never mind about that,” she grinned, “I like this place just fine. As for clouds, sure, they’re comfy. But give me a choice between a cloud, and a bed with you in it?” She snorted, her eyes twinkling mischievously. “Pfft, no contest.”

Twilight blushed, partly at the pegasus’ words, but also because she found the gleeful spark in her eyes quite enchanting. “Oh, I’m sure I could get… creative with the cloud-walking spell, if you wanted,” she whispered.

“Maybe,” Dash chuckled, yawning widely, listening to Spike’s snores. “Probably not tonight, though… I reckon we should get some rest, too.”

“Good plan,” conceded Twilight, then a thought occurred to her. “I hope Fluttershy’s okay,” she said, in concern. “She must’ve been so scared.”

“Furious, more like,” corrected Dash. “Did ya see her hammering that blue one?” She smirked. “I wouldn’t wanna get on her bad side. She’ll be fine; she’s made of tougher stuff than you’d think.”

“Can’t argue with that, I guess,” nodded Twilight. “I’d still like to check on her tomorrow, though.” She could feel her eyelids drooping, and leaned back against Dash to keep her balance. "Come on, then. Let’s get to bed.”

“I can’t believe I actually hit somepony…”

Fluttershy was muttering quietly, as she readied herself for sleep. Her eyes were consistently drawn towards her forehooves. She had felt angry before, but it had usually been born of frustration or sheer indignation. This had been different, hearing those threats leveled at Spike. She had never been so prepared to physically injure somepony before. Not for years…

You might just get a few claws in the mail…

Her fur stood on end simply at the memory of those words, and the shadow of that cold anger froze her mind for a moment. She shivered, remembering the tremors shuddering through her legs, as her hooves made jarring contacts with the stallion’s face and body. Fortunately enough, Twilight had volunteered to magically siphon the small flecks of blood from out of the rug before leaving, so at least the physical reminder of her behaviour was washed away. Strangely, it was her own actions that frightened her infinitely more than the danger to her safety, or the invasion of her home.

If she was honest with herself, it had felt good. The memory was now a painful one, but at the time, feeling the sense of power, of enacting justice, it had been intoxicating. Just like the last time this had happened.

Forcefully, she lay down hard on the bed, throwing the covers over herself and closing her eyes. Don’t think about that.

For what seemed like hours, she tossed and turned, unable to keep herself from remembering. She could not identify the moment when her memories morphed fluidly into dreams.

It was three days later.

Dash’s eyelids drifted slowly open, and she smiled as she saw the unicorn lying beside her. They had heard nothing from either Sunset or Celestia as yet, and so they had got to work. It was surprising, in a way. Dash had never expected the Twilight would be training her in flying. She knew perfectly well that if she could perfect this technique, then the record would not only be within her grasp; it would be almost easy.

They had spent most of the previous day in the fields around Ponyville, practicing hard. Dash was still finding it difficult to separate flight from muscle memory, but the training time was time well spent, and she was already making visible progress.

She had taken Twilight flying again the previous night. The air had been warmer, and it had been a completely different experience now that she was no longer worrying about her wings. She had been able to direct her entire attention to the sky, and to the mare in her hooves. For a few moments, she simply lay there, her eyes euphorically glazed as she remembered.

Dash giggled to herself as she realized that, for once, she had woken up before Twilight. That had to be a first. The unicorn seemed to find their flying sessions even more tiring then Dash did, not being used to the exhilaration or the height. Dash shifted a little, trying not to disturb the unicorn. Her forehooves were loosely draped around Twilight’s stomach from behind, and she could feel the gentle rise and fall of her lover's breathing. She was glad that Fluttershy knew, although thus far they had not found an opportune moment in which to tell their other friends. They both knew that they would have to soon, however.

Fluttershy had seemed a little distant when they had visited. Although she had professed to be fine, it seemed as if she were trying to convince herself as much as them. The canary pegasus had seemed almost haunted. They were all eagerly awaiting news from Celestia, and today they planned to send her a letter announcing their intent to conduct an air-speed record attempt at some point in the relatively near future.

Outside the window, the birds were amassed in a rousing chorus, and Dash guessed that it must be nearly ten in the morning. It was probably time to get up, as testified by a growl from her stomach. Gently leaning forwards, she kissed the back of Twilight’s neck, feeling the unicorn’s back leg twitch in her sleep in response. “Twi,” she whispered in her marefriend’s ear.

The unicorn mumbled something incoherent, rolling a little over towards Dash, but not opening her eyes. Slowly, she turned her head, and her eyelids flickered. Smiling, Dash kissed her neck again, trailing her lips upwards, and then nuzzling along Twilight’s jawbone. The half-asleep mare blushed a little, biting her lip.

“I think I like getting woken like that…” Twilight murmured, slowly opening her eyes.

“Thought ya might,” Dash winked at her, looking up into her eyes. “I thought I’d get some stuff over from my place today, if that’s okay.”

Twilight smiled, sleepily. “Sure, that’s fine.” Suddenly, a thought occurred to her. “Hey, will the clouds be alright? They won’t drift or anything if you’re away for a while?”

“Nah,” Dash shook her head. “I built that place well.” She stretched her forehooves out a little. “Want me to fix some breakfast? You seem pretty done in.”

“Thanks,” Twilight said, gratefully. “I must be, you never wake up first, usually.”

“Lazy habits die hard, I guess,” Dash smirked, beginning to extricate herself from the duvet in order to get out of bed.

“Just one last thing,” Twilight said, reaching out to stop her from getting up. “Thanks for taking me flying again yesterday. I love sharing that with you.” Twilight knew that the sky was where Dash found her solace. It was the one place where she could be alone, and comfortable in her own company. It was her world, her sanctuary. It meant a lot to Twilight that Dash trusted her enough to take her by the hoof and let her into such a personal place.

Dash could see how much it meant to the unicorn, and smiled warmly at her. “The sky’s just empty space without you,” she said, quietly and sincerely.

Twilight looked back at her, wide-eyed, unable to articulate a worthy response. She tightened her grip on Dash’s shoulder, pulling her into a deep kiss. Dash did not resist. To her, their every kiss felt like the first. After a few moments, they broke apart, their eyes singing. “I love you, Rainbow,” Twilight whispered.

“I love you too,” said Dash. She took a deep breath of the unicorn's scent, and sighed happily, relishing the sensation of their coats pressed tightly together, before unwillingly pulling away from the embrace, and standing up.

Twilight had to admit, Dash knew how to construct an excellent breakfast. She was currently four hay waffles deep, and was showing no signs of stopping, as Dash looked on in impressed amusement, seated on the opposite side of the kitchen table. Spike was having a weekend lie-in, and had appeared briefly in the kitchen, following the smell of cooking, before retreating to bed with a plateful of Dash’s handiwork.

“Before I go around to my place, do ya reckon we should draft that letter to Celestia?” Dash asked, thoughtfully.

Twilight chewed for a few moments, hurriedly swallowing. “Good idea.” She nodded. “All the things like record attempts go through Celestia anyway, so it’s best we let her know early.” She speared another chunk of waffle, munching enthusiastically. “Seriously, where’d you learn to make these? They’re amazing.”

Dash smirked. “Natural talent. Good thing they’re not too amazing, though. Who’d want a waffle cutie mark?”

Twilight snorted with laughter. “True. I’d say keep the lightning bolt, it suits you better.”

“Mind you, Waffle Dash kind of has a ring to it…”

“Waffle Dash?” Twilight burst out laughing. “I kind of like it!”

Still grinning, she magically levitated a quill and a roll of parchment to the table in front of her, pushing the now-empty plate to one side with a hoof. Then, she paused. “This record... Are you sure about it? Don’t you think it might be a bit… Dangerous?”

Dash raised an eyebrow. “Dangerous?”

“Because of Sunset. I know they’ve gone quiet, but doing this? It kind of feels like we’re poking a beehive with a stick.”

“Yeah,” Dash shrugged, “but we’re gonna try and book the Cloudiseum for the measured mile, aren’t we? You can do your cloud-walking trick, but any unicorns would stick out a mile in Cloudsdale.” She leaned forwards, conspiratorially. “Besides. If they try anything, it might be a good thing. Celestia’s bound to have guards there. We might just round up a few more.”

Twilight’s eyes widened in shock. “Hang on a second,” she exclaimed, “I don’t want you putting yourself up as bait like that! None of this’d be happening if it wasn’t for my experiment. You’re not putting yourself in danger over it.”

“Relax, Twi’.” Dash sighed, trying to find a way to talk Twilight around. “If it wasn’t for this experiment, my Dad’d still be messin’ my life up. I’d be goin’ for this record anyway, and if we manage to get a couple of Sunset nutters into the bargain, it’s just a bonus, isn’t it?” She thumped a hoof enthusiastically on the table. “Better still, it shows Sunset that we’re not scared of them!”

“I guess…” Twilight muttered, trying to make up her mind. “Fine,” she said at last, “but I’m going to ask the Princess to station some guards around the place. You’re right, unicorns shouldn’t be hard to spot in Cloudsdale.”

Dash grinned. “Okay, we’re on.”

Twilight did not smile, she was too nervous. “We’re on,” she replied. “I just hope I don’t regret it.” Trying to dispel her worries, she began to write.

Dear Princess Celestia,

I am writing to request permission for Rainbow Dash
to attempt to break the pegasus Air Speed Record.
I am aware that this is a strange time to attempt
such a thing, given recent events. However, it is
of utmost personal importance to Rainbow that she
conducts this attempt as soon as possible.

I understand that official pegasus record attempts
are usually held in the Cloudiseum in Cloudsdale,
and we thought that this would be a perfect venue,
considering how difficult it would be for a
unicorn to gain unauthorized access.

Myself and Rainbow both understand and accept
the possible risks involved with this attempt,
however we feel that it is too important
to put off for long, and also that it might be
better to conduct this while Sunset is still
presumably under-strength and surprised.
If the Cloudiseum is available sometime
over the next few weeks, I would greatly
appreciate it if you could inform me of possible days.

Your Faithful Student,
Twilight Sparkle.

P.S: Has the investigation against
Sunset borne any fruit yet?

Twilight finished writing, and glanced over the letter again. “What do you think?” She passed it over to Dash, who read it rapidly.

“Sounds good,” Dash nodded. “It might seem a bit weird, coming out of the blue like this, but I’m pretty sure the Princess’ll realize that we’ve got a good reason.”

Twilight took the parchment, and rolled it up into a scroll, sealing it with a magically-melted glob of wax. “I hope so.”

“Now,” Dash finished the last bite of her own breakfast, pushing her plate away, “I need to get some stuff from my place.” She smiled at Twilight. “If I’m gonna be stopping here for a while, there’s some stuff I’m gonna need.”

The afternoon was setting in over the town when Dash returned from her house, laden down with various bags and boxes of possessions. She wobbled to a landing in front of the library, and opened the door unsteadily. Twilight was shuffling through a stack of books, magically flicking them back onto the shelves for their respective topics.

She looked around as Dash entered, raising an eyebrow at the amount of baggage. “You can fly with that lot? I’m impressed.”

“Barely,” Dash wheezed, dumping the containers onto the rug, and beginning to sift through them. “Sorry about all this stuff, have you got someplace ya can put it all?”

Twilight left the book pile and trotted over, eyeing the pile. “There’s plenty of storage space,” she said, “but I don’t mind really. Put the bits and pieces wherever you need them, to be honest.”

“Really?” Dash perked up. “I thought untidy places annoyed you? Like really annoyed you.”

Twilight’s eye twitched slightly. “Okay, good point. I should say, put the bits and pieces wherever you need them, as long as they’re more-or-less symmetrical.”

Dash smirked, and gave a mock salute. “Aye-aye,” she said, gathering up some of the bags and tottering towards the stairs. At the top of the staircase, she called down to Twilight. “You’ve not heard from the Princess yet, have you?”

Twilight shook her head. “No luck, hopefully she’ll reply soon, though. Spike’s through in the back room, so whenever we get a reply, we’ll know.”

For a few moments, Dash disappeared upstairs, and there was the thump of several heavy objects being put down, then her head appeared again at the top of the stairs. “Do ya reckon I’ll be ready in time?”

“Huh?” Twilight had fallen to toying with the pile of books again, and the question took her by surprise. She looked around at Dash. “Of course you will,” she smiled. “Yesterday you were barely even thinking about your wings. I must admit it’s very impressive how fast you’ve unlearned your old habits.”

“Hey, what can I say? I’m the fastest at everything.” Dash leaned nonchalantly on the wall. There were a few moments of silence, in which Twilight raised one eyebrow a little, smirking. Dash winced, then rolled her eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Walked into that one, didn’t I?” She chuckled. “Anyway, hopefully I’m on track. When we’ve got a proper date set, it should be okay. I need to really put my flight to the test, though.” She paused for a second making up her mind. Then she nodded, in determination. “Tomorrow, I’m gonna try for a Rainboom. No wings.”

Twilight smiled. “Well, I’ll be cheering you on! Just be careful, it’ll be the first time you’ve come anywhere close to those speeds without using your wings.”

“I know,” Dash nodded, “but if I’m gonna go for the record I’ll have to go way past Rainboom speeds. Might as well start somewhere, eh?”

Suddenly, there was a whooshing sound emanating from the storeroom just off the main library. Both ponies turned to look in the direction of the door. A few moments later, Spike emerged, waving a sealed scroll. “It’s just come though! From the Princess,” he explained, a little redundantly. After all, nopony but the Princess could contact them via dragon-fire.

Eagerly, Dash trotted down the stairs to hear the news. Twilight took the scroll and unrolled it, reading with a furrowed brow.

My Dear Student, Twilight Sparkle,

I am more than happy to permit you the use of
the Cloudiseum for Rainbow Dash’s record attempt,
and I wish her the very best of luck for on the day.
I must confess to being surprised at this sudden
decision, but I trust your judgment in this matter.
The Cloudiseum is free in two weeks’ time,
on Saturday. I have informed the Mayor of Cloudsdale,
and he will doubtless deal with public relations
and also logistics, such as equipment, etc.

I would forewarn you to expect a significant
turnout of spectators to watch the event.
Regarding your safety, I would agree that it
would be difficult for a unicorn to infiltrate
the event, given the magical ability required
for the cloud-walking spell, and also the usual
absence of unicorns within Cloudsdale.
However, I intend to dispatch a unit of Royal Guards
to maintain security at the event, just in case.

With regards to Sunset, I was informed this morning
that the guards have possibly located one of their safehouses.
They are as yet unaware that they have been discovered.
A raid is planned for tonight. I will inform you
of the outcome as soon as I am aware of it.

With my best wishes,
Princess Celestia

Twilight read the message aloud to Dash, who punched the air with a hoof.

“This is awesome!” she exclaimed. “Two weeks is perfect, we’ll have tons of time to get ready, and they’re gonna take down some more of Sunset!” She let out a breath. “Wow, those Royal Guard work fast. Really shouldn’t mess with the Princess, should ya?”

Twilight chuckled, secretly a little relieved that the record attempt had not turned out to be scheduled in two days time, or some other equally inadequate amount of preparation period.

Spike had been listening intently, and he too grinned at the news that some of his would-be kidnappers were probably about to be caught. “This is gonna be good,” he remarked.

Twilight rolled up the letter again, and dropped it down on the table. Her eyes were distant. She still felt a nagging sense of worry about the record attempt, something in the pit of her stomach that was not letting her rest. She tried to convince herself that she was being paranoid, but there the sensation stayed. She looked at the pegasus she loved, saw her standing so near, and looking so happy. She knew that she had done what she had set out to do; she had made Dash’s life a little bit brighter. She had given her memories that she could look back on untainted with pain or self hatred. But then, she imagined the day of the record attempt, two weeks away, and her stomach clenched with fear.

The sunset brings the night. It cannot be delayed.

I hope we don’t regret this.

Before The Storm

A Bluebird’s Song

~~~
I always used to believe
That beauty was skin-deep
Now I need a new word
To describe you
~~~

Before The Storm

The floor of the bedroom was strewn with half-unpacked bags and boxes, their contents spread out across the rug. There were a few sundry pieces of weather control equipment, along with toiletries and several well-thumbed magazines, mostly related to flight or to the Wonderbolts in some capacity. Aside from these, the majority of the items were of no obvious purpose or value; however it was these seemingly worthless items that Dash handled with the greatest care.

Twilight and Spike were out attending to various duties around the town, and had left Dash alone in the library to begin her unpacking. She sighed a little, as she inspected the random collection of disparate objects. She wondered if perhaps it was unhealthy to hang on to these things, given the memories that they invoked. There was a tarnished silver chain with a small pendant dangling from the end, and beside it were several dusty photograph frames, lying face-down so that their subjects were hidden. A few folded pieces of paper of varying sizes were scattered beneath the frames, and, strangest of all, a long multi-coloured scarf, that had clearly been knitted by hoof, by a pony who knew fairly little about the art of scarf-making.

Dash reached into the nearest box to extract more objects, and then changed her mind, withdrawing her hoof with a shake of the head.

This stuff’s the past. Maybe it should stay there.

She gathered up the photographs and pieces of paper, and dropped them back into the box. Determinedly, she took the remaining few bags and boxes, and pushed them haphazardly beneath the bed. There was plenty of space under there, Twilight never having resorted to it as a form of storage. She kept the scarf and pendant, however. She placed the silver necklace carefully onto the bedside table, and hung up the scarf in the wardrobe. Relieved to have everything of sentimental value safely dealt with, Dash began looking around for somewhere to shelve her magazines and store her cloud nets and wind-speed meters.

At that moment, there was a gentle knock at the door behind her, and Twilight put her head around into the room.

“Hey, Twi’,” Dash smiled. “Get everything done?”

Twilight nodded. “More or less, I just thought I’d come and see how bad the mess was…” Her eyes moved pensively over the strange equipment and magazines spread over the rug, then she breathed a small sigh of relief. “I’m amazed, I was expecting somewhere on the mess scale between ‘earthquake’ and ‘hurricane’.”

“Sorry to disappoint,” Dash smirked, also looking around at the room. “Seriously? You actually invented a mess scale?”

“Of course,” replied Twilight, winking, deliberately playing up her bookishness. “It goes from ‘minor breeze’ at one end, all the way up to ‘Cutie Mark Crusaders’ at the other.”

“Sounds pretty accurate,” Dash remarked, with a grin. “Any idea where I can stick this weather stuff?”

Twilight thought for a few moments. “There’s a science equipment cupboard in the basement, that’s probably got some free space.”

“Awesome, I’ll do that.”

Twilight gestured towards the pendant lying on the bedside table. “Did you bring that over as well?”

Dash saw where she was pointing, and her heart sank a little at the sight of it. “Yeah,” she said, almost evasively, turning her head away.

As Twilight walked closer, she could see that it was not in fact a simple pendant, but a locket. The front was a small, oval-shaped door mounted on hinges that were a little corroded with age. Twilight could see that Dash was a little uncomfortable, and did not touch it. She realized that it had to be of some sentimental value to Dash, as she would have no other reason to keep it given its obviously low material value. She opened her mouth to say something further, but decided against it. If Dash wanted to talk about it, then that was her decision, but Twilight did not want to not pry.

Casting around for a change of subject, Twilight alighted on something that she had been pondering over as she had walked through Ponyville with Spike. She had realized that neither she nor Dash had seen much of their other friends over these last few days, and knew that it fell to her to rectify this. It was her, after all, who had asked to keep their relationship quiet for a while.

“Dash…” she began, tentatively.

The pegasus looked up from the magazines that she had begun sorting. “Yeah?”

Twilight paused momentarily before replying. “I’m ready now. I’d like to tell our friends about us, if you’re okay with that.”

Dash stood, walking over to her. “Are ya sure?” she asked, seriously. “You’re really comfortable with it, you’re not just doin’ it for me?”

“I’m sure,” Twilight nodded.

“Great,” Dash smiled for a moment, then looked a little concerned. “I hope they’re okay with it. I’d hate to lose any of them as friends over somethin’ like this.”

“They’re all real friends,” Twilight said, reassuringly, trying to convince herself as much as Dash. “I trust them, they’ll be fine with it, I’m sure.”

“Well then,” Dash was evidently steeling herself. “No time like the present. Wanna go now?”

“Might as well,” Twilight laughed, nervously. “Wouldn’t want to lose my nerve.”

The weather had lately taken a turn for the warmer, the pegasus teams evidently deciding to show mercy and let up on the recent spate of freezing days. Despite the warmth, Twilight still nestled close to Dash, held closely beneath the latter’s wing, as they walked together towards Rarity’s boutique. She noticed a few passers-by eyeing them with distaste or surprise, and one loutish colt wolf-whistled at them from an upstairs window.

Dash rolled her eyes at this interruption, continuing walking with a slight shake of the head. “I dunno if I’m meant to be flattered or embarrassed…” Twilight giggled, leaning her head against Dash’s, happy enough to ignore the opinions of the rest of the world. After all, she and Dash had helped to save Equestria on more than one occasion. She felt that they were at least entitled to walk down the road together, platonically or otherwise.

As Carousel Boutique came into view around the corner, Dash removed her wing from Twilight’s back. “Might be a bit of a giveaway, if she sees us coming,” she said, apologetically.

Twilight hesitated a moment before ringing the bell. “Wish us luck,” she muttered to Dash, pressing the button.

After a few moments of melodic chiming, the sound of hoofbeats could be heard approaching behind the door, and it swung open to reveal a somewhat flustered-looking Rarity. “Welcome to Carousel Bout- Oh! It’s you two!” Her mood visibly brightened at the sight of her two friends. “Come in, come in!” she said with a relieved smile. “I thought you were that insufferable colt again. He’s come in six times today to change his order; he simply cannot make up his mind.” She rolled her eyes. “Some ponies… Anyway, what brings you two here? It’s been a while since I’ve seen you.”

Twilight took a deep breath. “Rarity, we’ve got something to tell you.” She paused, surprised at the excited look that had suddenly appeared on Rarity’s face.

Dash picked up where she had left off. “I know this might kinda come as a surprise, but me an’ Twi’ are… We’re together,” she said in a rush, blushing a little but smiling proudly nonetheless.

To Twilight and Dash, Rarity’s immediate reaction was a strange one. Her eyes were sparkling excitedly. “Ah, you’ve decided to tell-” she began, then stopped, worry forming in her eyes, evidently trying hard to reword what she had begun to say. She did not quite clap a hoof over her mouth, but it seemed to be a close-run thing. “Ah, that’s to say,” she cleared her throat, smiling again. “You’ve decided to be together?” She looked excited again, but still a little worried, as if she had almost made a serious faux pas. “That’s wonderful! I must say I’d never have expected for it to be you two…” She looked from Twilight to Dash. “I’m so happy for you!”

“Uh, thanks,” Twilight smiled, a little confused by Rarity’s strange behaviour, but mostly relieved that she had not taken it badly. “You don’t think that matters, then? That we’re both mares?”

Rarity waved a hoof airily, her composure now well-and-truly reconstructed. “Of course not, my dear. What kind of friend would I be if I took offense at where you directed your affections?”

“That means a lot, Rarity.” Dash grinned, clearly also relieved that their first port of call had been a success. “Thanks.”

“In any case,” Rarity leaned forwards, conspiratorially. “If I were to take exception, it might be somewhat… hypocritical of me.” She blushed a little, grinning nervously.

“Huh?” Dash spluttered, cottoning on to what she meant. “But I thought… Blueblood?”

Rarity sniffed, haughtily. “If you remember, that particular prince withdrew from our last encounter wearing a significant quantity of cake. Anyhow, I’m not saying that stallions are not perfectly acceptable to me, merely that I’m… flexible, shall we say?”

“No kidding,” Dash still looked surprised by this news. “I thought I was the only mare in Ponyville who even liked mares. Turns out half of ‘em are at it!”

Twilight smiled. “Maybe you should’ve looked at your choices before going for the bookworm, eh?” she joked.

“Already did, you were just the first choice.” Dash winked, planting a cheeky kiss on the end of Twilight’s nose, making her giggle.

Rarity smiled at the display of affection, apparently genuinely pleased for her friends. “Well,” she said, “I’m very glad you both seem so happy together!” She looked at the clock, nervously. “I’m really sorry, I know how rude it is of me,” she said, “but I have three dresses on the go, to be done by tomorrow. I’ll never get them finished unless I get back to work.”

“No problem,” Twilight replied, “we needed to be on our way, anyway. We’ve got to tell the others.”

“I gotta admit, this is going well so far,” remarked Dash, quietly.

“I’m really glad you’re okay with us, Rarity. Thanks,” Twilight smiled at the white unicorn, and Dash nodded in agreement. As they headed for the door, the bell rang again, and the grinding of Rarity’s teeth could be heard audibly over the chiming. Dash opened the door, and they walked hurriedly past the russet earth stallion standing in the doorway, trying to clear the building before Rarity boiled over at this new interruption.

As they walked away across the cobblestones, they could just make out the first few words spoken in the doorway behind them.

“Hi again, I’ve decided I’d like the collar to be in velvet instead of…”

“Oh, for goodness’ sake!”

There was the sound of the front door slamming. Unable to stop herself, Dash burst out laughing.

As they approached Sugarcube Corner, Dash was still chuckling at the troublesome stallion’s reception.

“I think that went well,” Twilight said, thoughtfully.

“Yeah,” replied Dash. “Never have expected Rarity to be into mares, though. She never seemed the type.”

Twilight shrugged. “I guess Blueblood could put anypony off stallions for life.”

“True…” Dash suddenly halted in her tracks. “Hang on a second,” she said, dropping her voice so that the passing ponies in the street could not hear her. “Shouldn’t we be tellin’ them about Sunset, too? About what happened at ‘Shy’s place?”

Twilight shook her head, a little sadly. “I don’t think we should. The more they know, the more danger they’ll be in if Sunset show up again. I hate keeping secrets, but I can’t have them all on my conscience like that. It’s bad enough knowing you got mixed up in this because of me.”

“I’ve already told you,” Dash reminded her, “I’m in this because I want to be. Besides, even if they were just after you, I’d sure as hay be right there with ya, fighting ‘em. If somepony’s out to get you, they’d better be ready to get me too.” She looked defiant. “I think our friends would feel the same way.”

Twilight sighed, looking down at the cobblestones. “I know they would, that’s why I don’t want to tell them yet. I could stop this experiment at any time, and they’d leave us alone. It’s only a sense of right and wrong that’s keeping me going, and keeping us in danger. I know there’s no dissuading you, but I’m not going to put any more friends in danger. I’d like to tell them, but I only want to do it after Sunset’s finished for good.” She looked up, staring Dash in the eyes. “But… Thankyou. Thankyou for sticking with me through this.” She blushed, breaking eye contact again. “It means so much to me,” she whispered, feeling tears pooling in the corners of her eyes.

“Twi,” Dash smiled at her, gently cupping a hoof under her chin, bringing their faces level again. “It’s an honour.”

Twilight wanted nothing more than to kiss the pegasus there and then, in the middle of the street, but she felt that both Dash and the passers-by might object. As it was, she embraced Dash tightly, a tear breaking free and rolling down her cheek. Dash hugged her back, gently stroking her mane.

They broke apart after a minute or so, although they still leant their heads together as they headed up the steps of Sugarcube Corner. The sign on the door read; ‘Open’, so they entered, setting off a small, tinkling bell above the counter. Evidently, the Cakes were either out or in the kitchen, because Pinkie Pie was manning the tills. She greeted them with a jaunty wave as they entered the shop. “Hey, you guys!”

Twilight and Dash both halted in surprise. Not because of Pinkie, but because of the fact that the shop already contained a customer, who was currently paying for a small bag of various pastries.

“Well hey there, not seen y’all in a good few days,” said Applejack, turning to face them with a friendly smile.

Uh oh. Twilight and Dash looked at one another. They had expected to visit Sweet Apple Acres last, and devise some kind of contingency plan on the way over. They expected Applejack to be the most difficult pony to break the news to, and as such had saved her until last. They were not prepared for this.

Applejack seemed to notice Twilight’s unease. “You alright, Sugarcube?”

At that moment, Pinkie vaulted elastically over the counter-top and bounced excitedly over to them. “Oh my gosh! I’ve not seen you in so long! Well, kinda like four days, which I guess isn’t all that long, but come on, that’s like aaages if you’re a mayfly or if you’re really, really, impatient, or…” Applejack nudged the babbling earth pony, interrupting her flow. “Oh yeah, right. Hi!”

Twilight looked uneasily at Dash, silently asking if they should go ahead. The pegasus seemed to understand, and shrugged, as if to say; hey, we might as well.

“We need to tell you guys something,” Twilight said, quietly, looking at Dash.

“What is it, Sug’?” Applejack looked concerned. “Is everythin’ okay? Ya’ll seem right on edge.”

Twilight sighed, avoiding Applejack’s eyes. “AJ… Pinkie… We’ve come to tell you that Rainbow and I are together. We’re dating.”

For a few moments, there was silence. Applejack’s eyes widened in surprise, and Pinkie Pie seemed to be inflating slightly, a grin forming wider and wider on her face.

“You guys! That’s brilliantly, amazingly, fabtamididdlyoociously awesome, can I throw a party for you? Can I? Can I?” Pinkie exclaimed, all on one breath.

Twilight was not particularly surprised that Pinkie had taken it in her stride. She had expected nothing less of the anarchic party pony. However, she finally plucked up the courage to meet Applejack’s eyes. The orange pony looked a little bemused.

“Ya’ll mean like, dating-dating?”

Dash raised an eyebrow. “What other kind is there?”

“Wow,” Applejack seemed almost nervous. “Well, ain’t that somethin’?” She cleared her throat, not quite meeting their eyes.

“AJ… Do you mind?” Twilight asked, fearing the worst from Applejack’s initial reaction.

Applejack was silent for a few moments, looking from Dash to Twilight, apparently conflicted. "Ah'll be honest, Ah don't rightly know," she said. "On one hoof, ya'll are my friends, an' Ah'm sure as hay not gonna throw that away over somethin' like this. On the other, Ah've always been told about that... kinda thing... that it's unnatural, ya know? I'm sure I can live with it, but I hope you can understand it'll take a bit of gettin' used to. Ah’m sorry, I know that’s gonna sound kinda disappointing to ya, it's just a surprise to hear that ya'll are both Fillyf-" She shied away from the mildly derogatory last word at the sight of the furious expression on Dash's face, and the hurt one on Twilight's.

Dash took a step towards Applejack. "So that's it, AJ?" She asked, contemptuously. "Yeah, I'm so glad you think ya can at least tolerate us. Just be sure to tell us if we get too unnatural for ya!"

Twilight rested a hoof on the hovering Dash's shoulder. "Rainbow," she began quietly. Applejack's words had felt like a stinging kick to the stomach, but Twilight had accepted that this might happen, and was prepared to show understanding for Applejack's preconceptions.

"No, I'm not gonna take this, not from a friend," Dash exclaimed. Pinkie pie had ducked beneath the counter, her exuberance evaporated, and was watching the exchange. Her wide, frightened eyes were the only part of her that was visible.

“Look, Rainbow,” Applejack raised a hoof in a reconciliatory manner. “Would ya'll want me to lie and pretend I was okay with this? Ah'm being honest with ya, that's all Ah can be.”

“Yeah, Honesty,” snorted Dash. “If ya had a bit of Loyalty then maybe ya wouldn't need to lie! Maybe you’d realize it doesn’t bucking well matter!”

Applejack stepped forwards, anger flaring in her face. "Ah told ya I'd do my best, didn’t I?" Her voice fell in volume, and she sighed, sadly. "Look, Rainbow, Ah wanna be okay with this, I really do. But I can't change the way I think."

Suddenly, the spark of indignation left Dash's eyes, and she dropped to the floor with a thud. Her eyes were wet, and there was nothing but sadness and disappointment in them. "Come on, Twi'," she said, quietly, turning towards the door. "Let's go."

But Twilight did not move. She was looking at Applejack, almost thoughtfully. “Fillyfoolers?” She said, at length. Her voice was not judgmental, it was simply curious. “That’s what you think this is? You think that this is just a bit of meaningless fun… that we’re just fooling around?”

Applejack looked to the floor, pawing the wooden boards awkwardly with a hoof. “Shucks, Twi’, I didn’t mean for it ta’ sound like that.”

“That’s it, though, isn’t it?” Twilight continued. “That’s what you’ve been brought up to think. You think that two mares can’t be in a proper relationship, that it can’t mean anything, and it just turns into… gratification.”

Dash turned back to face Applejack, her eyes wide and surprised. Applejack opened her mouth to deny it, but could not bring herself to lie. “…Yeah. I know it’s not fair of me, I just don’t see how it’d work.” She looked dejectedly at the floor. Pinkie’s head was still visible over the counter, waiting with bated breath.

Her expression unreadable, Dash walked across to Applejack, who cringed away a little, apparently unsure of what Dash was going to do next.

“AJ,” Dash said, quietly, “I’ve been through some bad times lately. I was bitter, I was stupid, and I hated myself for it. If it hadn’t been for Twilight, I’d probably have thrown myself off a cloud.” Applejack winced at this, but Dash continued, without pausing, her voice growing in strength. “Twilight made me better. She showed me how wrong I was, and she never doubted that I could turn myself around. Not for one second. I love her for who she is, for what she’s done for me, and I don’t know where I’d be without her. Maybe that kind of love goes against your morality, but don’t you dare deny that it exists.”

Her eyes were alight, and she turned away from Applejack, walking back to stand beside her unicorn. Twilight was staring at her, wide-eyed. The pegasus never ceased to surprise her, and she felt as if her heart had expanded, and was blocking her throat. Pinkie Pie had emerged from under the counter, and her lower lip was quivering a little.

“Let’s go home, Twi’, I think AJ needs some time,” Dash said, quietly, and this time Twilight did not object.

As they reached the door, Applejack called after them. “You guys?” They turned, to see her looking down at the floor, a little shamefaced. “Ah’m sorry. Ah really am gonna think about all this. After what ya said, Rainbow, Ah’m starting to think maybe I was wrong. Whatever happens, ya’ll are still two of my best friends, and nothing’s gonna change that.” She pawed the floor, nervously. “If you’ll have me, that is.”

Dash smiled weakly at her. “’Course I will.”

“Me too,” Twilight added, with a nod.

“Yay!” exclaimed Pinkie Pie, looking hugely relieved that her friends seemed on decent, if a little shaky, terms once again.

Despite Applejack’s reaction, it still felt to Twilight as if a heavy weight had been lifted from her chest as they walked back to the library, knowing that at least one of her concerns had been more or less laid to rest.

She turned to Dash, halting on the cobbled street. “Do you think she’ll come round?”

“I hope so,” Dash sighed, looking back in the direction of Sugarcube Corner. “I can’t say I didn’t expect that, but it still hurt.”

Twilight blushed, remembering the pegasus’ words in the shop. “You were amazing, sticking up for us like that.”

“No, I was honest,” said Dash, meeting her eyes with a smile that was almost shy. Twilight stared back into the magenta pools, feeling as if she were falling, or perhaps flying.

She felt herself getting lost in Dash’s eyes. “You really are full of surprises, aren’t you?” she murmured.

“Just you wait,” whispered Dash, with a wink, making Twilight blush.

They continued walking, the library slowly appearing in the distance. Twilight knew that the next two weeks would likely be difficult, with the shadow of Sunset hanging over them, and the difficulty of Dash’s practice. As she looked at the pegasus, however, she knew that it would be worth every minute.

Suddenly, Dash’s eyes widened in mock-horror. “Uh-oh,” she muttered.

“What?” Twilight stared at her in concern.

“We might be in trouble, ya know,” Dash snorted with laughter. “I really, really hope AJ doesn’t tell Granny Smith about this!”

Twilight burst out laughing at this, imagining the elderly mare’s reaction. “That’d certainly be interesting…” Her voice tailed off, as she looked at her tree-home in surprise. The door of the library had opened, and Spike was running out towards them, his scaled feet clicking on the stones.

He was waving an unrolled scroll in his hand, and called out as a he approached them, sounding a little out of breath. “This just came through from the Princess!” He skidded to a halt in front of them, and Twilight scooped up the message with her magic, casting her eyes swiftly down it, her brow furrowed.

“What’s it about?” Dash asked, excitedly.

To her surprise, Twilight grinned, her face showing grim satisfaction. “Sunset.”

A Problem Shared

A Bluebird’s Song

~~~
Love can heal
And love can sting
Heads you lose
And tails I win
~~~

A Problem Shared

My Dear Student, Twilight Sparkle;

The operation was a success.
Three more suspected Sunset members have
been arrested at a rented house in Canterlot.
Dusk Tempest has revealed to me the association’s
more recent activities, and has filled in some of
the blanks regarding their history.
He proved surprisingly willing to co-operate
after witnessing his compatriot’s loss of magic.

The prisoners are on their way to the castle.
I do not yet know if they are leaders or not,
however we believe that one of them
is the acclaimed potioneer, Root Blacksap,
who you may know as the inventor of
the Draught of Foolishness.
If we have captured their inner circle
then I doubt we have anything further
to fear from the organization in future.

I will keep you posted.

With my best wishes,
Princess Celestia.

“Awesome!” Rainbow Dash grinned, reading the letter excitedly.

Spike sighed in relief as they walked back into the library. “Definitely.”

“Root Blacksap,” Twilight mused, shaking her head in astonishment. “I’ve got books of his. He’s amazing; I don’t see why he’d get involved with criminals like that, even if he is a unicorn.”

“Maybe he just thinks like they do,” Dash said with a shrug. “What the hay’s a Draught of Foolishness?”

“It’s a pretty tricky solution to mix up, apparently,” replied Twilight. “It’s his most famous invention; basically it does what it says on the tin. It makes the drinker overconfident, prone to make rash decisions, that sort of thing.”

“Fair enough. He was probably drinking the stuff when he joined up,” Dash remarked.

“Maybe,” Twilight smiled. “I just hope they’ve managed to round up the leader. We’ll have to see, I guess.”

Dash looked around at the library, briefly pondering continuing with her unpacking. The prospect did not appeal much, but her eyes widened as she had a better idea. “Hey, Twi’? Wanna go get dinner somewhere? Ya know, have a bit of a wind-down after…” She suddenly looked a little downcast. “After AJ an’ all.”

Twilight nodded. “I’d love to.” She gently touched Dash’s shoulder. “She’ll come around. You’ll see.”

“I know, I know,” Dash sighed. “It’s just kinda disappointing that she needs to come round at all.”

“Can you look after the library alright, Spike?” Twilight asked.

Spike looked up from his latest gem-cultivation project in the corner of the room, a tuning fork in his clawed hand. “Yeah, sure,” he replied, smirking. “I’ll defend it with my life if the book zombies come around.”

Twilight gave him a please be serious sort of look, but could not help smiling a little.

“Be right back,” Dash said, as an idea apparently occurred to her. “I just need to grab something.” She ran upstairs, and returned momentarily, stowing something carefully inside a small saddlebag, returning to Twilight’s side with a grin. “Oh, and Twi’?” She looked sideways at Twilight. “It’s my treat this time,” she prodded the unicorn jokingly in the chest. “No funny business, okay?”

“Thanks, Rainbow,” Twilight smiled and planted a light kiss on Dash’s cheek, which the pegasus returned, and they walked out of the library side-by-side, the door closing behind them. Spike made an affected gagging noise at the display of affection, as the door swung shut. Then, he turned back to the sapphire, running a critical eye over the sparkling surface.

“Rarity’s not getting this one when it’s finished,” he promised himself in a dark undertone.

Spike kept himself busy for the next half hour or so, throwing together a daisy sandwich and sneaking a few amethysts that he was probably supposed to be saving. He was a little jumpy, not without reason. He kept imagining that he saw Sunset kidnappers looming up outside the window, or protruding from behind the sofa. Shaking himself, mentally, he crunched down the last amethyst, relishing the smooth, not-quite-cinnamon flavour.

“Come on,” he told himself. “Don’t be such a baby. We’ve got the Princess looking out for us, and half of those unicorns are in Canterlot dungeon right now. It’s not like Sunset are gonna come knocking on the door.”

There was a knock at the door.

With a startled and inarticulate gurgle of surprise, Spike leapt behind the sofa, and lay there on the floorboards for a few moments, quivering.

Whoever was at the door knocked again, a gentle tapping sound. Hang on a second, Spike thought, as soon as his breathing was under control and his ability for rational thought had returned. I don’t think kidnappers knock. Just answer the door!

Spike stood up, peering over the sofa, then hopping over the top and walking nervously across the floor. What if they’re trying to surprise me? What if they stick a bag over me and run off? He breathed in deeply, holding a small, searing fireball in his mouth, ready to fling it at the face of the pony behind the door if they seemed suspicious. Gritting his teeth, his heart pounding, he pulled the door open.

“Hello, darling!”

In Spike’s books at that moment, this was preferable to kidnapping, but only by a slight margin. There stood Rarity in the doorway, looking down at his inflated cheeks in bemusement. For a moment, he was sorely tempted to release the fireball and thermally restyle her mane a little, but he resisted the urge, and swallowed. He felt the fireball fizzle out in his throat, shedding layers until it boiled itself away to nothing.

“Hey,” he said, not meeting her eyes.

Rarity seemed a little taken aback by his less-than-warm greeting, but looked past him into the library. “Um, I’ve just come to see Twilight,” she said, uncertainly. “I wanted to give her and Dash a couple of lovely little matching coats I made for them earlier,” she gestured to her saddlebags, from which protruded the tip of an intricate hem.

“Well, they’re not in. They’re having dinner,” Spike replied, shortly.

“Oh.” There was a silence, that billowed in the cold air between them for a few short moments. “I’ll just… I’ll go then.” Rarity turned, her eyes confused at Spike’s passive-aggressive hostility, and began to walk slowly away.

Spike could not hold himself in check. His frustration reached a boiling point, and he called out after her. “Sorry they’re not in! It must be so disappointing for you not to get all the latest gossip to spread around!”

Rarity turned her head back around to face him, her eyes widening. “Excuse me?”

Try as he might, he could not stop himself. He might have protected Rarity from Fluttershy, but that had not been for Rarity’s sake, and his sense of betrayal had increased tenfold now that he saw her face-to-face again. “Hey, here’s an idea. Why don’t you come in anyway? Have a cup of tea? Maybe you can charm some more secrets out of trusting little idiots like me, eh?” His voice was cold and caustic.

Rarity looked indignant for a moment, and then it seemed as if the pieces clicked together in her mind. Her face fell, and she clapped a hoof to her mouth. “Oh Spike, I’m sorry…”

Spike laughed, bitterly. “No, you’re sorry you got caught.” He took a step closer, his voice low. “You promised me. You told me that I’d taken you into my trust, and that you wouldn’t betray mine. You know I’d tell you anything, and what’s the first thing you do?”

“Spike, please,” Rarity began, tears forming in her eyes.

“You go waltzing off and tell Fluttershy all the juicy details!” Spike cut across her, his voice rising angrily. “You know something? That was the only reason I was at Fluttershy’s a few days ago.” He knew that Rarity was not aware of that awful night’s events, and that he should probably keep it quiet, but he was not feeling particularly reasonable at that moment. “Because I knew I couldn’t trust you! Thanks to you, Fluttershy could have been killed!”

“What?” Rarity gasped, confused and horrified.

“You know what? Forget it. You don’t deserve to know.” Spike spun on his heel and stalked back into the library, slamming the door behind him.

For a few minutes, he paced up and down inside the tree, angry puffs of smoke emanating from his nostrils. Now that he thought about it, the thing that angered him the most was not the fact that Rarity had betrayed him, but the way that her actions had brought down danger on Fluttershy. He knew that she could not have known, but right then it did not matter.

He imagined if he had hesitated a moment longer in Fluttershy’s cottage before leaping on Swift. What if he had been given time to complete the blow that he had aimed at the canary pegasus? The alternative scene played out sickeningly in his head. For Fluttershy, gentle, kind Fluttershy, to have been hurt because he had been too blinded by his stupid crush to keep his secrets to himself… The thought was unbearable, and he realized that as much of his anger was directed towards himself as it was towards Rarity.

Even now, after all of this, he had acted in anger and put Rarity on the scent of another piece of news that Twilight and Dash wanted keeping secret. He needed to fix this, right now. He had to go after her.

Reluctantly, he pulled the front door open again, planning on heading over to Carousel Boutique and hoping that she would let him in. It had begun to rain heavily, and he was expecting to see that Rarity had gone home in anger to escape the weather, and her own guilt. The sight that he was confronted with, however, surprised him.

Rarity was lying on the cobblestones, her head buried in her hooves, sobbing. Her tears mingled with the falling raindrops, and she heard the squeak of the opening door. She looked up at Spike through bloodshot eyes, shaking a little and still crying. “I… I’m sorry…” she choked out, shyly breaking eye contact and pawing nervously at the ground.

“Come inside,” Spike said, quietly. He could not help but feel sorry for the bedraggled and upset Rarity, even though he knew that she had brought it on herself. However, she had not left, and instead had chosen to stay and face whatever came next. Perhaps that meant it was worth giving her a chance. “You’ll catch your death out there.”

Gratefully, the white unicorn got shakily to her hooves, and walked inside, her head stooped low. She sat down, shivering on the rug, her eyes red and still tearful. “Hang on a moment,” Spike said, running up the stairs to the bedroom. He returned a few moments later, dragging a spare blanket from Twilight’s room behind him, and handing it to Rarity. “Here you go.”

“Th-thankyou,” she sniffed, wrapping the blanket around herself, and dabbing roughly at her eyes. She looked at him, almost at eye level due to her sitting position. “I really am sorry, Spike,” she whispered. “I know it means nothing now, and I know you’ll hate me. But I am.” Her eyes were almost pleading. “I didn’t tell anypony else, I swear. I told Fluttershy it was me who walked in on them.”

Spike sighed. “Surely you knew that’d never have made any difference. Imagine if Twilight had gone to tell Fluttershy about her and Dash being together. Fluttershy could just have told them what you told her. That she already knew they were together. Because you’d ‘walked in on them’. The story would’ve fallen apart in a second, and Twilight would’ve realized straight away that it was me who blabbed. She trusts me; I don’t want to spoil that.”

Rarity looked at the floor. “I know. I was so, so stupid to tell Fluttershy. And I’m not going to ask what you meant earlier, about Fluttershy. You’re right. She can tell me if she wants to, but I don’t deserve to know.” She met Spike’s eyes again, fleetingly. “I just hope that you can understand why I did it.”

“That’s the thing, Rarity.” Spike sighed. “I can’t understand. You knew how important it was to me that this stayed quiet, and then you go and tell Fluttershy. I just don’t understand why you’d do that.”

Rarity chuckled, quietly and humourlessly. “Yes you do, of course you do. Remember when you told me? You knew how important it was to keep your secret. You didn’t want to betray the trust of your friend, but you were with me. You were with a pony that you’d tell anything. A beautiful, dangerous pony from whom you couldn’t keep a single secret. That’s how you felt, isn’t it?”

Spike nodded, slowly, his eyes wide. “Yeah… Yeah, that’s exactly it.” He looked confused. “How could you have known that?”

Rarity closed her eyes, and they were once again lined in glistening tears. “That’s how I feel around Fluttershy.”

There was silence for a few seconds, as she let it sink in. Spike blinked, making sense of what Rarity had told him, as the pieces clicked together in his brain. It made perfect sense. Of course it did. Rarity had betrayed his trust in exactly the same way that he had betrayed Twilight’s. He had never for a moment believed that he would be capable of letting Twilight down in that way, but now he understood the short-sightedness that love can cause.

“You… you like...”

Rarity nodded. “She’s understanding, kind… beautiful. And it's all so effortless, when I’m around her everything I do feels tacky and affected by comparison. Of course I fell for her. How could I not?” She looked down at the floor again. “I know it’s useless. She only likes stallions; she’s made that much perfectly obvious. I can’t tell her, I’m not going to drive a wedge between us like that.” Rarity blushed. “You know how shy she is. If she suspected that I thought of her in… that way… she’d never be comfortable with me again.”

She sighed. “So, there you go. That’s the best explanation I can give you. I don’t expect you to forgive me; I just hope that you can understand.”

Spike nodded, slowly, still taken by surprise. Despite everything, he was a little disappointed at the news that Rarity’s affections were directed distinctly non-draconically, but at least this removed the confusion that had comprised so much of his sense of hurt. “I understand,” he said, quietly. “I’ll do my best to forgive you.” He shrugged. “I guess I’d be kind of a hypocrite not to.”

“Thankyou, Spike.” Rarity smiled shyly at him.

“Just one thing,” Spike said, as an afterthought occurred to him. “About Fluttershy, what I said earlier, that she might have been… hurt.” He changed the last word on an impulse.

Rarity nodded, and he continued. “You’ll know all about it eventually. All of you will. But trust me; it’s better for you not to get mixed up in the middle of this right now.” He paused for a second. “I’m sorry, but it’s not my secret to share.”

“I understand.” Rarity smiled at him, almost sentimentally. “You’re growing up, Spike.”

Spike chuckled, although he felt a little sad inside at the truth of her words. “Had to happen someday, I guess.”

The restaurant Trottensons was busy this evening, the flare of candles dotting the dimly-lit room from place to place, and the low buzz of conversation dancing off the walls. Twilight and Dash had been intending to try somewhere new, but had decided to seek this place out again when the weather pegasi began stocking up rainclouds above the town. In the end, they were both glad that they had done so. The food was every bit as good as last time, and both ponies still relished one another’s company for every moment that they were together.

It seemed that they had discussed everything over the course of the meal, ranging from Sunset and the upcoming record attempt, to the source of Dash’s uncanny waffle-making abilities.

Swallowing the last mouthful of her meal, Dash looked across the table at Twilight, who still had a little left on her plate. “This place is awesome,” Dash said, smiling at Twilight.

Twilight nodded in agreement. “By the way,” she said, curiously, “what was it you ran upstairs for just before we left?”

“Oh, that?” Dash paused. “I wanted to show you this. Give you a bit of an explanation, ya know? Thanks for not asking about it earlier.” She reached into her saddlebag which lay beneath the table, unclasping the buckle, and withdrew the tarnished, silver necklace that Twilight had noticed earlier on the bedside table.

Twilight leaned closer to get a better look at the oval-shaped locket. “I’m guessing this really means something to you.”

“Yeah. It does,” Dash replied, looking at the locket as if it were solid gold. “When I was ‘round at my house picking stuff up, I found this in a drawer an’ it got me thinking. Looking back, this thing’s the reason I came to Ponyville in the first place.”

Twilight’s eyes widened. “Huh?”

“I know,” Dash chuckled. “Doesn’t look important, does it?” With a deft motion of her hooves, she clicked the latch open, and swung the small door on the front ajar.

Twilight squinted at the tiny, faded photograph within, and gasped. The picture was yellowed in the corners, and depicted a pale ochre unicorn mare, a shy smile on her lips, and quick, intelligent eyes that shone vividly even through the veil and ravage of time. What had surprised Twilight, however, was her mane. It was a lengthy shock of curls, and in it was every colour of the rainbow spectrum, framing her round face. When she looked closer, the mare’s eyes were a pure, soft magenta that was breathtakingly familiar.

When Twilight looked up, Dash was smiling slightly. “Is that…?” Twilight asked, her voice trailing off.

Dash nodded. “Rainbow Shine. My mother.”

“She’s a… unicorn?” breathed Twilight.

“It made things a bit difficult sometimes. But in the end, her an’ Dad went to visit Canterlot University specially to ask a favour. The Professors there agreed, and they cast a permanent cloud-walking spell on her, so she could move in with him in Cloudsdale. That was before he went… downhill. They never married or anythin’, but I came along anyway.” Dash sighed. “I got her mane, her eyes… her name. It wasn’t long after I was born that Dad started going off the rails. He was jealous of me, even when I was a foal. I took up all of Mom’s time, just like foals always do. I guess he couldn’t take that.”

She looked down at the faded image, a wistful smile on her face, the memories clearly causing her a discomfort that she tried to hide. Twilight reached for her hoof, holding it gently between hers. “You don’t have to go on, if you don’t want to. I don’t mind,” she murmured, reassuringly, but Dash shook her head.

“I’d rather you knew,” she replied. “You already know about my Dad, about what he did… But do ya remember I told you that me an’ Fluttershy left flight school at the same time, and came here?”

Twilight nodded. “I think so. You and Fluttershy both quit, and she wanted to set up a place down here, so you came with her.”

“Yeah,” Dash affirmed. She looked a little downcast, the light from their table’s candle flickering in her eyes. “I left something out.” She held up the locket, gazing at it in the candlelight, watching it swing back and forth in mid-air. “Did I mention I stole this? One weekend, Dad was in a mood, like he always was. This was one of the things that Mom’d left behind when she went and left us, and for some reason Dad kept it around. I kinda liked it, it was worth something to me ‘cos of the memories. Mom gave it to Dad for Hearth’s Warming the year I was born, ya see.” Dash sighed. “Anyway, Dad kept sayin’ how he was gonna pawn it, that he wanted anything left of her to be out of the house. Neither of us ever saw her again after she left, and I was still sore at her for leavin’ me alone with him, but I figured that she’d had her reasons.”

Dash moved her other forehoof up onto the table, so that it was clasping Twilight’s in return, as if the unicorn were an anchor holding her in place. Her eyes were locked onto Twilight’s, almost unblinking. “So, I took it, the night before the school week started again. I hid it in my bag. I didn’t normally come back for the weekends, but this time he’d wanted me to. Dunno why, he had these weird whims sometimes, maybe he just wanted to have a go at me. So, I brought it back to flight school, and I don’t think he ever even realized it was gone. I kept it hidden in my room, the only pony who I showed it to was Fluttershy. That was rule one in that place,” she snorted a little. “Hide as much of yourself as you can. Let something personal out, they’d tear you to pieces with it.”

“I know the feeling,” Twilight nodded sympathetically, remembering the casual cruelty and strict, childish hierarchy of the other foals at the School for Gifted Unicorns.

“Anyway, stupid me, I had it out in the corridor this one time. I was feelin’ kind of down, so I’d dropped it into my bag that morning. That way I’d have it with me for a bit of support. I was walking back to the room, an’ this filly, I think her name was Ivy something… she grabbed it as she went past.”

“Oh no,” Twilight’s eyes widened, sympathetically.

Dash nodded. “I dunno why, there were some ponies there who were just like that.” She dropped her voice. “I went after her, but we’d just had track work so I wasn’t up to much. So, she pins me against one of the lockers and sort of looks at me. She checks my face for cuts and bruises, and when she doesn’t find any she says ‘huh, looks like your old man’s not doing his job, Dashie’…”

Twilight gasped, feeling an ice-cold surge of anger. “How dare she?” she exclaimed, trying to keep her voice quiet in the crowded restaurant.

Dash shrugged. “It’s in the past now. I never did find out how she knew about my Dad, though… So anyway, she gives me a smack in the face, just for the hell of it I guess, and walks off with the locket. There was a bunch of ponies around, just watching. I guess they wanted to see a fight, but I wasn’t going anywhere fast so they all got bored and moved on.”

“But… but you got it back?” Twilight gestured, wide-eyed, to the locket that Dash was even now holding. “You must have done.”

Dash looked sadly on the table. “I wasn’t the one who got it back,” she said, in a small voice. “I asked Fluttershy to come over to my room, so I could see her and get the cut on my face cleaned up a bit. I didn’t want to tell her what’d happened, I just thought it’d make things worse. She was really worried of course, she patched me up, ya know how she is. In the end I told her what’d happened. I told her what Ivy had said.”

“What happened?” Twilight’s voice was almost a whisper.

“’Shy went kind of quiet. She was completely calm, she made sure I was okay, and that the cut wasn’t still bleeding, then she left. I felt really bad, I thought I’d upset her by telling her about it.” Dash paused. “I waited there for a while, wondering if I should follow her back to her room, then ‘Shy came in again. I can’t really explain how she looked… It was like her eyes were haunted. She didn’t say anything, she just dropped the locket down beside me, and apologized in this tiny little whisper. I didn’t know what for. Then she left, before I could say anything. I went up to her room, but she wasn’t there. I couldn’t find her anywhere.”

Dash gripped Twilight’s hoof tighter. “Then, the rumours started. Like they always do. Ivy was in the infirmary, with a broken jaw.” Twilight winced, not feeling sorry for the injured Ivy, but still a little shocked at the implication. Dash paused, apologetically. “Ivy grassed, of course… None of the teachers there liked Fluttershy anyway, they never thought that she had the ability to belong there. Long story short, it was all the excuse that they needed.” Breaking Twilight’s gaze, Dash stared thoughtfully into the candle’s flame for a few seconds.

“They threw her out,” she murmured. “She’s always asked me not to talk to her about that day again, and I never did. I left too, and came with her, of course. I felt like it was my fault that she got expelled, so I came along to try and make things right. She asked me not to throw my education away, but I owed her that much.” Dash shook hear head. “I never worked out why ‘Shy went to that place at all. She always said that it was her choice, and maybe it was. Whatever the truth, she never seemed sorry to be out of there.”

She held up the locket, and Twilight stared at for a few moments, as if seeing it anew. “So, that’s the story behind this old thing. I’d always planned to head out and rent a place in lower Canterlot once I’d finished flight school, but ‘Shy came here, so I came here too. The rest’s history, I guess.” She smiled a little at Twilight. “On top of it all, I met you. So y’know something? Totally worth it.”

Twilight blushed, giving Dash’s hoof a squeeze. She was surprised at the timid Fluttershy’s frightening capabilities, but not so much after seeing the way that she had attacked the unicorn in her house. “You really do stick with your friends, don’t you?” She murmured.

Dash leaned in, close to Twilight’s ear. “It has a way of working out for the best,” she whispered, apparently forgetting the public nature of their current seating, and lightly kissed the tip of the ear, smiling slightly as she felt it twitch beneath her lips.

“Thanks for telling me this, Rainbow,” Twilight said, softly. She still felt incredibly happy and relieved that Dash trusted her enough to share these times from her past with her, without fear. “I’m so glad you came here.”

Dash smiled. “So am I, Twi’.” She felt as if another toxin had been flushed from her bloodstream, another strand of her past shedding its cruel thorns and falling into quiet acceptance and reconciliation.

She remembered what she had said to Applejack, earlier.

Twilight’s made me better.

As she stared into her love’s shining, violet eyes, she realized just how true her words had been.

Under The Midnight Sun

A Bluebird’s Song

~~~
Lift the weight
Of the world
From my shoulders again
~~~

Under The Midnight Sun

The rain was still falling, spattering sharply against the dark library windows, splitting the night’s silence. In the absence of an umbrella, Spike had offered for Rarity to wait out the deluge in the warm library, and she had agreed with relief. The white unicorn was still occupying the borrowed blanket, but had moved onto the sofa. Spike was near the table, making a few adjustments to his pet sapphire project.

The silence was companionable, a welcome change to the animosity and tension from earlier. Rarity seemed visibly more relaxed, now that she had aired her explanation to Spike, and confided in him her feelings for Fluttershy. She kept worrying about the canary pegasus, after the veiled hint that Spike had given her concerning Fluttershy’s safety. However, she knew that she would simply have to trust to good luck to see her friend safe, difficult though that kind of passivity may have been for her.

“Are you ever going to tell Fluttershy?” Spike was looking at her, a little concerned.

Rarity shook her head. “How can I?”

“Do you think she’d hate you?”

There was silence for a few seconds, then Rarity sighed. “No, I don’t. I think she’d be just as understanding as she always has been. But she’d never be really comfortable with me again, not the way she is now at least.”

Spike left his gem, sitting himself down on a kitchen chair opposite the sofa. “You don’t think there’d be any chance, then?”

“Goodness, no,” Rarity said, with an air of finality. “I accepted that quite a while ago. She likes colts and colts alone, I’m afraid. Frankly, I’d probably have a better chance with Celestia herself.”

Spike snorted with laughter at the idea, and Rarity smiled a little, almost despite herself. “Well, you’ve got the same colour scheme, that might help,” Spike remarked, in a tone of mock-thoughtfulness.

“True, but the purple in my mane would clash simply dreadfully with the green in hers,” Rarity smirked, then dropped her voice, wistfully. “Really, though. If I told Fluttershy, I’m sure that it’d just make things worse.”

Spike nodded. “I guess. Are you sure it’d be worse, though?”

“How do you mean?” Rarity gave him a quizzical look, unsure what he meant.

“Doesn’t it hurt?” Spike asked. “When you feel like that for somepony, you live for the time you spend with them, but at the same time it’s always so painful.” He sighed, and watched the small curl of smoke from his breath dance up, melting into the shadows among the rafters. “Every second they’re with you, they’re breaking your heart and they don’t even know it.”

Rarity was staring at him, surprised at this insight. “That sounds like the voice of experience.”

Spike looked away, gazing awkwardly at the floor. “Yeah… It kind of is.”

For a few moments, Rarity sat in silence, then she realized what he meant. “Oh…” She blushed a little. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be putting these things onto you. I realize it can’t be… pleasant for you, given the way you…”

Spike chuckled quietly, giving Rarity a reassuring smile. “It’s okay, don’t worry about it.” He looked at her for a moment. “It was only really a dream, I know that now. It was a good dream, though.”

“Spike, I really am-”

“Don’t be sorry,” Spike said, gently. The rain outside was slackening off, and almost for the first time he felt genuinely comfortable around Rarity, seeing her as a genuine friend, no longer a dangerous and unattainable symbol of perfection. “All dreams have to end.”

“I think the rain’s stopping.”

Dash poked her head experimentally out from beneath the restaurant awning. “Yep!” she confirmed, finding herself reasonably dry. Together, they stepped out onto the night-black street, their path sporadically illuminated by streetlights as they passed.

“Thanks for the dinner, Rainbow,” Twilight said, yawning a little. “I needed that.”

“No worries,” Dash replied. “I did too, to be honest.” She looked up at the dark sky, the moon nowhere to be seen. “Two weeks…” she murmured. “It’s gonna be interesting. The guys who run the Cloudiseum’ll probably have gone public now, d’ya think?”

Twilight nodded. “I expect so, this is going to gather quite a crowd.” She could not keep a tinge of worry from entering her voice, hoping against hope that none of the probable crowd were coming with ulterior motives.

“Yeah,” Dash swallowed, a little nervously. “I wonder if that Lightning Flare guy’s gonna be there. I’d wanna show up if it were my record on the line.”

“No way of knowing,” Twilight shrugged. “Do you want to try for a Rainboom tomorrow?”

Dash nodded. “Might as well. How fast do I need to go to break the record?”

Twilight thought back for a moment, remembering what the article had said. “You need to get past eleven hundred miles an hour if you want to beat him. Twelve if you want a bit of a margin to work with.”

“Okay.” It looked as if Dash were steeling herself to say something further, then she blurted it out. “I’m gonna try an’ go double the speed of sound.”

Twilight halted in her tracks, looking at Dash in surprise. “What?”

Dash shrugged. “You said I should try and get a bit of a margin.”

“But… but that’s…” Twilight thought for a second. “One thousand, five hundred and… twenty-two miles an hour.”

Dash blinked. “I’ll take your word for it.”

“Well,” Twilight sighed in resignation, knowing that persuading Dash against anything tended to become a losing battle. “I don’t see why you shouldn’t be able to. Theoretically, given a strong enough will, your top speed is more or less whatever you make it… However, your body can only physically take so much. At those speeds, the slightest bit of turbulence could seriously injure you. Hitting rough air at those speeds would be like going into a brick wall.”

“I know,” Dash nodded, “it’s bad enough hitting turbulence when you’re going for a Rainboom, so I can see it’s gonna be tricky.” She paused, making up her mind. “I’ve never run away from something because it’s difficult,” she said, with a tone of finality. “If I get the Rainboom tomorrow without using my wings, I’m gonna keep on training, and go for double on the day.”

The tight knot of worry clenched painfully in the pit of Twilight’s stomach. “If you’re sure…” she said, quietly. She could barely see Dash walking beside her in the dark, as they were between streetlights at that moment. “I don’t want anything to happen to you,” she whispered, moving closer.

“I know,” Dash replied, then sighed, relenting a little. “If the air gets too bad up there for me, I’ll just go for the record. No stupid stuff, I promise.”

Twilight nodded. “Sounds like a deal,” she said, stealing an almost-invisible kiss on Dash’s lips.

Dash giggled. “You’d better not try any funny business in the dark!”

“Is that a challenge?” Twilight winked, her eyes suddenly fiery, half-visible through the night. They were quite alone in the street, all other ponies either in their houses or inside the various cafés and restaurants that dotted the roads of Ponyville. She could feel that now-familiar electric charge building in her chest, sparking in the darkness between them.

Unable to resist, Dash took Twilight’s hoof, gently pulling her into the pool of light cast by a nearby streetlamp, the yellow glow washing over them. “There,” Dash murmured, “now I can keep an eye on you.”

Her voice tailed off as she met the unicorn’s eyes, and her lips moved instinctually forward to meet Twilight’s, eliciting a low moan from the unicorn at the moment of contact. Twilight raised herself up onto her rear hooves, her back pressed against the cold streetlight’s column. She could feel Dash stand with her, the latter’s wings spreading, casting an angel’s shadow onto the illuminated cobblestones.

There were houses on either side, but fortunately enough nopony was looking out of the window at that moment. Twilight wrapped her forehooves tightly around Dash’s back, their heated tongues struggling back and forth under the soft cone of light. Dash broke the kiss after a minute or so, and began trailing her lips gently up Twilight’s cheek and forehead, brushing her tongue with the lightest of touches against the base of Twilight’s horn, drawing the faintest of static crackles from the sensitive magical field. She felt the unicorn shudder at the sensation, the radiant heat from her cheeks warming Dash’s neck.

She pulled back a little, looking into Twilight’s blushing face, the unicorn leaning back against the streetlight, panting a little, her eyes wanting so much more. Twilight suddenly looked up at the cloud-filled and starless night sky, then returning her gaze to Dash. “All we need now is the moonlight,” she murmured.

Dash felt as if she were singing inside, the euphoria driving her, feeling at that moment as if she could accomplish anything. “I might be able to do something about that,” she whispered to Twilight, whose eyes widened. “Wait here a moment,” she added, taking off into a low hover, pulling reluctantly away from her marefriend.

“Don’t be long,” Twilight said, still glowing from the kiss.

“I won’t be,” Dash grinned. “You’ll know when I’m done.” With that, she took off, arcing from the pool of light into the pitch blackness, accelerating rapidly, and was instantly lost from sight, leaving Twilight standing there, expectantly.

Is she planning on clearing the clouds manually? Twilight wondered. For a minute or so, she stood there, but was unable to see any sign of activity in the sky.

She was about to call out, when she heard a strange noise. It was a soft whistling sound, growing in pitch and intensity, coming from somewhere high above. Twilight thought she saw a glint of white in the sky, but could not be sure. Her horn flared, and the surrounding streetlights were instantly extinguished, plunging her into darkness and affording her a better view of the black, brooding sky.

The whistling whine kept growing, and she thought that once again she caught sight of a streak of light, like a shooting star, crossing the sky, impossibly high above her.

She watched it move, its progress seeming slow and stately by dint of its distance.

The whistling reached its zenith, then stopped, the sound suddenly extinguished. The streak of light was directly above her. For a fraction of a moment, all was silent. Time itself seemed to take a breath.

Then, the night exploded.

There was no other way of describing it. A shockwave burst of prismatic light swept out in expanding circle, for a moment almost blinding, then falling in intensity, bathing the whole town in flickering light. A crash, almost akin to thunder but muffled by such great distance, met Twilight’s ears. As the wave of colours swept out, the clouds dissipated at its touch, turning the night sky from a cloudy blackness to suddenly being alight with vivid stars, the moon holding court, hanging low and aglow just above the dark horizon.

The rainbow wave faded out at last, but still Twilight stared in astonishment. A Sonic Rainboom in daylight was incredible, but at night it became a whole new spectacle. Her eyes followed a moonstruck speck, still trailing a rainbow path behind her, curving gently back down towards the town, heading straight for Twilight.

Rainbow Dash alighted on the now-moonwashed cobblestones, meeting Twilight’s awestruck eyes with a small smile. “Your moon, ma’am,” she said, quietly, a mischievous twinkle in her eye.

For a few moments, Twilight stared at her. “That… That was…” she whispered, utterly lost for words. She rushed forwards, and embraced the pegasus, never wanting to let her go. Right then, every second that they spend together felt precious, as if their time together was fragile. Perhaps that was why they clung to one another so tightly, for fear that the world might try to rip them apart.

Everything’s going to be fine, Twilight told herself, repeating the mantra in her head. She hoped with all her might that she was not lying.

All around them, windows and doors were opening, ponies craning the necks inquisitively out of houses and restaurants, searching for the source of the sound. Looking skywards, they saw the cloudless, constellation-studded night, the vestigial crackles of rainbow light flickering out along the horizon.

Unseen on the ground, the unicorn and the pegasus held each other close, deaf to the sounds of the world around them.

End of Part One

The Centre Of The Web

A Bluebird’s Song
Part Two

~~~
Rambling poets
Manic with vision
We are the drivers
Yet we feel driven
~~~

The Centre Of The Web

Seven days before the Record Attempt.

Down here, the air felt heavy and stifling, as if crushed beneath the pressure of the rocks above. Unlike the rest of the City of Canterlot, this room was not built to impress, merely to contain.

Celestia’s hoof-falls were sharp and ringing as she passed through the entrance hall of the castle dungeon, the sound echoing of the blank marble walls. The white pegasus guards, stationed on either side of the door to the cells, stood to attention at the approach of the princess. Their faces were cast into sharp relief by the naked flames dancing in the wall-mounted torch brackets.

“I’m here to see Dusk Tempest,” Celestia said, quietly. The guards saluted tersely, faces immobile, and the one on the left held out a brass key, which the Princess clasped with her magic. She deftly inserted it into the lock, and turned it with a spark from her horn. The door swung open, revealing a smooth, stone staircase leading down to the cells.

As soon as the Princess had begun her descent on the dimly-lit steps, the door swung closed behind her, with a hollow thud. She looked around at the rows of empty stone cells, their metal doors locked tightly shut.

“Hello again,” came a voice from the shadows. Only one of the cells in this section was occupied. Frost and the new arrivals were in the next block along, separated from their leader.

Celestia walked slowly down the aisle of doors, and approached Dusk’s cell. The unicorn was lying on the floor, his eyes lidded from inadequate sleep, his horn wrapped up in a magic suppression cone. The cell was spartan and windowless, a simple bed in one corner, and a bucket in the other.

“You know,” he said, as the Princess approached, “as dungeons go, this isn’t so bad. You should have seen solitary back in my old place.” He laughed, bitterly. There was silence for a few moments, and he glanced up. “What? Not in a joking mood today?”

“The guards picked up three of your associates earlier this week,” Celestia said. “I have yet to speak to them, but maybe you could tell me a little about them.”

Dusk shook his head, calmly. “You know where we stand. I’ve told you how Sunset survived, and I’ve told you our history. But I’m not saying one word about who our leaders are, or where they are.” He smiled, suddenly, the brightness of his expression a bizarre contrast to his surroundings and situation. “So, these associates?” He made the last word sound mockingly condescending. “Don’t tell me, it’s the potioneer, isn’t it? Him and his two assistants?”

Celestia nodded, outwardly unperturbed. “Frost was not so inflexible as you. He told me about the apartment in Canterlot, right down to the address. He said that he had only met your leader on a few occasions, and had never seen their faces. I believed him about that part, at least.”

With a flare of her magic, Celestia opened the cell door and stepped inside. The Alicorn naturally had nothing to fear from even an accomplished unicorn such as Dusk, particularly with his magic negated. She gave him a look that was appraising, and almost sad. “You still have that spark,” she said, quietly. “That flair that set you apart. It was a pity that your shine blinded me to your faults.”

“Your greatest mistake, wasn’t I, Princess?” Dusk asked, meeting her eyes.

“One of them,” replied Celestia.

For a few moments, there was silence. The flickering torches cast the lengthened shadows of the Princess and her prisoner across the grey stone wall.

“You knew all along, didn’t you?” Dusk asked, suddenly.

Celestia nodded, sadly. “That the Canterlot apartment was a ruse? Naturally. I sent the guards just in case, but I never expected to find your leaders there.”

“The Potioneer was useful, but like all temporary assets he became a liability. We had to get rid of him, so we always planned to give him to you.” Dusk looked up almost sharply at Celestia, still sitting on the floor. “Why did you go after him if you knew? I heard the guards talking when they brought them down here, you’d told them to expect to find our leaders. Instead, you find our waste.”

The Princess ignored the question. “Root Blacksap. The Potioneer. Why was he involved in your operation in the first place?” There was a hint of pain in her eyes.

Dusk shook his head. “Sorry. You can do what you like to me, I’m not saying anything.”

“You know who your leaders are.”

“Yes.” The unicorn said the word quietly, without either triumph or fear.

“Then you leave me with an impossible choice.” Celestia sighed, and Dusk looked at her for a few seconds, seemingly a little confused by her words.

Suddenly, his eyes widened. “Oh.” He smirked, but was unable to keep a little fear from entering his eyes. “And I thought I could be manipulative. That’s cold, Princess. Even for you, that’s cold.”

Celestia looked at the floor. “Your organization must be stopped. I remember your founding, I remember the things you have done.”

“But to use the pegasus as bait…” Dusk muttered.

“She will not be in any danger!” Celestia exclaimed. “Do you think I have any choice in this?”

“You’re desperate, Princess. You’re in the cells of your own dungeon talking to a pony you hate, because he’s the only one who might understand. You’re going to betray your only friend in the worst possible way, and it’s all because you can’t go back on your little moral code.”

"This had nothing to do with my moral code,” the Princess said, trying to keep her voice level.

Dusk got to his hooves, although Celestia still towered over him. “You’re just as trapped as I am,” he said, his voice low. “I might be the one in the cage, but right now we’re equals, so listen to me. With one spark from your horn you could cause me more pain than anypony could possibly endure. You could make me tell you the names, locations and biographies of everypony in our organization. You could walk out of here in sixty seconds with everything you want, and Sunset would be finished tomorrow. But you won’t.”

“An impossible choice,” replied Celestia. “I know your leaders. They have been beaten once, and they will be out for revenge. They wouldn’t dare go near Ponyville, but this record attempt would be the perfect chance to draw them out, and perhaps catch them. It’s a slim chance, but I must take it. I cannot simply stand by.” The Princess hung her head. “I told Twilight there was virtually no risk. Virtually no risk of an attack that I know will almost surely happen. I have already lied to my student about the safety of the pony she loves. I’m going to have to lie again. I’m going to have to put Rainbow Dash’s life at risk.”

She looked Dusk squarely in the eye. “Alternatively, I can extract the information from you by force.”

“Or I could just tell you,” Dusk noted, lying down on the narrow bed with an air of nonchalance.

“But you won’t. You want to see what I decide to do. You’re toying with me.”

A battle was raging inside Celestia’s head. Her history was a long one, and not without regret. She turned away from the unicorn, gazing into the torch’s flame, watching it dance. You’re clutching at straws, she told herself. The leaders themselves probably will not even show up. They’ll send subordinates, like they did to Fluttershy’s cottage. I might be able to get more information out of them, but what might the cost be?

She turned back to face Dusk. “I have power,” she stated. “I have absolute, unquestioned control over Equestria and its citizens, and I don’t for one moment trust myself with it. I cannot, for fear that I might slip. I shudder to think what would happen if I should ever decide to abuse the power I’ve been given. The moment I use that power to exert my will by force, I will put myself and my country at grave risk. I put myself in the path of temptation, and I do not know if I would yield.”

They’ll try to kill her. You know that, don’t you? said a nagging voice in her head. If one of the Elements falls, surely Equestria would be just as much at risk.

Dusk was smiling. “Remember, Princess? You could have defended me, but instead you took twelve years of my life from me, you and your pegasus friends. I never forgot that. Who do you think set up the operation within Sunset? Who do you think set things in motion?”

He got to his hooves again, the hatred in his eyes undisguised now. “Whatever happens next will haunt you for a very long time. Either you stand by and watch your only friend lose the most important pony in her life, or you can act, and pull the information out of me. Whatever your choice, it will be with you for years to come. Another regret to keep you company through the centuries.”

“We might catch them,” Celestia said, almost desperate. “The event will be guarded, they’ll never get close.”

“They’re Sunset. They won’t need to get close,” promised Dusk.

Celestia closed her eyes, her head pounding, pained at the truth that she knew was in his words. Is this Dusk’s revenge? All of this? Was this never even about pegasi? He said that Twilight was my only friend. He’s telling the truth, she is. How can I betray her like this? She’s like a daughter to me.

“Guessed, have you?” Came Dusk’s voice, worming its way into her head. “You never caught me. I’m here because I want to be here. Because I want to watch you fall, one way or the other.” He laughed, a sharp, victorious bark. “I was a good actor back then, too. Or did the years make you forget? I did my research on Sparkle a lot better than you thought. They never told me royalty was gonna get involved,” he mimicked his own, frightened voice. “Yeah, Princess, you scare me. You scare everypony. But maybe, just maybe, you’ll feel a bit scared yourself. You’re going to watch a pony you care about die, all because I know how you think.”

Celestia opened her eyes, suddenly calm, and looked at Dusk’s triumphant face. “No you don’t,” she said, quietly. She had made her decision. “Your family never cared much for you, did they? You can have no idea how I think, because you have no idea how far somepony will go to protect their family. The things that they are prepared to endure.”

“Your family?” scoffed Dusk. “You mean Luna? What does she have to do with this?”

“I wasn’t talking about Luna.” Celestia closed the cell door with a clang of metal on metal, turning to face the unicorn, who suddenly looked a little less sure of himself.

The Alicorn’s face was unreadable, her eyes full of a deep remorse, and Dusk backed fearfully away, until he could back no further and touched the cold stone of the wall.

“Forgive me, Twilight,” Celestia whispered, a tear rolling silently down her cheek.

A yawn on her lips, Twilight meandered down the stairs into the warm kitchen. She felt as contented as she could these days, the day of Dash’s attempt only a week away now. Yesterday she had brought her velocity measurement equipment down to the meadow outside Ponyville, as they had each day for the last four days, ever since Dash’s first wingless Rainboom. Yesterday, for the first time in her life, Dash had exceeded a thousand miles per hour, to much celebration. The inhabitants of Ponyville were beginning to come to terms with the daily Rainbooms, despite a few initial complaints to the mayor, who had requested that they move their practicing area further out of town.

They had told their friends of Dash’s upcoming record, and all had reacted with excitement, each one pledging to accompany them to Cloudsdale in order to watch and offer support. Indeed, the news of the record attempt had been made public some days beforehand, and considerable interest had developed from the media as well as the citizens of Ponyville. Dash had even been stopped on the way home the previous day by an effervescent young filly, eagerly clutching an autograph book.

Twilight smiled as she looked sleepily around at the somewhat-redecorated room. Dash had persuaded her to allow for a couple of her posters to be tacked onto the kitchen wall, and her amusingly extensive collection of Wonderbolt-themed magnets resided proudly on the fridge door, making the white metal a considerably more interesting, if anarchic, sight.

There was a rattle at the door, and a small pile of envelopes tumbled through the letterbox onto the doormat. Confused, Twilight trotted across the room and opened the front door, catching the mailmare just as she was leaving. “It’s not my birthday, is it?” She asked, half-jokingly, secretly hoping that she had not actually forgotten it. Again.

“Um, not that I know of,” shrugged the pegasus, attempting with some difficulty to focus on the unicorn in front of her. “Happy birthday if it is, though! Oh, if Rainbow Dash’s in, tell her I’m covering her shifts while she’s training.”

“Okay,” Twilight turned away, but was called back with an afterthought.

“Oh, and if anypony asks, the fires were nothing to do with me.”

Twilight decided it was better not to ask. “Okay… See you later then, Derpy.”

Ditzy smiled at the affectionate nickname, waving as she flew away. “Bye, then! Don’t book too hard!”

Closing the door with a slightly confused grin, Twilight fell to examining the letters on the doormat. Several appeared to have been addressed by young foals, in bright colours. The majority were for Dash, but a couple bore Twilight’s name. With an inkling of what this might be about, she scooped up the letters with her magic, and trotted back up the stairs to their bedroom, where the cyan pegasus was snoring, contentedly.

Twilight leaned down, kissing the pegasus on the nose. “Hey,” she said, “you’ve got fan-mail!”

Dash mumbled something, blearily opening her eyes. “Why? What’d I do this time?”

“You might want to get the Cloudsdale Bugle today,” Twilight giggled. “All this attention had to come from somewhere.”

“Uh-oh,” Dash was suddenly alert. “I never cancelled the subscription… It’ll still be goin’ to my house.” She shook her head. “I’ll go an’ pick up the back issues later.”

“Anyway,” Twilight indicated the letters which now lay in a pile at the foot of the bed. “I’d better be on opening duty.”

“Sounds good,” Dash grinned. Twilight magically slit open the first envelope, which was yellow and addressed by what was clearly a foal. They looked down it together.

Dear Rainbo Dash

I saw that yoo were going to
go really really fast in the
noospaper today!
I like going really really fast too!
I cant wait to be able to fly just like yoo
hope yoo do well and go really really fast!

Love from Fizzle

Dash and Twilight simultaneously burst out laughing, both amused and touched in equal measure.

“You know, Rainbow,” Twilight choked out, “I... I think she might just think... you’re going to go fast.”

Dash’s mouth fell open in mock surprise. “No, really?” Then she laughed again. “What an awesome kid, have we got an address? I’m totally replying to that.”

“Yeah, on the back of the envelope,” confirmed Twilight, still smiling. “Let’s get the rest read first, though.” The next envelope that she picked up was addressed to her, evidently written by an adult pony. She pulled out the letter within, with some curiosity.

Dear Twilight Sparkle,

I gather you are Rainbow Dash’s trainer,
and I thought that you deserved some
recognition of your own, given that I confidently
expect Rainbow Dash herself to receive a significant
amount of attention. I had the pleasure
of attending the Best Young Flyers Competition
last year, and I look forward to another
wonderful performance from your friend.

Best wishes,
An admirer of your work.

Twilight looked over the letter again, a little uncertainly. “Why the anonymity? I’m not sure if that’s flattering or creepy…”

“That’s fan-mail for you,” Dash nodded, sagely. “I had some last year too, just after the record went official. Half of them were anonymous.”

“So, I’m your ‘trainer’, am I?” Twilight asked, with a small smirk.

Dash winked at her. “You could say that, I guess.”

They spent an enjoyable half hour trawling through the various envelopes, finding that they were mostly wishes of good luck, and lighthearted requests for a performance like last year’s. Some were a little strange, for instance one was an urgent request for them not to proceed on the grounds that the writer of the letter had a fifty bit bet with a friend that Lightning Flare’s record would stand for at least a year. Another was a marriage proposal for Dash, and yet another was an order for three batches of cinnamon buns that both Twilight and Dash concluded was most likely a delivery mistake.

“Whew,” Twilight let out a sigh of relief as the final letter fell onto the bed, and the final envelope plopped into the bin. “I’m glad that’s the last one, my horn hurts.”

Dash’s eyes seemed a little shiny. “That was really nice,” she said, quietly. “It’s great to know ponies are behind me for doin’ this.”

“We’re all behind you. You’re going to be magnificent,” Twilight said, then she smiled warmly at Dash. “You know, a couple of weeks ago you’d have had so much of an ego by now you’d never have fitted through the door.”

Dash nodded. “I know.” She looked at Twilight. “A couple of weeks ago I couldn’t trust anypony to accept me for who I was, so I had to make myself seem better. Now I’ve got you.” Leaning over, she nuzzled Twilight’s cheek. “You’ve done so much for me. I really mean that.”

Twilight pulled the pegasus into an embrace, pressing her cheek against Dash’s neck. “You don’t need to keep thanking me,” she whispered. “You’ve done just as much for me. Thanks to you, I can wake up every morning and know that a pony like you loves me. I couldn’t ask for more.”

They held each other like that, in silence, for a few minutes. Neither of them wanted to be the first to pull away.

Then, from downstairs, there was a knock at the front door.

“Ugh, why now?” murmured Twilight, reluctantly pulling away from Dash. They both stood, heading for the stairs.

“I’ve got this!” Spike called from below, heading towards the door.

The two ponies walked downstairs again, side-by-side. Spike jogged across the room and opened the door, just as Twilight and Dash reached the foot of the stairs. Standing in the doorway was a somewhat awkward-looking Applejack.

“Oh, hey AJ!” Twilight said with a smile.

“Hey,” Dash added, in a tone that was friendly but still a little wary. They had seen Applejack on a few occasions since their unexpected meeting at sugarcube corner, and she had wished Dash luck with just as much fervour as the others when told of the upcoming record attempt. However, she had not mentioned the subject of Twilight and Dash’s relationship on any of their recent meetings, and always seemed a little anxious to get away.

“Hey, ya’ll,” Applejack smiled, slightly nervously. “Mind if Ah come in for a minute?”

“Sure,” said Twilight, motioning her inside. The farm pony stepped over the threshold, looking a little relieved. She paused in front of the two of them for a moment, looking from one to the other, and taking a deep breath.

“Ah’ve been thinking, an’ it’s time to come clean. Ah owe you guys an apology,” she said, quietly. Dash opened her mouth to say something, but Applejack held up a hoof to silence her, continuing with her explanation. “Ah thought ya’ll were just foolin’ around, havin’ a bit of fun, ‘cos that’s all I thought it could amount to, with two mares an’ all. But Ah’ve seen you around town, Ah heard you in Sugarcube Corner. Heck, Ah’ve seen the way you look at each other. No matter what mah head tells me, Ah can’t bring myself to believe that it’s wrong for ya’ll to be together.” She blushed a little. “If Ah may say, I’m mighty happy for you both.”

Twilight broke into a wide smile, but Applejack’s eyes sought Dash’s, whose face was unreadable. For a few moments, they stared at each other. Then, Dash walked forwards and hugged the surprised orange mare, who tentatively hugged her back, her expression one of relief. “Thanks, AJ,” she said, her voice breaking a little as she released Applejack. “I’m sorry I yelled at ya back in Sugarcube Corner.”

“Don’t you worry about that none,” Applejack smiled at the pegasus. Then, a thought occurred to her, and she leaned forwards conspiratorially, evidently trying not to laugh. “Just one thing, Ah wouldn’t go an’ tell Granny Smith about all this, if ya’ll don’t mind.”

“Aw, shoot,” Dash stamped a forehoof on the floor in mock-frustration, smirking. “There go my plans for this morning…”

The Tarnished Crown

A Bluebird’s Song

~~~
When I meet god
I’m going to ask her
What makes her cry?
~~~

The Tarnished Crown

Six days before the Record Attempt.

The dew-soaked grass was shaking, the air filled with a high-pitched resonant whine. In the sky, a shining cyan speck shot as straight as an arrow, the fading corona from a sonic Rainboom torn apart behind her by her wake, as she accelerated, pushing through the sound barrier with ease.

On the ground, Twilight and Fluttershy watched in awe, the latter having decided to come over to spectate, eager to see another Rainboom up close. Twilight’s brow was furrowed in concentration, her eyes flicking between the die-straight progress of the pegasus above, and the readouts that suddenly began rapidly printing onto the paper churned frantically out by the device in front of her, magically programmed to track Dash and record her average speed over the mile of sky directly above them, just as it would be recorded on the day.

As she arced overhead, still trailing residual flares of prismatic light from the Rainboom, the two ponies on the ground craned their necks to look. “Yay…” Fluttershy whispered, more out of awe than any realistic attempt to encourage her friend.

As Dash soared out from the far end of the measured mile, the magical speedometer in front of Twilight ground to a halt, the flow of paper sputtering to a standstill. Up above, Dash willed herself gradually to a halt. She was forcing herself not to flare her wings out behind her as she usually would when she slowed down. At the speeds she was travelling, the air pressure from doing so would in all likelihood break both of her wings. Once she had her speed under control, Twilight and Fluttershy watched as she looped lazily around towards them, swooping downwards and alighting gently in front of them on the un-mown grass, grinning with exhilaration as she pulled off her leather flying goggles and dropped them onto the ground.

“So,” she panted, “how’d I do?”

Twilight studied the readout for a few moments, suppressing her smile, and hoisted an expression of faux disappointment onto her face. “Aww, that’s a shame,” she said, sympathetically.

“What?” Dash asked, sounding a little worried. Twilight paused for suspense.

“Twelve hundred and twenty!” The unicorn broke into a wide grin, and Fluttershy let out a squeak of excitement.

“You tease!” Dash exclaimed, then looked delighted, running forwards to hug Twilight, then Fluttershy.

“Me?” Twilight did her best to look innocent. “I’d never dream of teasing the fastest pegasus in the world.”

Dash turned to her, still smiling broadly. “All we need to do now is make it official on the day!”

Suddenly, Twilight looked serious. “Do you still want to go twice the speed of sound for the attempt?”

“Yeah,” Dash nodded. “I gotta admit it’s getting pretty rough up there, though. The wind’s crazy at those speeds, it’s like flying through cake mix… It’s gonna be fun trying to keep in a straight line when I’m goin’ any faster.”

“‘Fun’ isn’t the word I’d use, I must admit,” Twilight remarked, trying to keep her voice steady, but feeling a cold stab of concern in her chest. Fluttershy nodded nervously, evidently in agreement with Twilight.

“I know what you mean,” the canary pegasus said, nervously. “You be careful, Rainbow. Don’t get overconfident.”

Dash nodded, apparently sensible enough to take this seriously. “Don’t worry, I’ll know my limits on the day. If the wind gets too bad, I’ll just go for the record. No showing off.”

Fluttershy smiled, hiding a little behind her mane. “You know,” she noted, “some ponies might say that it’s difficult to break a speed record without showing off…”

“Fair point,” conceded Dash. “But I won’t try and do it upside down or anything. Promise.”

Twilight almost passed a somewhat risqué comment at this point, but refrained from doing so for fear that Fluttershy’s head might actually fall off with embarrassment.

“Hey!” An upbeat-sounding stallion’s voice rang out from behind them, and Twilight and Dash both jumped, whipping around in surprise. Fluttershy simply collapsed with a squeak.

The speaker was a light orange unicorn stallion, too young for the pair of anachronistic horn-rimmed glasses that perched on the end of his nose. His cutie mark was a quill and a question mark, crossed over one another like swords on a crest. He looked a little guilty, and he dropped his voice. “Uh, sorry about that, guys. Didn’t mean to sneak up on you like that.” He took a few steps closer, evidently addressing Dash more than the others. “I’m Inkpot Quibble, reporter for the Cloudsdale Journal. After that fantastic display, I would presume that you’re Miss Rainbow Dash?”

Dash nodded, warily. Fluttershy was getting to her feet, and Twilight was eyeing the newcomer with some suspicion, not least for the fact that he was a unicorn.

“Great,” Quibble grinned, enthusiastically. “I take it you saw the announcement for your record in the Journal?”

“Yeah,” Dash said, still a little hesitant. The previous evening she had recovered the somewhat-waterlogged latest copy from her house, and had discovered a short, functional piece within, more an advertisement than a report, giving the date and nature of the event at the Cloudiseum that coming weekend. It alone had sparked quite a public reaction, as Dash had discovered the previous day.

“Well, it looks like you’re all set to put on quite a show.” The journalist seemed professionally unperturbed by his less-than-warm reception. “Have you got a few minutes? We’re running a proper piece on you tomorrow, and it’s be great to get a few words from the flyer herself.”

Fluttershy was watching proceedings from a safe distance. Twilight and Dash looked at each other, undecidedly. “One second,” Dash said to Quibble, turning away and walking a little distance away to speak privately with Twilight. “Look," she began, a little resignedly. "You saw what happened when they first announced it. Fan-mail, autographs, the works. I don’t mind that stuff, but if they run this article you’re bound to get dragged into it too, an’ I know you don’t like that kinda thing.” She sighed. “Do you think I should talk to him? After all, it’s your library ponies are gonna be bothering.”

Twilight smiled. “They’re going to run the article anyway,” she replied, quietly. “I don’t want to hold you back. Interest will die down after the record, just like it did last time. A couple of weeks in the spotlight might not be my idea of heaven,” she blushed a little, “but you’re worth it.”

Dash winked at her, unable to stop her cheeks from colouring a little too. “You bet I am! Thanks, Twi’.” She turned, walking back towards the journalist. “Okay, I’ve got a few minutes.” She grinned, excitedly. “Go for it!”

“Okay,” Quibble looked pleased at the probable scoop, magically hovering a quill and ringbound notepad up in front of him, and clearing his throat. “Is there any reason that you chose to attempt the record so soon after Lightning Flare broke it himself?”

Dash paused before replying. In truth, she knew that it had been Flare’s record that had catalyzed all of the recent events, by forcing her to see herself in a different light. It had been hard enough talking to Twilight about it, and she was certainly not going to share her story with the tabloid media. She shook her head. “Not really,” she hedged, “I saw it in the paper and it made me think about taking another shot, that’s all.”

“But is there any truth in the rumours of a personal grudge between yourself and Lightning Flare?” pressed Quibble. “After all, it was your record that he broke. I can see how that could create some bad feeling between you.”

“What?” Dash was taken aback by this rumour. “No!” She hastened to qualify her denial. “I mean, I’ve got nothin’ against the guy. He seemed a bit big-headed, but hey,” she grinned, jokingly, “I don’t really have a right to talk about that.”

The reporter smiled, scribbling rapidly on his notepad, but seemed a little disappointed that there was not more of a story to be had. “So, how did you react to the news that Lightning Flare will be spectating at the event? Bought a box right next to the ground crew’s podium, no less. The best view of the action.”

This was news to Dash. “He will?” She shrugged. “Fair enough, I guess. I’d want to if it was me.” She suddenly looked thoughtful. “What does he make of this whole thing? Is he annoyed about it?”

Quibble looked a little irritated. “You’re meant to tell me, really. Haven’t you been keeping up with the media at all this week?”

Dash realized that, in all honesty, the answer was no. “It’s been… a kinda weird couple of weeks. Besides, I don’t know anythin’ about Lightning Flare, I’ve never even spoken to him.”

“Okay then,” Quibble seemed to be casting around for questions, as his tactic of playing up rivalries had somewhat fallen flat. “Clearly, you’re an exceptional flyer. What’s your secret? I’m sure lots of aspiring flyers out there would like to know.”

It’s Twilight’s research, so it’s hers to make public, Dash reminded herself. Don't go blabbing about it yet. “To be honest,” she began, “Flying’s all I’ve ever wanted to do. I’ve flown my whole life, I guess it’s a part of me. Besides, these last few weeks I’ve taken tips from the best,” she looked over her shoulder and smiled wryly at Twilight. “That unicorn’s amazing, I owe her a lot.” She smiled as she saw Twilight’s face go a little red at the compliment.

Quibble’s ears seemed to pick up at this interesting piece of news. “So, it’s true? Your trainer’s a unicorn?”

Dash nodded. “Yeah, she’s shown me a lot of new stuff. She’s not all bookworm!”

“I see. The Element of Magic, no less?”

Twilight trotted over, interested. “You’ve heard of the Elements?”

The reporter nodded. “Obviously I have, you’ve saved Equestria at least twice.”

“Hang on, stop the interview a second,” Dash raised a hoof, having spotted something strange about the current situation. “As ya say, we’ve saved Equestria twice. Last time they had a pretty big party for us, but we never saw any reporters around town or anything. Now I decide to do something way less impressive than that, I’m getting mentioned in the papers. What’s up with that?”

Quibble coughed, a little awkwardly. “Well, if you must know, the Princess quietly implied that she’d rather the media left you six alone. She seemed to think you’d been through enough after that whole Discord fiasco. Same thing when Luna came back. Anyway, you know how it is. Quiet recognition with the ponies that matter, but no media interest, so public attention dies down quickly, and nopony bothers you in the street. Simple, really.”

Twilight felt a rush of gratitude towards her mentor. It would have been thoroughly unpleasant to be thrust into the spotlight for months, and she was glad that the Princess had put her hoof down and allowed the six of them to continue with their lives as normal.

Dash nodded, comprehension dawning on her face. “I get it. But now I’m doing something else that’s interesting…”

“You’re fair game, yes,” Quibble said, jokingly. He seemed a little more easy-going in conversation now that he had lowered his overbearing blind-you-with-teeth interviewer persona. He raised his notebook again. “Just a couple of final things to tie this up? Then I’ll be out of your manes.”

“Sure thing,” Dash replied.

“Okay,” Quibble cleared his throat. “Clearly you intend to break the speed record this weekend, but do you have any particular speed targets that you’re aiming for?”

“Yeah,” the pegasus nodded, “I’m gonna try and go twice the speed of sound. That’s… Uhh.” She paused, looking sideways at Twilight, who filled in.

“One thousand, five hundred and twenty-two miles an hour,” she recited, without so much as a pause.

“…What she said.” Dash gestured towards the unicorn.

Quibble looked impressed. “I’m no expert in pegasus flight, but won’t the wind at those speeds be rather dangerous?”

“I guess,” Dash shrugged. “I didn’t choose to do this ‘cause it was easy.”

“Then why did you choose to do this?”

Dash smiled, remembering something Fluttershy had said to her, seemingly a lifetime ago. “What’s the point in having horizons if you’re not gonna chase ‘em?”

The journalist scribbled a few lines in his notebook, looking pleased. “Nice quote, that’s definitely going in the article.” He looked up from his writing, lowering the ringbound pad slightly. “One last thing, have you got anything to say to the many young, aspiring flyers out there?”

There was a pause, as Dash pondered over what to say. She did not want to come out with some meaningless, florid line, but at the same time she could not reveal the real secret behind her flying. Then, inspiration struck, and she looked sideways to grin conspiratorially at Twilight. “Tell ‘em it doesn’t matter if you haven’t got the strongest wings, an’ it doesn’t matter what other ponies think you can or can’t do. You’re as good a flyer as you set your mind to being.” She looked at the unicorn beside her, and saw that she was smiling a small, secretive smile at the truth of Dash’s words.

Quibble jotted down the last few words, his tongue between his teeth, then flipped the notebook closed. “Okay then,” he said, apparently pleased with the material he had gathered. “Thanks for that, sorry to bother you guys.”

“No worries,” Dash grinned, holding out a hoof for him to shake. “Nice to meet ya, Quibble.”

The reporter winced, slightly. “Nice to meet you too, I must admit I prefer Inkpot.”

“Oh right, fair enough,” Dash smirked.

“Some parents haven’t a clue, have they?”

Twilight giggled. “You think you’ve got it bad? We know somepony called Golden Harvest.”

Quibble rolled his eyes. “I’m not even gonna touch that one.” He began walking away across the field, calling back to the three of them over his shoulder. “Be sure to check the paper tomorrow!”

Twilight and Dash waited for him to fade to a silhouette in the distance, then both let out simultaneous sighs of relief. “That went pretty well, actually,” Dash remarked.

“Yeah, it did.” Twilight leaned in to kiss Dash warmly on the cheek. “Thanks for saying that about me.”

“You know I mean it, Twi’,” Dash replied, her voice low and close to Twilight’s ear, making the fur on the back of her neck stand on end.

Suddenly remembering the third pony amongst them, Twilight looked around for Fluttershy, seeing her head protruding halfway from the grass. “Are you okay?”

Fluttershy stood up, walking back over to them, an expression of relief on her face. “I’m fine,” she said, quietly, “it’s just… Ever since that mess with Photo Finish, I’ve never been exactly happy around journalists.”

Twilight nodded, understandingly. “I can see why.” She turned, magically packing away the large wood-and-metal speedometer, which seemed to fold in a dozen places, packing itself into a small, easily-portable case that seemed entirely too small for it. Levitating it into the air to hover beside them, they began to walk back across the field.

Fluttershy evidently decided to tag along, following after them. “Is it alright if I come with you?” she asked, nervously. “I don’t want to intrude, it’s just I’d like to borrow a book from the library, and we’re all going to the same place.”

Twilight and Dash both assured her that they did not mind, and the next ten minutes were spent in a companionable silence, until they reached the outskirts of Ponyville, the midday sun beating down above them. The streets were full of ponies enjoying the warm weather, the shop-fronts open and inviting as they passed.

“Why do you think Lightning Flare’s coming to watch?” Twilight suddenly asked, a few minutes later, her voice pensive.

Dash shrugged. “Might be a pride thing. Maybe he wants to try and talk to me?”

“Could be,” Twilight looked a little concerned. “I didn’t think this was worth mentioning at the time, but I did a little research into him the other day, I looked through the newspaper archives to see if he’d been involved in anything newsworthy before.” She sighed. “It’s probably nothing, but I found his name on a list of those arrested three years ago at a pro-pegasus student rally that turned violent. They released him over lack of evidence, but apparently he has quite a history of being a vocal activist for anti-unicorn movements, and they suspected that he was the one who started the hostilities at this particular rally.”

“Seriously?” Dash raised an eyebrow. “Don’t tell me that pegasi have got their own equivalent of Sunset?”

Twilight shook her head. “They’ve not got anyone nearly so dangerous, just the usual collection of rabble-rousers and troublemakers. I just thought that it might be relevant that he’s anti-unicorn, given the trouble we’ve had with unicorn-centric groups.”

“It’s probably not got anything to do with it,” Fluttershy remarked, nervously. “In my opinion, that is. He’s a flyer, so surely he’s there for the flying?”

“That’d make sense,” conceded Twilight. “Then again, I’d say we have every right to be paranoid right now.”

They had arrived at the library, and Twilight noticed a note tacked to the door.

Dear Twilight,
Out of decent quills again,
gone to get some more.
If not, may be back with a sofa.
See you soon,
Spike.

“I thought that place closed down,” muttered Twilight as she read the note. She folded the piece of paper, and stowed it safely in her saddlebag, turning to Dash. “Did you bring a key with you? I didn’t bring mine, I thought Spike would be in when we got back.”

Dash was not wearing saddlebags, or any means of storage, so the likelihood seemed slim. “Nope,” she admitted, after a brief and fruitless inspection. “I guess we’ll have to wait for him.”

Experimentally, Twilight tried the handle of the door, in case Spike had been lazy and left it unlocked. To her surprise, and mild annoyance at the dragon, the door swung ajar. “It’s open,” she said in some relief.

As she looked through the doorway into the room, she saw that something was different. The bookshelves were dappled in a strange, glowing light that appeared to be radiating from somewhere just out of sight around the doorframe. Intrigued, Twilight walked inside, looking around for the source of the faint light. She gasped in amazement at the sight that met her eyes.

Princess Celestia was lying on the rug, staring into the burned-out fireplace. She did not appear to notice them, and as she stepped closer, Twilight realized that Celestia was crying, silently. She was immobile, but tears were pooled in her eyes, and watery trails daubed her cheeks where her eyes had overflowed. Her face was a glazed mask as she gazed into the ashes in the hearth.

Behind her, Twilight heard Dash and Fluttershy gasp in synchronicity, and she took another hesitant step towards the Princess.

“Princess?” Twilight whispered, half in horror and half in sympathy at seeing her mentor in such a state.

Celestia’s head turned and saw the three ponies looking at her. For a moment, she was silent. “I am sorry to invade your home in this way, Twilight,” she said at last. Her voice was steady and carefully controlled, but her eyes were still full. The golden glow that she normally radiated was dulled to the mottled flicker that sputtered against the walls and bookshelves, and her mane no longer flowed as if caught in a gentle breeze, instead falling translucently down around her head and neck, covering her like a cloak.

“I don’t mind, Princess,” Twilight exclaimed. “You’re always welcome here, but… what’s wrong?”

The Princess looked past her for a moment at Dash and Fluttershy, who were still standing in the doorway, their faces showing little beyond blank surprise. “Would you mind if I were to speak to Twilight alone for a few minutes?” she asked them, and they nodded mutely, retreating. Fluttershy closed the door behind her with a soft click.

“Are you alright, Princess?” Twilight walked nearer to her mentor, their heads almost level due to Celestia’s lowered position.

“I have seen so much loss in my life,” Celestia whispered. “But I never thought I would live long enough to see myself stand by and accept it. I was too late to stop myself from falling.”

“What do you mean?” Twilight’s eyes were wide, full of worry and confusion at the Princess’s words.

“Sunset are at an end,” Celestia said. There was no triumph in her voice or eyes, she was stating a fact, not announcing a victory. “Their leaders are already in custody, and their subordinates are being rounded up. They’re finished, and you should have no further reason to fear for Rainbow Dash’s safety.”

“But Princess, that’s wonderful news,” Twilight said. She was flooded with relief, but her voice filled with uncertainty and fear for the troubled Princess.

Celestia laughed, bitterly. “Yes, it is, isn’t it? We have our ends achieved. But what about the means?”

“Means?”

“Sit down, Twilight,” Celestia looked at her, eyes once again filled with tears of regret. “Let me tell you how I have betrayed you.”

Parting The Clouds

A Bluebird’s Song

~~~
It’s empty in the valley of your heart
The sun it rises slowly as you walk
Away from all the fears
And all the faults you left behind
~~~

Parting The Clouds

Twilight lay down beside her mentor, and for the first time in her life it struck her how old the Alicorn was. Her face was blessed, or perhaps cursed, with an eternal ageless grace, but her eyes told the real story. The Princess was weary, and no façade could hide it. An eternity of memories as yet unmade stretched out before her, and weighed heavily on her.

Celestia was silent for a few moments, then her horn flared, the magical aura enveloping the heavy bejeweled circlet that she wore around her neck. Carefully, as Twilight watched in surprise, she lifted it clear, sliding it over her head and taking it in her hooves. She held it out to Twilight, who took it mutely, struggling a little to bear the weight of the heavy gold.

“Princess…”

“Look at the inside,” Celestia said, her voice soft.

In silence, not at all sure where this was going, Twilight turned the circlet over, to look at the inner face, the side that the Princess wore, hidden, against her heart. She gasped in surprise, as she saw that instead of a plain, golden surface, the inside of the circlet was engraved. A small line of likenesses, in the image of various unicorns’ faces were expertly tooled into the metal, almost alive in the vibrancy and skill with which they were crafted. There were five ponies in the line, which reached about a third of the way around the circlet. The rest was blank metal, as yet untouched.

“Who…?” Twilight began to ask, although she felt as if she already knew.

Celestia closed her eyes for a moment. “Sometimes, once in a few hundred years, I meet a pony who surprises me, a pony separate from the endless parade of names and faces. Many ponies are set apart by their magical talent, but a very few have something to make them truly shine. These ponies I take as my protégés at the School for Gifted Unicorns. You are one such pony.”

Twilight blushed a little at the compliment, gazing at the Princess’s circlet in awe that she would let her see something so personal. “Thankyou, Princess.”

“I do not deserve your thanks, Twilight,” Celestia said, her voice scarcely a whisper. She motioned to the first of the likenesses on the golden circlet, a unicorn with sharp, slanting eyes and a short, curly mane. “Evergreen, the great granddaughter of Clover the Clever. The first pony to enter my personal tutelage. When I lost her to the Hornrot epidemic I grieved for months, I thought that surely I could never find another pony to equal her.” Celestia moved her hoof to indicate the next pony to the right, a high-cheekboned stallion with an abnormally short, wide horn. “Then, almost two hundred years later, I met Elixir Goldmane, the most talented potioneer I have ever met, even to this day. He fell in defence of this very city when the griffons came for the second time. I was told a spear struck him a glancing blow, and he fell from the ramparts, down the mountainside. I searched for days, but never found his body.”

Twilight opened her mouth to offer some form of condolence for this ages-past loss, but Celestia cut across her. “I will not force you to listen to the rest of their stories, but I need you to understand. Over the years, I have come to know that everypony must die, even those whom I cannot bear to lose. I understand this, and I daresay I understand it better than most. But even if I were to live until the sun itself burns to ashes, I never thought that I would come to accept it.”

“What do you mean?”

“I lied to you. I lied to Rainbow Dash, too.” Celestia’s voice was level, her eyes still shining with tears. “I told you that there was no risk of Sunset sabotaging the record attempt this coming weekend. I knew that they would have done, I knew perfectly well that if the record attempt went ahead, Rainbow Dash would be killed, and your trust in me would be permanently and rightfully broken.”

Twilight instinctively recoiled a little at the words, her face registering nothing but shock. “Princess… Why? Why would you do that?”

Celestia bowed her head. “I understand something about Sunset, now. They have become puppets. Dusk Tempest is every bit as clever as I thought he was back when he was my Captain of the Guard. Sunset may have their leaders, but he was the force behind this operation of theirs, acting in the shadows, guiding them. He doesn’t care about pegasi or unicorns, or about who knows the secret of pegasus flight. He just wants to bring me down. Not to remove me from my throne, for he knows that it impossible, but to cause me pain, to show me that I am not infallible. He wants to give me yet another regret to bear through the millennia, in repayment for my perceived betrayal of him. He engineered the situation such that if I let the attack go ahead, Sunset would be forced to show their hand. We would most likely bring their leaders in, at the cost of your trust in me. Of course, they could have simply come to your library and…” Celestia stopped, unable to complete the sentence, moving swiftly onward. “They could have done that, but I believe that they did not want to… to kill you. They wanted to destroy your faith in me. They wanted to take away my only friend.”

Twilight could not respond, her mind was whirling, and the Princess continued, her voice breaking a little. “I was going to let it happen. Sunset have done terrible, terrible things in the past, and I needed them gone before they could gain a foothold again. It was only the taunts of Dusk Tempest himself that made me see clearly what I was going to do. His one mistake.”

"You… you spoke to him about this?”

“He is my prisoner, I visited him ostensibly to question him, but in reality I needed to tell somepony the truth.” She echoed Dusk’s words to her, almost unconsciously. “The only one who would understand. I’m afraid of myself, Twilight. I always have been. My fear for myself overpowered my fear for you, I was a coward. Then, he said something that made all the difference.”

“What?”

“He told me that he knows how I think.” The Princess sighed. “At that moment, I realized that he was right. He knew that I was afraid of myself, that I was incapable of doing what was necessary, and because of that I was going to let something unforgivable happen.”

Twilight was confused, and more than a little horrified at what might have been. She assumed that the Princess had found some solution to the problem at hand. “But… but you didn’t let it happen. You just told me that Sunset are finished.” Her voice was reassuring, if fearful. “Maybe you nearly made a mistake, but you saw that it was a mistake before you went through with it. You thought that it was the only way, and I can respect that. I still trust you, Princess.”

Celestia chuckled, bitterly. “You don’t know how this story ends yet, Twilight. I expect you think I did something clever. Something heroic. Perhaps I found some clue, or remembered something Dusk had hinted at, and deduced where their leaders were hiding, so I could swoop in with the guards?” She looked Twilight in the eye, and Twilight could see the pain in her face. “No, Twilight. I hurt him. I kept hurting him until he told me everything. It took about twenty minutes, and I got the names and the places and the safehouses. By the time I raised the sun this morning, Sunset were finished.”

For a moment, there was silence, and Celestia lowered her eyes so that she was no longer looking at the unicorn beside her. Suddenly, Twilight gave a small sob. “I’m so sorry, Princess,” she choked out.

Celestia was taken aback, she had expected her student to react with fear or hatred, not contrition. “Twilight? What do you have to be sorry for?”

“Everything!” Twilight exclaimed. “This is all my fault! If I hadn’t gone ahead with my stupid, petty research, then you would never have been forced to do this. It gave Dusk an excuse to go after Rainbow, so he could hurt you. If I’d just stopped, then you would never have had to make that choice at all. I’ve hurt you, and I nearly got the mare I love killed.” She buried her face in her hooves, muttering. “I wanted to help Rainbow, that’s all I wanted to do, I swear.”

“Twilight-” Celestia began, but the unicorn did not respond. “Please, Twilight,” she said, a little louder. “Don’t hate yourself for this. You were blackmailed, and you didn’t give in to that blackmail. That’s not petty, it was brave, and I would have expected nothing less from you. If anypony deserves your hate, it’s me. I was a fool, I was too much of a coward to do what needed to be done, to trust myself to not be corrupted. I almost left it too late. What I did to Dusk Tempest will haunt me for a long time, but it did not corrupt me, and it will not haunt me nearly so much as what I nearly allowed to happen. It took the taunts of an imprisoned, half-mad unicorn to stop me from making the greatest mistake of my existence. My cowardice nearly led me to kill the one pony who is most important to my only friend.”

Twilight looked up, and her expression changed a little. Her own guilt still weighed on her, and she knew that it would for some time, but she understood that she could not have known the repercussions that her defiance would have.

As she looked into her mentor’s eyes, she thought that she saw the unmasked pain behind them lessen a little. Did the Princess really consider her a friend, not simply a student? At that moment, she knew that she could help. As a subject of the Princess, she was powerless. But as a friend, she could convince Celestia that she was not a coward. As hard as she thought about what the Princess had told her, she found it impossible to feel anger or disappointment, instead feeling nothing but forgiveness and gratitude towards her mentor.

“Princess,” she began, her voice still breaking, but a little stronger now. “Perhaps, logically, I should feel betrayed, or afraid, or angry.” She looked Celestia in the eye, and it seemed as if the goddess of the sun was waiting with baited breath. “But I’m your friend, and nopony ever said that friendship is logical. You’re not a coward. If you were a coward, you would never have come to this library to talk with me. I promise, I will always believe in you, even if sometimes you don’t believe in yourself.”

For a moment, they looked at each other, and it was as if the roles of learner and mentor had been, for an instant, reversed. Celestia smiled through the tears that had sprung to her eyes again. There was still pain in her face, but a spark of hope burned there too. “You know, Twilight,” Celestia murmured, “when I met you, I had not taken on a protégé in nearly four hundred years.” Suddenly, the Princess leaned forwards and embraced Twilight gratefully, her tears flowing freely now. “You were worth the wait.”

After the door swung shut behind them, Dash and Fluttershy stood outside the library for a few moments, in surprised silence. They had always regarded the Princess as infallible, all-powerful, constantly in control of every situation. It had come as something of a shock to see her in such a state of vulnerability.

“I hope the Princess is alright,” murmured Fluttershy, in concern.

They walked together for a few minutes, putting a little distance between themselves and the library. Whatever was happening, it was between the Princess and Twilight, and neither Fluttershy nor Dash wanted to pry.

“What do ya reckon’s the matter?” Dash asked, nervously.

Fluttershy shook her head. “I don’t know, but if the Princess is in such a state it’s bound to be important.”

Silence fell between them again, then Dash threw her canary companion an appraising look. “Are you okay at the moment, ‘Shy?”

Fluttershy pulled up, looking almost guilty, and Dash stopped walking too. “How do you mean?”

“I dunno,” Dash shrugged, thinking that perhaps she was imagining things, but deciding that it was worth chasing up. “Ever since… Ya know, all that stuff at your house last week. You’ve seemed a bit quiet.”

“Quiet?” Fluttershy smiled. “You’ve known me for years, Rainbow. Does it still surprise you when I’m quiet?”

“Quieter than usual, then,” Dash qualified, also grinning at how obvious her words had been. “Those guys broke into your house, ‘Shy. Is it still bothering you?”

Fluttershy sighed, wandering over to a nearby bench and lying down, resting her head on her hooves while Dash remained standing, looking at her with obvious worry on her behalf.

“Yes and no,” Fluttershy admitted, studying her hooves carefully rather than looking at her friend. “It’s not what they did. It’s what I did.”

“Huh?”

“That unicorn, Frost. The one I… I attacked.” Fluttershy’s voice was almost inaudible. “It felt just like back in Flight School, on the day I got your locket back. I don’t know why, but it felt… good.”

Dash looked at her, in surprise. Ever since the two of them had left Flight School, Fluttershy had never once brought up the subject of that day, and Dash had learned not to broach the topic, as she knew too well the hurt that formed in Fluttershy’s eyes whenever she tried. “That’s what’s been bothering you?”

Fluttershy nodded, looking ashamed of herself. “It felt like when I saw what that dragon had done to you all, but much stronger. The dragon was just a brute, but those ponies in my house were being deliberately cruel to Spike when he couldn’t fight back. The dragon was angry, but those ponies were actually enjoying what they were doing. It’s the same as with that filly who stole your locket. It… it felt good to teach them a little of what it feels like, but surely that makes me as bad as them.”

Dash walked closer, and sat carefully beside her on the bench, patting her reassuringly on the shoulder. “Hey, ‘Shy. It’s okay.”

“It’s not, though,” exclaimed Fluttershy in frustration. “I don’t want to be a vengeful pony, that’s a horrible way to be!”

“Look,” Dash sighed, feeling a resurgent spike of anger towards the members of Sunset. “I’m not a vengeful pony either, but we all get angry sometimes. When the first one broke into my house, I’d have bucked every tooth out of his head if I’d gotten my hooves on him, and hay, I’d probably have enjoyed it too. We’re not saints, ‘Shy. We’re just ponies.”

Fluttershy nodded. “I guess so. Even the Princess gets angry sometimes. Even so, I’m the Element of Kindness. I shouldn’t go around beating up ponies who do things I don’t like.”

“Both times you were protecting your friends,” Dash reminded her. “I’m not sayin’ that makes it nice or anything, but come on, from the day I met you at Flight School, all the way to right now, it’s only happened twice. That doesn’t exactly make you a vigilante, ‘Shy.”

Fluttershy giggled quietly at this. “That’s probably a good thing. I’d make a terrible vigilante.”

Dash jumped to her feet, pointing a hoof dramatically at an imaginary criminal. “Stop right there!” She barked, causing a few passers-by to look around for the source of the command, then her voice fell to an affectedly nervous whisper. “Umm, If you don’t mind, that is…”

She glanced sideways at Fluttershy, who was laughing at the impressively accurate impersonation. She knew that Fluttershy was comfortable enough around her to take it as a joke, as opposed to mockery. “You know me too well, Rainbow,” Fluttershy said with a smile.

“Hey,” a thought suddenly occurred to Dash, and she trotted back over to the bench, her eyes wide with excitement. “Do you reckon Princess Celestia’s gonna come to watch the record attempt?”

“Maybe, she came to the Young Flyers’ Competition,” Fluttershy replied, uncertainly. “Although that was mostly to give out the prizes.”

“I bet she will,” enthused Dash. She dropped her voice so the other ponies passing by in the street would not hear. “Sunset won’t dare try anything if she’s watching.”

This had evidently not occurred to Fluttershy, who was, like Dash, not yet aware of Sunset’s forcible closure. She looked relieved. “That’s a good point, I expect she will, if it makes things safer for you.”

Dash nodded. “That’d be so awesome. Hey, do you think we should head back to the library now? Twi’ might be gonna come out soon. I hope everything’s okay, I hope the Princess isn’t angry with her about anything.”

Fluttershy got to her feet, falling in step beside Dash as they headed back across the warm cobbles, joining the sparse throng of ponies out enjoying the weather. “She didn’t seem angry,” she said, pensively. “She just seemed sad, actually. I hope she’s alright.”

“I hope so, too,” agreed Dash, looking sideways at her friend. “Are you feeling better now, ‘Shy?”

“I guess,” Fluttershy nodded, vestigial concerns still showing on her face, but her voice sounding reassured by Dash’s earlier words. “I’m more worried about Twilight right now…”

Twilight sat on the rug, beside the Princess. Celestia seemed noticeably more collected now; the unicorn’s reassuring words had evidently helped her mentor, at least a little. The heavy golden circlet lay between them, the eyes of the Princess's former students gazing peacefully up at the two of them.

“Princess?” Twilight said at last, her voice enquiring.

“Yes, Twilight?”

“You said that your guards had arrested Sunset’s leaders. Who were they?”

For a moment, Celestia did not reply, and when she did, her voice was one of warning. “If I tell you, I must warn you that the knowledge may put you in a rather difficult position.”

“What do you mean, Princess?” Twilight asked, bemusedly. “I’d like to know, for the sake of closure.”

Celestia nodded. “I cannot explain properly without telling you, and I understand that you want to know. Here you are, then. There were three in all. The went by the assumed names Hourglass, Firefly, and Libra. I have no prior knowledge of Hourglass, and have not yet found his actual name. However, I have every reason to suspect that Libra is the Canterlot-accented stallion who broke into Rainbow Dash’s house. Once again, we are yet to unearth his real name.” She paused, for a moment. “It is the third who presents a more delicate matter. Firefly.”

“The ponies in Fluttershy’s cottage mentioned a Libra,” mused Twilight, “but I’ve never heard Firefly mentioned.”

“You wouldn’t have. Her real name is Cloudshine, a unicorn of some prodigious skill, and a deep-seated hatred for pegasi.”

“Cloudshine…” Twilight said the name slowly, turning it over in her mind for the source of the significance that Celestia clearly placed upon it. It rang a vague bell, but the hint of recognition refused to solidify. “I’ve never heard of her. Should I have?”

Celestia closed her eyes. “Once again, I would not expect you to. But I must ask you to be cautious if you decide to break the news.”

“Break the news?”

The Princess opened her eyes again, and looked down at Twilight, as if wishing fervently that she did not have to give Twilight this burden.

“She is the second daughter of Rainbow Shine, a mare deeply betrayed by the pegasus she loved.”

Twilight’s eyes widened in shock. “You mean…?”

Celestia nodded, grimly. “Yes. She’s Rainbow Dash’s half-sister.”

The Faces Of The Coin

A Bluebird’s Song

~~~
Sometimes I just
Can’t help myself
I guess I’m clockwork
And you’re quartz
~~~

The Faces Of The Coin

The Carousel Boutique workroom was undeniably a mess. A disorderly line of mannequins were stacked up by the window, some on their sides, each one bearing a more disastrous outfit than the last. Jumbled piles of fabrics and ribbons were scattered across the floor, the occasional glint of a gemstone or two shining out amongst them.

The creator of this clutter stood at her sewing machine, muttering irritably to herself. Try as she might, inspiration seemed to be giving Rarity a wide berth today, as if she had sprayed herself liberally with a full can of inspiration-repellant. When the third attempt to line up a simple row of stitches failed, she pulled the severely-punctured, half-constructed dress from under the machine’s needle, and tossed it onto the pile of fabric to her left.

“It’s simply no good, I can’t concentrate!” Rarity muttered under her breath, looking around at the creative wasteland.

She heard the door creak open behind her, and turned with a sigh of resignation to see that Sweetie Belle, who was paying her a visit for a few days whilst still busily crusading, was standing in the doorway. “What’s the matter, Sis?” the diminutive unicorn asked, looking around with interest at the chaotic room.

Rarity shook her head. “I don’t know, I’m just distracted at the moment. I can’t concentrate on my work. I’ve got two orders to fill for tomorrow, but it’s just not coming naturally.”

Sweetie Belle trotted into the room, eyeing the failed outfits in surprise. “You made those?”

“I’m afraid so,” Rarity admitted, embarrassed. She saw a look of worry dawn on her sister’s face.

“What’s stopped you concentrating?”

Rarity paused. She could make quite a good guess at what was hindering her, but she felt that it was somehow inappropriate to drag her younger sister into these matters.

“Oh,” she waved a hoof, airily. “I wouldn’t worry. I’m sure it will pass, and I’ll be back to normal in no time. Even the most creative of spirits can run into dry patches for a time.”

Sweetie Belle looked a little taken aback, but seemed to accept her sister’s story. “Okay, then… Look, sis, is it okay if I borrow some of this ribbon? We’re trying to make a new flag for the clubhouse and I promised Scootaloo I’d grab some.”

“Of course, of course. Go ahead,” Rarity replied, absently. She watched as the visibly relieved Sweetie Belle gathered up a few clashingly-coloured lengths of ribbon, and departed, closing the door behind her. Trying to clear her head, Rarity turned back to look at the last undisturbed mannequin, casting an appraising eye over the contours and waiting for the ideas to begin to coalesce, as they usually did so easily. She waited there for about half a minute, and when no stroke of inspiration struck her, she turned away with a frustrated snort.

Ever since she had visited Spike at the library, his words had been spinning in her head. A few days ago, she had gone to the spa as usual with Fluttershy, and it was then that she realized just how right the little dragon had been. She had enjoyed the company of the pegasus, as always, but felt a continual, crushing disappointment whenever she was in the same room.

Every second they’re with you, they’re breaking your heart and they don’t even know it.

Spike’s words floated vividly to the front of her mind, and she felt as if she were being torn apart a little inside her chest. She did not want to tell Fluttershy, as she knew that it would achieve nothing. Worse than that, it would hurt Fluttershy. Rarity knew how sensitive her friend was, and did not think it would be fair of her to risk making things so awkward between them. Would their friendship even survive it?

Despite this, she could not help wondering if it would not be better to have her feelings out in the open. As Spike had said, it might be less painful to endure the awkwardness than to continue bottling herself up in this way. Doubtless things would be embarrassing for a while, but if she was lucky it may be a temporary setback in their friendship, and they could continue as they had before, but without the leaden dead-weight that fell into Rarity’s chest, whenever she was with Fluttershy.

This speculation is getting me nowhere, she chided herself.

She might say yes, a rebellious, insidious voice in the back of her mind whispered.

Of course she won’t. You know that. Don’t get your hopes up there, all it will do is muddy the waters.

On top of her existing indecision was the nagging worry of that Spike had said, that Fluttershy had nearly been killed, because of something she had done. Was Fluttershy perhaps in danger? Rarity knew perfectly well that if something happened to the pegasus, she would regret her present hesitancy for the rest of her life. Her head still buzzing, she fell back to brooding over her circular thoughts.

At the spa. The way she was looking at me, it was like she was looking inside me. She seemed worried about me, as if I wasn’t quite myself that day. Oh no, oh no, what if she’s guessed?

Rarity closed her eyes, knowing that this problem was not one that would be solved by inaction. In truth, she knew what she had to do, for the sake of her own peace of mind, and for the sake of her trust in Fluttershy as a friend. Fluttershy would surely understand, even if she could not reciprocate Rarity’s feelings. Hopefully, the inevitable awkwardness would subside eventually, even if it took months, surely things would return to normal in the end.

If I don’t say something, she’s just going to work it out on her own.

Her eyes flashed open, and she came to a decision.

“I have to tell her,” she stated to the room in general, grinning triumphantly at the disappointingly unenthusiastic mannequin audience before her. “I’m going to tell her today.”

As she opened the library door, to be met with a faceful of sunlight, Twilight’s brain felt blank with surprise. She had no idea how to process the thought that a direct blood relative of the pony she loved had had such a direct hand in their recent troubles. Almost as worrying was the fact that she had not the slightest plan for breaking the news to Dash, as she would surely have to do. She blinked a few times in the bright light, and Celestia walked slowly out of the library behind her, the weighty golden circlet back in its place around her neck.

In all honesty, Twilight did not know what to think about what her mentor had nearly done to Dash. It was all too early, too fresh in her mind to be properly understood. Naturally, a cold claw of fear gripped her chest when she thought about what might have happened, but she did not feel resentful towards the Princess, or frightened by the knowledge of what she had done to Dusk. She felt much the same as she always had towards the Alicorn, balancing a sense of affection as one might for a family member, with the nagging bite of worry that she might slip up, or that the Princess might suddenly realize the disparity in power between them, and find her redundant or unnecessary.

In a way, she felt more comfortable around Celestia than she had before, having had her mentor confide a small part of her painful history so trustingly in her. She expected that, with the exception of Luna, she was the only living pony who knew the true significance of the Princess’s circlet, the only one that Celestia felt able to trust without restraint. Twilight supposed that the hope of forming this bond of trust was the reason that Celestia took on protégés in the first place, to offer her some company and contact almost as equals in that must have been a lonely existence.

Rounding the corner a short distance from the library came Fluttershy and Dash, returning to check on them. Twilight’s stomach felt as if it suddenly dropped a few feet.

I can’t tell Dash about this while Fluttershy’s around! She’ll probably tell Fluttershy on her own, but that’s got to be up to her. This makes things difficult. Twilight flicked internally through options for a moment, then decided to omit that part of the story until she and Dash were alone in the library together. Anything that she could do to lighten the blow was helpful to her at this stage. After all, she had helped Dash through one family problem, and it was an unpleasant task to have to burden her with another. At least Sunset were no longer a direct threat to them, the thought of which made Twilight breathe a sigh of relief. With no chance of unpleasant intervention, the record day suddenly did not seem so frightening a prospect. In reality, Dash had already broken the record. The day at the Cloudiseum was little more than a formality for the bookkeepers, and perhaps a chance for Dash to meet some other ponies with an interest in flying.

When she caught sight of Twilight and the Princess, Dash broke into a canter, and Fluttershy quickly followed suit. The two pegasi made their rapid way across the cobblestones to where Celestia and her student stood.

“Is everything okay?” Dash exclaimed, and then hurriedly bowed. “Uhh, sorry, your Highness,” she amended hastily.

“Don’t worry, Rainbow Dash,” Celestia said, warmly. “Twilight has given me much to think about, and I am in a much less bleak state of mind than I was when you were last here. I have some news that you will doubtless find most interesting, but I feel that it is Twilight’s to impart if she chooses, not mine.”

She took off, hovering about five feet in the air above them, her wings flared and casting dancing shadows across the cobblestones. “Thankyou for being there for me, Twilight,” she said, her smile genuine. “It is an honour to have you as my student.”

Twilight blushed, delighted with the compliment from her mentor, but before she could respond there was a shimmering flare of arcing light, and the Alicorn was gone, on her way back to Canterlot.

There was silence for a few moments. “So,” Fluttershy began, pawing one hoof nervously on the warm stones and not making eye contact with Twilight. “What’s happened?”

I can’t tell Dash what the Princess was planning to do, I just can’t. For her sake; it’s better for her not to know.

One piece of news that she could safely tell both of them sprang up to the forefront of her brain, and she grinned in relief. “Good news first,” she paused for a second. “Sunset’s finished. The guards went in this morning and their leaders are in the cells.”

Fluttershy let out a relieved squeak, and Dash punched the air with a front hoof. “Awesome!” she yelled, hugging Twilight in excitement. “No worries for the record, then?”

Twilight shook her head. “Nope, you’re in the clear. All you have to worry about now is wind.”

Dash pulled her head away from Twilight’s, and winked at her. “Wind, I can handle. It was the terrorist maniacs on the loose that had me a bit worried.”

With good reason, Twilight thought to herself, going cold at the thought of what might have been. Impulsively, she pulled the slightly surprised but entirely willing Dash close again, suddenly terrified at how close she had come to losing her. A single tear ran fortunately unnoticed down her cheek, and she blinked the moisture forcibly from out of her eyes.

“What was the matter with the Princess?” Dash asked, her muzzle pleasantly close to Twilight’s ear. The unicorn reluctantly released her so that she could make her carefully-weighted reply without being muffled by Dash’s mane.

“…I think she was scared of her own power,” she said, quietly, so only Dash and Fluttershy could hear her. “She’s scared of the choices that she has to make from time to time. She’s ancient, a lonely goddess. I guess every now and then something happens to make it all those millennia just spill out. I’m the only one that she can talk to about it, except her sister. I…” She paused for a second, contentedly mulling over her next words. “I think she considers me a friend, as much as a student.”

Fluttershy smiled. “It looks like you’ve been able to help each other, then. Did she say anything else?”

Twilight blushed a little, uncomfortable with omitting such an important truth. “Uh, nothing important, I don’t think-” She broke off. At that moment, Spike rounded the corner, a bundle of quills clutched in his claws. Seizing on the distraction, Twilight called out to him. “No sofas, then?”

“Nope, a bit on the heavy side,” Spike smirked, halting beside them and waving at Dash. “Hey, how’s the training going?”

“Hey, Spike,” Dash grinned. “Just broke twelve-twenty today.”

“Nice one,” Spike replied, impressed. “Does that mean you’ve got the record, then?”

Twilight stepped in, knowing that this was more her field. “Not yet. While she’s technically broken the record, we can’t prove it because I’m not an official from any of the record archives. Last time, they had replays and everything to look at, so even though it wasn’t planned, it could still be judged. Sure, we could probably get a judge down to Ponyville and do it quietly, but the Mayor of Cloudsdale might just murder us for wrecking the publicity stunt the record attempt’s bound to be.”

Spike nodded, uncertainly. “I see...” His tone of voice indicated that he was not quite sure if he saw or not.

Fluttershy’s eyes suddenly widened. “I’ve just thought, Angel’s got a sniffle and I promised him I’d be back in to check on him. Twilight, is it okay if I grab those books I came for?”

“That’s what the library’s there for,” Twilight smiled.

She and Fluttershy trotted into the tree, and thanks to Twilight’s lightning-fast book location skills, emerged a few minutes later, with Fluttershy clutching a small stack of volumes to her chest. “Thanks, Twilight,” she said, gratefully. Glancing at the sun, she suddenly looked a little worried. “Oh dear, I hope I’m not late for Angel, he won’t be happy at all.” Nervously, she trotted off across the street, waving back over her shoulder at the two ponies and one dragon.

Dash smirked. “I’m startin’ to get worried about her relationship with that rabbit, ya know…”

“I know what you mean.” Twilight giggled.

“She’s got more patience than me,” Spike growled. “I wouldn’t spend one more day with that little carrot-flinging monster.”

As they walked back into the library, Twilight’s face grew serious as she realized that she was out of options. Fluttershy had gone, and they were no longer in a public place. She had no reason other than cowardice to not tell Dash about her half-sister. She knew that Dash would want to know, even if it hurt her to hear it.

Spike headed upstairs, tuning fork in claw, presumably to check his maturing gemstone, and Twilight turned to the pegasus beside her. “Rainbow,” she said, nervously, “the Princess told me something else about Sunset. Just… sit with me for a moment.”

Dash’s eyes were wide and concerned at the expression on Twilight’s face, which was akin to a pony at the bedside of a sick friend. A little nervously, she joined Twilight on the rug, resting a reassuring hoof on the unicorn’s back. “What’s the matter, Twilight?”

Twilight took a moment to gaze into Dash’s magenta eyes, the depths of which were now free of the pain and fear that had haunted the pegasus through so much of her life, and now they seemed to shine in their depths, hypnotizing, stretching the moment into an eternity. Twilight took a deep, calming breath, hoping against hope that she was not about to cause yet more damage to the pony that she cared about the most.

Fluttershy’s cottage was a cheerful racket, birds that preferred not to brave the sudden afternoon heat were savouring the cool indoors, circling the ceiling in a twittering, flittering mass of colour. One occupant of the room was not in such good spirits, however. The red-nosed, bleary Angel sat tucked up in a bed that Fluttershy reserved for sick animals of his size, an incongruously large box of tissues and a steaming bowl of lemon tea beside him.

“Come on, Angel,” Fluttershy chided, gesturing towards the untouched bowl of tea. “I know it’s not very nice with a sore throat, but it’ll make you feel better quickly.”

The rabbit seized a tissue from the box, and blew his nose violently, throwing her a look over the billowing paper. The look suggested that he considered her medical expertise to be sadly lacking. Fluttershy sighed, knowing that when Angel dug his heels in over something, no amount of persuasion would yield results. “What if I add some carrot juice?” she asked, a little desperately. Angel shook his head, emphatically, his ears flapping this way and that through the holes in the miniature nightcap that he had reluctantly allowed Fluttershy to clothe him in.

As frustrating as the rabbit was, Fluttershy somewhat enjoyed their battles of willpower, finding them more interesting than the easily-treatable birds and bears that she usually assisted in her day-to-day life. She smiled thoughtfully, heading into the kitchen to retrieve the carrot juice, more in hope than expectation.

Unbeknownst to her, however, a battle of wills of a much more internal nature was occurring outside her front door at that very moment.

Just knock the door, you’ve come this far, what are you waiting for? Rarity was hovering nervously just outside the cottage, her mane pedantically sculpted, more for her own benefit than any realistic chance of improving her odds. She had resigned herself to failure, but had come to the conclusion that she wanted to be able to enjoy her best friend’s company again, and she could not do so in her current, restless state.

I don’t want to make her upset, though. What if she thinks it’s wrong or creepy of me?

It’s Fluttershy! She’ll understand!

Oh, enough of this nonsense! I am a mare of worldly experience, and I refuse to get into another argument with myself. It is most unladylike to initiate an argument with oneself.

With a determined gritting of her teeth, Rarity raised a hoof and knocked three times on the door.

Her heart pounded as she heard hoof-steps on the other side of the door. Sooner than she was prepared for, there was a rattle of a handle, and the door swung open. Through her nerves, Rarity could not help but notice that the door seemed rather loose and wobbly on its hinges, as if it had been subjected to some violent openings recently. This thought was driven from her head, however, when she saw Fluttershy, whose eyes lit up as she smiled welcomingly.

“Rarity! It’s great to see you! …Are you alright?” The pegasus appeared to notice the small beads of sweat on her friend’s brow, and the way that her eyes were darting skittishly from side-to-side.

“Huh? Oh, yes, I’m fine, darling.” Rarity forcibly composed herself, brushing the sweat nonchalantly from her brow, hoping that her heart was not actually audible across the gap between them. “It’s this heat, I’m sure that it’s simply playing havoc with my coiffure.” She paused, nervously. “May I come in for a moment?”

“Oh, of course, of course,” Fluttershy stood to one side, ushering the unicorn indoors with a wave of the hoof. “It’s nice to see you,” she added, smiling.

“Lovely to see you too,” Rarity replied, hoping that her voice did not sound too husky. She decided to cut as directly to the point as she felt capable of doing. “Fluttershy, I’ve come here because I need to talk to you about something.”

“Really? Oh dear, has something happened?” Fluttershy’s ears flattened themselves, nervously.

It’s so cute when she does that... Rarity shook her head slightly, determinedly focusing herself.

“Oh, nothing dear, nothing bad. No dragons or anything.”

Fluttershy let out a sigh of relief. “That’s always a good thing,” she said with a small giggle, hiding bashfully behind her mane as she often did.

She’s so shy about the smallest of things… I hope I don’t traumatize her too badly.

“Come on, have a seat,” the pegasus continued, oblivious to Rarity’s concern. “Would you like some tea?”

“I’m alright, thank-you… Oh dear.”

A flying carrot-end had struck Fluttershy a glancing blow on the side of the head, and she looked around to see Angel holding out an empty bowl with a long-suffering look on his face that seemed to say: only for you.

“Angel, you drank it!” Fluttershy exclaimed, fluttering eponymously over to the miniature bed and taking the proffered bowl. “See, you’ll feel better tomorrow, just wait and see.” She leaned forwards, hopefully. “Do you want another?” The rabbit turned away, as if to tell her not to stretch his generosity any further that day. Moments later, he was snoring, pointedly. Satisfied that her job was, for the moment, accomplished, Fluttershy turned back to Rarity, a pleased smile on her face.

“You and your animals,” laughed Rarity.

Fluttershy nodded. “I tell you, if Angel were on fire he’d refuse a bucket of water.”

They both burst out laughing at this, although for Rarity it was a bittersweet moment. She hoped fervently that this was not the last laugh she shared with Fluttershy as a friend. As if pushing her unknowingly onwards, Fluttershy looked across enquiringly at her. “What did you need to speak to me about?”

Rarity took the earlier offer of a seat, and sat down delicately on the sofa, where Fluttershy joined her. The unicorn looked into her friend’s eyes, and it felt as if a stone were blocking her throat.

“Fluttershy, I… I’m sorry,” she said, haltingly.

“Sorry for what?” Fluttershy’s eyes were wide and unsure.

“For what I’m about to say,” Rarity continued, then pressed on before she could get cold hooves and grind to a halt. “Fluttershy, you’re my best friend, but recently it’s hurt me to spend time with you. You’ve probably noticed, I can never be comfortable when you’re near.”

“Rarity…” Fluttershy looked intensely worried, tears beginning to pool in her eyes. “Have I done something wrong? Don’t you want us to be friends anymore?”

You’ve really done it now, Rarity berated herself, realizing how cruel her words had sounded out of context. There was no going back now, if only to try and mend the hurt in Fluttershy’s eyes. “No, no!” she hastily qualified herself. “Please don’t think that, it’s not like that at all.” She took a deep breath, the pause stretching out. With one final push, Rarity flung herself headfirst into the abyss.

“The truth is.... I like you, Fluttershy. As so much more than a friend. In truth, I think I love you. Every time I’m with you, I know it’s impossible, but I love you so much it hurts. I hate myself for burdening you with this, I just can’t go on knowing that every time I see you, I’m hiding from you.” She felt her own eyes well up, and in the silence that followed her fear was building, overpowering the rush of relief at finally letting her feelings out.

Fluttershy was staring at her, as if frozen, a brick-red blush creeping up her cheeks. Then, her eyes resurged, silently overflowing, the tears inching one-by-one down her cheek. “Rarity, I… I’m so sorry.”

Rarity blinked. She had assumed that Fluttershy was crying out of embarrassment or betrayal. Why was she apologizing? “You’re… You’re sorry?” she whispered. “Why?”

“Rarity, I can’t tell you how flattered I am that you feel that way about me. There’s nothing I’d like better than to say yes, I can see how much you want me to… but I… I can’t. It’d be cruel of me to string you along like that.” She broke eye contact, blushing furiously. “It’s not you,” she added, hurriedly. “I’ve just never felt that way about a mare.”

“You don’t hate me, then?” Rarity breathed, her eyes wide. The disappointment of even this gentle rejection weighed heavily on her chest, but she had prepared herself for it. Her greatest fear had been that Fluttershy would no longer want to be friends with her, or would be disgusted by her advances.

“Of course not, Rarity. You’re still one of my best friends, no matter what.” The pegasus sighed, regretfully. “I’m just sorry I can’t be more than that.”

Rarity shook her head. “Fluttershy, you are who you are. You’ve got nothing to be sorry for; this is my problem, not yours. But… Thankyou. Thankyou for being so understanding.”

Fluttershy smiled weakly, still blushing. “I promise it’s not you, Rarity,” she repeated. “You’re a wonderful, beautiful pony, but I… I’ve never thought of another mare in that way.”

Rarity nodded, trying to stop her lip from quivering.

Leaning forwards in sympathy, Fluttershy hugged her friend reassuringly. The unicorn responded tentatively, not wanting to appear too eager or intrusive, despite the distracting and intoxicating sensation of contact with Fluttershy’s silken fur. She closed her eyes, feeling a final tear well up over her eyelid. Despite the unhappy confirmation of what she already knew, she was grateful beyond words that Fluttershy did not seem repelled or threatened by her. The pressure that had been building in her chest ever since her visit to the library had seemed to evaporate. Her feelings for Fluttershy were unchanged and indivertible, but the pain that accompanied them had faded, the nagging ache no longer tugging at the corners of her mind. She knew that, of all ponies, Fluttershy would understand her. She had known all along; it was why she loved the mare.

Rarity resolved to pay Spike a visit sometime in the next few days. She had a lot to thank the little dragon for.

The Shadows We Cast

A Bluebird’s Song

~~~
You fuse my broken bones
Back together again
Lift the weight of the world
From my shoulders again
~~~

The Shadows We Cast

Rainbow Dash was gazing expectantly at Twilight, waiting for her to begin. She knew that she could not delay any longer; she owed Dash the truth about this.

“Rainbow, you know that Celestia told me that her guards had arrested Sunset’s leaders.” She took a breath, making herself keep going. “I didn’t tell you the whole story. Not in front of Fluttershy. The leaders… there are three of them; we expect that one of them is the unicorn who broke into your house.”

Dash grinned at this, pleased that her tormentor would be taken to task for his actions, then her smile faded, and she looked a little worried. “What about the others? You seem really worried, Twi’… It’s not anypony I know, is it?”

“Not directly,” admitted Twilight, pawing at the rug awkwardly with a hoof. She decided to get to the point. “Rainbow, did you ever see your mother again, after she left?” She saw the shocked widening of Dash’s eyes, and hastily clarified. “It’s not her, don’t worry about that. It’s just important that I know.”

Dash shook her head, looking relieved and, for some reason, almost disappointed. “Nah, I never saw her again.” She swallowed, her voice low. “Ya know my Dad was jealous of me. Well, eventually he started takin’ it out on her, too. I dunno exactly what happened, I was too young to really get the picture at the time, but she left a note one day, on the counter in the kitchen.” Dash paused for a moment, blinking. “We never saw her again, either of us. I gotta admit, as soon as I was old enough to really understand, I hated her for a while. I thought she was selfish, leavin’ me alone with a violent bastard like him. I didn’t know why she didn’t just take me with her.”

Twilight put a gentle hoof on Dash’s shoulder. “You don’t need to tell me all of this, if it’s hurting you,” she said, gently. All she needed to know was that Dash had not seen her mother again, she did not want to see the pegasus causing herself pain on her behalf again.

Dash almost impulsively gripped the hoof between both of her own, holding on, as if she did not want to lose the unicorn. “It’s okay, Twi’,” she said, “I wanna tell ya this stuff, I’d like to know I’ve shared it with somepony.” She suddenly looked a little shamefaced. “I’m sorry,” she murmured, “I guess I shouldn’t be puttin’ all this onto ya, it can’t be nice for you to hear.”

Leaning forwards, Twilight looked Dash firmly in the eye. “Whatever you need to tell me, I’ll listen to you,” she said, with a tone of finality. “I said I’d always be here for you. I promised you that, and I still promise you.”

Dash smiled, weakly, gratitude for Twilight’s solidarity shining clearly in her eyes. She continued, her voice a little stronger. “There’s not much more to tell, really. I guess, in the end, I just accepted that she’d had her reasons, that maybe she couldn’t have taken me for some reason. I never knew for sure. But…” Dash looked a little confusedly at Twilight. “Why do you need to know? You said about Sunset, what does Sunset have to do with her?”

Twilight sighed. She was reeling a little from the story of how Dash’s mother had left. She had known the gist, but never realized that the pegasus was so young when it had happened. She too felt a hot spike of anger at Rainbow Shine for abandoning her daughter to the mercy of the father that Dash had never named. “Quite a lot, unfortunately,” Twilight said, sadly, forcing herself to push away her sympathy until later. “You see, shortly after she left your father, Princess Celestia believes that she had a second filly, your half-sister, probably with a unicorn that she met while she was with your father. They named the foal Cloudshine, and she grew up with a deep-seated hatred for pegasi after the way that her mother was betrayed by the pegasus she was with. We do not know who the father was, but we presume that he was of an anti-pegasus leaning as well, sending Cloudshine further down that road. She would probably be about two years younger than you.”

She felt Dash gently release her hoof, perhaps in shock, and she paused, not wanting to look directly at Dash, who must surely have guessed where this was going by this time. She stared at the rug beneath her, hating to be the bearer of more bad news.

“I’m so sorry, Rainbow, but she’s one of the three leaders that the guards arrested.”

Preparing for the worst, Twilight steeled herself and looked back up at Dash, with no idea of what to expect. Whatever she had imagined, however, she was not prepared for the fury burning in the pegasus’s face. She could not help but recoil a little at the expression. “How dare she?” Dash whispered, then her voice rose angrily, and she stood, pacing from one side of the room to the other. “If I see her, I’ll make her bucking well regret what she’s done!” she exclaimed, the sudden shout echoing from the walls, making Twilight jump.

Twilight stood hurriedly, desperate to calm Dash down. She had not wanted this, not for a moment. “Rainbow!” she cried out, cantering across the room and gripping the pegasus’s shoulder.

Dash turned away, her voice low and dangerous. “If I see her…” she repeated.

Twilight dropped her voice, trying to sound reassuring. She moved in front of Dash, looking into her eyes. “Rainbow, she’s in prison now. You don’t need to take revenge, you just need to trust Celestia. She understands justice, she won’t let you down.”

“What?” A little of the anger faded from Dash’s eyes, replaced with confusion. Then, she seemed to understand something, let out a sharp bark of laughter. “You think I’m talking about Cloudshine?” She shook her head, a deep-set fire burning in her eyes that Twilight had only ever seen her reserve for her father. “I’m talking about my mother. Can’t you see how much damage she’s done?”

“Your mother?” echoed Twilight.

Dash laughed again, the sound grim and humourless. “Well, I guess I know why she left me now. She had another stallion, she just needed a reason to get away. I tried so hard to think she was noble. I tried so hard to think that maybe, just maybe, I meant something to her. She could have taken me with her, but I was baggage, so she left me behind.”

“You can’t know that,” exclaimed Twilight, feeling the tears in the eyes of the pegasus before her forming, echoed, in her own eyes.

“You’re right, but tell me, Twilight,” snorted Dash, “why else would a mother abandon her foal like that? Would she have done that if she cared?” With a shake of the head, Dash went on, blind with anger. “Even if that wasn’t the reason, look at what she went on to do!”

Her voice suddenly fell, choked with tears. “She had a second chance, Twi’,” she whispered, looking the unicorn in the eyes, then moving forwards, as if compelled, to bury her face in Twilight’s mane. “She had a second chance, a chance to get it right with Cloudshine, and what did she do? Her and this guy she shacked up with… they took a foal and turned her into a monster.” By her final words, there was no sign of the bitter laughter or cold cynicism. Her sadness and disappointment were simple and undisguised.

Twilight could not speak. She could only hold the sobbing pegasus close, waves of guilt crashing over her as she knew that she had been the bearer of this news. Warm tears fell, soaking into her neck and mane, and she embraced Dash as tightly as she dared. What else could she have done? Dash would have had to know sooner or later. There was nothing that she could do.

“I- I’m gonna find her, Twi’,” Dash choked out into the unicorn’s mane.

“Rainbow, remember what you said about revenge,” Twilight said, softly stroking her mane in soothing motions. “You know how bitter you become if you make revenge your goal. Don’t let that happen again.”

“I don’t wanna find her to get revenge,” whispered Dash. “The day I find her, I’m gonna make her apologize to me. Then, I’m gonna drag her down into Canterlot dungeons, right up to Cloudshine’s cell, and she’s gonna apologize to her as well.”

Twilight said nothing, knowing that there was nothing she could realistically say, instead falling to tenderly nuzzling Dash’s face, kissing away her tears until her cheeks were dry, and her breathing began to return to normal.

“Don’t leave me, Twilight,” Dash whispered, almost pleadingly.

“I never will,” replied Twilight. As the breathing of the pony she loved ceased to be ragged and sharp, she held her close. Through what seemed like an eternity of echoing, spiraling silence, they held each other in stillness.

“…I never will.”

“What a day…” Fluttershy sighed with relief as she put her head around the archway leading to the kitchen, to see that Angel had finally fallen asleep, despite his blocked nose. Rarity had left shortly after her confession, despite Fluttershy’s offer of a cup of tea. She had seemed almost relieved, as if she had resigned herself to rejection, and was simply glad to be able to air her feelings.

In truth, Fluttershy did not quite know what to think. It was only now, after the rest of the day had been spent chasing around attending to Angel’s illness, that she had a chance to go back over the details of Rarity’s admission. If she was honest with herself, Fluttershy was not entirely surprised. In the past, she had often caught Rarity looking at her, her eyes almost wistful, or perhaps longing. At the time, she had always passed these off as a misreading of expression of her own part, rather than anything more significant on Rarity’s. She could have had no idea that she was hurting the other mare so deeply.

A hastily-constructed sandwich in her hooves, the canary pegasus collapsed onto the sofa with a sigh, taking an absent-minded bite, her head still spinning. Suddenly, Rarity’s obvious distraction at the spa made a lot more sense. Indeed, Fluttershy wondered momentarily if she had been stupid not to have cottoned on to Rarity’s feelings herself. She had led a fairly sheltered life, but did not consider herself entirely oblivious. The thought that she might have been so blind was a frightening one.

She took another bite, glancing across the room to ensure that the demanding rabbit was still soundly asleep, and seeing to her relief that he was. She could have sworn that a small snoring sound escaped him, but she may have been mistaken.

What do you think about this? Really? A small voice in the back of her mind demanded a more concrete answer. What are you going to do, now you know?

This was a reasonable question. After all, if a pony that she barely knew decided to openly declare love for her, she knew that she would be incapable of functioning socially around them. The knowledge that a pony in her presence felt that way about her would render her into a nervous wreck, under normal circumstances. She was shy enough as it was.

However, the fact that it was Rarity changed things a little. She was still embarrassed at the thought, and more than a little guilty and upset that she had not given Rarity the answer she wanted, but she felt that she could at least be around Rarity without utterly seizing up. Doubtless their spa visits would continue much as normal. She expected that this was because she and Rarity already shared so much, and were already very open and comfortable with one another. She felt the same way around Dash. The two of them were the two ponies that Fluttershy could truly come out of herself when around, and speak candidly without her customary shyness.

Did you like it?

Fluttershy flushed a little; she could not stop the question from entering her head, and once it had gained entry it filled her thoughts.

I was flattered, I guess. It’s nice to know somepony at least notices me enough to feel that way.

It was not what the question had really been asking, and she knew it.

When you gave her an answer, you didn’t say you couldn’t feel that way about a mare. You just said that you never had before. There’s a big difference, you know that perfectly well.

Fluttershy let out a small squeak, trying to justify her own words to herself. She took another bite, mostly for self-distraction, but to no avail. She was a perceptive mare, and found it difficult to stop herself from pursuing a thought once she had started after it.

I told her no!

No, you didn’t. You told her ‘not yet’. Be honest, it wasn’t a refusal. You were just trying to buy time, because you’re scared. If Rarity had been a stallion, you’d have come up with some other reason. You were just lucky she wasn’t, so you could play the ‘not interested in mares’ card.

I’m not interested in mares!

Then why didn’t you say that?

“Ugh!” Fluttershy let out a frustrated little snort, rolling over onto her back and staring at the ceiling. Perceptive she may be, but decisive she was not. She knew better than most the blindness that fear can cause. She could not trust herself, and so she fell once again to searching herself, searching for answers as disparate as snowflakes whirling in a sandstorm.

One day, Fluttershy, you’re going to need to start being honest with youself.

“It always meant so much…”

Twilight looked up from her book, to see Dash standing in front of her. The pegasus had gone upstairs a few hours ago, once she had felt able to separate herself from her lover, in order to have a chance to think without distraction.

Twilight had not heard her descending the stairs. Dash was gazing sadly down at her mother’s locket, held loosely in her hooves by the chain. The door hung ajar, and Rainbow Shine’s face swung, pendulum-steady, from side to side. She held it out to Twilight. “Take it. I don’t want it.” The unicorn’s eyes widened, and she shook her head.

“I can’t, Rainbow. It’s yours, it means a lot to you.”

“She doesn’t mean anything to me,” replied Dash, her voice low. “She was always a stranger, I just never realized. I made excuses for her that I should never have made.” Still she held out the necklace.

“Look,” Twilight walked across to Dash, her eyes downcast. “I know it hurts now. I’m not going to pretend to know how you feel; nothing like this has ever happened to me, so I can’t possibly know. But it’s going to get better. Keep it, because someday you’ll want it again.”

Dash snorted, quietly. “I’m not gonna keep this around for her sake.”

“Then don’t keep it for her,” Twilight said, softly. “Keep it for Fluttershy. Remember what she did for you?” Gently, she took Dash’s hoof between both of hers, and pushed the locket back towards the pegasus. “If you like, keep it for me. If it hadn’t been for that locket, we might never have met.”

After a moment of stillness, Dash nodded. Haltingly, she slipped the chain around her neck, a small smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. “You’re right,” she admitted. “Maybe I’ve got something to thank her for, after all.”

Moving almost nervously, she took a half-step forwards and kissed Twilight, her lips hesitant and tender. The unicorn returned the kiss warmly, glad that, for the moment at least, Dash did not seem likely to do anything rash. The pegasus lay down on the rug, gently pulling Twilight down with her.

“I love you so much, Twi’. Ya know that, right?”

“I know, Rainbow. I love you too.” She pulled the pegasus in for another brief kiss, then laughed quietly. “I must’ve done something really worthwhile in a previous life to deserve this.”

Dash winked at her, her eyes inches from Twilight’s own. “Don’t the crazy unicorns and bouts of depression kinda offset the good points, though?”

“Not for a second.”

They instinctually pulled each other closer. Twilight tangled her hooves imprecisely around Dash’s body, and she felt their lips meeting again. This time, they did not break apart. Their eyes were open, and Twilight felt herself falling into her Dash’s calm, magenta eyes, as their tongues danced a lover’s dance. Dash’s teeth bit down gently on her lower lip, the sudden sharp sensation almost painfully sweet. Twilight felt a low moan escape her, but she could not hear it. All sound was silence, and all the world might as well have fallen and faded away. For once in her life, she felt no fear, and no doubt.

She was safe here. She would always be safe here.

Beyond You

A Bluebird’s Song

~~~
Nobody said it was easy
No-one ever said
It would be this hard
~~~

Beyond You

The light was unearthly; a calm, ghostly illumination, casting a steady glow across the landscape. A lazily arcing stretch of white sand seemed to reach out forever to the left and right, with the ocean before it, and a range of mountains distantly visible in the mist behind it. All was still. Indeed, the world itself was still, under the cloudless, sunless sky. As she stood on the beach, staring out at the horizon, the sea was frozen. The surface of the water was rough and choppy, yet immobile. Tall waves and gouts of spray were paralyzed even as they had risen. They were not ice. There was simply no movement in this world.

Rainbow Dash looked from side to side. She was searching for something, if only she could realize what. Her eyes alighted upon a flash of ochre amidst the iron-grey waves, and she began to walk towards the sight, a strange sense of foreboding gnawing at her. Her pace seemed uneven and ungainly even though the sand was smooth, and when she reached the edge of the water she could not tell if the journey had taken a second or a year.

Tentatively, acting entirely on impulse, she touched the water with an experimental hoof. The surface was solid, and pleasantly warm. It felt and sounded like glass, more than anything else. Looking in-between the crests, Dash strained her neck, and once again caught sight of that flash of ochre. It was a pony, there was no doubt of that now. Something inside her said that she did not want to meet this pony, but she felt driven by a force that she could not understand. Slowly, carefully, she picked her way between frozen wave-tops, the surface clinking beneath her hooves.

At last, she laid eyes upon her quarry. At the foot of the largest wave she had yet seen lay an ochre unicorn mare, her coat bedraggled and her eyes half-closed. Her mane was dirty, but its colours were scarcely affected, such was their vibrancy. Every colour of the rainbow was present in that mane.

Dash cantered closer. “Mom?” she asked, her voice for some reason sounding low and muffled even in this open space. The mare turned her head to look at Dash, but it was as if her face were taken from a blurred photograph, the features scarcely distinguishable. Dash took an involuntary step back, fear rising like bile in her throat. In the shadow of the overhanging wave, Rainbow Shine got to her hooves.

“Come here,” she said, her voice quiet and soothing, although scarcely any movement of her blurred lips could be discerned. “Come here, little bluebird.”

Dash took another step back. She was directly beneath the peak of the large wave now. “I can’t stay here,” she said, unsure as to why she chose those particular words. She felt trapped, as if she could not walk away even if she wanted to.

“Catch me if you can,” whispered her mother, her low voice carrying easily through the still air. For a moment, all was silence.

Then, the sea was no longer frozen, returning to rough, stormy liquidity. Before either of them even had the time to fall into the freezing depths, the roaring wave fell and smashed into them, immersing them and washing them away in a maelstrom of twisting currents.

With a gasp of shock, Dash’s eyes flew open, and she bolt upright in bed, her heart hammering. Cold sweat beaded her face and neck as she looked around in momentary panic. It was dark outside, and Twilight lay beside her, her eyes fluttering open as well. Dash’s breathing gradually returned to normal, and she looked down to see the unicorn staring at her in concern through the gloom.

“Are you okay, Rainbow?”

“Bad dream,” Dash replied, unable to keep a small shake from her voice. “Sorry to wake ya up like that.”

“I was kind of half-awake anyway,” Twilight admitted, comfortingly nuzzling her cheek. “I never knew you had nightmares, Rainbow.”

Dash shook her head. “I don’t. Not usually.” She wrapped a hoof around the unicorn, burying herself in Twilight’s comforting embrace for a few minutes. She knew what she had to do. In truth, she had known from the start. It was the only way that she could find her mother.

“It’s a good thing we'll be near Cloudsdale for the weekend.” She looked determinedly across at Twilight. “I need to talk to my sister.”

The next day, five days before the record attempt.

The grass was dry and un-mown out here, the yellow-green sheaves waving in the light afternoon breeze. Ponyville was scarcely a silhouette in the distance. Across the meadows stood the Everfree Forest, filled with the far-away sounds of chattering animals and whistling air in the branches of the trees. Sometimes, Fluttershy would come out here with Angel, or one of her other animal friends, but today she was alone.

She had not seen Rarity since her confession the previous day, and was wondering if she ought perhaps to check in on her at the boutique. She knew that the unicorn might well have taken the rejection quite hard, and despite her own involvement, Fluttershy still wanted to do her best to help Rarity through this rough patch.

Distractedly, she stared into the forest. She had not slept very well that past night, instead finding herself tossing and turning, head full of circular, uncertain thoughts that refused even now to subside.

What if you only refused because you’re scared?

But what if I was telling the truth? I’ve never felt that way about a mare, and I’d hate to string her along.

You called her beautiful.

She is beautiful, any fool can see that. It doesn’t mean I think of her in… that way.

Fluttershy was jerked from her frustrating reverie by the sound of soft hoofbeats, rustling through the long grass behind her. She turned to see the distinctive figure of Rainbow Dash approaching, clutching what appeared to be a roll of paper under her wing.

“Hey, Shy’,” she called across the meadow, waving a hoof in the direction of the canary pegasus.

“Oh, hi there Rainbow,” Fluttershy replied, a little confused. “How did you know where to find me?”

Dash trotted up next to her, and sat down in the grass by her side, dropping the roll of paper onto the ground. It sprung open, not having been rolled for long enough to retain its tubular shape, and Fluttershy saw that it was a newspaper.

“I dropped by your place first,” Dash shrugged. “You were out, but Angel pointed me this way.” She looked appraisingly around at the otherwise-empty meadow. “Nice place.”

“I come out here to think sometimes,” Fluttershy nodded. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah,” Dash nodded, but was acting a little too casual to come across as entirely honest. “Twilight’s re-shelving the Autobiographies section, so I thought I’d come over to see ya.” She prodded the newspaper with a hoof. “I thought you’d wanna see this.”

Fluttershy looked down at the paper, seeing that it was that day’s edition of the Cloudsdale Bugle. Her eyes lit up as she cottoned on. “Oh, they’ve printed the interview?”

Dash nodded. “Yeah, they seem pretty enthusiastic about the whole thing, actually.” She passed the paper over to Fluttershy. “Go on, have a look.”

Carefully, Fluttershy flicked through the newspaper, finding the article only a few pages in. It took up most of an entire page, complete with a full colour photograph taken from the Cloudiseum of last year’s Sonic Rainboom, with an inset image of Dash’s face in the corner. Interestedly, she began to read.

She’s Back!

Rainbow Dash, the well-known flyer and former pegasus Speed Record holder, is coming to the Cloudiseum this Saturday to attempt to reclaim her record. She recently fell into second place after the up-and-coming racer Lightning Flare clocked in at eleven hundred miles an hour, beating her previous standing of just over nine hundred. However, with the help of a rigorous training regime and techniques shown to her by on Twilight Sparkle, who is, oddly enough, a unicorn, Rainbow Dash intends to fly at twice the speed of sound this Saturday. Judging by her form last year, we at the Bugle believe that Lightning Flare could well have every reason to be worried.

Our reporter, Inkpot Quibble, caught up to Miss Dash during one of her training sessions in a field some way outside the town of Ponyville, to get an exclusive insight into the thoughts of this world-class athlete.
In person, Rainbow Dash is a pleasant, informal pony with a sharp sense of humour. Despite rumours around town that she has been a little reclusive and accident-prone lately, she showed no signs of either.

Of course, there is one debate that a lot of ponies will be keen to hear the end of. Ever since Lightning Flare broke Rainbow Dash’s record, there has been a rumour that she has held a personal grudge against him, considering his actions a challenge or personal insult. Miss Dash was quick to confirm that there is, in reality, no truth behind this story.
“I’ve got nothing against the guy,” she replied when asked about these rumours, adding jokingly: “He seemed a bit big-headed, but I don’t really have any right to talk about that.” So, something of a disappointment to those expecting a personal showdown this Saturday. However, despite the fact that Miss Dash holds no ill will, there is no guarantee that Lightning Flare does not. We have not been able to catch up to him for an interview as yet, but he is known to have purchased excellent seats for Saturday, right next to the ground crew’s podium, which will also act as Rainbow Dash’s preparation and take-off area.

Next, we asked what was the motivation for these greats feats of flying that Rainbow Dash finds herself driven to achieve, after all, every athlete is motivated by something. Her answer? “What’s the point in having horizons if you’re not gonna chase them?”
Also, she took a moment to pay tribute to Twilight Sparkle, the striking purple unicorn who has somehow been training her in improving her flight technique, telling us that: “These last few weeks I’ve taken tips from the best. That unicorn’s amazing; I owe her a lot.” We at the Bugle have got to admit that it’s a rare unicorn that can teach a pegasus anything about flight, particularly one as talented as Rainbow Dash. Clearly, they must know something that we don’t.

Finally, we asked Miss Dash to give us a few words for the many young hopefuls out there who one day also aspire to be great flyers. After a few moments of deliberation, she told us: “It doesn’t matter if you haven’t got the strongest wings, and it doesn’t matter what other ponies think you can or can’t do. You’re as good a flyer as you set your mind to being.” Words we’re sure a lot of young flyers here in Cloudsdale will take to heart.

Below the main article was a brief sign-off, wishing Dash best of luck for the weekend. Reaching the bottom of the page, Fluttershy looked up, smiling. “You’ve really done it now, you know,” she said jokingly, passing the paper back to Dash.

“What do ya mean?” Dash raised an eyebrow.

“Everypony in Cloudsdale gets that paper, when you go there, you’ll be a celebrity.” She nudged Dash, giggling.

To her surprise, Dash looked a little troubled by this thought. “Yeah,” she muttered, “that could make things tricky.”

“Tricky?”

Dash seemed to catch herself. “Huh? I mean… It might be make it tricky to psyche myself up properly if there’s gonna be crowds of ponies lookin’ for autographs an’ stuff.”

“Oh. I see.” Fluttershy was fairly sure that Dash had not meant that at all, but she did not want to pressure her right then, given the upcoming record attempt. She decided to change the subject. “So, how’re things with you and Twilight?” She blushed a little, not quite meeting Dash’s eyes.

Dash smiled, and this time it was clearly genuine, her eyes misting a little. “Awesome, really awesome.”

Fluttershy giggled quietly, still flushed at the personal nature of the discussion. “You two really seem to have something special.”

“I hope so,” Dash nodded. “I know we’ve not been together that long, but when I look at her…” For a moment, she seemed almost tearful, seemingly searching for the right words. “I feel like… I want to grow old with her beside me.”

Fluttershy nodded, a little sadly. “I’d love to find somepony I could feel that way about.”

“You will one day,” Dash said, reassuring. “Ya just need to search for him.”

“That’s the problem.” Fluttershy’s voice was quiet and frustrated. “I keep telling myself I’ll go out and find what I want tomorrow.” Her eyes were suddenly wide and fearful. “What if I keep waiting for tomorrow, until there are no more days left?” She paused for a moment, blushing again. “Why did you get together with Twilight? I mean, how did you know it’d work?”

Dash laughed quietly at this. “It kind of started when she kissed me, to be honest. I really need to tell you the whole story sometime though, ‘Shy.” She shrugged, tilting her head non-committally. “You can’t know if it’s gonna work or not, but if ya don’t try then there’s no chance of getting anywhere.”

“I guess so,” Fluttershy nodded, a little thoughtfully.

Time to come clean to Dash, I guess. She’d like to know.

“Rainbow, I need to tell you something. Something happened yesterday.” She felt her cheeks sting with familiar embarrassment, but did her best to ignore them.

“Really?” Dash leaned forwards, interestedly, her ears pricking up. Fluttershy often had an impressive supply of gossip, most likely courtesy of her weekly spa trips.

Fluttershy nodded, swallowing hard.

Might as well get this over with quickly, I guess.

“Rarity came over to my cottage yesterday…” She opened her mouth to continue, but paused, nervously. Taking a deep breath, she continued in a rush. “She told me that she… she loves me. I… I think she has for a while now.”

“Seriously?” Dash’s eyes widened at this news. “I never realized she liked anypony around here… Man, ‘Shy… that must’ve been awkward for you.”

Fluttershy nodded. “You could say that, I guess,” she smiled weakly. “I had to tell her no, but I felt awful about it, I saw how much it hurt her.”

“It’s never easy having to say that to somepony,” Dash agreed, sadly. “It would’ve hurt her more if you’d strung her along, though.”

“That’s what I keep telling myself,” sighed Fluttershy. “I just hope I wasn’t just making an excuse.”

“Excuse?” Dash raised an eyebrow. “What d’ya mean?”

“Well, it’s easy to just say ‘I don’t like mares’, isn’t it? What if I was just saying that because I was scared and wanted to buy myself time?”

Dash squinted at her for a second, then her eyes widened. “Hang on a second,” she exclaimed, “you’re not telling me that you like mares too? Jeez, who’d be a stallion in this town?”

Fluttershy shook her head urgently, hastily backtracking. “No, no! I’m not saying that! That’s the problem, you see. I’ve really never thought that way about a mare in my life.”

“Well, then,” Dash remarked. “You don’t like mares. Rarity’s a mare. Sounds like ya made the right decision by saying no.”

“I suppose so…” Fluttershy still did not sound entirely convinced. She let out a squeak of frustration. “I’m sorry about this, Rainbow. It’s just I’ve spent so much time lying to myself to try and avoid confrontation, I can’t trust my own head anymore. The only way I can know if I want something is when I get it. Sometimes my head tells me I don’t want something, but really it’s doing that because it’s just difficult or scary.”

Dash shook her head, helplessly staring out into the Everfree Forest. “There’s no need to apologize to me, ‘Shy. But I don’t think there’s a way that anypony can help you with this. You need to work it out yourself.”

For a few moments, they sat there in silence. The only noise was a small cloud of low-flying birds that whirled past into the forest, eventually getting lost among the branches and shadows.

“Do you remember Flight School?” Fluttershy asked, suddenly.

Dash chuckled, bitterly. “Not easy to forget, is it?”

“I guess not,” Fluttershy replied. “But do you remember how all the ponies there used to tease us? I mean, everypony knew you liked mares, and we were best friends, so they all assumed that we must be…” She blushed at the memory of this insinuation, still finding humiliation in it despite the veil of years. “The way they laughed at us about it, the way they called us f… fillyf…” She shook her head in exasperation, unable to quite complete the word. “It made me think liking mares was taboo, they made me think that a mare who liked other mares would get mocked by most ponies she met.”

“But that’s not true!” spluttered Dash. “Sure, me and Twi’ have had a couple of funny looks put our way, but nopony seriously cares. I mean hay, that unicorn who plays the funny little harp thing got married to another mare a couple of months back. Loads of ponies turned up.” She rolled her eyes. “Look, ‘Shy. Back at Flight School you used to talk about guys quite a lot, if ya remember.”

Fluttershy nodded. “I’m being silly, I know I am. I’m trying to second guess myself, just like I always do.”

Dash laughed, quietly. “I know the feeling, ‘Shy. Don’t worry, I’ve seen ponies do much sillier things.” She glanced up at the sky, noting the position of the sun overhead. “I’d better head off home,” she added, standing with a stretch of her wings. “I need to try an’ get past thirteen-hundred today, so I’ll need some good food in me.” She picked up the newspaper, tucking it beneath her wing.

“Okay, then.” Fluttershy nodded, waving at Dash. “See you later, Rainbow. Thanks for hearing me out about Rarity.”

“Anytime,” Dash smiled. “Don’t go beating yourself up about it, okay?”

“I’ll do my best,” replied Fluttershy, as Dash began to walk away across the meadow. A few minutes later, she was little more than a silhouette framed against the waving grass on the way back to town.

You can’t know if it’s gonna work or not, but if ya don’t try then there’s no chance of getting anywhere. Dash’s earlier words echoed almost tauntingly through her mind.

Fluttershy remembered Rarity’s confession, and told herself once again, as she had done all last night, that she had made the right decision.

Deep down, however, she wondered if she had made a mistake.

Perfect Recall

A Bluebird’s Song

~~~
Make our escape
You’re my own Papillion
The world turns too fast
Feel love before it’s gone
~~~

Perfect Recall

“There, you nearly had it that time.”

The sea-green unicorn filly sighed with frustration, stomping her rear hoof almost inaudibly against the chequerboard marble floor. She threw the stubbornly-unlit candle on the table in front of her a baleful glance.

“I can’t get it, I’ve been trying for weeks!”

Princess Celestia smiled. She occasionally took time out to give one-to-one tuition to foals at her school in Canterlot. She had always found teaching to be enjoyable, almost therapeutic. The company of the foals themselves tended to improve her mood; after all, they rarely seemed to feel the need to maintain the reverential, slightly fearful manner that adult ponies tended to adopt around her. She leaned forwards conspiratorially. “Melody, did the book tell you to imagine the candle going from unlit to lit, then to channel that with your horn?”

The filly called Melody nodded, mutely.

“Well,” Celestia continued, “that works alright, but it’s not the best way. Watch this.” Her horn suddenly flared to life, a crackling golden field arcing from the base to the tip, casting a dim, flickering light across the walls of the empty classroom. Melody looked suitably impressed. “Can you see what it’s doing?”

Melody looked around the room, noticing a conspicuous absence of any magical phenomena. “Not really,” she admitted.

“Exactly,” the Princess nodded. “It’s not doing anything yet. You see, it’s best to get the magic flowing before you try to do anything with it. You really should have the clay before you try to shape it. The hardest part is getting the magic going in the first place, but once you’ve got it, it’s really quite easy.” With a flick of the horn that sent a couple of sparks in the direction of the wooden table, she transformed the candle into a cactus. Melody giggled.

“Now,” Celestia’s horn faded, and the cactus was once more a candle, “you try to light it. Remember, you need all of your concentration to get the magic going, so concentrate on that before you think about what you’re going to use it for.”

Melody gulped in apprehension. “Okay, I’ll try, Princess.” She screwed her eyes shut, and concentrated hard. A couple of sparks trickled from the end of her stubby horn.

“There you go, now try and build it into a field instead of just sparks.”

Gradually, the flow of sparks increased, then smoothed itself out into a flat surface, the individual sprays of magic becoming indistinguishable from the general aura.

“Excellent! See how much easier it when you’re not trying to do anything specific with it yet?”

Melody nodded, her eyes still hard closed.

“Now, try to light the candle.”

There were a few moments in which Melody visibly concentrated. With some difficulty, she propagated the lime-green field outwards, a much more effective feat now that she had more than a couple of individual sparks to work with. A wavering tendril came into contact with the wick of the candle. The next few seconds were, for both parties, quite tense. The wick smoked, the thin grey column shaking and sputtering, then, quite without warning, the flame caught.

“Well done!” Celestia exclaimed. Melody’s teacher had told her earlier that the filly had a particular problem with pyrokinesis, and that it could well be a problem in her exams this year. She had requested to be able to offer a helping hoof, and it was always a very satisfying experience to be able to assist in this way.

Excitedly, Melody opened her eyes and caught sight of her handiwork. “Yay!” she cried out, jumping a few inches off the ground in her excitement. “Thanks, Princess!”

Celestia smiled fondly at the filly. She often thought to herself that were she not bundled with the many and varied responsibilities of leadership, she would have very much liked to devote herself entirely from teaching. Now of all times, at least it could be a welcome distraction to her. “There you go, you’d better get back to your friends now.”

“Is it okay if I take the candle with me? I’d like to show them,” Melody asked, suddenly a little shy.

“Of course, just don’t go burning the place down,” Celestia joked. She felt relatively safe joking about something like that without tempting fate, as the entirety of the school was thoroughly enchanted against most forms of magical damage. Given the large volume of young unicorns in the same building, this was certainly necessary. She watched with a pleasant sense of a job well done as the filly grabbed her satchel and candle, and left with a grateful smile.

Are you pretending?

The thought caught her by surprise.

Are you doing this because you want to help? Or is this about redemption?

She shook her head, turning from the closed classroom door and staring at the blank, unmarked blackboard. I’m too old to believe in redemption.

But clearly not too old to seek it. How long’s it going to be before you can close your eyes without seeing Dusk’s face?

As long as it took to stop seeing Evergreen, or Elixir, or any of the others. It’s why I have Twilight. It’s why I had them. Sometimes... I need my heart mending.

Behind her, the door creaked, and she turned her head, the weariness in her eyes for a moment undisguised.

“They told me you were down here.” It was Luna. She had obviously been looking quite hard for Celestia; she did not usually come down to the school. Some of the fillies were still a little nervous around her, and even now it grated with her. “Are you alright, ‘Tia?”

Celestia shook her head. “I don’t know Something’s been nagging me all day. I feel like I’ve missed something.”

Luna raised an eyebrow. Celestia had told her everything about Sunset, right down to Dusk’s interrogation. “Well, he is still in the dungeons. By this stage, I doubt you’d need to do much more than simply ask again.”

“That’s not what I meant. I know he’ll answer my questions, but that doesn’t mean he’ll volunteer anything I don’t ask him about. It feels like there’s a piece of the puzzle that I’ve missed.”

“Come on,” said Luna, gently. “This is your school. Perhaps it’s best not to bring matters of that kind into this place.”

“You’re right,” agreed Celestia, and the two of them left the classroom together, walking back in the direction of the entrance hall. The corridor was pleasantly decorated, if a little sparse, designed like the rest of the school in the Royal Canterlot style. From place to place along the walls hung portraits of prior attendees of the school who had gone on to great achievements. The section they were passing through was the Elixir Goldmane wing. This area of the school was named after the great potioneer who had been, for many years, Celestia’s own protégé. It was largely devoted to alchemy, potion-making, and other kinds of chemistry of a less exotic nature.

“In all honesty, though,” Luna said, thoughtfully. “Sunset are all in cells by now. What danger could they pose?”

“They’re in cells right now because Dusk Tempest wants them to be,” Celestia replied in a voice of quiet frustration. “He doesn’t care about Sunset, he was never really one of them. He was just using them.”

“Obviously he wasn’t as clever as he thought,” noted Luna, dryly. Celestia winced, almost imperceptibly. She did not always quite see eye to eye with her sister’s sense of humour.

“Even so, I can’t help thinking that something’s wrong. There was something Dusk said; something he told me.”

“What?”

“He told me that it was all for nothing. Everything I’d done to him. He said that in the end it wouldn’t make any difference. At the time I dismissed it as a throwaway taunt, designed to make me angry. Maybe it meant something. There was something else, too. It might have been my imagination, but it seemed to me that his eyes were strangely glazed over.”

Luna shrugged, unconvinced. "Probably a fear reaction. Nopony could blame him."

Both princesses momentarily stopped talking, as a couple of older students walked past, deep in discussion about some slightly anachronistic aspect of magical study.

“The point is,” she continued, the moment the two students had rounded the corner behind them and were out of earshot, “I’m not risking Rainbow Dash’s safety again. I realize I may be clutching at straws, but if there’s something I’ve missed, then I refuse to rest until I’ve found it.”

They had reached the entrance hall now, and passed out through the main doors into the sunlit courtyard.

“I’m worried about you at the moment, ‘Tia,” admitted Luna.

“I’ll be fine,” replied Celestia, reassuringly. “As soon as this record attempt’s over.” She sighed, in concern for the future. “I just want to know I’ve not let anypony down.”

“I can’t find anything!” Twilight’s irritated voice bounced off the library walls, echoing from behind the stack of books and newspapers on the table in front of her.

“What’s the matter?” Spike’s head appeared above the book-pile.

“I’m looking for any mention of Rainbow Shine in the news, or in any of these journals.”

Spike vaulted over the pile, landing beside her. “Dash’s mom? Why her?”

“Because Dash’s looking for her.” Twilight shook her head in frustration. “She told you about her half-sister, right?”

Spike nodded, sadly. “Yeah. Poor mare doesn’t get many breaks, does she?”

“You can say that again,” Twilight sighed. “Anyway, Dash wants to track her mom down, and she thinks the only way to do it is to go marching into Canterlot dungeon, on the day before the record attempt, and talk to her sister about it.” She gestured hopelessly around at the piles of papers and books. “Problem is, at the moment it looks like she’s right. But I don’t want her stressing herself out just before the record. I’d bet anything that Cloudshine won’t be in a very helpful mood. She might not even know who Dash is, and even if she does, she’s not going to want to help a pegasus.”

“Bunch of nutters,” Spike shook his head, disdainfully. “What kind of book do you think she might turn up in?”

“Well, Dash mentioned her mom had a permanent cloud-walking spell cast on her at Canterlot University. I thought maybe it would’ve been recorded in a scientific journal, after all, it’s quite impressive magic.”

“Any luck?” enquired the diminutive dragon, picking up one of the books and glancing at the spine, seeing that it was a magical research journal from some thirty years ago.

“Too much,” groaned Twilight. “Turns out they weren’t alone. Permanent cloud-walking apparently used to be a pretty common request for non-winged ponies back in those days. It’s died off now, but it got common enough that they stopped recording individual cases. She’s not done anything newsworthy either, as best I can tell, and even if she had it probably wouldn’t say where she’s living.”

“No chance of changing Dash’s mind, then? Won’t she wait until after the record?”

“I don’t hold out much hope. Canterlot’s within easy flying distance of Cloudsdale, and we’ll be spending a couple of days with the pegasi before the record. I expect she’s planning on heading down to Canterlot the day before the attempt.”

“And they’ll just let her in as a visitor?”

Twilight nodded. “She’s family. They can’t stop her.”

There was a click, as the front door swung open behind them, and Rainbow Dash entered the library, still carrying the newspaper under her wing.

“Hey, Twi’. Get that re-shelving done alright?”

Twilight nodded. “More or less.” She motioned towards the newspaper. “Anypony we know seen that yet?”

“I just showed it to ‘Shy, but apart from her, I don’t think so,” shrugged Dash, trotting over to plant a light kiss on Twilight’s cheek, which she returned with a smile. “Another of the pegasus fillies from the school asked me to sign their bag on the way back,” she added, happily.

“And it wasn’t Scootaloo this time?” chipped in Spike.

“Nope,” laughed Dash. For the first time, it seemed she noticed the pile of books on the table in front of Twilight. “Uh, Twi’? Why the book castle?”

Twilight put down the newspaper she was skimming through, with a serious look. “To be honest, I’m trying to find some clue about where we can find your mother.”

Dash sighed. “Look, Twi’. I know what I’m gonna do about this.”

“But I don’t want you stressing yourself out so soon before the record!” Twilight exclaimed. “Do you even think your sister’s going to tell you anything? You’re a pegasus, for goodness’ sake.”

“Maybe not,” Dash shrugged, “but I’ve got to at least try.” She sat down beside Twilight. “Here’s the thing,” she said, reassuringly. “I’m not going for this record so I can be better than anypony else. I’m doin’ it to prove to myself that I don’t need revenge to drive me, that I don’t need a reason to do great things. I’ve already put Dad to rest. This sister doesn’t matter to me; I’ve never heard of her before. Far as I’m concerned, she’s nopony. The only reason she’s important is because of how badly she was damaged by my mother. Mom’s the last piece of this whole problem, and I just need to speak to her, to tie this thing up. I’m not interested in making her apologize any more; I don’t need her apologies. I just want her to look me in the eye and try to rationalize what she’s done.”

Her eyes were shining a little by the end of the last sentence, and Spike half-turned away in embarrassment. Comfortingly, Twilight covered Dash’s hoof with her own. “But why would Cloudshine tell you where your mother’s living?” she asked, gently.

“She might not,” admitted Dash. “But I’ll never sleep easy if I know that I didn’t try. Besides, if anypony can get through to her, surely it’s me.”

Twilight nodded, gently. “Okay, then. You do what’s best for you. Just promise me you won’t let this distract you on the day of the attempt. Even if she doesn’t tell you, don’t let it put you off.”

“I promise,” Dash replied, smiling weakly and hugging the unicorn tightly. “It’s nice to know somepony’s bothered about me.”

Twilight closed her eyes contentedly, leaning into the hug and nuzzling Dash’s neck. As always, she felt that she was home.

In the end, it won’t make any difference.

Celestia could not get Dusk’s words from out of her head, try as she might. She was back in her chambers in Canterlot Castle, with nothing to distract her. Absently, she flipped the hourglass on her bedside table, watching distractedly as the sand began to flow inexorably into the lower glass teardrop.

As she watched, she was running through the facts in her head. Perhaps if she catalogued what she knew, she might be able to pin down exactly what was eluding her.

Sunset thought they were in control, but they were wrong. We have the leaders, the underlings, even the hirelings, all thanks to Dusk. The question is, what did they have planned for the record attempt?

There was, of course, a lot more information that she could have extracted from Dusk by force, but she had made it clear to herself from the start that if she was going to extract information by those means, she would extract only the bare minimum that she needed. Any information gained by those means, she felt, was tainted, and she wanted as little to do with it as possible. Once Sunset were safely in jail, she had no further desire to visit any more harm on Dusk. If she wanted any more information, she would rely on traditional means.

What’s the missing piece? I thought of something in the school today… What was it?

She had been in the Elixir Goldmane wing. The school of potions.

At that moment, she realized what was wrong. What was missing. When the guards had raided Sunset’s headquarters, they had found a fairly major haul of equipment, except for the one thing that they should have expected. Sunset had employed the potioneer, Root Blacksap. He must have had a job of some kind, but they had not found a single potion or concoction in the entire place. Not one phial.

But Dusk told me that he had fulfilled his purpose, that he had given them what they wanted.

The sand continued its sluggish, inexorable passage through the hourglass as Celestia watched, lost in thought.

Am I being blind? What might Blacksap have supplied them with?

She knew that Blacksap was the inventor of the Draught of Foolishness, but was that the only thing he might have supplied? She had seen his name attached to a great many potions, not many of them entirely wholesome. He could practically fill journals on his own.

…It seemed to me that his eyes were strangely glazed over…

Suddenly, everything clicked into place. Suddenly, the reality of the situation was horribly clear.

“Oh no,” muttered Celestia, turning in a rush to leave her chambers, overtaken by a flash of unpleasant inspiration. The door swung shut behind her, leaving the grains of sand running, unseen and alone, in the hourglass.

“Captain Gladius!”

The door to the guardhouse above the dungeons swung suddenly ajar, revealing the Princess in a state of some distress. The captain leapt to his feet, saluting hastily. “Your highness?”

“I need to enter the dungeons straight away. I must talk with Dusk Tempest, then with the potioneer.”

“Very well, your highness.” She had to hand it to him, Gladius did a very good job at keeping his surprise from registering on his face. Calmly, he retrieved the keys, and began leading her down the stairs that led to the main dungeon door.

“Root Blacksap,” muttered Celestia, as she followed. “Inventor of the Draught of Foolishness. More importantly, however, was his work on perfecting the Potion of Forgetfulness.”

“Your highness?” enquired Captain Gladius, interested.

“A selective memory modifier. Wipes out particular memories at the drinker’s discretion, but leaves them a little vague and glassy-eyed for a few days.”

“You think he supplied them to Sunset?”

Celestia nodded. “I believe so, but their supply was clearly used, hence the lack of potion supplies at their base of operations. It’s the ultimate method of resisting interrogation. You can’t tell somepony information that you can’t remember.”

They had reached the door to the dungeon. “What does this mean?” enquired Gladius, expertly unlocking the heavy door. “I need to inform my men if the situation has changed.”

“The situation has certainly changed,” muttered Celestia. “I was a fool to not realize this earlier. I was too preoccupied with their leaders, I assumed the potioneer was simply a pawn.”

“Why do you think Dusk did not simply wipe his entire time with Sunset?”

“Because, before his arrest, he saw them too regularly. He couldn’t possibly keep wiping his own memory like this. But now I think back, it’s obvious that he was under the effects of that potion. I’ve seen it before… As I say, I should have recognized it then. He must have used it to wipe out a single, important event. He’s trying to protect something, or somepony.”

“So what do you intend to do?”

Celestia snorted, grimly. “You can’t erase a memory,” she stated, flatly. “You can only bury it.” She began to walk down into the dungeon once again, her eyes flashing dangerously in the darkness. “Let’s see how deep I have to dig.”

Gladius nodded, and saluted, closing the door behind the Princess.

Celestia shivered slightly as she once more made the descent into the dark row of cells. It had nothing to do with the cold, the memories alone were more than sufficient. As before, Dusk’s cell was the only one that was occupied. For some reason, she felt her heart-rate increasing, as if some sixth sense was telling her that all was not well.

The sense of foreboding increased as she walked further down the aisle. Perhaps it was the strange, oppressive silence that filled her ears. Whatever the cause, she did not need to look inside the cell to know that everything had gone horribly wrong.

The Bitterest Pill

A Bluebird’s Song

~~~
Liars and lovers
Combine tonight
We’re going to make a scene
~~~

The Bitterest Pill

“Man, things are weird at the moment...” Spike muttered to himself, as he traipsed down Ponyville high street. He had realized that Dash and Twilight would probably appreciate a little time alone together in the library, so he had come out for a walk. He had hoped to get some peace and quiet, so he would be able to get his head in order somewhat, after an eventful few weeks.

That had been the plan, at any rate.

“Oh my gosh, this is gonna be so amazing, I can’t wait to go to Cloudsdale again!” Pinkie Pie was keeping up a consistent stream of excited babbling, as she had been doing ever since she had spotted the young dragon, and decided to walk (or perhaps bounce) with him for a while. Suddenly, she halted on the spot, skidding for a couple of feet and looking at Spike, with an expression of keen interest. “Say, do you reckon there’ll be a second Sonic Rainboom when she goes at twice the speed of sound?”

Spike scratched his head, caught off guard by the question. In truth, this had not occurred to him. “Uh, I don’t think so,” he replied, uncertainly.

“Aww,” Pinkie looked momentarily dejected, then almost instantaneously perked up again, continuing down the high street, Spike keeping up with some difficulty. “At least I get to do the after-record party!”

Spike grinned at this news. “That’s gonna be one good party,” he muttered.

“You have no idea,” Pinkie said, conspiratorially. “I guess Dashie’s been up to her ears in fan mail lately, huh?”

“She’s had quite a bit,” agreed Spike. “I think it was six or seven things this morning. There’s some weird stuff, though.”

“How weird’s weird?” asked Pinkie, with interest.

“Well, somepony sent her some feathers. Apparently it’s a good luck thing for pegasi.”

Pinkie looked thoughtful, halting mid-bounce with utter disregard for gravity. “You know, I think I’ve heard of that. I guess that’s nice of somepony to send some of their feathers.”

“Well, it would be. Problem is, we all think they’re chicken feathers, painted green.”

“Oh.” Pinkie raised an eyebrow. “Well, that’s probably not lucky at all. Unless they were from a lucky chicken.”

Spike blinked, momentarily wondering exactly how the conversation had arrived at lucky chickens. Fortunately, a distraction arrived in the form of Rarity, who had evidently spotted the two of them passing from the window of her boutique.

“Hello, Pinkie. Ah, Spike! I’ve been meaning to speak to you,” she greeted him with a warm smile.

“Hey, Rarity,” grinned Pinkie. “Anyway, I’d better get back to the bakery, after all, if I don’t I’ll just end up hanging around being a socially oblivious third wheel, while you two both awkwardly talk about the weather and wait for me to go away, so Rarity can bring up the slightly personal topic she came here to talk to you about. It’ll be so much easier for everypony if we just skip that bit.”

Whistling happily, the flamboyant pony made her departure, waving cheerily back to them over her shoulder, and leaving a resounding silence in her wake.

“Do you think she actually plans these things?” Rarity asked, sounding almost impressed.

“I think we should give her more credit…” Spike replied, shaking his head in bemusement. “Anyway, you wanted to talk to me?”

Rarity nodded. “Yes, Spike. Actually… I wanted to thank you.”

“Thank me? For what?” Spike was taken aback. He had not seen Rarity since her visit to the library, and had naturally assumed she had not made a move regarding Fluttershy, not having heard any news.

“I visited Fluttershy a couple of days ago.” Rarity seemed to take a deep breath. “I admitted everything, Spike. I told her how I feel. It’s such a relief to have got it off my chest.”

Spike’s eyes widened. “Seriously? What’d she say?”

“She said no, of course,” Rarity’s tone was one of quiet resignation, “but at least she still wants to be friends. She let me down gently, at any rate, and I suppose that’s the most I can ask for.”

“You don’t mind then?”

Rarity sighed. “I know the answer I wanted, but I think I always knew the answer I was going to get. It’s no great surprise, and I suppose that makes it easier to cope with. As I say, it’s an enormous weight off my mind.” She shook her head. “Anyway, how’s Rainbow Dash’s training getting along?”

Spike shrugged. “Not bad, as far as I can tell. She shouldn’t have any problems this weekend, anyway.”

“Well, we’ll all be cheering for her,” smiled Rarity.

“So,” said Spike, curiously, “are you going to see Fluttershy again before the record?”

“Certainly,” Rarity nodded. “We’ve got our weekly get-together at the spa coming up, and I wouldn’t miss it for the world. I have no intention of letting this drive a wedge between myself and such a good friend.”

Spike wondered why he did not feel the pangs of jealousy that he might have expected, when talking to Rarity about her attraction to Fluttershy. He still felt his heart-rate accelerate when the unicorn was around him, but he felt that he could talk to her as a friend. He had finally recognized her as the unattainable that she was, but doing so had rendered them equals, rather than widening the gulf between them.

“Did you ever see Blueblood again, by the way?” Spike asked, with interest.

“Him? Oh goodness no,” replied Rarity, as if scandalized at the very thought. “I believe I may have run into him a couple of times during my stint in Canterlot, but suffice it to say that we had very little to say to one another. I think he probably resented my up-and-coming status at the time.”

Spike laughed. “I guess he kept well out of cake-flinging range while he was around you, this time.”

“Certainly he did,” Rarity gave a faux-dignified snort, then burst out laughing too. After a few moments, her laughter petered out, and she looked back in the direction of the library. “Strange, really,” she added. Her mood seemed to be different now; she sounded a little wistful. “The way things change. I can’t really put my hoof on what it is, but it feels like everything’s… slipping away.”

“Slipping?” Spike replied, inquisitively, not quite sure what Rarity meant.

“Yes,” Rarity nodded. “Everything feels as if it’s on a timer. I’ve seen Twilight and Dash walking around town together. The way Twilight looks at her… It’s like she’s afraid she’ll vanish any moment. You must have seen her. Then what you said about Fluttershy… You told me she was in danger.” Suddenly, she looked at Spike, and her eyes were almost imploring. “I don’t expect you to tell me what happened, Spike… But please, just to set my mind at rest. Is Fluttershy in harm’s way? Might something happen to her?”

Spike shook his head. “She’s fine,” he said, reassuringly. “It’s got to be up to Twilight and Dash to tell you all the details, but I can promise you Fluttershy’s safe. I’m sorry I can’t tell you more, I really would like to, but I’ve made that mistake once, and I’m not making it a second time.”

Rarity nodded. “I understand. Thankyou, Spike.” She smiled, weakly. “I couldn’t stand idly by knowing that she was at risk. It’s such a messy thing, isn’t it? I just worry about her so much…”

“So,” Spike began, his voice a little dejected on Rarity’s behalf. “Don’t you think you’ll be able to move on from Fluttershy?”

“I hope so,” sighed Rarity. “I’ve got to keep telling myself she’s one pony out of millions. But honestly? I’ve felt crushes before, but when I look at Fluttershy, I just want to... protect her. I know how nervous everypony makes her, and I just want to make it so that she doesn’t have to be afraid anymore.”

“I guess…” replied Spike. “It’s always hard, trying to be sensible in times like this. You know there’s no such thing as fate, but you can’t quite convince yourself. Do you think it’s something to do with the Elements that draws you together?”

“It could be,” mused Rarity. “First I fall for Fluttershy, then Twilight and Dash end up together. Considering there are only six of us, that does seem somewhat improbable.”

“Well, Twilight told me it was like the Elements chose you guys, but I think she was wrong,” Spike said, dropping his voice. “It’s more like you guys are the Elements, like it’s specifically what you were born to be. Maybe this is just how that connection shows itself?”

“Maybe,” Rarity raised an eyebrow, uncertainly. “Hopefully we’ll all have more time to think about it, after…” She gulped slightly, the action seemingly almost involuntary. “After the record,” she finished, a little lamely.

“It’s really bugging you, huh?” Spike asked, sympathetically.

Rarity stomped a hoof in frustration. “There’s more to this whole situation, I just know it!” She shook her head. “I don’t know, Spikey. In the past, things always felt… safe. My friends and I… we’d mess around, we’d fall out, but everything would always work out in the end.”

“Nopony knows how this is going to end, Rarity,” Spike said, almost in consolation. “Even Twilight and Dash don’t.”

“Even so, I feel so useless!” Rarity narrowed her eyes in inwardly-directed annoyance. “I know perfectly well that Twilight and Dash aren’t telling us something, and I know it’s for our own good that we don’t know. I’ve promised myself I won’t pry; it’s got to be up to them to tell us.”

“The more you know, the more risk that puts you at,” said Spike, keeping his voice level, trying not to let his own fear on Twilight’s behalf creep into his words. “Like I said, you’ll all know in good time.”

“Time,” muttered Rarity, spitting the word out like the name of a bitter enemy. “Why do I feel as if we’re running out?”

The library was dimly-lit and airy, the curtains drawn across the windows, turning the midday sun to amber dusk-light. Twilight and Dash lay, entwined lazily together on the bed upstairs, savouring the time they had alone with each other.

Dash nuzzled into the fur of Twilight’s collarbone, slowly trailing a row of kisses up her neck, and smiling to herself as Twilight gave an involuntary twitch, pulling the pegasus closer. Dash had been with Twilight long enough now to know exactly what made the unicorn melt, and she did not hesitate to press this advantage. Pulling herself up a little, she began working her way along Twilight’s jaw, gently nipping with her teeth from time to time, each time rewarded by a sharp gasp from the unicorn.

She wondered what it was about this intimacy that made it so strange, and yet at the same time so beautifully rewarding.

Suddenly, Twilight interrupted her progress by turning her head to face Dash, staring for a moment into her widened eyes, and then determinedly planting her lips upon Dash’s. The pegasus made a muffled sound of surprise, but did not struggle in the least against her situation, instead letting the lead be taken smoothly by Twilight. Momentarily, the pleasant laziness that had permeated the air around them was gone, and Dash recognized the hunger and the need behind Twilight’s kiss. She pushed back with just as much enthusiasm, feeling something almost akin to desperation in Twilight, as she willingly parted her lips to allow the unicorn’s tongue entry.

Eventually, Twilight pulled back, their mouths momentarily linked by a thin strand of saliva, which swiftly broke and vanished. To her surprise and concern, Dash saw that Twilight’s eyes were a little wet, a single tear trailing a reflective path down her cheek.

“Twi’? Are you okay?”

Closing her eyes, Twilight pulled her into another tight embrace. “I’m… I’m scared for you,” she admitted, her voice choked. “I never want anything to happen to you. I… I’m sorry.”

“Hey,” said Dash, stroking Twilight’s mane with her hoof, her voice warm and reassuring. “I’m not going anywhere.” She could feel warm tears mingling into the fur on her chest. “I’m not going anywhere,” she repeated gently. Leaning down, she licked away the trails of Twilight’s tears, feeling the salt on her tongue as the unicorn looked fearfully into her eyes.

“I just want you to know,” whispered Twilight, “whatever happens with your mother, no matter what… I’ll be here for you, just as long as you want me to be.”

Dash hugged her in return, knowing that she would not be able to realistically put into words what that meant to her. “You’re my family now, Twi’,” she murmured. “You’re my family more than she ever was.”

The room’s walls were white-tiled, and devoid of the marble usually associated with Canterlot. Medical diagrams were pinned to the walls, and pride of place in the centre of the floor stood a shoulder-height metal table. A desk stood in the corner, lives and histories and deaths marked out and pinned down in neat black type on the many sheets of paper littering the surface. This was a sterile, lifeless place, kept well out of sight and mind.

“There was nothing we could do, he was too far gone.” The unicorn doctor bowed his head, knowing the disappointment that this news would bring. “I’m sorry, your highness. I’m afraid he’s dead.”

Celestia sighed. Her face betrayed little emotion, although for the fleetest of seconds it was as if an expression of something close to grief flared in her eyes, a passing sorrow for the pony she had worked with and dueled against for so long. The pony who had, in the end, defeated her. She took a moment to master herself, staring at the thin-faced russet stallion as if not really seeing him. “Do you know what the cause of death was?”

“There are no outwardly visible marks on the body,” replied the doctor. “We’ll have to take blood samples, but as best we can tell it was poison. We suspect a suicide pill.”

The Princess shook her head, with an air of sharp finality. “I knew Dusk Tempest. That’s not his style; he would never kill himself. Somepony did this to him. Where were the guards, anyway? Why had he not been found?”

The doctor walked around to the other side of the table, magically picking up a clipboard listing patrol times and glancing down it. He nodded quietly to himself, as if the information he read merely confirmed what he already knew.

“It was simply bad luck that you were the one to discover him, your highness. When you reached his cell and called the guards, he had barely been dead for ten minutes. When they brought him up here from the theatre, he was practically still warm.”

“I see.” Celestia’s eyes were suddenly angry, and she snorted, pawing at the tiled floor with a golden-shod hoof at the valuable information held within Dusk’s head, all lost now beyond any possible retrieval. “Sunset,” she growled. “This was a revenge attack for their imprisonment. They must have traced the betrayal back to him.”

“But as you say, they’re all imprisoned,” noted the doctor. “I’m sorry, your highness, I know it’s not my place, but how could they murder another pony from a prison cell?”

“They must still have some influence. Perhaps a plant in the guards, to do their work, or perhaps to pass messages to an external contact. That would have been a worthwhile precaution for them to take before their arrest, after all, arrest is always a possibility for any criminal group, so a dungeon guard in their employ would doubtless be useful to them.”

“You think it was one of the guards who killed him, then?”

“A slow-acting poison in one of his meals, perhaps. I don’t see what other line of attack they could have.” Celestia nodded. “The point is, if they still have that degree of influence from their cells, if they can still establish links with their contacts outside prison, then that is… problematic.”

“Problematic?”

“Very problematic indeed.”

You need to speak to Twilight and Rainbow Dash again. Personally. You know how much this changes things.

She turned to leave the medical wing of the dungeon, with the intention of seeking out Captain Gladius. It was imperative that she immediately rotate all the current prison guards. That way, if one or more of them were in the employ of Sunset then he would be taken out of their reach. Surely their only means of communication in and out of prison was messages delivered by the guards themselves. It was something she had to put a stop to, and fast.

At the last moment, she turned back to the doctor, who bowed. “One last thing,” she added, almost as an afterthought, “take another blood sample. Check for the presence of the Draught of Forgetfulness in his blood.”

“Very well, your highness. Do you think it will yield results?”

“I have a hunch,” murmured Celestia, her voice expressionless, turning again to leave.

Although the doctor had no intention of mentioning it to anypony, he could have sworn that he saw tears glinting in the corners of the god-princess’s eyes, the moment before the door swung shut behind her.

Poison Ivy

A Bluebird’s Song

~~~
I heard your heart beating
You were in the darkness too
So I stayed in the darkness
With you
~~~

Poison Ivy

Two days before the record attempt.

On days like this, you could see the wind. The pleasant blue-skied sunshine had gone, replaced with sharp gusts of cold air that flung swirling stacks of leaves down Ponyville high street. Most ponies were indoors on a day like this.

“Ya know, I’m starting to think this wasn’t a good idea,” Rainbow Dash called out, vainly trying to hold the rebellious purple-and-gold mass against the ground.

“Keep it from blowing away, we’re nearly there!” Twilight shouted back, her horn flaring. “We got the basket over without this much difficulty!”

“Yeah, but this thing’s acting like a sail,” grunted Dash, irritably.

The two ponies were struggling valiantly against the deflated hot air balloon, trying to transport it across town from the cellar of Sugarcube Corner where Twilight stored it. The excursion to Cloudsdale was setting off the next day, and they needed to get the balloon into the library so that they could check its condition. It had been in storage for the best part of three months, and would doubtless need some patching up. It was taking all of Twilight’s magic, and all of Dash’s strength to keep the giant canvas pocket from blowing away. A shimmering purple aura enwrapped the envelope, pulling it forwards over the cobbles.

“Twi’,” called Dash over the scraping of canvas on stone and the howling of the wind. “Do ya think I’ll be able to get it on Saturday?”

This was hardly a good time, but the worry had been preying on her mind for these last couple of days. In her daily training sessions she was getting progressively faster, easily beating Lightning Flare, but had not yet managed to breach her target of twice the speed of sound. The sheer pressure of air had, time and time again, forced her back. She was getting more used to the conditions up there, but the wind was brutal, and she knew that if she allowed it to force her off-course she would be seriously injured.

“I know you’ll do your best,” replied Twilight, her voice strained with the effort of keeping up the magical field around the balloon. “That’s what matters. I’ve got faith in you, but if you don’t manage it nopony’s going to think any the less of you!”

“I just need to beat the wind.” Dash dived to one side to grab a stray rope that had come loose from the main body of canvas. “If only ponies were more streamlined!”

Twilight pointed ahead of them, excitedly. “I see the library, we’re nearly there.”

“Finally!” exclaimed Dash, hovering a few inches above the purple canvas, ready to pounce on it if it made another bid for freedom. “I swear this thing’s alive…”

“Spike!” yelled Twilight, as they approached the library across the cobbled square. She was not sure if the diminutive dragon heard her, or if he simply saw the mass of canvas approaching from the window. Either way, nevertheless, the door to the library swung open a few moments later.

With a supreme effort of will, Twilight dragged the balloon the last few metres to the door.

“Not a good day, then?” Spike enquired, flippantly.

“Shh, I need to concentrate on folding this thing up,” replied Twilight, closing her eyes and trying to block out the sound of the howling wind.

Slowly, the magic field around the balloon seemed to compress, first flattening it, and then rolling it over several times, coiling it up so that it would fit through the door. With one final push, she slid the roll inside the library, and released it with a sigh of relief.

“Not bad,” remarked Dash, landing beside her with a wink. Both ponies entered the library, gratefully closing the door behind them.

Spike was suspiciously inspecting the balloon envelope, which had sprung out of shape and was now taking up most of the floor space. The basket and burner were protruding from the kitchen. “This isn’t gonna be in here for long, is it?”

“It’ll be gone by tomorrow,” Twilight reassured him. “We’d normally keep it outside, but the wind’s too strong.”

“This thing’ll need some patching up before we can fly in it,” noted Dash. “Can’t you just ask the Princess to send one of her chariots?”

Twilight looked a little guilty. “Well, I probably could, but I don’t want to bother her at the moment. I feel like the mess with Sunset is mostly because of my research… She’s done a lot for me lately, I don’t want to seem pushy. Besides,” she gestured to the balloon, “a couple of patches and it’ll be completely airworthy.”

Spike raised an eyebrow. “Seriously? All the Princess would have to do is tell somepony in the guards to send a carriage over. It’d take her about ten seconds.”

“She was the one who got us the Cloudiseum in the first place,” Twilight reminded him, sternly. “It would’ve been far more tricky to get that place without her help. Besides, we can manage perfectly well. We got to the young flyer’s contest in the balloon, didn’t we?”

“I wouldn’t know, that thing makes me airsick,” muttered Spike, turning a little green at the thought of flight. He beckoned the pegasus over, interestedly. “How’s the training going? I heard the Rainboom from here today.”

“Broke fifteen hundred today, just by a tiny bit,” grinned Dash, proudly.

“Nice one, it’s pretty windy out today,” Spike remarked.

“Had to fly higher than normal to get above these winds,” Dash replied. “I can’t quite get to twice the speed of sound, but I’m close enough that I should be in with a chance on the day.”

Spike nodded. “Claws crossed, then.”

Twilight had unrolled the balloon, and was running a critical eye over it, checking for holes or other damage. “Wow, the mice have been pretty busy,” she muttered, inspecting a series of small rips that peppered the left side. All in all, there was nothing that could not be repaired by the next day with a little effort.

“Do we need Rarity to come over?” Dash enquired, trotting up beside Twilight and looking down at the canvas envelope.

“No, I think I can sort this myself,” replied Twilight, pensively. “It shouldn’t be a problem.”

“Okay, but don’t expect me to be any use if you need help,” Dash chuckled.

“Not really a fabric pony, then?” Twilight nudged her, playfully.

“That’s an understatement.” Dash rolled her eyes. “I’d probably end up setting it on fire or something.”

“Can you check the burner, then?” asked Twilight, smirking. “That’s probably more your area.”

“Actually, I might be some good at that.” Dash glanced appraisingly at the sturdy metal device leaning against the kitchen door. “We use that kinda thing in the weather team for setting up convection currents.”

The pegasus trotted cheerfully across the room to inspect the burner, while Twilight continued checking the envelope.

Behind them, there was a hiccupping sound, followed by a sharp and familiar roar of flame. Both ponies jumped, turning on the spot to see Spike projecting a tongue of green fire a few feet into the air in front of him. A scroll materialized in the centre of the blaze, which the young dragon caught deftly in his claw. Breaking the seal, he flicked open the scroll, and cast his eyes over it. His face fell.

Twilight felt her heart sink horribly in her chest. “Bad news, Spike?” she enquired, tentatively.

Spike walked over to pass her the scroll. “I think it might be,” he said, his voice subdued.

Twilight took the scroll, grasping it gently with her magic, and reading it with a distinct fearful lump in her throat. It was more a note than a letter, concise and almost sharp in its tone.

My Dear Student,

I am writing to you to ask if I may visit you again.
Serious developments have arisen, regarding Sunset.
I must speak to both yourself and Rainbow Dash.
Please respond as soon as possible.

My best wishes,
Princess Celestia.

Dash had approached, and was reading the note over Twilight’s shoulder.

“Sunset? They’re locked up, what could have happened?” Her voice was low and a little frightened.

Twilight said nothing; she had no adequate answers. There was only one pony who knew what was going on at this moment. With a bitter sense of resignation to whatever fate had decided to hurl in their direction this time, she reached for a quill.

Twilight and Dash were not the only ponies who had to battle their way through the winds that day. If you were brave or foolish enough to be outside on the eastern side of town, you might have caught sight of a canary-yellow pegasus pushing through the whirls of leaves and twigs, her face shielded by a raised wing.

Why are you doing this, Fluttershy?

She had agreed to meet Rarity at the spa today, and she was determined to do so no matter what the elements threw at her.

Are you trying to prove something?

If she was honest with herself, she did not want the record attempt excursion to be the first she saw of Rarity after their conversation a few days ago. The conversation that had dominated her thoughts ever since it had happened. In that time, Fluttershy had realized something about herself. Whenever she imagined herself in a relationship with somepony, any semblance of romantic attraction was utterly flooded out by the wave of crippling embarrassment that accompanied it. Whilst she did not feel as if she returned Rarity’s feelings, she could not imagine returning anypony’s feelings, simply because whatever she felt in reality was so badly obscured by her own natural shyness.

When it came to mares, this embarrassment was doubly powerful, given the multitude of taunts that were thrown her way in Flight School by the other pegasi regarding her and Dash.

I used to talk to Rainbow about colts. Not fillies. Colts.

Of course that was what you talked about, you were afraid. You were afraid that your best friend might develop feelings for you, and make everything so complicated. Even her. You couldn't even trust her entirely. But be honest, did you never catch yourself looking at the fillies in your class from time to time?

I didn’t 'look' at anypony in that way! I was too shy! Even that colt I gave a flower to… He was nice to me. One of the only ones. I wanted to thank him, but I was too afraid.

It had been more a gesture of appreciation than affection, if she was truthful with herself. However, there was one memory she still kept close to her chest, afraid to look at too closely for fear of what she might find within it. One memory.

Fluttershy realized that she was blushing furiously, as she battled her way against the wind. She was profoundly thankful that she was alone in the street. In her preoccupation, she realized that she had walked right past the spa. The building was some fifty feet behind her, so she turned and headed back, relieved to escape the biting wind and the cold solitude, with nothing but her thoughts for company.

The bell chimed as she entered the spa, shaking herself off to realign the feathers that had been blown out of place. Aloe was manning the desk, and she looked up as Fluttershy entered. Rarity had not yet arrived, and Fluttershy was apparently the only customer in the spa.

“Ah, Miss Flootershy,” Aloe greeted her jovially in that airy accent that Fluttershy had never quite been able to place. “Please, take a seat while you wait for your friend. I must say, I deed not expect you today, given zee weather.”

“I… I didn’t want to disappoint Rarity,” replied Fluttershy, sitting down on one of the velvet chairs in the reception area.

“Ah, of course,” Aloe waved a hoof, airily, returning to the magazine she was reading.

Remember Ivy?

Fluttershy shook her head, sharply, to dislodge the insidious memory, but it clung on regardless.

Nasty, bullying, beautiful Ivy…

The face of the filly that had stolen Dash’s locket swam, luminous and mocking before her eyes.

When you went into her room, the look in her eyes…

Stop it.

The feel of holding her, almost sensual, then the tremor of the first kick... There was something beautiful about her fear, because of the way she betrayed you.

No… It wasn’t about me, it was about Dash.

You’d fallen for her, Fluttershy. Admit it to yourself, even if you can’t admit it to anypony else. By hurting Dash, she hurt you too. You’d never spoken to her, you’d scarcely made eye contact with her…

But there was something about her, something in the way she walked, the way she could wrap ponies around her hoof with such ease. I hoped I could respect her.

Then… she proved to you that she was just like all the rest. You suspected she was a bully, but then she proved it to you. She broke your heart. You broke her jaw. A fair exchange?

“No…” Fluttershy whispered. She realized that she was rocking nervously back and forth on the chair, her eyes full of tears. She was extremely glad that Aloe was still buried in her magazine and had apparently noticed nothing. She roughly dabbed at her eyes with her foreleg, her cheeks flushing red. She had told Rarity, Dash, even herself that she had never felt romantic attraction to a mare before. She could finally admit to herself that she had lied.

The question is, a small voice in the back of her mind spoke up, unbidden, where does that leave you with Rarity?

It makes no sense to ask that like it’s meaningful. I’ve liked mares in the past, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to go after Rarity just because she’s a mare, that would be ridiculous.

You’ve never ‘gone after’ anypony as long as you’ve lived. Ever since Flight School you haven’t even been able to tell if you like somepony or not, you’ve shielded yourself so much. Maybe romance isn’t something that happens immediately, especially for a pony like you. Maybe it’s something you need to work at, to build, to experiment with.

I’m not using Rarity as an… an ‘experiment’. It’d be cruel and pointless, and she’d feel so betrayed when she realized. And she would realize, I don’t doubt that for a moment.

Well, then. You’ve got to make a decision, Fluttershy. You might feel as if you have all the time in the world, but sometimes the world gets ideas of its own…

The pegasus was jerked unceremoniously out of her reverie by the ringing of the bell above the door. She jumped slightly, and looked around to see a thoroughly windswept Rarity entering the spa. The unicorn’s eyes visibly lit up a little when she saw Fluttershy, and she smiled warmly at her friend. “Fluttershy! I’m so glad you could make it, this weather is simply dreadful.”

“I know what you mean,” agreed Fluttershy. “I was nearly blown down the road on the way here.”

“Oh dear, we could always have rescheduled, you know.”

“No, don’t worry,” Fluttershy said. “With the Cloudsdale trip coming up, we might not have any chance at all next week.”

Rarity laughed. “Yes, if Pinkie’s celebratory parties live up to their usual standards, I wouldn’t put it past her to take up most of the week.” It seemed to Fluttershy that Rarity was a little nervous, almost as if she was doing her best to be just as she always was, despite the strange awareness that they were, in all likelihood, both thinking of what had transpired the last time they had been together.

“Ah, now zat you are both ‘ere, we can make a start,” said Aloe, stepping out from behind the counter and smiling at the two slightly disheveled ponies.

“The usual?” Rarity asked, looking sideways at Fluttershy.

“Sounds good to me,” the pegasus replied, inwardly relieved that there was only token awkwardness between herself and Rarity. She reflected that it could have been a lot worse.

“…Then, it turned out he was a goat the whole time!” Rarity, barely visible through the steam room’s foggy atmosphere, concluded her anecdote with a flourish that, sadly, went unseen.

Fluttershy burst out laughing. She had no idea where Rarity got these stories from, and privately suspected that she made half of them up, but nonetheless they were greatly enjoyable.

In the silence that followed, Fluttershy thought she heard Rarity sigh, a little sadly.

“Are you alright, Rarity?” Fluttershy asked, slightly nervously.

“Yes, I’m fine.” Rarity’s voice was cheerful, but the slight pause before her response was enough to cast doubt on the truth of her words.

They sat for a few moments in the obscuring steam, neither of them speaking. “I wanted to apologize,” Rarity blurted out suddenly, as if the words were against her own better judgement. “I wanted to say sorry for my behaviour the other day. I realize you’re probably not comfortable with me anymore, and I don’t want you to have to pretend for my sake. It was selfish and cowardly of me to burden you in that way, on top of everything else you’ve been through lately.”

Fluttershy’s heart sank. It saddened her to think that Rarity was beating herself up in this way. “Rarity,” she began, quietly, “you were honest with me, and I’m so grateful to you for that. You’ve got nothing to be sorry for, I think you were really brave, actually.”

She reflected to herself that the steam was useful. It allowed them to speak candidly to one another without the added embarrassment of eye contact.

“Well, I… Thankyou, Fluttershy,” replied Rarity, her voice barely a whisper. “Can you promise me that you’re not just pretending to be comfortable around me?”

“Of course I can,” Fluttershy exclaimed, her voice rising almost to an ordinary speaking pitch. “You’re one of my best friends, and it’s going to take a lot more than this to stop me from thinking that.” She paused for a moment, mentally replaying Rarity’s words in her head. “Hold on, what did you mean when you mentioned ‘everything else I’ve been through lately’?”

“Oh… nothing, nothing at all, I was just speaking off the top of my head,” replied Rarity, far too quickly.

Fluttershy shook her head. “It’s okay, Rarity. I know how gossip travels in this town.”

When Rarity next spoke, her voice was choked. “I’ve just been so… so worried about you. I heard something had happened to you, but Spike wouldn’t tell me any more. He said it would put me in danger if I knew.”

“It’s all in the past now,” Fluttershy said, smiling reassuring at Rarity through the steam, remembering with relief the news that Sunset had been rounded up and were no longer a threat. “I guess it doesn’t matter now. You deserve to know what happened, and it won’t put you at any risk.” She sighed. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner, I never realized you knew anything had gone on. I never meant to worry you.” Her voice grew a little in strength. “But Spike was right. I couldn’t have slept at night knowing I’d put you in danger without good reason.”

The steam had thinned a little, and Fluttershy could see Rarity’s shining eyes clearly again. They told her what she had already realized; that the unicorn would have taken that risk a hundred times over, given the choice, to have been able to help Fluttershy through whatever had been troubling her. Rarity deserved her honesty. Taking a deep breath, Fluttershy began her story.

By the time she had finished speaking, they had vacated the steam room and had moved onto the mud bath.

“…Then, we got the news a few days ago that the leaders were rounded up by the guards. They’re being held in Canterlot right now, and hopefully that’s the end of it.”

Rarity’s expression had varied throughout Fluttershy’s story, transitioning gradually from horror at the invasion of Fluttershy’s home, to anger at the perpetrators. “How dare they?” she exclaimed, her voice throaty with indignation. “And as for that one that attacked you, I’m glad Celestia snapped his horn!” She had winced quite badly at the part of the story, unable to help feeling some level of empathy for another unicorn in such a situation, despite everything he had done.

“It’s alright,” Fluttershy said, gently. “As I say, they’re no threat to anypony now.”

“They’re lucky they’re safely in Canterlot,” growled Rarity. “I might have a few words to say to them otherwise.”

“You wouldn’t want to get near them,” Fluttershy reminded her. “They were pretty good with their magic, I’ve got to admit it.”

“No wonder Spike seemed different…” Rarity muttered, thoughtfully. “The last few times I’ve seen him, he seemed more… grown up. Something in his eyes.”

Fluttershy nodded. “I can imagine. He’s only young, and it’d be a horrible thing to happen to anypony. I hope he’s alright.”

“Oh, he seemed okay, actually,” replied Rarity. She shook her head, her anger resurfacing again. “I wish I’d known, I’d have hunted them down myself…”

Fluttershy’s cheeks coloured a little, as she realized that this was an appropriate juncture to pose a question that had been burning in her mind for some time. “Rarity, have you ever hurt somepony?”

Rarity seemed a little taken aback by the question. “Well, I accidentally dropped the base of that sewing machine on Sweetie Belle’s hoof that one time. I felt simply dreadful about it, but at least it didn’t do any lasting damage.”

“No, I mean deliberately. You know, for… for revenge.” Fluttershy’s voice was virtually inaudible as she spoke the last word.

“My dear, why would you ask such a thing?” Rarity seemed more than a little confused.

“Never mind, I’m sorry. It doesn’t matter,” mumbled Fluttershy, awkwardly.

Rarity sighed. “No, I don’t mind. I was just surprised, that's all… I did once,” she admitted, a little shamefacedly, shifting in the mud bath with a squelching sound. “It was a few years ago now, just after Sweetie Belle was born. I’d just left school and was looking to start making dresses professionally. It was a bit of a stressful time for me, my parents were working in those days, and needed me to look after Sweetie Belle a lot. I was walking through the market one day, with Sweetie in her pram, and a haughty-looking mare accosted me in the street. She assumed that I was the mother, and began telling me off in a loud voice. She said that she could tell I was ‘that sort’ of pony from a mile away, and if only fillies my age could keep their hind legs together, then maybe we’d be better prepared for the kind of responsibility that comes with being a parent.”

Fluttershy gasped, covering her mouth with a hoof and blushing. “How horrible of her,” she exclaimed, “what right did she have to do that?”

“None whatsoever, and I would dearly love to say I told her so, but I was so taken aback that I let her walk away without a word.” Rarity broke eye contact with Fluttershy, looking away awkwardly. “I’m afraid I saw red. It had been a difficult time, and to add insult to injury my responsibilities of dress-making and looking after Sweetie Belle meant that I hadn’t been within sniffing distance of a colt for months. To my eternal shame, I chased after her and bucked her from behind. She went reeling into one of the market stalls and hit her head on the wooden support. As you can imagine, the moment I came to my senses I retrieved Sweetie Belle and made myself scarce.” She closed her eyes at the embarrassing memory. “I’m not proud of it, it was most unladylike of me, and I don’t normally consider myself vengeful. But it’s a funny thing, at the time I almost enjoyed it. I felt… vindicated, somehow.”

Fluttershy felt a strange sense of relief upon hearing those words. They were familiar to her, the sensation almost akin to déjà vu. It was a weight off her mind to know that perhaps she was not abnormal. Perhaps she simply had to accept that nopony was perfect, and that she was not in some way sick in the head, as she had in her darker moments suspected.

She smiled nervously at Rarity, and leaned across the narrow tiled gap to give her a somewhat muddy hug. “Thanks for telling me about that, Rarity,” she said, sincerely.

In that moment, she realized that it was Rarity’s simple presence, as much as her words, that had helped her to get her thoughts in order. Being with the unicorn helped her see herself with a different perspective. She felt as if she could accept herself, flaws and all, when she was with Rarity. So many times through the course of their friendship, it had been Rarity who had been there for her, who had picked her up without even knowing it in her moments of depression or weakness. With the exception of Dash, she would have found it impossible to tell her story to anypony other than Rarity. She was as close to Fluttershy as Dash was, even without the bond of shared experience. There was a trust there that Fluttershy had never been able to cultivate deliberately, instead winding its way into her almost without her awareness.

She’s made me better.

Dash’s words echoed in the back of Fluttershy’s mind. They may have referred to Twilight when they were spoken, but Fluttershy now felt that they were just as relevant to her. She broke away from the mare opposite with a muddy squelch, and lay back, breathing the warm, lightly-scented air in thoughtful contentment. Rarity smiled warmly at her, a little lost in the moment, despite herself. Fluttershy closed her eyes, aware that a conclusion was finally forming in her head.

You’ll always be afraid of the unknown if you never make a move to explore it.

I’m not sure if I want to take that risk… The doubtful side of her mind sounded weakened, its words felt like circular rhetoric. It felt tired of resisting change for the sake of hoping that things might stay the same. She had denied herself for so long that she could scarcely recognize her own desires anymore. Today, she had finally changed that. Fluttershy did not yet know what she was going to do, but as she looked at the unicorn lying beside her, the unicorn who had so often healed her without even realizing it, she knew at last what she wanted.

…Maybe some risks are worth taking.

Leading The Blind

A Bluebird’s Song

~~~
Listening to the pouring rain
Waiting for the world to change
Beginning to wonder if we wait in vain
For one fine day
~~~

Leading The Blind

“Twi’, please come an’ sit down.” Dash walked across to Twilight in concern, interrupting the latter’s pacing. She had sent her acknowledgment to Celestia almost half an hour ago, but still there was no sign of her mentor’s arrival. “She’ll be here soon, and whatever it is she’s gonna say, ya won’t make things any easier for yourself by stressing out over it now.”

“I’ve fixed up the holes in the balloon, and replaced the ropes on the basket,” Twilight reeled off in a vague attempt at self-distraction, her voice unusually high-pitched. Her left eye was twitching slightly. Both Spike and Dash recognized the danger signs.

“She didn’t say it was bad news, Twilight,” Spike pointed out, standing in the doorway to the kitchen. “All she said was that it was a development.”

“A serious development,” corrected Twilight. “The group’s supposed to be finished, so how could things get seriously better? Oh no, what if Dusk’s escaped? What if the others have?” Her voice took on a slightly panicked edge.

“We won’t know until the Princess gets here,” Dash repeated, firmly. “All you’re doing is getting in a state.”

“I know, I know,” sighed Twilight. “It’s just… The record attempt’s the day after tomorrow. If something got overlooked with Sunset, then we might not be able to react in time.” Her eyes were wide and fearful, and Dash knew with a surge of affection that the unicorn’s concern was on her behalf.

“Everything’s gonna be fine,” she said, reassuringly. She smiled at Twilight. “Besides, I’ve got the most powerful unicorn in Equestria watching my back. They couldn’t get near me if they tried.”

Twilight smiled weakly back at her, gratefully nuzzling her cheek, her heartbeat beginning to return a little to normal. Even with her tendency for stress, she found the presence of the pegasus to be soothing. It was almost impossible for her to remain anxious when Dash was around. “Even so,” she murmured. “I’d rather they didn’t try.”

Suddenly, the library was illuminated by a shimmering corona of light, which expanded to fill the room with a dazzling glare. Twilight whipped around, and raised a hoof to shield her eyes. A few moments later, the glow faded, and the hiss of magic that accompanied it died away too. She lowered her foreleg, and saw Princess Celestia standing on the hearthrug, a little stooped from the exertion of casting the teleportation spell.

She looked around at the two ponies and the dragon. “Princess!” exclaimed Twilight, taking a tentative step forwards.

“Twilight, I’m sorry to arrive at such short notice once again, but I’m afraid that, once again, I have to be the bearer of bad news.”

Twilight winced reflexively at the confirmation that something had gone wrong. “What’s happened? Has somepony from Sunset escaped?”

“In a sense, yes,” Celestia sighed. “Dusk Tempest is dead.”

“Huh?” Dash was shocked by this news, and she too moved forwards, hovering a few inches above the wooden floor. “That creep who broke into Fluttershy’s place?”

Celestia nodded. “The very same, it happened three days ago now. As best we can tell, Sunset’s leaders realized that he was the cause of their capture. One of the guards must have been either paid off, or already in their pocket. His food was poisoned, and I discovered his body.”

Twilight shook her head, a little disturbed by this sudden development, but at the same time strangely relieved. “Princess, I don’t mean to sound cynical, but surely the world is better off without him. Even jailed, he might still have been a threat.”

Spike nodded in agreement, unable to feel sympathy for Dusk after the treatment he had received at his hooves.

Twilight looked up at her mentor, and was surprised to see a shadow of pain, almost of grief, flash across Celestia’s face for a moment. Then, she seemed to control herself, and her expression became impassive. “Yes,” she muttered. “Yes, I suppose the world is better without him.” There was a strange, introspective quality to her voice, as if she were trying to convince herself.

“Then what’s the problem?” asked Dash, a little confusedly.

“The problem?” Celestia’s voice grew a little stronger as she returned to her intended train of thought. “The problem is the reason that I did not visit you immediately. On a hunch, I told the coroner to take another blood sample, and the results have only this morning been returned to me. Whilst I would have preferred genuine justice to be done, Dusk’s death is not the main issue. The blood tests revealed that, sometime before his arrest, he took a dose of Root Blacksap’s Potion of Forgetfulness.”

Twilight raised an eyebrow, thoughtfully. “So… Sometime before he was arrested, he did something, and then deliberately forgot it?”

“Exactly.” Celestia nodded. “He knew he was going to be arrested, and he knew there was a good chance that he would be interrogated. That potion is the ultimate way to resist interrogation. If you don’t know you’ve done something, you can’t admit to it.”

“And you think it was something to do with the record attempt?”

The Princess sighed, in frustration. “I just don’t know. But it would make sense, after all, he was trying to cause me pain. What better way to do that than force me to break my own moral code to get the information I needed, and then show me that it had all been for nothing?” She shook her head. “On the other hand, Sunset had many different interests, it may have been related to another of their… projects that he was involved with. We can’t know. It’s too late to try and extract the memories.”

“But you said that he never cared about Sunset,” interjected Twilight. “I know that potion, and it’s a risky thing to take. I’ve heard of ponies who’ve wiped their entire memories by slightly overdosing. I doubt that he’d take such a risk for the sake of a cause he never believed in.”

“So it must have been something to do with you,” Dash added.

“And, by extension, probably us,” finished Twilight, gesturing to herself and the pegasus by her side.

“I agree, that does seem likely,” Celestia said, sadly. “The point is this, though. I’m willing for the record attempt to go ahead, but I’ll be honest with you. I cannot guarantee that it will be safe. If you choose to go ahead, I will personally attend, and guards will be stationed in and around the Cloudiseium. But please understand that I can make no guarantees.”

For a few moments, there was silence. Twilight looked fearfully at Dash, her heart thumping uncomfortably in her chest. “What do you want to do, Rainbow?” she asked, tentatively. “This is your record, and it’s you who’d be in harm’s way. It’s got to be your decision. Do we go ahead?” Half of her was hoping that Dash would say no, that she would decide to call off the attempt. Inside, though, she knew what the answer was going to be.

Dash thought for a few moments, then nodded. “We go ahead,” she said, quietly. She looked from Twilight to Celestia. “I trust you both to keep me safe. A few weeks ago I told myself I was gonna change. For years I’ve done awesome things to show other ponies up. It was eating me away, and I never realized it. I want to do this to prove to myself that I don’t need revenge to drive me on.”

“I understand,” said Celestia, gently.

But Dash’s eyes sought Twilight’s. The unicorn looked fearful, and yet resigned. “I wouldn’t have expected you to do anything else,” she admitted, smiling weakly despite the concern that showed in her eyes.

“Twi’,” Dash murmured, “I’m sorry, I know how worried you’re gonna be. If you said you didn’t want me to go through with this, I’d call it off in a second.”

Twilight shook her head. “I appreciate that, Rainbow, but I’m not going to hold you back. It’d be selfish of me. Besides, I’ll be watching while you’re up there. Nopony’s going to get anywhere near you.”

Dash held eye contact for a few moments longer, bathing for a moment in the sense of trust and understanding between them. Twilight’s eyes shone a little with moisture, but her smile laid no blame on Dash for her choice.

“It’s settled, then,” Celestia said, quietly. She gestured to the flat canvas envelope that filled the room, in an apparent attempt to change the subject. “I take it you have your transport prepared.”

Twilight nodded. “Yes. The six of us are heading to Cloudsdale tomorrow, that way we can have a day in the city before the attempt.”

“Very well,” replied the Princess. “Shall I organize some suites for you at the Hotel Zephyr?”

Twilight’s eyes widened a little. She had heard of the Zephyr, but had never actually stopped there. Her librarian’s allowance, whilst generous, could not perform miracles. “That’s very kind of you, Princess, but isn’t that place expensive? Really expensive?”

Celestia chuckled. “Being a princess does have its advantages, Twilight.”

Twilight grinned sheepishly, realizing that her words had probably sounded a little silly. “Well, thankyou, Princess.”

“No problem at all, Twilight. I presume you’ll want five rooms overall?”

“Fine with me,” Dash chipped in, smiling at the unicorn. Twilight blushed slightly, despite Celestia’s delicacy in broaching the topic of sleeping arrangements, but also nodded in agreement.

“Oh, I almost forgot,” added Celestia, looking across the room at Spike, who had fallen to inspecting his gem project, and no longer seemed to be listening. “Will Spike be accompanying you?”

Spike turned at the sound of his name, and shook his head. “Nah,” he gestured to the balloon. “I’m not one for flying, it makes me feel ill just imagining it.” He shrugged. “Besides, Twilight’ll probably be happier if I’m here to hold the fort while she’s gone.”

“Alright then.” The Princess nodded, turning back to Twilight and Dash, her expression almost guilty. She dropped her voice. “I’m sorry that I can’t give you more of an assurance about Saturday. If it were anypony else but you two, I’d suggest to call it off. But I’ve seen you and your friends, I’ve seen the way you deal with difficult times. If the worst comes to the worst, I know I can trust you to keep your wits about you and keep each other safe.”

“We’ll all do our best if needbe,” Twilight affirmed, nervous but determined. “If something goes wrong, we’ll be ready.”

“Oh, Princess?” Dash’s eyes widened momentarily as a thought occurred to her. “Twilight told me about Cloudshine, my… my sister.” She said the last word in a low, almost disbelieving voice.

“I expected that she would,” replied Celestia. “Are you alright about it? I realize it must have been quite a shock.”

“Yeah, it kinda was,” admitted Dash. “I just wanted to ask, though. Canterlot’s within easy flying distance of Cloudsdale.” She paused, a little nervously, hoping the question she was about to pose did not seem presumptuous or overly difficult. “I know Sunset’s leaders are gonna be locked up in pretty high security, but I was wondering if I could visit her, Cloudshine, I mean. We’re flying up to Cloudsdale early tomorrow morning, so I’d have all day to get there and back again.”

Celestia was silent for a few moments, her eyes thoughtful. “Well, I don’t see why not,” she said, at length, a little warily. “You’re family, so the guards will let you visit. My only worry is the effect it might have on you. You have to understand that she’s not… like you. She hates pegasi, and I don’t know if she knows you even exist. If you’re hoping to reconcile with her, I’ll warn you that it will probably be futile.”

Dash shook her head. “It’s not about her. It’s just… my mom left when I was a foal, I hardly remember her. Cloudshine’s the only one I know of who might know where she is, and what happened to her. I realize she might not wanna tell me, out of spite or whatever, but I’d just like to try. I don’t care about reconciling with her, she doesn’t mean anything to me. I’d just like to have… closure.” She shook her head wistfully as she spoke the last word.

“I see,” replied Celestia, kindly. “If it might help you find some solace, then I’d be glad for you to visit. My warning still stands though, she’s likely to be hostile towards you.”

“I can live with that,” Dash said, calmly. She looked sideways to see Twilight smiling at her, something close to pride in her expression. The moment brought home to Dash, almost shockingly, the truth of how much she had changed over the last few weeks. She knew it was for the better, and was glad to be able to hear that quiet, confident ring to her voice, no longer obscured by her customary brashness. For the first time in her memory, she genuinely understood herself, and she truly knew what she wanted. She looked up at Celestia, her expression one of certainty. “I just want to know that I tried.”

“Have you heard that Lightning Flare’s going to be watching on Saturday?”

Fluttershy and Rarity had been relocated to yet another room in the seemingly infinite salon. The pegasus had opted for a massage, and was relaxing under the capable hooves of Lotus. Her friend had decided to have her horn filed a little, after remarking that it had recently lost its shine.

“Who?” Rarity looked across quizzically at Fluttershy, as best she could without moving her head. unicorns were, as a rule, very protective of their horns, and Rarity was no exception.

“Lightning Flare. Rainbow told me about him a little while ago, he’s the current airspeed record holder for the pegasi.”

“Oh yes, I think you might have mentioned him before. He doesn’t sound very… subtle, does he?”

Fluttershy giggled. “Not particularly.”

Life gets easier without those stupid inhibitions, doesn’t it? The small voice spoke up, unbidden, in her head.

I don’t know what you mean, she told herself, a little sternly. In a way, however, she knew that she was not being entirely truthful.

Certainly, she looked at Rarity in a different light now. Fluttershy knew that she had spent her life being kind to other ponies and creatures, but in all that time she had hardly noticed the scant kindness directed towards her. Rarity was always there for her, always there to offer a kind word or a helping hoof. Like Fluttershy, she gave without thought of receiving in return. Generosity and Kindness. In a sense, they were kindred spirits. If only Rarity had not realized it so long before Fluttershy. If only the canary pegasus had not been held back by the walls her mind had built to protect herself from hope and the disappointment it always brought. Over the years, her safehouse had become her prison, the walls entrapping her long after they were no longer needed for protection.

She was still wary, as was her way. She was experiencing emotions that she had not felt since her school days, and she was frightened that they might run away with her. She knew that she felt attraction towards Rarity, but she could not say if these feelings were new, or simply a dormant spark, suddenly rekindled. Her urge of self-protection still had not entirely dissipated, and she could not call these feelings ‘love’, for fear of her own inexperience. She had opened the floodgates to a strange mix of emotion, that surged whenever she looked at the unicorn. She had scarcely been open to this frightening, exciting part of herself for half an hour. Despite this, however, already each sensation felt familiar and friendly, if somewhat rusty, like the first inexpert movements of a broken limb beginning to heal.

“Darling, are you alright?” Aloe had finished with Rarity’s horn, and the unicorn could once again turn her head to look at Fluttershy. Her concerned voice broke into Fluttershy’s introspection. “You look almost comatose.”

Fluttershy realized that she was staring blankly into space, almost entirely unaware of the gentle kneading sensation of Lotus’s hooves on her spine. She shook her head. “Sorry, Rarity.” She blushed a little. “I was just thinking, and I got a little lost. I get like that sometimes… I’ve spent too much time with only myself to talk to, I can kind of zone out sometimes.”

“Is that why you keep the animals around?” Rarity asked, sympathetically.

“Kind of,” admitted Fluttershy. “Mostly it’s because I know I like to help creatures, and they let me indulge in my habit.” She smiled, nervously. “They help me too, though. I can talk to them, even if they don’t talk back. I know I’ve got you guys as my friends now, but when none of you are around…” She shrugged. “I don’t know. They stop the walls from closing in on me, I guess.”

Rarity sighed, and Fluttershy could see sadness in her eyes. “It sounds like you’ve led a lonely life, Fluttershy,” she said, her voice low.

“I suppose. I’ve never really thought about it.” She thought back for a few moments. “I knew Rainbow Dash at flight school, but she was really the only one. When I came to Ponyville, you were the first friend I’d made in so many years. Of course, Pinkie and Applejack introduced themselves, but they didn’t even know I was here for a while. Too quiet for my own good, I think.”

Rarity smiled fondly at this memory. “Oh yes, you came to my boutique looking for curtains for your new house, didn’t you? I think it took you about ten minutes to get the question out.”

Fluttershy let out a giggle. “You think that was bad? I must have hung around outside the door for fifteen minutes, eyeing the doorbell. I never was a pony who’d do well in an unfamiliar town.”

Aloe had shifted her attention to Rarity’s hooves, and a wide selection of pots full of creams and ointments were standing on a side table beside them. Fluttershy felt Lotus’s hooves shift up to her shoulders, and sighed. She did not know if it was Rarity’s presence or simply the massage, but she had not felt this relaxed in quite some time. Perhaps it was a combination of both.

“Well, you were braver than me,” remarked Rarity, suddenly.

“What do you mean?”

“After you came back to buy a few new outfits, I always meant to ask you if you’d ever considered a career in modeling. I kept putting it off, I thought it might seem rude or presumptuous of me, until I forgot all about it.” She laughed, softly. “You saw how many years it took me to ask you about that.”

Fluttershy felt a gentle sting of blood in her cheeks, but smiled nonetheless, shyly breaking eye contact. “You really thought that?”

Rarity opened her mouth to utter a confirmation, but at that moment, Fluttershy felt the pressure on her back cease.

“And I believe zat is everything,” remarked Aloe, looking across at Lotus for confirmation. Her sister had just put the final lid back on a jar of hoof balm, and she nodded in agreement. Stretching contentedly, Fluttershy got to her hooves, her muscles feeling pleasantly loose and free of tension. Rarity did the same, evidently deciding that she could finish their conversation later. She trotted across to the mirror, inspecting the finish on her horn, and nodding in approval.

“A first-rate job, as always.” She smiled warmly at the twins as she and Fluttershy began to make their way towards the exit. “Thankyou, I don’t know what we’d do without you.”

The streets of Ponyville were warm to the touch under the sinking afternoon sun. The ground was occasionally flecked by the shadows of passing flocks of birds, that sang through the skies above them, restlessly twisting and flowing.

Fluttershy always walked back to the boutique with Rarity, as it was practically halfway between the spa and her cottage. Today, however, there was a subtle shift in the atmosphere between them. It felt to Fluttershy almost as if she was walking the other mare home, rather than simply walking to her home with her.

Suddenly, Rarity gave a small sigh. Fluttershy would not have heard it were it not for the light impact of breath on her face. She turned to see the unicorn looking at her.

“Thankyou for this,” Rarity said, her voice quiet and almost guiltily.

“For what?” Fluttershy was a little taken aback.

“For still being my friend despite my appalling lack of self-restraint.”

Fluttershy stopped walking, and turned to face Rarity, who had also halted. “Look,” she said, a little forcefully. “I don’t want you hurting yourself over this anymore.”

There’s a way you can stop her from hurting herself over this.

She ignored the thought, but not before her cheeks could colour traitorously. “I’m your friend, Rarity. Goodness knows you’ve forgiven me enough times for my mistakes. You didn’t even make a mistake, you were just honest. I’d say I forgive you, but you’ve done nothing that needs forgiving. Please stop beating yourself up about this.”

She was more honest than you’re being. Things have changed, and you know it. If you’d only tell her…

Rarity nodded, smiling, still a little sadly, at the pegasus. “I’ll do my best, Fluttershy. You really are the best friend a pony could ask for.”

And you want to be more. You know that now. She could be your future, Fluttershy. She wants to be! Why throw that away?

“Rarity, I…” Her voice died away, and she looked away from the unicorn. Her eyes suddenly felt to her like blinding lights.

You can do this.

Her head was full of static, her cheeks scarlet.

“I...” Her ears drooped suddenly, and she shook her head minutely. She admitted defeat. “I’m sorry I hurt you like this.”

You coward.

Rarity rested a comforting hoof on Fluttershy’s shoulder. “You didn’t hurt me,” she said, softly. “I hurt myself. It was only ever a dream.” She sighed, remembering Spike’s words, the echo almost painfully ironic now. “I know that now. It was a good dream, though.”

They walked on, back towards the boutique, their eyes never quite meeting. Fluttershy was grateful for this. Rarity did not see the tracks of tears sparkling on her cheeks. She did not see the introspective anger that burned in her eyes.

Above The Rain

A Bluebird’s Song

~~~
But when you fly above the clouds
And they fade away to silence there’s regret again
When you look down at the clouds
And know that your whole world’s beneath them
An eternity away upon the ground
~~~

Above The Rain

One day before the record attempt.

“Look! There it is!”

With the aid of a final gust of wind, the balloon’s envelope burst through the top of the cloud bank, ragged strands of residual vapour trailing out behind. The four ponies in the basket shielded their eyes at the sudden burst of unadulterated sunlight, momentarily blinding them after the damp, misty darkness of the cloud layer. As soon as her eyes had adjusted to the light, Pinkie Pie was leaning excitedly over the edge, pointing with a hoof at the familiar silhouette of Cloudsdale, its towers and streets glistening in the glaring morning sun.

A moment after the emergence of the balloon, two heads belonging Rainbow Dash and Fluttershy appeared from the foggy surface of the cloudy ocean below them, followed swiftly by the rest of the pegasi. They had both opted out of travelling in the already-cramped basket, deciding instead to fly under their own steam and escort the balloon. Dash shook her head in order to dislodge a few wisps of cloud that were stuck in her mane. “Good job you guys punched a hole with the balloon,” she noted. “That lot woulda been a nightmare to dig through.”

“Whoa, Nelly!” exclaimed Applejack, clamping her hat down with a nervous hoof as a gust of turbulence shook the basket. “I ain’t much for this flyin’ business.”

This was perfectly true; out of the four ponies who could not fly without the aid of the balloon, Applejack was distinctly the most wary, and the most relieved to get her hooves back on solid ground.

Twilight pointed eagerly, caught up in the excitement of the moment. “I can see the Cloudiseum!”

“How fabulous,” remarked Rarity, her voice a little lackluster due to her leftover sulkiness. She had repeatedly hinted that morning that she would rather like a reinstatement of the gossamer wings she had been given the last time she visited the pegasus city. Twilight, however, had put her hoof down. This was partly because Rarity’s presence had hardly helped Dash’s nerves last time, but mostly due to the fact that she had severe doubts as to the spell’s safety. The book had not mentioned spontaneous combustion as an inherent feature of the wings, and Twilight did not want a repeat performance of the previous year. Frankly, she thought that she had enough to worry about as it was. Rarity had, albeit a little grudgingly, agreed to join the others in having the cloud-walking spell cast on them.

Leaning back into the basket, Pinkie deftly rotated manipulated the controls on the burner to keep the balloon from rising any further, her tongue between her teeth as she concentrated. Twilight was not entirely sure where Pinkie had learned to control a hot air balloon, but thought it better not to ask.

“Where do you think we should land?” Twilight called across to Dash, who steered herself closer to the balloon.

The pegasus shrugged, raising her voice to make herself heard over the sound of the wind. “There’s loads of places you can tether it up. Try to get close to the hotel if ya want, but don’t go smashing into any buildings.”

“I’ll do my best,” deadpanned Twilight, checking that the wind was blowing them in the right direction.

“Um, Twi’?” Applejack looked a little concerned. “Aren’t we goin’ kinda fast? These things ain’t got brakes, y’know.”

“We’ll be fine,” Twilight turned to the burner, running a cursory eye over the controls. “It’s a lot windier than last time. If we need, we can drop a rope out and Dash can slow us down.”

As it turned out, they did not need assistance. The landing went as smoothly as could have been expected, Twilight opting to set the balloon down on a spray of cloud just above a square with direct roads to both the Cloudiseum and the Hotel Zephyr, both of which were within reasonable walking distance. As soon as their craft touched down, Twilight leapt out, landing on the amorphous cloud surface with a soft thump. She unwound a rope from the inside of the basket with a flick of her glowing horn, and drove the enchanted mooring spike into the surface of the cloud. She had enchanted the metal stave that morning so that it adhered to cloud until it was magically released, and it ensured that the balloon would stay safely where it was, without blowing away.

Applejack was the second out of the basket, her occasional mistrust of magic apparently outweighed by her desire to get her hooves back on a reasonably solid surface. Her expression was one of slight trepidation as she landed on the cloud, but the cloud-walking spell held firm.

“Are you okay, Applejack?” Twilight enquired, seeing the look of barely-suppressed fear on the earth pony’s face.

“Ah’m a mite bad with heights, if ya want the truth,” she admitted, peering nervously over the edge of the cloud and wincing at the sight of the river-crossed patchwork of fields, several miles beneath them.

Rarity trotted up alongside Applejack, also chancing a look over the edge, with some trepidation. “I must say, I never had a problem with heights myself,” she noted, a slight shake in her voice. “My little plummet the last time I was here clearly changed that.” She smiled at Twilight, a little guiltily. “You were right, it’s probably best that I don’t have those wings back. I’d be terrified, to be honest, knowing they might evaporate any second.”

Dash rolled her eyes, alighting on the cloud beside them in time to catch Rarity’s words. “Good job Twi’s got a bit of foresight, isn’t it?” she noted, smirking.

“Well, it’s easy for you, you can fly without worrying about your wings dropping off,” Rarity shot back, although it was obvious that she was too wrapped up in the experience of being back in Cloudsdale to be genuinely annoyed.

“So,” piped up Pinkie, “where are we headed first?”

“Well,” replied Twilight, “I was thinking we should check into the hotel, make sure everything’s okay there, and then we can look around the city a little.”

“Remember,” Dash murmured to her, drawing her to one side and keeping her voice low. “I need to head to Canterlot later today.”

Twilight nodded. “Shouldn’t be a problem, I imagine we’ll all split up at some point, so you shouldn’t be missed.” She suddenly looked thoughtful. “Do you want me to come with you?”

Dash shook her head. “Thanks Twi’, but I’ll be fine. This feels like the kind of thing I need to do on my own.”

“I understand,” said Twilight, smiling a little nervously. “Try not to get yourself in trouble over there.”

Dash laughed. “What? And let down my audience here tomorrow? No chance.”

The six ponies walked trotted together into the opulent lobby of the Hotel Zephyr, all of them looking around, obviously impressed. Celestia had most certainly done them a favour by securing them lodgings here. It was built in the eye-catching style common in Cloudsdale high society, a world away from the open-plan houses and factories constructed from raw cloud matter. The walls were made of cirrus cloud that had been beaten smooth and layered, giving an almost marble-like quality, and several crystalline chandeliers hung from the high ceiling. Twilight was surprised to notice that they were walking on actual carpet, and surmised that it must have been made specially in Canterlot, enchanted by its makers to prevent the moisture from the cloud below leaking through and spoiling it.

Rarity’s eyes were practically glowing as she turned to smile at Fluttershy, her designer’s enthusiasm for beauty overpowering her earlier annoyance. “This is some place, isn’t it?”

Fluttershy giggled, equally impressed. “It’s funny, when I was growing up here, Cloudsdale seemed so big and damp and sprawling. Ever since I visited the ground I couldn’t wait to be able to live there, but this… It’s amazing.”

Rarity nodded in agreement, and turned back to take in more of her surroundings. A few moments later, Fluttershy realized that she was still gazing at the white unicorn, almost entranced. She realized what she was doing, and blinked in surprise.

What’s going on? I’m not like this! I might have feelings for her, but I don’t eye ponies up when they’re not looking! I’ve not even looked at anypony in that way for years, let alone my friends…Why is it her, particularly? And why is she suddenly so… hypnotizing?

She shook her head, looking around to try and distract herself, her cheeks a little red. Then, a possible answer struck her.

You suppressed your feelings for so long. Imagine if you’d trapped yourself in the desert for days. When you get out, just think how amazing water suddenly tastes.

But why her? If that’s true, then why aren’t I getting these… thoughts about everypony?

You and Rarity fit together like pieces of a puzzle. You’re both intelligent, creative ponies with an eye for the artistic. Most importantly, neither of you have had enough kindness shown to you in your lives, and you both love to be kind. It’s the perfect balance. You’d both be truly happy. Face it, Fluttershy. If you weren’t so blinded by fear, you’d have fallen for her years ago.

It sounds so easy. Why am I finding it so hard to go through with?

Fluttershy, I’m the one you made, so you’d have somepony to talk to. I’m the one you go to for answers when the walls start closing in. But at the end of the day, I’m still you. I don’t have all the answers, but think about this: What if you’re afraid of happiness? The happier you are, the more you have to lose. You can’t live your life like that. Sure, there’s no such thing as certainty in something as complicated as this, but the dice are in your hooves. They always have been. Maybe it’s time to roll them.

Fluttershy blinked, realizing that she had zoned out again. The others had gone on ahead, and Twilight had finished confirming their bookings at the reception desk. Rarity looked concernedly back over her shoulder, noticing the pegasus standing halfway down the lobby. “Fluttershy? Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” Fluttershy caught up quickly with the others, embarrassed at her momentary loss of reality. “Sorry about that, I just had a bit of a moment.”

Rarity looked set to enquire further, but Dash trotted excitedly over at that moment, holding her room key in her mouth, and passing similar ones to Fluttershy and Rarity. She dropped her own key into a pocket on her saddlebag so that she could talk properly. “Come on, guys! Let’s check out the suites, they sound awesome!” She turned, heading for the wide, sweeping staircase at a canter.

Twilight shook her head in amusement, smiling as the rest of them began to follow at a more leisurely pace.

“She seems pretty fired up for tomorrow,” noted Pinkie, her voice one of uncharacteristic thoughtfulness.

“You could say that,” smirked Twilight, although she could not keep a slight undertone of worry from her words. She knew that Dash took the risks of the attempt with utmost seriousness, but the unicorn did not have the kind of mind that could leave a problem alone without stressing over it. The best she could do was to hope that her fears were unfounded.

The rooms were as impressive as the price tag implied. Twilight followed Dash into their suite, whilst the others entered their own and began unpacking their saddlebags. Her horn flared momentarily, closing the door behind them, and she looked around with interest.

The room was expansive, with a balcony boasting a picturesque view of the city; the not-too-distant Cloudiseum dominating the skyline. The double bed was a four-poster canopied affair. The duvet was regular, but the mattress itself was made from cloud. Twilight smiled when she saw this, realizing that she would finally get a chance to see if clouds were really as comfortable to sleep on as Dash had always described.

Hearing her come in, the cyan pegasus turned from admiring the view, and trotted over to give her a hug. “It’s good to be back in Cloudsdale,” she said, contentedly. “Funny, when I was a kid here we lived in an apartment block, down there, in the eastern end of town, above the factories. I’d look up at the towers and the places like this, and I’d wonder if I’d ever be up here, looking down on the city.”

“Doesn’t it hurt to come back here?” Twilight asked, knowing that Dash’s youth, spent in this very city, had been the worst years of her life.

Dash shrugged. “I grew up here. It never really felt like home, but it’s familiar. It’s weird, really. Nostalgia must be a pretty powerful thing to make me feel good about this place.” She sighed. “Maybe if I stayed here too long the bad memories might start comin’ back. Maybe that’s why I never wanted to move back here.” She pulled her head back a little to smile at Twilight. “You know, the library feels more like home than this place ever did. It’s the one place I’ve ever really felt safe.” She was silent for a few seconds, her eyes thoughtful. “To be honest, it’s the only place I’ve ever really been able to call home.”

Twilight leaned in, her voice barely above a whisper, feeling her lover sigh a little at the bloom of breath against her sensitive ear. “To me, it always felt homely, but now it’s just an empty treehouse when you’re not there… Oh, I don’t know how to put it without sounding silly or cheesy. You… you make me something more than just flesh and bone. Wherever you are, Rainbow, that’s home to me.”

Their eyes locked for a moment, a gentle but infinitely strong simpatico shared and reinforced between them. Each of them knew that she understood the other perfectly. Twilight was a realist, some might even say a cynic. She shied from belief in predestination or significance. She had accepted a long time ago that, regardless of her abilities or achievements, she was simply one pony among millions. She had accepted that she was a tiny, insignificant speck who would all too soon evaporate into the morass around her and be forgotten. At that moment, however, she was glad of that. The bond she shared with Dash was not predestined, or prophesied, or even expected. They were simply two ponies in the background of the whirling world, who had found each other in the darkness. The connection they had forged was forged by them, and them alone. To Twilight, that was true magic.

Their lips met like old friends, the kiss soft and sure. They did not rush, the contact playing out slowly and sweetly. Twilight felt the insistent slow-burn of desire rising inside her, and the familiar arcs of electricity leaping down her spine. She sensed the pegasus’s breath playing across her face, and was aware of each slight shiver that passed though her lover’s body as they rose instinctually onto their hind legs to pull each other closer. Dash took a few slow steps backwards to lean against the wall for stability, with Twilight mirroring her motions. They stayed like that for several long moments, each content to simply share the other’s presence. Dash began taking the initiative and shifted slightly, raising her hind leg to wrap sensually around Twilight’s flank, feeling the unicorn sigh throatily through their kiss.

To their mutual annoyance, there was a hesitant knock at the door. They broke apart, sharing a brief but longing glance, before turning to see who was there. “We can pick this up later,” Dash whispered in Twilight’s ear, her voice low and smouldering. Twilight shivered, as much at the promising tone of the words as the words themselves.

She nodded, flashing a faux-bashful smile over her shoulder, and went to get the door. To their surprise, it was Fluttershy, who was pawing nervously at the carpet in apparent apprehension. She noticed Twilight’s flushed complexion and, after a moment, blushed herself, evidently putting two and two together. “Oh, hello Twilight,” she said, her voice scarcely audible. “I’m sorry, I hope I’m not… interrupting…” The bloom on her cheeks deepened in shade at the last word.

Twilight smiled, doing her best to put the nervous pegasus at her ease. “It’s not a problem, Fluttershy. Are you okay?”

“I… I just wanted to talk to Dash, I need to ask her something.”

“Ask away, ‘Shy,” replied Dash, trotting over.

Twilight turned, sensing that it was a personal matter. She knew that Fluttershy would be a lot more comfortable with just her and Dash. “I’ll see how the others are getting on with their unpacking.”

Fluttershy nodded, gratefully. It wasn’t that she did not trust Twilight. Quite the opposite, in fact. She would trust the unicorn with her life, but her natural shyness made it difficult for her to talk about personal matters with an audience of more than one.

The door closed behind Twilight, and Dash turned to hear what Fluttershy had to say. The canary pegasus looked troubled, almost guilty.

“So, what’s up?”

Fluttershy looked at the floor, and swallowed. “It’s… it’s about Rarity again.”

“What’s happened?” Dash’s eyes narrowed, suspiciously. “Is she pestering you, trying to make you change your mind? Do you need me to talk to her?”

“Oh, no, of course not!” Fluttershy shook her head, hurriedly leaping to Rarity’s defence. “She’d never do something like that.” She sighed, deciding that it was best to get this over and done with. She did not know if Dash would be angry with her, or simply think she was a fool. Either way, she would have to take it. “I’m sorry, Rainbow. I’ve been lying to everypony; myself most of all.”

Dash raised an eyebrow, not seeing what she was getting at. “What d’ya mean?”

“I was afraid. I’ve always seen love as something that just sets you up for a fall. I spent so much of my life shielding myself from love, I just stopped being able to feel it. It’s only now I see how much I’ve been hurting myself, now it’s too late.” She looked up, meeting Dash’s eyes a little fearfully. “I do have feelings for Rarity. It’s all far too early and confusing to call them love, but I feel like I could fall in love with her.” She paused, searching her thoughts. “I want to fall in love with her.”

Defying Fluttershy’s expectations, Dash grinned. She seemed genuinely happy for Fluttershy. “That’s awesome,” she said, sincerely. “You’re getting beyond Flight School at last. That place messed us both up, ‘Shy. Twilight’s healed me, and maybe Rarity can do the same for you.”

Fluttershy felt her eyes well up, partly from relief that Dash was understanding of her situation, but mostly sadness at the opportunities she had missed. “But it’s too late,” she repeated. “I told her that I wasn’t interested. I broke her heart, Rainbow. I can’t just walk up to her and tell her that I’ve changed my mind. She’d think I was incredibly fickle. No, worse than that, she’d think I was incredibly cruel. I hurt her because I gave in to my fears; I let her down rather than take a risk myself. What kind of kindness is that?” She shook her head, inwardly-directed anger distorting her face. “I don’t deserve a pony like her in my life.”

Dash knew what the other pegasus was feeling. She had gone through it herself, not so long ago. “Fluttershy, look at me,” she said, gently. Her friend raised her glistening eyes from the floor, reluctantly meeting Dash’s. “The past doesn’t matter. What matters is how ya react to the past, and what ya do to build your future. Sure, you can give up now, you can walk away from her, and you’ll regret it for the rest of your life. You and Rarity are perfect together, I’ve thought it a million times. I know you, and I know how brave you can be. I know you deserve her, no matter what you say.”

Fluttershy nodded, although she did not seem entirely convinced. “Maybe you’re right,” she conceded. “But if I walk away now, if I give up, that’s when I stop deserving her.” She snorted in sheer frustration. “But what do I say to her? What can I possibly say that doesn’t make me look like I’m doing this on a whim?”

Dash shrugged. “Just tell her what you told me. Tell her about your past, tell her your reasons. I didn’t think you were being fickle, did I?” She smiled at Fluttershy. “She’ll understand. All ya need to do now is work up the courage.”

Fluttershy closed her eyes, as if making a decision that she knew she may come to regret. “Fine,” she said at length. “I’ll do it, but I’ll wait for us to get back to Ponyville first. I can’t do it here, in a strange city, with the risk you’ll be taking tomorrow hanging over me. I’ll ask her over to my cottage one evening, and I’ll explain everything to her and hope that she forgives me.” She sighed. “It’s not perfect, but it’s the best I can do.” She smiled at Dash, weakly, her eyes still not quite dry. “Thanks for the help, Rainbow,” she added, gratefully. She bestowed a brief hug to the cyan pegasus, and turned to admire the view from the balcony.

"Anytime, 'Shy," Dash smiled. “Some view, isn't it?” she remarked, turning with Fluttershy and gazing out across the cloudscape panorama. Both pairs of eyes were drawn inexorably to the Cloudiseum, lying almost broodingly on the edge of the city. It seemed to pull at them with a cold inevitability, and for almost the first time Dash felt a cold bite of apprehension in the pit of her stomach.

“Good luck,” Fluttershy said, her voice very quiet and a little fearful. There was no question about what she referring to.

“Thanks, ‘Shy, but It’ll be fine. I’ll be fine.”

Dash shifted her gaze beyond the Cloudiseum, to a bank of dueling storm-clouds on the distant horizon. The lightning forked and fell, peppering the earth below with shattering blades of arcing light. From this height, the sky seemed so alive. The sky was calling to her, and she knew that she had to obey. In the furthest distance, half-obscured by misty rolls of cloud, stood the mountain on whose slopes the city of Canterlot was built. Her sister was in that city, the one pony who held the key to the final piece of her history.

She turned from the window, intent on finding Twilight to tell her where she was going. The past was not so foreign to her; she could see the way it affected lives, long after its events had faded into memory. It was time for the past to be made to justify what it had done to her.

She turned back momentarily, fixing the distant mountain with a determined glare. No longer would she simply accept what fate and history threw her way. She had an appointment to keep.

Mistaken Identities

A Bluebird’s Song

~~~
Watch the big wheel, turning round
Some go up, and some go down
Some go thirsty, some just drown
That’s the law round here
Said the King of Sunset Town
~~~

Mistaken Identities

“Best of luck, Rainbow.”

Twilight and Dash stood on the silken cloud surface of their balcony, as Dash prepared to take flight. Dash smiled at the unicorn, her expression one of contentment, rather than the excitement or apprehension that Twilight had expected. “I just want to know that I tried,” she said, quietly. “Even if I can’t persuade her to tell me where Mom is, at least I’ll know that I did what I could.”

“I really hope this works out for you,” replied Twilight, gently.

Dash flared her wings, ready for takeoff. “Funny, really,” she giggled. “Me using magic, it seems such a weird idea. I feel like I’m half-unicorn now. You’ve given me an identity crisis, Miss Sparkle!”

“I aim to please,” smirked Twilight, winking at her marefriend. Dash leaned down, and they shared a brief but intense kiss, each getting a little lost in the other’s eyes.

“See you later,” Dash whispered, pulling away and launching herself skywards with a thrust of her powerful hind legs. Looking down at the hotel a moment later, she waved farewell to Twilight, who returned the gesture before heading back inside.

Flying was different now. Without worrying about the minutely complex and entirely unnecessary wing motions, every maneuver felt effortlessly natural. Her flight obeyed her thought, not her body. She still loved to feel the wind in her wings, and was in any case more aerodynamic with them outstretched, but she no longer flapped them. It could well have been her imagination, but she fancied that she could feel the magical energy flowing within her wing-bones, eager to be put to use.

Grinning broadly, enveloped in the familiar euphoria of the open sky, she flipped over and arced down between two cloud-buildings, dipping below the level of Cloudsdale before evening out and pulling back up past the factory districts. She was on the eastern side of the city now, a more industrial district where high-density housing pressed up against manufacturing and weather control plants.

Suddenly, a familiar smell met her nostrils, the citric tang invoking in her mind a strange mixture of nostalgia and fear. She brought herself to a halt almost without thinking, looking around at her surroundings. The air around her was peppered with heavily urbanized cloud-banks, the maze-like city disorientating by its very nature. Pegasi buzzed around her, ignoring her presence, concentrating on their jobs or families with little time to examine the world they inhabited. Dash knew that she should not delay, that she needed to get to Canterlot before too long, but something about this place intrigued her.

The factories. That’s the smell from the chimneys of the rainbow refineries.

Of course it was familiar. Sometimes it was hard to recognize places in Cloudsdale, because of the way that the clouds drifted of their own accord, and how new buildings sprang up and were just as soon removed again. Its face had been changed and weathered by the passing of time, but Dash knew this place. This was where she had grown up.

Below her were the factories that created that sharp scent that had accompanied her through her foalhood, through the good times and the all-too-common bad. Above her, built into the side of a well-tethered chunk of solid creamy-grey cumulonimbus, stood the six-storey block of apartments where she had lived with her father. Looking left, she saw with a pang of sadness that Fluttershy’s family home was no longer in its place. It once stood as the reassuring silhouette on the skyline; the sight that she used to see from her bedroom window when fate or her father had dealt her a poor hand that day. She could look across the empty space between them, and know that she had a friend who would not leave her. She often thought that that knowledge was what had kept her sane, and kept her going from day to day.

It saddened her now, finding that oasis of peace to be gone. Perhaps Fluttershy’s family had moved their home to another part of the city, as was often the way in Cloudsdale. Maybe they no longer lived in the city at all.

It was strange; she reflected. To her, and all of her friends, their life in Ponyville had become like a bubble. Fluttershy never spoke of her family, and Dash never saw any evidence of contact between them. Likewise, she did not know how long it had been since Twilight had so much as written to her parents. Applejack always went strangely quiet when the subject of parentage was broached, and as best they could tell Pinkie had never set hoof back on the rock farm since she began lodging with the Cakes. The only one of the six with an active parental presence was Rarity, and even for her that was not much beyond discussing her brief stints looking after Sweetie Belle. The strength of their friendships, combined with their duties as the Elements, tended to force them into excluding the rest of the world, their families included. Maybe it was wrong to exclude their past in this way, no matter what fears it held, or what distractions were in the present.

Suddenly, Dash could not resist landing for a few minutes to have a look around. This place felt like a gateway to her history, its opportunities both tantalizing and frightening in equal measure. She alighted on the balcony of the apartment block, cruising to a gentle halt before setting herself down in the open corridor. The familiar slightly-acidic scent surrounded her, the row of white, numbered doors stretching off down the line of apartments on this floor. She could not quite explain the way she felt. She had every right to be here, but felt almost as if she were trespassing, walking in a place that should, by rights, be left untouched.

What if he still lives here? The horrible thought struck her, and she backed instinctively away from the door marked ‘24’. She knew that her fears were unfounded. Even if her father still occupied Apartment 24, he would be well past his prime. She, on the other hand, was a well-trained athlete at the peak of her career, with every success and confidence on her side. Even if he found her here, there was nothing that he could threaten her with. Still, memories could be crueler than realities. She had no desire to re-ignite the shadows of her past.

Why did I even come here?

She was on the fourth floor, the balcony some way behind her now. Suddenly, she heard the soft hoof-falls of multiple ponies on the stairs behind her. Acting on instinct, not quite knowing why she was doing so, she darted to the far end of the row of flats and turned left, following the L-shaped corridor, hiding in the shadows just around the corner, out of sight.

She heard three ponies begin walking down the line of doors towards her. They were clearly a family, talking animatedly, one voice shrill and excitable, clearly a filly, her hoofbeats bouncing on the wooly cloud floor.

“Come on, now.” A mare’s voice, clearly the mother. “I know you’re excited for tomorrow, but you’ve got homework to finish tonight and you won’t get it done if you’re bouncing off the walls.”

“I don’t know why we’re bothering,” grunted a second voice, a stallion this time. He did not sound unpleasant, merely a little world-weary. “You never see anything at these air shows anyway, ten seconds, one fly-by, that’s it.”

“It’s not just an air show!” the filly exclaimed, sounding scandalized. “We’ll get to see a Sonic Rainboom!” She giggled. “I’m gonna do one of those, someday,” she announced, proudly.

Dash smiled to herself, realizing that these three were planning on attending her record attempt tomorrow. Something in the filly’s excited voice touched her, almost bringing a tear to her eye. She knew that she would have been like that foal once, had she been given the chance, and had her natural enthusiasm and effervescence not been so violently curbed.

She was not entirely sure what possessed her to make her next move. Once upon a time it would have been simply the pursuit of adulation or ego gratification, but now it felt like something more meaningful. Perhaps she wanted to see what might have been, had things been different for her. Whatever her reasoning, she stepped out from behind the corner, trying to make it look as if she had been simply walking along the corridor, rather than hiding.

The family of pegasi heard her approach, and their heads turned in Dash’s direction for a moment. Dash saw with a jolt of pleasant surprise that they had stopped outside number 24, and were apparently its current occupants. She wondered momentarily where her own father had gone after she had left, but the reaction to her appearance drove that thought from her mind. The mother and father looked away again, disinterestedly, but the vivid lilac filly did a double-take, her mouth falling open. “Mom! Dad! It’s her!” she exclaimed, looking stunned and pointing a hoof at Dash.

“Who, sweetie?” her mother asked, turning again to look at Dash. “And don’t point like that, it’s rude.”

“But it’s Rainbow Dash!” the filly said, grinning broadly.

Well, great work, brain. Now what do I do? Dash mentally berated herself. Whilst the foal was undoubtedly excited to see her, she now found two ponies squinting suspiciously at her, and had no easy answer as to why she was walking around the corridors of an apartment block that she did not live in.

“Uh, hey there,” she said, smiling back a little uncertainly. The filly seemed to bounce slightly at being addressed by a pony who was obviously something of a hero to her. Dash was reminded forcibly of an older version of Scootaloo.

The mother’s eyes widened in understanding and surprise. “Oh, you’re the one who’s trying to break the airspeed record tomorrow?”

“Guilty as charged,” Dash nodded.

The mare laughed, a little grudgingly. “Well, you’ve got a lot to answer for.” She gestured towards the excitable filly. “Won’t stop talking about you. She wants to be a racing flyer someday.” She smiled at Dash, her expression softening. “Even so, I’m glad you’ve given her somepony to look up to.”

“So, you wanna be a racer?” Dash turned interestedly to the filly, who grinned and nodded excitedly.

“Yeah! I can do loops already and everything.” She suddenly became a little shy, looking down and pawing at the floor with an awkward hoof. “Would… would you sign something for me? My friends are never gonna believe this!”

“Sure, no problem.”

The father rolled his eyes, evidently not a stallion prone to being wildly impressed by current celebrities. “I’ll get your poster, Fizzle,” he said, sounding a little bored with the whole situation and beginning to unlock the door to the apartment.

It was Dash’s turn to do a double-take, turning again to look at the pegasus filly. “Fizzle?” She burst out laughing. “Oh, that’s awesome! You were the one who wrote me that letter, weren’t you? The one about going really fast?” She had made sure to reply to the letter, although it had been one reply out of many and had been necessarily brief, albeit appreciative.

Fizzle’s eyes lit up. “You remember that?”

“’Course I do,” Dash smiled.

Fizzle’s father emerged from the apartment, holding a pen and a poster in his teeth. It was a brightly coloured image bearing the date and announcement of the record attempt, and a well-timed photograph of Dash’s Sonic Rainboom from the previous year. It occurred to Dash that whoever ran the Cloudiseum was probably making a fair few bits out of merchandise, and made a mental note to talk to Twilight about collecting royalties.

“See?” Fizzle poked her father, triumphantly. “I told you she’d read the letter!”

She took the poster, and held it out to Dash, who signed it. On an impulse, she added: ‘PS: Keep on going really fast!’ beneath her signature, and passed it back to the filly.

“’Fank oo!” Fizzle squeaked, her voice comedically muffled by the poster in her mouth.

Her father nudged her gently, taking the poster and tucking it beneath his wing. “Come on, now. You’ve got your poster signed, you’d better let Miss Dash get on with whatever she’s doing.”

“Okay then…” Fizzle turned to head indoors, looking back at Dash and beaming. “It’s amazing to actually meet you!” She called, still bouncing excitedly on the spot.

“Great to meet you too, Fizzle,” replied Dash, sincerely. “Keep up the flying!”

Then, the filly and father were gone. Fizzle’s mother, however, hung back, looking curiously at Dash. She was a rich shade of royal blue, her mane wavy and ice-coloured. “I didn’t want to ruin Fizzle’s moment,” she said, “but I’ve got to ask. What are you doing here of all places? You don’t live here, do you?”

Dash chuckled, and shook her head, deciding that it was best to be honest. “Nah, I’m a Ponyville girl these last few years. I just wanted to see this old place again.”

“Here?” The mare looked confused. “Why?”

Dash shrugged. “I grew up here. The same apartment you’re living in now, actually. I… I left when I was pretty young. I guess I wanted to see if this place was still here.”

“Really?” The dark blue pegasus laughed, too. “What are the odds of that? I’d better not tell Fizzle, she’d never let us move out.”

“It’s just… nice. It’s great to know this is a happy place now.” The words slipped out before she could think their implications through, and immediately regretted speaking them.

“Weren’t you…?”

Dash shook her head. “It’s in the past now; it doesn’t matter. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. This place is bound to be full of memories for you; you can’t help it if they slip out.”

“Hey,” Dash grinned, one particular memory occurring to her, “does the back wall of the kitchen still do that thing where it drifts forwards if you don’t anchor it with a chair or something?”

Fizzle’s mother rolled her eyes, smirking. “You have no idea. I swear it’s got worse since we moved in.”

“Funny, my dad always said he was gonna get someone in to fix that.” He had so many plans. I can’t think of one that actually worked out for him. Maybe that was why he started drinking. Dash nodded absently, looking around and catching sight of the distant mountain that was her destination. “I’d better let you get on, I don’t mean to keep hanging around like this.”

“No problem,” came the reply. “Just before you go though, I just wanted to say thank-you.”

Dash was a little taken aback. “For what?”

“They always say never to meet your heroes, because they’ll disappoint you. Thanks for being an exception to that, for my daughter. You really mean a lot to Fizzle.”

Dash smiled wryly, thinking back to her non-existent time with the Wonderbolts at the previous year’s Gala. “It sucks to be let down like that by ponies who’re important to you. I’d rather not be the kind of pony that other ponies regret looking up to.”

She turned to fly away, trotting up to the balcony and stretching her wings. “I’m Ruby, by the way,” Fizzle’s mother added. “Sorry for not introducing myself earlier.”

“No worries, nice to meet you, Ruby.” Dash smiled, and gestured towards the apartment. “Glad to see you’re looking after the place. See ya later!”

With that, she launched into the air, and began soaring at full speed in the direction of Canterlot, not bothering with any aerobatics this time.

What happened to you, Dash? She thought to herself. This time last month you’d have given that kid the whole ‘maybe one day you’ll be as awesome as me’ spiel.

Maybe I actually don’t need to boast anymore. Maybe I really am different.

In any case, it was nice to know that the apartment was no longer the dismal place it had once been. It was strange to know that a family ate and talked and laughed around a table that she had once cowered beneath, in the forlorn hope of hiding herself from her drunken father. Dash knew that everything must always change, but it was comforting to know that sometimes, just sometimes, things changed for the better.

Maybe I have as well.

Now, however, she needed to catch up on lost time. Gritting her teeth, the wind singing in her ears and whipping at her mane, she redoubled her speed.

By the time she arrived in the city of Canterlot, the weather was warm, and the pleasant hubbub of a meandering crowd drifted in the air. The city’s spires shimmered in the early afternoon sun, the cobbled squares thronged with unicorns from all walks of life, aristocrats rubbing shoulders with stallholders and students from the city’s many colleges.

Dash alighted on a marble pavement, looking around herself. She did not know the city well, and resolved to find a guard to ask the way to the dungeons. After briefly scanning her surroundings, she caught sight of a golden-armoured unicorn standing stiffly in a recessed alcove in front of an ornate fountain.

She trotted over, attempting to catch his eye. “Hey,” she said, a little awkwardly. The pure white unicorn turned his head to peer suspiciously at her. “This might sound kind of weird, but do you know where I can find the castle dungeons?”

“The dungeons aren’t open to tourists, kid,” grunted the guard, looking away disinterestedly.

Dash snorted in annoyance. “I’m not a tourist. I’m a visitor. A family member of mine’s imprisoned there, and I wanna pay her a visit.”

“Seriously?” The guard raised an eyebrow at her. “Most criminals in this city get dealt with by the police-ponies. You’ve gotta do something pretty damn bad to end up the castle dungeons. I can tell you now, if she’s in for something petty, try the police station.”

“Trust me, she’s in for a good reason. Heck, she’s been in for most of this week already,” replied Dash, trying to keep her voice level. She supposed that suspicion was to be expected, and guessed that she would have to try the palace itself and find a more superior officer to talk to.

The guard, however, grinned craftily. “Okay, then. I was on guard duty in the dungeons until we got rotated a few days back. If you can give me a name I recognize, then maybe I’ll believe that you’re not trying to waste my time.” He stood there, smirking as if he had just drawn an ace from his sleeve.

Dash’s eyes narrowed, and she decided to wipe the smile off his face. She dropped her voice. “Cloudshine mean anything to ya?”

The guard’s eyes widened. “Oh…”

Dash rolled her eyes. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

“Okay then…” The stallion was clearly taken aback. “You say you want to visit her? That you’re… family?”

“That’s pretty much it.” Dash nodded.

“Well then,” the guard cleared his throat. “It’s probably best if you come with me. I can explain to the other guys what’s going on, so they’ll let you in without any bother.”

“Fair enough.” Dash fell into step beside the gold-armoured stallion, a little irked by the conspicuous absence of any kind of apology for his flippancy. They passed beyond the crowds, upwards into the higher echelons of the city, the shops and residences becoming noticeably more opulent as they passed, and the crowds growing thinner. Eventually, they reached the golden palace gates, the arching metalwork stretching far up above their heads.

“I need to pass this on to the Sergeant,” the guard said. “Since our unit got rotated away from guard duty, he’s made it clear that any inquiries we hear about prisoners go through him first.”

Instead of passing through the gates, they turned left into a small guardhouse at the foot of the towers on either side. The guard opened the studded wooden door and called into the cramped, dimly-lit interior. “Sergeant Quintus!”

A second unicorn stallion emerged after a few moments, his golden armour more ornate than that of the guard Dash had been following, and a pink-tinged scar on his right cheek.

The guard saluted him. “Sergeant, you asked us to refer any inquiries about Sunset to you.”

Quintus nodded, scrutinizing Dash. “Thankyou, Private.”

“She says she wants to visit Cloudshine. Apparently she’s family.”

“I see,” Quintus’ eyes narrowed slightly, and he seemed to be thinking hard. “Very well, Private. I’ll take this from here. Come with me, Miss.”

Dash rolled her eyes, wishing that she had searched out the dungeons herself. She had only wanted directions, and now found herself being shunted from one escort to another. In truth, she realized that she could have planned this out a lot better. She had no proof of any kind of connection with Cloudshine, and had no idea of the usual protocol involved with visiting a prisoner. She wished that Twilight were with her; the unicorn’s organizational skills would have most likely come in useful.

The guard she had been following saluted again, and walked away, vanishing into the crowd.

Sergeant Quintus motioned to a grey stone staircase, hidden away behind the guardhouse, that hugged the rounded contours of the overhanging mountainside, and dipped away out of sight beneath the castle’s golden ramparts. The steps jutted out of the grey stone, the face of the mountain on one side, and a dizzying fall to the rocks below on the other. “The dungeons are built into a cavern system in the mountainside. Be careful on the steps.”

Dash was reasonably sure that the Princess would have forewarned the current dungeon guards that she planned to visit, and was confident that she would be allowed in. It was a relief that Quintus had apparently accepted her story, but at the same time it was strange. By rights, he should have turned her away and told her to come back with some kind of evidence that she had a good reason to be visiting. Pushing these doubts aside, she started down the steps, the Sergeant following a few steps behind. She moved nimbly, ignoring the drop to her left, trusting in her flight to save her should she slip.

She closed her eyes momentarily, her heart pounding in anticipation. What was she going to say? Would Cloudshine even give her a chance to explain who she was?

Don’t stress out about it. What’s the worst she can do?

The view up here was incredible, it had to be said. The verdant fields of Equestria stretched out as far as the eye could see, the rooftops and roads of Ponyville clearly visible on the edge of the Everfree Forest. Looking ahead, she could see the entrance to the dungeons loom into view at the foot of the staircase, a metal, arch-shaped door cut into the mountainside, some distance ahead of them.

Something was wrong. Something was nagging at Dash’s brain. Her intuition was buzzing, wheedling her, focusing her attention. What had the first guard said? He had been on guard duty in the dungeons. Their unit had been taken off dungeon duty a few days ago. Just after Dusk had been killed. Had they been moved for their incompetence? Or could they not be trusted?

“One of the guards must have been either paid off, or already in Sunset’s pocket.” Celestia’s words echoed inside her head.

What had the guard said to her? “I need to pass this on to the Sergeant. Since our unit got rotated away from guard duty, he’s made it clear that any inquiries we hear about prisoners go through him first.”

Oh no…

This time, her intuition had come too late.

The hoof-falls behind her had suddenly ceased, and Dash spun around. “Why’ve we stopped?” There was an edge of fear to her voice.

“Who sent you here?” Quintus’s tone was calm, almost conversational, though his eyes bored into her with a steely glare. “A pegasus wanting to visit a member of Sunset? That’ll be the day.”

Dash flared her wings, ready to flee if needbe. The unicorn might have magic on his side, but he could not pursue her in mid-air. “I’m her half-sister,” she repeated, hoping against hope that he would believe her, but knowing inside that he would not.

“A half-sister just appears out of nowhere, the moment Sunset’s in prison and vulnerable?” Quintus snorted. “Do you think I was born yesterday?” His horn flared, and he drew a golden ceremonial dagger from a sheath on his armour. It glinted in the sunlight, sharpened to an almost invisible razor’s edge. He gestured to her outstretched wings. “Don’t try it. You wouldn’t get ten feet. Now tell me,” his voice became angry. “There are a great many pegasus groups who want to put Sunset in the ground once and for all. You’re an assassin, or at least an opportunist, and you know it as well as I do. The only question is, which organization sent you?”

“I’m telling the truth!” Dash yelled, desperately. Her eyes narrowed, and she felt a surge of anger. “So, how much did they pay you to kill Dusk Tempest?”

“Enough. And they pay me enough to keep them safe,” growled Quintus.

“But look at me!” Insisted Dash. “I’ve got no weapons, nothing! I didn’t even know the way into the dungeons. I really am her half-sister. Ask the dungeon guards if ya like; the Princess told them I’d be coming. They’re expecting me.”

Quintus shook his head. “I know what Celestia did to Dusk. We all heard the screams, although none of as talk about it. I don’t trust her any more than I trust any of you pegasi.” He smirked, nastily. “Besides. If I let you go now, you’ll just go running to Celestia. I’d have to go into hiding for years, and trust me. I don’t want that. All in all, better safe than sorry.” He raised the blade.

Dash snorted, angrily, pawing at the ground, readying herself. She knew that there was only one way out of this.

Quintus looked at her for a still, silent moment, staring her down. The world seemed to hold its breath for a second, as they faced one another off on the mountainside steps. There was something almost apologetic in his eyes.

Then he lunged at her.

This Longest Night

A Bluebird’s Song

~~~
What did she say?
I know the pain of too much tenderness
Wondering when, or if you’ll come back again
Wanting to live for you, and being banned from giving
But only love will turn you round
~~~

This Longest Night

“It wasn’t your fault.”

The warm flow of water ran in rivulets down her body, the steam and soothing words relieving the pain that still burned in a dozen places. Twilight sat beside her in their suite’s spacious shower, gently sponging the dried blood from Dash’s coat. She had wanted to try to clean herself up, but after all but collapsing once she had arrived back at the room, Twilight would not hear of it. The painful flight back to Cloudsdale had taken it out of her, and the mental shock combined with her physical injuries were taking their toll.

“I just keep seeing his face, Twi’. He had a kid; he had a life.”

Twilight continued gently dabbing at the crescent-shaped cut where Quintus’s hoof had slammed into her side. Dash winced at the stinging sensation, but did nothing to stop her. “You didn’t take those things away from him,” Twilight replied, kindly. “Sunset already took them a long time ago. You didn’t have a choice, and neither did he.”

Dash’s eyes had drifted closed under the pleasant thrumming sensation of the water on her back, but they snapped open again at the sudden sharpness as the sponge in Twilight’s careful hoof wiped away the last patch of dried blood from her cyan fur.

The first thing she saw was Twilight’s face, her mane falling around her in watery waves, her eyes deep indigo pools, gazing at Dash with love and concern. It was an oasis of peace, a perfect contrast to the cold, cynical side of the world that had tried that day to hunt her down. In that moment, she was the most beautiful thing that Dash had ever seen.

Acting on impulse, not caring about the sting of the bruises that peppered her body, Dash pulled the unicorn into a close embrace. Their soaking coats seemed to melt together under the warm flow of the water, and they both shivered slightly. Dash realized that she was crying, silently, the tears flowing and immediately losing themselves in the water on her cheek.

They lay like that for several minutes, letting the water pound down upon them. Dash held Twilight tight the whole time, neither of them moving or speaking, keeping herself close to the unicorn’s comforting warmth. This form of silent, still intimacy was strange; an oddly cathartic experience. Dash felt as if she had broken herself down, piece by piece, melting beneath the steamy jets, laying herself bare so that her lover could build her up again, making her whole. Making her better, just as she always did.

She knew that she could expose her deepest fears, her darkest moments to Twilight, and she would not scorn her or turn away. The knowledge that she held that kind of trust was, to her, infinitely deeper and more profound than even the closest of physical intimacies they had shared together.

“I could stay like this forever,” murmured Twilight.

Dash smiled, her eyes half-closed, nuzzling into the unicorn’s neck. “I know what you mean.” Her words were muffled, and she heard Twilight giggle lightly at the tickling sensation against her throat.

Something was wrong, though. Something was nagging at her, and it would not let her rest easy. Suddenly, it hit her, and her eyes widened in horror. “Twilight!” She scrambled to her feet, shutting off the jet of the slower with a fumbling hoof. Her body hurt in a dozen places, and her bruised ribs complained, but she ignored them. The unicorn looked shocked at the sudden burst of motion, staring up at her from her still-prone posture. “We need to tell the Princess what’s happened! When they find Quintus they’ll trace it back to me. They’re gonna come here. They might take you in too!”

In the state of near-delirium in which she had landed at the hotel, Dash had not even thought of the danger she was in. She would be, to all intents and purposes, a murder suspect. She had no doubt that Celestia would believe her side of the story, or might even suspect that such a scenario had arisen herself, but the guards would doubtless see things differently. Regardless of what conclusions were reached, if she were taken into custody she would miss the record attempt the next day.

Twilight stood, surprisingly calm, and placed a soothing hoof on Dash’s dripping mane. “It’s okay, Rainbow. I’ve thought about this already.”

Dash turned to look at her, eyes still fearful. “Huh?”

“Quintus didn’t recognize you, right?”

Dash shook her head. “I don’t think so. Neither did the one who brought me up through the city. But the ones on the door to the dungeons did, and when news gets around that they’re looking for a blue pegasus, I’m the first one they’ll point a hoof at.”

“Exactly.” Twilight nodded. “But think about it, you’re an Element of Harmony and they know it. No matter what you’re suspected of doing, they’ll check with the Princess before looking for you themselves.”

Dash turned away, looking around the room for some writing paper. “Well then, we need to contact her, we need to do it now!”

“We don’t have Spike,” Twilight reminded her. “We’ll have to use ordinary Canterlot mail.”

Dash relaxed a little as she realized what Twilight meant. Canterlot mail was how mail got in and out of the unicorn city, with offices in all major Equestrian towns. Every night, at eight o’clock, the day’s mail was magically sent to and from the central office in Canterlot. It did not matter when they wrote the letter of explanation, it would arrive at eight that evening, regardless.

Then, Dash eyes narrowed in determination. “No, sorry. It’s not good enough. The Princess’s been a good friend to all of us, and I don’t let my friends down. She’s gonna want an explanation for this mess, and I’ve got to give her one. I’ve got to go back.”

Twilight stepped in front of her, and spoke sternly. “You’re not flying all the way back to Canterlot. The whole point of this is so you don’t miss the attempt tomorrow! Besides, you’ll never make the flight, not in this state.” She sighed. “I’m not sure how much you remember, but you had a cracked rib from that kick when you landed here. I put a basic mending spell on it, but I’m no healer. It’s going to take hours to work. It should hold for tomorrow, but all you’ll do if you try to fly is re-break it. Even without wing motion, flying at those speeds is still very strenuous.”

Dash blinked, remembering back to her half-landing, half-crash outside the hotel doors. All that came to mind was a disjointed jumble of faces and voices, Fluttershy squeaking in panic, Applejack’s voice husky and a little tear-choked at the sight of her, as she demanded of Twilight what had happened, in a manner that was almost accusatory as they helped her into the lobby. She seemed to recall a horn flaring, and Twilight’s eyes, fearful, but narrowed with concentration as she inspected the extent of Dash’s injuries.

Dash gritted her teeth, coming to a decision, but knowing that this went strongly against all of the things that she stood for. “Fine, I’ll stay put,” she grunted. “Besides, I’d just get picked up by the guards before I got within a mile of the Princess, anyway.”

Twilight gave a sigh of relief. “Thankyou, Rainbow,” she murmured. “I know you’re not happy with this, but Princess Celestia can put two and two together. I bet she’ll realize what’s happened. She knew that one of the guards was a traitor; I’m sure she can make the connection.”

“I hope so.” Dash nodded, sending a few loose drips of water onto the tiled bathroom floor. She still felt a little unreal, almost as if a small part of her had been hollowed out. “I just want this all to be over.”

Twilight nuzzled her damp neck, reassuringly. “Tomorrow. Tomorrow it’ll all be over. We can go home, and forget about Sunset. You can tie up whatever loose ends you need with your family.” She smiled at Dash. “I sent my paper on pegasus Flight Theory to the University of Canterlot yesterday, and another copy to the journal Equestria Scientific.”

Dash allowed herself a small smile. “So, we’ve won?”

Twilight sighed. “I hope so. I’m not going to say anything until you’re safe with your record, I don’t want to tempt fate. But I hope so.”

“That’s good enough for me,” Dash replied softly. She shook her head, her eyes suddenly contemplative. “It’s funny, really. I’ve always lived life so fast. Now it doesn’t seem to matter so much. I’ve made something of my life, I can see that now. But it just seems so much more important that I’m sharing that life with you.” She paused for a moment, making certain as she always did that her words were sincere. In her mind, they rang just as true as they always did. “I love you, Twilight.”

She lived for the way Twilight’s eyes lit up when she spoke those words, it sparked a sensation in her chest that she could not begin to describe. The unicorn moved up close to whisper in Dash’s ear. “I love you too, Rainbow.” She planted a light kiss on the ear’s tip as she finished speaking, and Dash felt herself shiver gently at the pleasant sensation, spreading her wings to wrap them closely around Twilight. Their bodies were still damp from the shower, and it lent a strange electric quality to the contact between them.

“I guess everything’s out in the open now, huh?” Dash asked, her voice low and contented.

“What do you mean?”

“We need to tell the others. About Sunset, about everything that’s been going on these last few weeks. They can’t be keeping eyes on us anymore, so we won’t be putting them in danger. Besides, they saw me arrive in this state, and they’re gonna want answers.”

Twilight nodded. “They deserve to know. They deserved to know right from the start, I just didn’t want to put them in harm’s way.”

Dash chuckled, quietly. “If I know Fluttershy, Rarity’ll probably already know… I guess we’d better not keep them waiting.”

“One more minute,” murmured Twilight, not wanting to leave the warm enclosure of Dash’s wings, and entwining her neck gently around her lover’s.

Dash smiled to herself, feeling her eyes drift gently closed as Twilight began trailing heated, lingering kisses down the smooth curve of her neck. On reflection, she was more than happy to wait.

Rarity was lying on her back, staring up at the ceiling of her room. Her artist’s eye was drawn to the chandelier, and she distracted herself for a few moments, looking over its layered, crystalline cascade. Despite the luxuriant accommodation and beautiful views across the cityscape afforded by her window, she could not find relaxation. She and her four friends had rushed outside when they saw Dash’s hard landing outside the hotel. She had stood fearfully by as Twilight inspected the pegasus. It was not her friend’s physical injuries that frightened her. It was largely exertion; Dash had been through worse in the past, and recovered easily. It had been the look in her eyes, in-between the semi-conscious flickers of her eyelids, a haunted expression undisguised on her face.

Thinking back to what Fluttershy had told her about Sunset, Rarity was willing to bet that these injuries had been no simple accident. Where had Dash been? What had she tried to do? Twilight had had no time to give an explanation, although one would doubtless come in time. This sudden transition from peace to a state of fear disquieted her. Sunset were not predictable, they could strike at any time with no warning or explanation. They were imprisoned, brought to their knees, and in a way it made them deadlier. Their motives had shifted from survival to revenge, striking out in a last flare of anger like a dying beast.

At that moment, there was a gentle knock at the door. Shaking herself from her nervous reverie, Rarity clambered ill-coordinatedly from the expansive bed, and went to get the door. To her surprise, it was Fluttershy, who smiled at her friend’s appearance. “Hey Rarity,” she said, her voice a little more confident than usual.

“Hello Fluttershy,” Rarity replied warmly, hoping that company would take her mind off the cycles of ever-darker conjecture that it was currently trapped in. “Do come in, make yourself comfortable.” She laughed, realizing her tone of voice. “Sorry, I sound so formal. Whenever I’m distracted, I just revert to shopkeeper mode.”

Fluttershy giggled too, although there was something in her eyes that indicated she was troubled. She trotted into the room, looking around at the pearl-grey décor. “I’d just met Applejack and Pinkie in the lobby. None of us had wanted to stay cooped up in our rooms so we’d all decided to get a bit of fresh air.” She sighed, almost inaudibly. “We met Twilight and Rainbow there, they’ve just finished getting Rainbow patched up.”

“And?” Rarity leaned forwards eagerly, her eyes wide and nervous, afraid that she had been the only one to miss an important development.

“They told us what… what had happened. All of it.” Fluttershy winced slightly at the memory. “You and I already know most of it, but it was news to Applejack and Pinkie.”

“How did they take it?” Rarity asked.

“I think they’d guessed something was up pretty much from the start, but they hadn’t expected anything like what’s been going on. They did understand why Dash and Twilight wanted to keep it quiet until now. I expect the two of them are discussing it now. Even Pinkie took it seriously.”

“Did they tell you what happened to Dash earlier? Where she went?”

Fluttershy nodded, her eyes downcast.

“Sunset?” Rarity guessed, grimly.

“I’m afraid so,” Fluttershy said quietly. “I just hope it’s the last we see of them, after what they’ve done.” Her eyes narrowed, and a cold tang of venom entered her voice. “They’re losing their lifelines fast. Today they might have lost their last, which means they’re all either locked up or dead. Those are the best places for them.”

Rarity looked at her friend in surprise, and there was a spark of some other emotion in the back of her mind. It was strange, really. There was a surprising passion in the canary pegasus. More than that, there was a deeply buried streak of schadenfreude, almost cruelty, hidden within her personality. Rarity knew it was wrong, almost perverse of her, but she could not help but feel a powerful surge of attraction towards Fluttershy when the darker side of her bubbled forth.

She loved Fluttershy above all for her kindness, and for her effortless grace and beauty. However, and she loathed to admit it to herself, a part of her wanted to feel the quiet mare’s anger; wanted to feel her teeth.

Rarity realized that she was blushing, and chided herself mentally. The matter at hand was deadly serious, and her strange half-acknowledged desires could wait until later. “So,” she struggled to keep her voice steady. “What happened?”

Fluttershy closed the suite’s door behind her, and perched on the edge of the bed. She sighed. “It’s a long story…”

Twilight and Dash sat at a low-standing drinks table together in the hotel bar. The evening was starting to wear on, and the streets of Cloudsdale were slowly draining of ponies. They had wanted to give the other four a chance to discuss what they had heard in more detail and privacy, and so had relocated down here. The band was playing on their dais across the room, a gentle ambient medley of minor-key jazz, and the wooden dance-floor before them already held a few early couples, taking advantage of the lack of crowds before the night drew onwards.

Twilight was reading over her letter to the Princess, one last time. She realized of course that a mere letter could not explain or excuse what had happened earlier that day, but it was the best they could do. She knew perfectly well that there would be a full investigation, she merely hoped that this could be put off until after Dash’s record attempt. She had trained and fought so hard for this, it would be hideously unfair to be denied her chance at the last moment in this way.

Dear Princess Celestia,

In the absence of Spike, I am resorting to the ordinary mail service in order to deliver this.
As you are no doubt aware, a guard by the name of Sergeant Quintus is missing.
You told us recently that one of the prison guards was likely a traitor,
and I regret to inform you that it was him.
As expected, Rainbow Dash went to visit her sister in jail earlier today,
and Sergeant Quintus, recently relieved of dungeon duty, offered to accompany her.
On the steps to the dungeons, Quintus made an attempt on Rainbow Dash’s life,
believing her to be an assassin sent to kill Cloudshine.

As best we can tell, he was coerced by Sunset into protecting them from revenge attacks,
and was also blackmailed into murdering Dusk Tempest.
Dash was forced to defend herself, and in the struggle, Quintus fell from the steps to his death.
She did subsequently go through with her meeting with Cloudshine, and then returned to me.
We are both currently at the Hotel Zephyr in Cloudsdale, and are both safe.

We are deeply sorry that Dash fled Canterlot, but she was injured in the fight with Quintus,
and under heavy psychological stress.
She needed me, and if she had stayed in Canterlot she would have been detained by the guards,
and doubtless would have missed her record attempt tomorrow, which is extremely important to her.

I am aware that it is utterly inadequate to attempt to resolve this with a letter,
but please understand that Dash acted out of self-defence.
She returned to me because she needed my help

I hope we can offer you a more thorough explanation when we see you tomorrow.

Your faithful student,
Twilight Sparkle.

Twilight passed the missive to Dash, rolling it up and flicking it through the smoky air with a flare of her horn. “Is that okay?”

The pegasus took the scroll, and read it briefly. She sighed. “It’s fine. I just feel like I should be there to tell her personally, ya know?”

Twilight nodded. “I know what you mean, but we don’t have any choice. It’s one of those times where there’s no good solution.”

Dash yawned, quietly. “Okay, I’ve decided I’m not gonna think about it again tonight. It’s just gonna do my head in otherwise.”

“Good thing the attempt’s tomorrow.” Twilight smiled as a thought occurred to her, eyeing the half-drunk glasses of orange and soda on the table in front of them. “You’d probably be hitting the drinks pretty hard right now, otherwise.”

Dash shook her head. “I don’t drink. Never have.”

Twilight raised an eyebrow, surprised. “Really?”

“Yeah.” Dash looked around at the bar, relaxing back on the leather sofa she was sharing with the unicorn. “I dunno, it never felt right. Besides, look at my Dad. Gettin’ to be an alcoholic might run in the family, and I don’t wanna take that risk.”

“Oh.” Twilight was annoyed with herself. She should have realized that drinking would be a touch subject for Dash, and was worried that she had come across as insensitive. Fortunately, the pegasus did not seem to have taken the remark badly. “What do you think of the band?”

Dash paused for a moment, listening to the ambient music. They had changed songs, and now the room was filled with a light, acoustic tune that rose unobtrusively above the buzz of conversation. “Not my usual kind of thing, give me Neighvana any day.” She shrugged. “On the other hoof, can’t deny it suits the place.” She smiled at Twilight. “What kind of music do you go for? I’ve never heard you listen to any.”

“I’ve never really had the time,” admitted Twilight. “I like the stuff Pinkie puts on at her parties, but that’s more for dancing, isn’t it? I wouldn’t listen to it while I was reading.”

Dash laughed, quietly. “You never really learned to dance, did you, Twi’?”

Twilight smirked. “However did you guess?” Her eyes widened a little. “Don’t tell me you did?”

Dash rolled her eyes. “One of the horrors of Flight School. Apparently it’s good for coordination, so they made it compulsory for a couple of terms. That was how I met Gilda, actually.”

“Two unwilling participants?”

“Exactly.” Dash took a swig of her drink. “Shame it went so badly wrong when she showed up. I mean, she was always kinda… possessive. I just never realized how far she’d take it.”

Twilight nodded, leaning back into the sofa. She gestured to Dash’s side, which was still bruised and sore-looking, although the magic was hurrying along the healing process and the injury already looked several days old. “How’re you holding up? Do you think you’ll be alright for tomorrow?”

Dash prodded her side experimentally with a hoof, and winced. “It’s not as bad as it was. It shouldn’t be a problem tomorrow. I had a bit of a practice on the way over to Canterlot, and I think I was breaking fourteen hundred. Can’t be sure, though, there was a crazy headwind part of the way.”

Tomorrow. It’s tomorrow. A cold fist of panic closed suddenly over Twilight’s heart. Celestia’s words echoed in her head. I cannot guarantee it will be safe. Questions spun in the back of her mind, each clamouring for attention and solution, yet each more insoluble than the last. What secrets had Dusk Tempest made himself forget? What secrets had he taken to the grave with him? What if he wanted to prove that what Celestia had done to him made no difference? She hurt him to protect Dash, but what if Dash cannot be protected? Sunset may be in jail, but maybe that’s our mistake.

Dusk never really considered himself a part of Sunset. It was really only ever about him and Celestia.

Twilight looked across at the pegasus she loved so dearly, and had to suppress a horrible lurching sensation in the pit of her stomach.

What if this time tomorrow I’m on my own?

Dash could see the fear shining in Twilight’s eyes, and seemed to realize what she was thinking. She held out a hoof, and Twilight gripped it between both of her own, holding on as if afraid the pegasus would slip away from her. “Twilight?”

The unicorn met her eyes, a little shyly. The music had changed again, slow and haunting, the piano singing out a melancholy aria. “Yes?”

Dash leaned in and brushed the gentlest of kisses against her lips, still holding her hoof tightly. “Can I have this dance?”

Twilight blushed a little, and nodded mutely, getting to her hooves alongside Dash. She felt as if her heart were filling her throat as she walked onto the sparsely populated floor with the pegasus. They rose onto their hind legs; she felt Dash place one hoof on her waist, and mimicked her actions. There’s a first time for everything, she thought to herself, as they began moving with the rhythm of the piece, Dash taking the lead. Please, Celestia, let this not be the last time.

Her movements were slightly uncoordinated, but the timing was there, and she felt that she was, at least, not making a fool of herself. The room was darkly-lit, their hooves scarcely sounding on the springy wooden panels, their shadows dancing in the flickering candlelight. She felt herself loosen up a little as she turned slowly with the pegasus, gazing into the depths of Dash’s magenta eyes. She tried to stop the tears forming, but they welled up anyway, and she saw Dash’s eyes moisten in sympathy. “When we get home, teach me to do this properly,” whispered Twilight.

“I will, Twi’. I will.”

Twilight pulled Dash a little closer. “You’re going to come back,” she murmured, her voice cracking a little. She had not meant to say it, but the words had sprung from her, unbidden. “You’re going to come back.”

The dance became an embrace. They still moved in gentle circles, but held each other close. To Twilight, they were alone with the music. Nothing else mattered but the mare in her forelegs. When the future seemed so uncertain, the present became more precious than anything else in the world.

Not caring that they were in public, or that anypony might be watching, Twilight leaned forwards to pull Dash into a lingering kiss.

And so the evening wore on, both of them living by each minute as it came. For each of them, the other was the only real thing in the world, as they moved, slowly but surely, towards the fall of night.

End of Part Two.

Catching Sparks

A Bluebird’s Song
Part Three

~~~
There’s a truth in the madness
That I can’t get beyond
And a fever that won’t leave me alone
I can’t get beyond you
~~~

Catching Sparks

“I thought it’d be quieter,” remarked Rarity dryly, looking down from the wide picture window of the second floor landing.

Their alarm calls had come, as requested, at seven o’ clock that, waking them to the glare of the cold rising sun. Even Rainbow Dash had defeated her usual antipathy to mornings, and had been wide awake in a matter of minutes. For Twilight, the start of the day had passed in a dreamlike blur of frantic preparation, last minute correspondence, and barely-suppressed worry. She had posted their missive to the Princess in the hotel’s mailbox the previous night, but had heard no word from Celestia or her guards. She took it as a good sign that no golden-armoured stallions with arrest warrants had dragged them out of bed in the middle of the night, but even so the silence was unnerving.

They had been informed by the Cloudiseum officials that transport from the hotel would arrive for them at nine, although Twilight could not understand why they were doing so. The Cloudiseum was within easy walking distance from the hotel, so sending a pegasus carriage at first came across as rather unnecessary. However, when she joined Rarity at the window to see what she was looking at, the reasoning behind the decision became clear.

It seemed as if half of Cloudsdale had turned out, ready to greet Dash. A line of trenchcoated and trilbied journalists waited eagerly at the front of the crowd, notebooks and cameras at the ready. Occasionally, flashbulbs would ignite with puffs of smoke, or banners bearing encouraging slogans would be hoisted experimentally above the heads of the crowd. The noise was a low, excited buzz of expectant conversation.

Twilight gaped at the sight, and retreated away from the window. Rarity smirked at her over her shoulder, remaining where she was. “Told you.”

“That’s… wow, that’s something.” Twilight muttered. She had known that Dash was popular, particularly in Cloudsdale seeing as she was a product of the town, but had not anticipated this. She had harboured vague expectations of public reaction, a few photos, a few autographs, but this went far beyond such simplicity.

I suppose it was stupid of me, she thought to herself. Dash’s already famous from the Young Flyer’s Contest, and the Cloudiseum’s owners will have spent big bits on publicity for an event like this.

She shook her head, trying to pull herself together. For most of her life she had been an extremely private pony, sometimes bordering on actively asocial. Now she was ostensibly Dash’s trainer, and the fact that she was not herself a pegasus would result in a significant share of the limelight coming her way. She knew that she could handle small-scale interviews and the occasional piece of fan-mail, but had no idea if she was ready for this kind of exposure. She had been aware from the start that the Cloudiseum would likely be packed out, but the crowds there would be at a good distance, easier to avoid focusing on.

This was unexpected, and Twilight had never liked the unexpected in the slightest.

Rarity suddenly turned away from the window, looking suddenly concerned. “Oh dear,” she murmured. “Fluttershy. She’s not going to like this at all.”

Twilight winced. Her friend was, of course, right. If she was nervous about presenting herself before thousands of eager eyes, then how would the ever-fearful pegasus react? “You’d better go and talk to her,” she said with a sigh. “You’re better at this than me.”

Rarity nodded, heading up the corridor. “I’ll be as gentle as possible,” she replied. “Even so, it’s going to be a challenge to get her out of her room when she knows what’s waiting out there.” She laughed, and Twilight attempted to join in, although the result sounded inelegant and stilted. Today, laughter did not come naturally to her.

“Whoa, Twi’!” Twilight turned to see Dash bounding up the stairs towards her, a pair of flight goggles that she had been searching for dangling over her hoof. She pointed in the vague direction of the window, looking amazed but pleased nonetheless. “It’s a convention out there, I just saw ‘em through the lobby window!”

Twilight was pleased to see that her magic had done its job, and the Dash was no longer wincing when she walked. “Better bring a spare pen,” she remarked, “I see a lot of posters out there.” She gestured towards the pegasus’s side, which no longer looked red and inflamed. If there was still a bruise, it was hidden beneath the blue fur. “How’s your chest feeling now?”

Dash gave the damaged area an experimental poke with a hoof, and looked relieved. “It’s great now, the pain’s pretty much gone. It’s not gonna affect my flying today,” she said, a reassuring note of certainty in her voice. “Take-off’s at twelve, right?”

Twilight nodded. “That should give the magic time to fix up any last twinges.”

The pegasus smiled gratefully at her. “Thanks for patching me up, Twi’.”

“No problem,” Twilight returned her smile, feeling the expression come to her a little more naturally. “Thanks for putting up with my dancing last night.”

“Nothin’ to put up with, you picked it all up pretty quick.” Dash waved an airy hoof, then leaned in to whisper to the unicorn, her eyelids falling to that half-closed gaze that always made Twilight’s heart quicken a little. “Besides, you showed me a few new moves afterwards, didn’t you?”

Twilight blushed, biting her lip. “I do my best,” she whispered back, her voice suddenly low and infused with a little duskiness.

“Then I’d say we’re even.” Dash winked at her, affectionately nuzzling the soft patch of silken fur just above the unicorn’s ear.

A noise from behind them interrupted the moment. With a rattle, Fluttershy’s door flew open, and the normally-timid pegasus ran skittishly across the thickly-carpeted landing to gaze fearfully out of the window. Her mouth dropped open at the sight that greeted her, and without a word she turned and bolted back into her suite, slamming the door shut behind her. Panicked squeaks drifted through the cloud wall, accompanied by Rarity’s reassuring voice.

“Seems Rarity wasn’t tactful enough,” muttered Twilight, ruefully. Coaxing Fluttershy to come out and face the cameras was going to be an interesting experience, to say the least.

Dash rolled her eyes, apparently thinking along the same lines as Twilight. “This is gonna be a long morning.”

Captain Gladius knew that the princess was troubled, even before he opened the door to her throne room. The distinctive click of her golden-shod hooves rang out against the marble floor as she paced from one side of the room to the other. Gladius knew that he had been summoned, but nonetheless felt that it was a courtesy to announce himself first, given that the princess was obviously in such a troubled state of mind. A little nervously, he knocked twice on the door.

“Captain?”

“It’s me, your highness.”

“Come in.” Celestia’s voice was a flat monotone. Gladius pushed the door ajar and entered the room. The princess had halted her pacing, and was standing at the throne room’s window, looking down on the city below. A letter was held in mid-air beside her, but she folded it up and stowed it beneath her wing when the captain entered the room. The steeply-angled rays of clear morning light fell around her, a cold spotlight of her own creation.

“Your highness,” Gladius saluted, briefly. “D Company of the pegasus guards have been stationed in and around the Cloudiseum. If there’s any trouble, they can react at a moment’s notice.

Celestia nodded. “Good. What about the Wonderbolts?”

“No luck. They’re out of the country at the moment; a diplomatic incident in Zebrica.”

The princess sighed. “They would have been useful, too, there’s no chance of getting them back, is there?”

“It’s a four hour flight even in favourable good conditions, and I gather there’s quite a storm over the sea.” Gladius lowered his voice, steeling himself. “There is one other matter that I must discuss with you.”

“Yes?” He was sure that the princess knew to what he was referring. He had been skirting around this issue since yesterday, but realized that now was the time to act on it.

“Princess,” he paused for a moment, hoping that his next words would not see him demoted, or worse. “I’m one of your guards, and I would gladly lay down my life in your service, but please understand that I’m no fool, and I hope you don’t take me as such.” Gladius looked at the floor, unable to hold the princess’s gaze. “I know what happened to Sergeant Quintus, at least generally. It’s obvious what happened from the barest of investigations, and it’s equally obvious who the culprit is. I don’t know the motive or the details, but something happened between Rainbow Dash and Sergeant Quintus on those steps yesterday, and it resulted in the sergeant’s death.”

Celestia did not immediately reply, and Gladius hastened to clarify his intentions. “My point is; if I’ve worked it out, then others will as well. Particularly if they find the body. Anypony who knew that Miss Dash was scheduled to visit the dungeons at that time will be able to put two and two together.” He sighed in exasperation at the bizarre situation. “We’ve got eighty armed pegasi in Cloudsdale for the express purpose of protecting a pony who they should, by rights, be arresting on suspicion of murder.”

There were a few more moments of silence, and Gladius chanced a glance back up at the princess, who looked pensive. To his relief, there was no anger in her eyes, even though he realized he had likely stepped quite far out of line.

“I’m sorry, Captain,” Celestia said, at length. “I realize that letting this record attempt go ahead must seem foolish of me. But… you know what I had to do to Dusk Tempest. I feel that if this can go ahead without any harm coming to Rainbow Dash, I might be able to find some closure, maybe some kind of justification for what I did.” She drew the letter out from under her wing, the tip of her horn glowing slightly as she held it in mid-air. “I received this from my student, last night. An explanation, of sorts. I see no reason to doubt its truthfulness.”

“That’s it? A letter?” It was all Gladius could do to hold back a snort.

The princess nodded. “Of course, the matter doesn’t simply end here. I fully intend to conduct an investigation, and I’ll need to bring in both Twilight Sparkle and Rainbow Dash.” Her eyes hardened a little. “I’ll do it myself though, I don’t want the guards involved. Because if this explanation is true then it seems Rainbow Dash has done us something of a service, and I don’t want her to feel as if she’s being arrested for something that was so utterly beyond her control.”

“Beyond her control?” echoed the captain.

With a flare of her horn, Celestia floated the letter over to Gladius, so that he could read it. “Twilight’s never given me any cause to doubt her before,” the princess stated with a tone of finality. “The story checks out all along the line with what we already know. I’m not letting this matter go just yet, but I want to give Rainbow Dash the chance to finish what she’s been working towards.” She paused for a moment. “I’m going to give her today.”

Before he unfolded the letter, Gladius nodded. “Very well, your highness. I’m sorry for my impertinence.”

Celestia shook her head. “I don’t mind. I appreciate that you feel able to speak frankly with me.”

The captain looked up, the unread letter falling to his side. His instinct told him that he had gone far enough, but curiosity got the better of him. “May I ask one last question?”

“Of course.”

“What… what you did to Dusk Tempest. It’s something I know you’d never normally do, but you were able to round up Sunset because of it, and you could also protect Rainbow Dash because of it. Which reason was it that made you able to do something like that?”

Celestia turned away for a few long moments, falling again to gazing out of the wide window. Gladius feared for a moment that he had crossed a line, that he had gone too far, but then the princess turned back to look at him, the expression on her face betraying a slight chink in her armour. “Neither,” she said, quietly. “Obviously I wanted Dash to be safe, and obviously Sunset needed to be brought to heel. But I did it for Twilight’s sake.”

“Your student?”

“Yes. Rainbow Dash means everything to her. If I’d let anything happen to that pegasus, when I could have prevented it, Twilight would never have forgiven me. There are so few ponies who mean anything to me, but sometimes, once in a few centuries, I’ll find one. I’ll find a pony I know I’ll still remember ten thousand years from now, and if I’d betrayed Twilight in that way, I’d still feel the guilt of that betrayal just as strongly ten thousand years from now. I couldn’t bear that; I had to avoid it any way I could. I suppose… I suppose I did what I did out of selfishness.”

She turned away again, but not before Gladius caught sight of the liquid tracks beginning to creep their treacherous way down her snowy cheeks. “I… I’m sorry, your highness,” he stammered. “I didn’t realize that it was such a… personal matter.”

“You couldn’t have known.” Celestia shook her head, still staring resolutely out of the window, into the beams of the rising sun. “Thankyou for listening to me, Gladius.”

Unsure of how to respond, but realizing that the princess would like to be alone, Gladius held out a hoof offer her back the letter that he had not yet read. Celestia, however, did not take it.

“Keep it for the moment,” she said, quietly. “You’re right, Captain. I shouldn’t take you for a fool. I… I feel as if I need some time alone before I depart for Cloudsdale, but I’d like for you to read it. You deserve an explanation.”

Gladius nodded. He recognized the dismissal, but also the note of reconciliation, almost apology, in Celestia’s words. “Thankyou, your highness.” He bowed, and left hurriedly, not wanting to outstay his welcome any further.

Celestia watched as the door swung shut behind him, and closed her eyes. For a moment, she willed the world to simply disappear, and leave her to a silent and guiltless rest. She knew it would not. She knew that it never would.

Ponies are relying on you. Twilight needs you just as much as you need her, she told herself, sternly. Pull yourself together, Celestia. If you’ve got to live forever, there’s no point spending your eternity wishing it would end. You’ve been gifted a beautiful world, but it won’t always be like this. Take what joy you can in it, while you’ve still got the chance.

She let out a small snort, turning away from the window. Sometimes mortality looked so enviable, but she knew that now was not the time to dwell on such things. It was time to go to Cloudsdale.

“I am never doing that again.”

The door of the pegasus-drawn carriage swung shut behind the six ponies, muffling the sounds from the excitable crowd of autograph-seekers and reporters. Fluttershy collapsed onto the plush velvet bench-seat beside Rarity, her knees trembling a little. “I thought the Hearth’s Warming Pageant was bad,” she added, her voice scarcely audible. Obviously, Dash had drawn most of the limelight, but there had been enough cameras directed in her general direction to render the timid mare practically comatose.

For the others, the foray from the hotel to their waiting carriage had been a colourful whirl of camera flashes, cheers, and a seemingly-endless stream of magazines and posters for Dash to sign. A few had been pushed in Twilight’s direction as well, which had been a pleasant surprise. All in all, it had not been as bad as the unicorn had feared. Pinkie Pie and Rarity had looked positively thrilled, and Applejack had tilted her hat down in a vague attempt to obscure her face. Before they had emerged, Rarity had sifted through her luggage and procured a suitably wide-brimmed summer hat for Fluttershy, which the nervous mare had gratefully accepted. The absence of eye contact with the eager throng of ponies had made the whole ordeal a little less mortifying for her.

Now that she was in the carriage, with the crowd muffled and out of sight, Fluttershy seemed to relax a little, and began idly toying with the lacy blue trim of the hat that she was now holding in her forehooves. Against both her will and her better judgment, Fluttershy’s eyes roved from time to time in the direction of the pearly-white unicorn sitting beside her.

The carriage only barely held six, and it was difficult for Fluttershy to prevent her thoughts from moving so unerringly in the one direction that she wanted to avoid, considering the way that she was sandwiched between Rarity and Applejack. The white mare seemed too preoccupied with the excitement of the previous few minutes outside the hotel to notice Fluttershy’s distraction, for which the timid pegasus was devoutly thankful.

Due to the slight difference in height between the two of them, Rarity’s horn was only inches from Fluttershy’s face, and she could have sworn that she felt the ambient magical aura tingling electrically against her lips, leaving a sweet, metallic tang that she could not identify, but enjoyed immensely. She was unable to suppress a slight shiver, actively forcing herself to not crane her neck probingly forwards to better taste the aura of Rarity’s magic. The temperature within the carriage’s cramped yet luxurious interior suddenly felt uncomfortably warm, and Fluttershy considered herself lucky that her cheeks were already scarlet from her encounter with the crowd.

Oblivious to the tension on the other side of the carriage, Dash was grinning excitedly at Twilight. The lavender unicorn was unable to help smiling back, finding the pegasus’s excitement to be infectious. “That was awesome,” Dash exclaimed, leaping a little in an excited bounce, at the exact same moment that the carriage began moving with a sudden jerk, causing her to collapse backwards onto the seat between Twilight and Pinkie.

The purple unicorn laughed at the sight of the toppling pegasus, and reached out a helping hoof to set Dash the right way up again.

“Do ya’ll reckon the conditions look okay today?” enquired Applejack, leaning forwards with interest. “Ah don’t know much about this flyin’ stuff, but it looks like a good clear day.”

Dash nodded. “Seems fine, AJ. We’re above the clouds, so rain’s not a worry. Takeoff’s at noon; the sun’s gonna be right above so it won’t be blinding.”

High noon, she thought to herself, ruefully.

“Wind seems fine too,” noted Twilight, turning to Dash. “Remember what I told you, though. Air currents can be very unpredictable at these heights and speeds. If you don’t feel you can handle the turbulence, pull up. There’s no rule that says you’ve got to get it on the first try.”

“I know, Twi’. But I’ve been able to handle it in training at those speeds. I know I’ve never been able to go twice the speed of sound yet, but I’ve come pretty close.”

Twilight nodded. “True, and let’s face it: If you need an atmosphere that’ll give you the confidence to go the extra mile, I’m pretty sure a stadium full of ponies cheering you on is exactly the right thing.”

Dash could see the sense in this. Last year of course, the exact opposite had happened. She had spent so much time convincing herself that she could not succeed, that her routine had fallen apart out of sheer nerves. In a way, she was no less afraid this year. Perhaps more so; last time she had merely had the fear of humiliation hanging over her, but this year there was potentially Sunset’s presence to contend with. The consequences of their intervention could be far more serious.

Despite this additional worry, the nerves were not all-consuming as they had been last year. This time she had absolute faith in her abilities, and an equal faith in Twilight’s magical prowess to keep her safe.

There are some things no amount of magic can protect you from, Dash, remember that. Things like stupidity.

I’m not gonna do anything stupid.

You say that now, but what about when you’re caught up in the moment? What about when hundreds of ponies are cheering you on? Would you really be able to stop yourself if things started to go wrong?

I…

Don’t try to justify this to yourself. Just remember you're not immune to your ego, even now. You’re already putting yourself at enough risk; don’t let Twilight down, she deserves better than you destroying both of your futures for some stupid burst of pride.

Dash would probably have continued further along this trail of thought, but she did not have the time to do so. At that moment, the carriage pulled up to a sudden halt, and an auburn pegasus stallion with rectangular glasses, a neatly-parted burgundy mane and a welcoming smile pulled the door ajar.

Sunlight streamed into the pony-filled interior, and the carriage’s occupants craned their necks to get a better view of the outside. With a gasp, Dash realized where they had pulled up. One by one, the six ponies disembarked, thanking the pegasi that had pulled them, and looking around at their surroundings. A close observer might have noticed an expression torn somewhere between relief and disappointment on Fluttershy’s face as she left Rarity’s side. For some reason, the alabaster unicorn’s cheeks were a little flushed as well, and she was looking almost appraisingly at the flustered pegasus, a small, secret smile playing across her lips.

Twilight had expected to arrive at some kind of back entrance or preparation area, but it was not the case. The carriage had alighted on a hovering dais of cloud, in the centre of the empty Cloudiseum.

It was a strange quirk of such venues that they always seemed larger when deserted. At this height above the ground, the wind whistled constantly in their ears, but even so the place seemed eerie and silent. They had been here before, but then it had been packed out and filled with the buzz and chatter an a sizable crowd. Of course, the spectators would arrive soon enough. Even so, seeing the great oval stadium’s many boxes and seats devoid of anypony beyond a few scattered guards and staff was a little unnerving, and Twilight felt almost as if they were trespassing, a sensation similar to the moment before making the first print in an untouched field of snow.

“Good to see you all,” said the stallion who had let them out of the carriage, the sudden sound making Twilight jump and breaking into her introspection. His voice was friendly, assured, and his cutie mark depicted an old-fashioned megaphone and a quill, crossed over one another like swords. “My name’s Limelight, I put on the shows here.”

Twilight moved forwards to shake hooves with him, recognizing a kindred spirit in the art of organization. “Twilight Sparkle. Thanks for setting this up at such short notice.”

Limelight did his best to look modest, straightening the black-framed glasses on his muzzle. “Well, if the princess asks you to do something you’re not exactly going to say no, are you? Besides, we’ve dealt with much worse in the past, and between you and me, it’s been too long since we’ve had something really interesting going on here.”

Rarity stepped forwards, looking impressed. “I must say your team do a wonderful job keeping the place in shape.”

Limelight turned to look at her, and his eyes narrowed in mock-irritation, although he smiled a little, somewhat ruining the effect. “Ah, you’re that one who very nearly ruined the Young Flyer’s Contest last year, aren’t you?”

Rarity blushed, and stammered a slightly incoherent apology, but Limelight burst out laughing. “I’m kidding, don’t worry. That was the best show we’ve had in years!” Rarity looked relieved, but a little annoyed with herself for being taken in so easily.

“Anyhow,” piped up Applejack, “y’all have nuthin’ to worry about this year.” She smirked at the alabaster unicorn. “We’ve made sure her wings are well an’ truly clipped this time ‘round.”

“Oh ha-ha,” muttered Rarity.

“This is gonna be cool,” enthused Dash, looking around her at the stadium.

“Right,” Limelight gestured in the direction of the backstage area. “Let’s take you to meet the prep team. They’ll make sure your equipment’s all working, and make sure your course is charted right, taking account of wind. We don’t want you getting up to speed and then ending up flying over Trottingham instead of the Cloudiseum.”

“Isn’t there a backstage entrance then?” enquired Twilight, as they followed Limelight across the narrow bridge of cloud that connected the takeoff and control area to the backstage. She was grateful that the organizers had had the foresight to set up the arena in a way that was traversable by non-winged ponies.

Limelight nodded. “Yeah, but it’s packed outside the arena, and we thought you’d probably have had enough of autograph hunters for one day.” He turned to look at Dash. “You need to be calm and collected for something like this, and wading through crowds of ponies with cameras probably isn’t the best way of going about that.”

“Thanks for that,” Fluttershy said, weakly, her voice sounding intensely relieved at narrowly avoiding a second round with Dash’s fans.

The six of them followed Limelight into the well-lit backstage area, the bare cloud feeling light and springy beneath their hooves. A row of dressing rooms stretched out along one wall, and the opposite wall housed a single door with Event Organization written on it in neatly printed black lettering. The rest of the room was filled with chairs grouped around small tables, and was dotted with a few well-stocked magazine racks with which the ponies waiting backstage could keep themselves entertained.

“We’ll have your goggles and other kit brought in from the carriage,” explained Limelight.

“What about my velocity tracker?” Twilight asked, her voice sounding a little worried.

The brown stallion shook his head. “Sorry, we’ve got to use our own data recording equipment. It’s not that I think you’re a cheat, but letting ponies bring their own trackers into a record attempt is a recipe for disaster, some older models are so inaccurate.”

“Oh yeah,” muttered Twilight, feeling a little stupid for not realizing.

“If any of you are up for refreshments, we’re still waiting on catering, but they should turn up soon enough. Now, I’ll introduce you to the preparation team in a minute, but there’s just one thing.” He turned to Dash. “We’ve had pretty special request from somepony who wants to meet you before the attempt. I’m not convinced about it personally, I thought he might be a bit overpowering for somepony trying to psyche themselves up, but I promised I’d at least ask you.”

Dash raised an eyebrow. “It shouldn’t be a problem. Who…?”

She never had a chance to finish the question, as at that moment a loud, somewhat brash voice rang out around the corner, accompanied by the sound of approaching hooves thumping mutedly against the cloud surface. “Hey, Limelight? Is she here yet?”

Before the organizer could do anything, a young stallion stepped around the corner. Six pairs of eyes widened in surprise, and there was a collective intake of breath. The new arrival was wiry and square-jawed, but obviously athletic, his coat a shining shade of white, fit to rival Rarity’s. His mark was a thundercloud surrounded by a golden corona of electrical energy. What caught the eye, however, was his mane. A long, frizzy shock of shining gold, encircling most of his face, and framing his slanting blue eyes.

“You told me you’d wait,” growled Limelight, embarrassed and angry by the interruption.

Dash was the first to recover from the surprise. The newcomer’s presence was more imposing than his photograph had implied, but it was obvious that he was not actively trying to intimidate.

They all knew who he was, but it was a surprise to see that he had gone to such lengths to meet Dash today. His posture did not seem hostile, and it did not appear that he was here to try and dent Dash’s confidence or otherwise protect his own record. His motives were, for the moment, unknown.

The white stallion held out a hoof, his expression apologetic, his gaze directed at Dash. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to barge in. I… I just wanted to wish you good luck for today.” If anything, he seemed nervous, almost respectful. When he lowered his voice, it was surprisingly soft, with a lilting Las Pegasus accent utterly at odds with his outward appearance.

A great many conflicting thoughts tumbled in Dash’s head, each adding to her confusion. Wait, why’s he wishing me luck? I’m here to try and defeat him; to beat his record. He’s the reason this all started. He’s the reason I saw myself for who I was. He’s… he’s the reason I changed. Would I be with Twilight if it weren’t for him? Another uncomfortable thought struck her: Do I… do I owe him?

“Are you alright?” he seemed concerned that his presence was off-putting. “I’m sorry, I’ll go if you want. I guess I’m probably the last guy you want hanging around right now.”

Dash realized that she was standing immobile, staring at the stallion. She knew that he should be a rival. She knew that he still could be, but the power to make that decision now rested with her.

There was really never any decision to make. It was a greeting she had never expected to offer, at least not on friendly terms.

The world is always changing. But sometimes, just sometimes, it changes for the better. Sometimes the world surpasses your expectations.

Smiling slightly, she stepped forwards to shake Lightning Flare’s hoof.

The Open Sky

A Bluebird’s Song

~~~
Sing a different song
‘Til you’re running the ledge
To the gasp from the crowd
Spinning round in your head
Everything that she said…
~~~

The Open Sky

The air in the cloud-walled room may have been thin from altitude, but the expectant atmosphere could have been cut with a knife as Rainbow Dash and Lightning Flare shook hooves.

Twilight was glaring suspiciously at him, as if half-expecting him to suddenly attack. Fluttershy had edged nervously to the back of the group, and Rarity moved almost subconsciously to stand protectively in front of the timid mare. Limelight was watching the exchange with apprehension etched on his face.

Dash, however, seemed more at her ease. At the sight of her smile, Lightning Flare seemed visibly less nervous. After the hoof-shake broke, Dash scratched the back of her head, a little awkwardly. She was painfully aware that she had referred to him as seeming ‘bigheaded’ in her interview, and was hoping somewhat forlornly that Lightning did not read the Cloudsdale Journal.

“So…” she began, not quite making eye contact. The unasked question hung in the air between them, the silence seeming to balloon in the empty space.

“I just wanted to wish you luck,” said Lightning, hurriedly.

“Thanks,” Dash smiled again, still a little wrong-footed. “I… How come, though? I’m trying to break your record, aren’t I?”

The white pegasus shrugged, apparently genuinely unconcerned. “That’s what records are there for, I guess. ‘Sides, you’re a real athlete from what I’ve seen. I can respect that.”

“You’re not so bad yourself, the way I heard it,” Dash remarked, a little of her customary easygoing attitude returning. “I watched the 50-mile sprint once, back when I was a kid. It’s quite a race to put yourself in for.”

Lightning laughed, relaxing visibly now that he knew the other pegasus was not hostile towards him. Dash could understand his wariness; the papers had been making them out to be the bitterest of rivals, in an attempt to whip up the hype for the event, and he could not have known that Dash did not take this point of view herself. “They train us tough up in Las Pegasus. You’ve got to be, to fly in that kind of weather.”

Dash nodded, remembering the constant dust storms that whipped the region around the northern border, making flying nigh-impossible for all but the toughest or most foolhardy. Gilda had booked them both tickets to watch the sprint, mostly for nostalgia’s sake. She had lived in Las Pegasus ever since she had hatched, and attended the Nova Academy for a few years herself. She had never confided in Dash the circumstances of her leaving, but most students of the academy that they had encountered had given her a wide berth, eyeing the griffon with apprehensive glares.

Limelight sighed audibly with relief that Lightning’s appearance had not rattled Dash too badly. “I’m just gonna head back to check a few things with the event team, while you guys catch up.”

Twilight nodded, also looking pleased at the lack of animosity between the two pegasi. “Sure.”

“Back in a few.” Limelight turned, and vanished through the door marked Event Preparation.

“So, what’s Las Pegasus like these days?” Dash asked, interested to hear what had become of the city her sometime-friend had hailed from. “Still dusty?”

“You know the place?” Lightning’s eyes brightened. “Yeah, still dusty. Still pretty crazy, too.” He rolled his eyes, looking suddenly irked. “And it’s still packed with griffons, obviously. That’s what you get for living on the northern border.”

He spoke as if the presence of griffons was a stain on the town’s good name, his tone of voice indicating that he expected Dash to agree with him. She raised an eyebrow, a little surprised at this attitude. She had met plenty of griffons during her life, and most of them had seemed pleasant enough, if a little overbearing.

To be fair, Gilda wasn’t all she was cracked up to be, piped up a small voice in the back of her mind.

Yeah, but neither did Trixie, and you don’t have a problem with Twilight because she’s a unicorn, do you?

“Uh, I guess so?” The reply turned inadvertently into a question, her expression betraying slight unease. Dash tried to mask the moment, hastily continuing. “So, what’s different about Nova? I was at Cloudsdale, and that kinda sucked most of the time.”

“I know what you mean,” Lightning agreed, nodding. “None of the guys there can even get close to me, it’s so rare to get a challenge. I bet you know how it goes on the ground; some of ‘em try to pal up with you, the rest try to bring you down.” It was strange, really. The words sounded more like a statement of fact than boasting. A small, rueful note in his voice hinted that he resented his own success, for the separation that it naturally brought with it.

“Yeah,” Dash snorted. “They know they can’t get close in the air, so tryin’ to screw you around on the ground’s all they’ve got left.” She felt an unexpected and comforting sense of familiarity; almost of camaraderie. The life that Lightning had described was all too familiar.

Lightning grinned, the slight self-doubt gone from his eyes. “I guess so, but hey. That’s how pegasi do things!” There was a proud emphasis on the word ‘pegasi’, and something flared in his expression that gave Dash a nagging sense of uncertainty, a doubt born of the cracks that occasionally showed in his façade. Twilight had mentioned something about him, hadn’t she? The yield of some minor piece of research into his background? The memory floated in her head, almost dreamlike, semi-acknowledged.

Arrested three years ago… A pro-pegasus student rally that turned violent… Suspected that he was the one who started the hostilities…

Dash realized that her friends had not spoken for several minutes now, and turned hurriedly to introduce them in order to fill the sudden void in the conversation. She gestured to the five ponies. “By the way, these are my friends from Ponyville. They came up here to cheer me on.” She trotted over to Twilight, then paused, a little unsure of how she should introduce the unicorn. Twilight was fine with airing their affection openly among their friends, but Dash did not know how she would react if their relationship were announced to a stranger, and wanted to avoid embarrassing her. On the other hand, it might seem cold to describe her simply as a ‘trainer’ or ‘friend’.

Twilight noticed Dash’s uncertain gaze, and gave an almost imperceptible nod, indicating her assent. Dash smiled, realizing that Twilight had practically read her mind, as always. She trotted over to stand beside the unicorn. “This is Twilight Sparkle, she’s my marefriend, and she’s the one who’s been training me.” She tried to keep her voice casual, but the expression on Lightning’s face when she turned back to face him took her by surprise. He was staring at Twilight, his expression one of blank disbelief.

“Whoa,” he muttered, attempting to compose his expression, his voice a little uncomfortable. “I’d heard you were being trained by a unicorn, but I guessed it was just hype. You’re… you’re together too, huh?”

Dash nodded, her eyes narrowing a little. “Yeah,” she said, her expression daring Lightning to have a problem with the affirmation.

“But… this is flying we’re talking about,” Lightning broke Dash’s gaze, and looked back to Twilight. He seemed rattled, but was obviously attempting to disguise his consternation as curiosity. “What could a unicorn have to offer a pegasus?”

“More than enough,” Twilight replied, coolly, not for a moment taken in by the thinly-veiled contempt.

“Believe it or not, there’s more to this game than just flapping,” added Dash, wryly.

Lightning Flare shook his head, his composure visibly slipping. “I never expected this,” he grunted, shortly. His voice dropped to a low tone of frustration. “Isn’t there anywhere you can get away from…” He cut himself off at the last second, apparently realizing that his indiscretion had left him on already shaky ground.

Twilight’s eyes widened in realization. “So that’s why you’re here!” she exclaimed. “This isn’t about Rainbow at all, you just wanted to see if the rumours are true about her being trained by a unicorn.”

“No!” Lightning backed up, suddenly defensive. “I… I’ve never met a pony who could challenge me before,” he explained, turning hurriedly to address her next words to Dash. “I was at the young flyer’s contest last year. I couldn’t compete ‘cause of a sprained wing, but I wanted to watch anyway. You were… amazing.” His voice sounded open and genuine, but his eyes narrowed angrily a moment later, and he threw up his forehooves in frustration, abandoning any pretence he had once maintained. “Then I come here, and I find this. It’s all wrong. What makes you think that she knows the first thing about flying?”

Dash snorted. “What makes you think it’s any of your business?”

“I don’t want her to mess you up!” exclaimed the stallion.

“Mess me up?” Dash shot back, angrily. “She’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me! I wouldn’t even really know who I was if it wasn’t for her.” Despite the situation, Twilight could not hold back a small smile, her spirits lifting a little in response to the open affection in Dash’s words.

Lightning took a deep breath, attempting to calm himself down, and lowered his voice with obvious effort. “Look, Dash,” he said, quietly. “I respect you. Hay, I look up to you. I’m trying to help you. It’s her I’ve got a problem with.” He jabbed an accusatory hoof in Twilight’s direction, throwing her an unpleasant look.

“Let’s get this straight, Lightning,” said Dash, her voice also low, suffused with a dangerous confidence. “If you’ve got a problem with her, you’ve got a problem with me. You don’t know one single thing about Twilight; how can ya even have a ‘problem’ with her?”

Twilight took a step forwards, before the white pegasus could respond. “This obviously isn’t about me,” she said, turning to Lightning in a forlorn hope of attempting reconciliation. “It’s pretty clear what the issue is. I’m a unicorn, and you don’t like unicorns.” Her voice rose a little. “I could be Equestria’s greatest expert on flying, and you’d still hate me.” She snorted, shaking her head in mild contempt.

“Can you blame me?” snapped Lightning, pawing at the floor with a hoof and leaving deep scores in the cloud surface. “Flying’s the one thing we pegasi have left, and now you unicorns are trying to muscle in on that too. Just because the princess favours unicorns, you think you can stick your noses in wherever you want.”

It was all Twilight could do to contain a groan. This again? “The princess doesn’t favour anypony,” she explained, tiredly. “She’s not like that; we’re all ponies to her, not unicorns or pegasi or earth ponies. We’re all her subjects.”

Lightning turned away with a shake of the head. “Well then, don’t say I didn’t warn you, Dash. I know a great flyer when I see one, and it’s not something some unicorn can teach. Something about the eyes, something that tells you way more than the wings. Just… just remember you’re a pegasus, okay?”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Dash replied, curtly. Then she looked at the unicorn beside her, smiling a small, secret smile. “I guess you’re right, in a way. The things I’ve been able to do, the way I’ve been able to change myself… It’s not something some unicorn could have shown me the way to finding. It’s something Twilight showed me, and if she’d had wings instead of that horn, I know she’d have done just as good a job.”

Twilight blushed, caught off guard by Dash’s words, but smiling gratefully nonetheless.

Lightning turned to leave, with a sigh and a small shake of the head. The anger had left his eyes, and in the moment before he turned away, he looked almost disappointed with himself. However, whether it was directed at his own behaviour, or merely at his failure to convince, Dash was not sure. “I’m sorry,” he muttered. “This didn’t go the way I’d imagined it.”

“Well gee, ah wonder why that was?” burst out Applejack, taking a step forwards, her eyes angry. She had been watching the exchange in silence, with mounting indignation, but it seemed that her temper had finally got the better of her. “If ya’ll are plannin’ on insultin’ a pony as close ta Rainbow as Twi’ is, ya don’t have any right ta be surprised if she don’t take kindly to ya’ll afterwards.”

“Exactly,” added Rarity. “Frankly, if you’ve done a poor job of winning Rainbow over, you’ve only got yourself to blame. She loves Twilight, and she’s not going to stand for your idiotic prejudices.”

Lightning turned at the door to face them again. He looked wearied, but Rarity’s words had rekindled a spark of irritation in his eyes. “That’s exactly the problem! No pegasus with the least bit of sense should get close to a unicorn. They’ll suck you dry, anypony knows how decadent unicorns are.” He gestured in Rarity’s direction. “I mean, just listen to her. Typical debutant, right down the affected accent, out to take the world for whatever she can get out of...”

The words, however, died in his throat when he noticed the look that Fluttershy was giving him. Her fur was bristling, and the expression on her face could have melted an iron bar as she stepped out from behind Rarity. Her eyes dared him to say one more word against the alabaster unicorn.

Suddenly aware of the silence, Rarity looked around and caught sight of Fluttershy. The expression of indignation at Lightning’s outburst fell from her face, and she took an involuntary step back from the canary pegasus.

“I think it’s time you left,” said Fluttershy, quietly. A strange chill seemed to radiate out around her, even though she never raised her voice.

With an infuriated and slightly fearful snort, Lightning turned and walked back the way he had arrived. “Dash,” he called back without breaking stride or turning his head. “If you were a real pegasus you’d see how crazy this was. You might have the wings, but if you defend the unicorns, you might just as well be one.” He vanished around the corner without looking back, and the sound of his muffled hoofbeats receded down the corridor.

In the silence that followed, Pinkie Pie voiced the general sentiment, one eyebrow raised to the point where it was in danger of vanishing into her mane. “What the hay just happened?”

Rarity was looking at Fluttershy, and was apparently wondering much the same thing, but for somewhat different reasons. The canary mare had reverted to her usual timidity, and was hiding her face in her mane, a deep blush staining her cheeks.

Dash sighed, turning to the others. “I’m sorry, guys.” She shook her head, disbelievingly. “I should have expected that,” she added, quietly.

“Rainbow,” Twilight rested a comforting hoof on the cyan pegasus’s withers. “I didn’t see that coming either. He seemed… he seemed almost like a kindred spirit for you, at least at first.”

The truth of the words cut deep, although of course Dash knew that such was not Twilight’s intention. He was so similar to her, and yet so far away. The pony that she had gone to such lengths to avoid becoming, only to find that the reasons for her repulsion had been utterly misplaced. The arrogance that she had expected had been strangely absent, and yet his blind anger and preconception had stung all the more, for the memories it invoked. Perhaps he genuinely cared; perhaps he truly wanted to protect her from an enemy that existed only in his head. In a way, she yearned to understand the reasons behind the way he thought; understand him in the way that she understood her sister.

Are you defending him? After what he said to Twilight? To Rarity?

Of course not. But think about Cloudshine. I don’t hate her for what her life led her into; I pity her. Because I could have been her if things had been different.

“We both knew he was anti-unicorn,” Dash replied, at length. “I just never guessed how deep it went. I’m sorry he said those things to ya. You too, Rarity.”

Twilight smiled, and hugged Dash gently around the neck. The pegasus sighed softly at the sensation of Twilight’s breath playing gently across her face. “You’ve got nothing to be sorry for, Rainbow,” she whispered.

“Quite so, dear,” added Rarity, eyeing the space where Lightning had stood with an air of distaste. “It’s clearly not your fault that he was such a bigoted lout.”

Dash closed her eyes for a moment, prolonging the embrace for as long as she dared. “I love you, Twi’,” she breathed in the unicorn’s ear, keeping her voice low, for Twilight’s ears alone, and relishing as always the slight shiver that passed through Twilight’s body at the words.

“I love you too, Rainbow,” Twilight murmured in response, her eyes half-closed, her voice warm and sincere. She reluctantly pulled away from the embrace as the Event Preparation door opened, and Limelight returned, clutching a clipboard in his hooves.

He halted in the doorway, looking around at the group of ponies, and noting Lightning’s absence. “Is everything okay? Where’s Flare?”

Dash realized that time was ticking away. Indeed, she could hear the soft thump of hooves through the cloud ceiling above her, as some early arrivals filed into the Cloudiseum and began searching for their seats. It was hardly worth re-iterating what had happened, and Dash felt that she did not have the stomach for it, anyway. “It’s fine.” She smiled a little woodenly at the auburn stallion. “He had to go take his seat, I think he showed himself out though.”

“It was certainly interesting to meet him,” added Twilight, cottoning on to what Dash was doing. The others nodded in vague agreement, with the exception of Pinkie, who still seemed a little lost.

Limelight let out a sigh of relief, apparently happy to not enquire further into the matter. “Okay, that’s great. Sorry he burst in on you like that, guys. I told him to wait.”

“It ain’t your fault,” said Applejack, reassuringly. “Now, Ah reckon we’d best get down to business. Ah’d hate to send RD here up without her knowin’ where she’s headed.”

Dash laughed, although it still sounded a little forced. Questions were spinning in her head, but she forced them to the back of her mind. She would probably never see Lightning again, and if she did he would simply be a face in a crowd of thousands. There were some mysteries that she could never know the answers to, and some ponies whom she would never understand. “Hey now, show a little faith, AJ,” she countered, a fraction of a second too late for the response to sound as easygoing as she would have liked.

The others filed into the preparation room ahead of them, but Dash held back for a moment, beside Twilight. “Hey,” she said in a low voice. “Are you okay? He really had a go at you.”

Twilight smiled, wanly. “I’ve had worse. It’s just… I don’t want what he said to be distracting you. You’ll need all of your concentration today.”

Dash nodded, eyeing the grooves that Lightning’s hoof had cut into the cloud surface of the floor, before turning to follow the others, smiling reassuringly at the unicorn by her side. “He’s not gonna mess me up. Promise.” She let out a small sigh, turning her gaze to look ahead of her, and forcing herself not to look back. “I just wish I understood some ponies.”

Dash’s preparations passed in a hazy blur of maps, charts, and windspeed calculations. The preparation room was small, and cluttered with shelves stuffed full of maps and documents. The walls were papered with cloud-stained posters of previous events, and the smell of damp hung in the air. Several members of staff milled about the table, relaying snippets of information with the professional half-friendly half-disdainful of ponies who have been dealing with stunt flyers for most of their lives.

It was decided that the attempt should be flown in a crosswind; that way she would have neither an unfair advantage nor a disadvantage. Conditions, it seemed, were as close to perfect as could be expected. There was some wind along the intended flight-path, but it was steady, not gusting. The sun would be overhead, and therefore not blinding. Even cloud cover was minimal.

The course itself took some debating, as Dash would need a long distance to build up speed, and would also need landmarks to ensure that she was on course. At such height and speed, it would be very easy to lose sight of the pegasus city in the cloudbanks below her.

In the end, it was decided that she should start over Ponyville, above the Everfree border, and then aim herself at the mountain that Canterlot was built on. Cloudsdale was on a straight line directly between the two towns, so she should pass directly over the Cloudiseum.

Communication was, of course, an issue. Limelight and his assistants had wanted to make Dash wear an awkwardly heavy piece of metal headgear that would allow her to communicate with her team on the ground, but Dash had put her hoof down. Both parties had dug their heels in and refused to budge, and angry words flew from one side of the table to the other.

In the end, however, Twilight had defused the situation, and devised a solution. She knew of a spell that allowed a pony to magically speak to another pony, more-or-less regardless of distance.

“It’s difficult, but possible,” she explained to the room in general. “The only issue is the fact that it’s a one-way spell, but I don’t see any reason why I couldn’t adapt it.”

“And I don’t have to strap a huge metal box to my head?” Dash asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Nothing like that was involved, last time I checked,” affirmed Twilight, dryly.

By this time, the crowd above was clearly audible, the excited chatter and sound of hooves penetrating the layers of cloud above and around them. Twilight looked at the clock, and realized with a painful jolt that there was less than an hour to go. Limelight clapped his hooves together. “Okay!” he said, loudly. “I think that’s everything. The equipment should be all set up topside, right?”

One of the assistants nodded, scanning a clipboard held between his forehooves.

“The judges and ground team are all going to be on that platform in the middle of the arena, right?” Twilight asked.

Limelight thought for a second, apparently working something out. “Yeah. You’ll have to be with them as well, if you’re in charge of communications.”

Dash nudged the purple unicorn, and smiled reassuringly. “See? You’ll be up there with me.”

Twilight nodded, too nervous to smile back. “Can the rest of our friends be there too?” She gestured around to the four other ponies, also clustered around the table.

“I don’t see why not,” replied Limelight, and there was a general sigh of relief.

“Right then,” Dash said, stretching her wings out to relieve the tension of standing still for so long. Nerves were starting to bite at her, and the sounds of the expectant crowd only made things worse. She had to move, to walk, to at least do something to get away from this stuffy, oppressive room. “I’d better get suited up.”

Time has a habit of being eternally unhelpful. Twilight willed the seconds to stop ticking, to wait for her, to allow her to catch up, but they would not. She watched the others as if from a dream, moving and talking without it truly impinging on her mind. Forty, thirty, ten minutes to go. The worst part was that she could not show her fear, for the sake of the others.

Dash knew how she felt, of course. Dash always knew. She insisted on staying by Twilight’s side right up to the last second, in order to act as a reassurance, and maximize their time together.

They were alone in Dash’s dressing room. The pegasus was staring absently at her reflection in the mirror, wearing a silver flight-suit that Rarity had made specially for today, her goggles hanging around her neck. Her expression was torn between determination, and worry on Twilight’s behalf.

Dash nudged the unicorn gently. “How’re you feeling?”

Twilight laughed, the sound a little higher-pitched than she had intended. “I should be the one asking you that! You’re the one who’s doing all the work.”

“I s’pose,” replied Dash, smiling. She nuzzled Twilight’s cheek, holding the contact for a long, still moment. She could see how much the event was getting to the unicorn, and resolved to try and abate her fears, at least a little. Her own mind felt strangely calm now, the nerves having fallen away as she lost herself in psyching herself up for the attempt, away from the stuffy preparation room. On the other hand, Twilight seemed skittish, her eyes darting and almost panicked. Dash knew the danger signs when she saw them; the unicorn was holding herself together by a thread.

“Twi’,” Dash said, gently. She held out a hoof, and Twilight took it without question. Dash noticed the unicorn’s hoof shaking with barely-suppressed fear, under her own. Without speaking, they walked to the dressing room’s wide window, and the pegasus swung it ajar with a sweep of her wing. Realizing what the plan was, understanding that Dash had recognized her need for even the briefest of escapes, the lavender mare wrapped her forelegs tightly around her love’s midriff, and a moment later felt the sharp gust of air as Dash stretched her wings wide.

The next few seconds passed in a gusty haze of whipping wind, the sky and light and faraway land blurring into one another. Dash kept her held closely to her side the entire time, never once letting her grip weaken, and a moment later they alighted on the roof of the Cloudiseum’s grandstand. They were hidden from the growing crowd by a tall, cloudy spire, dotted with pegasine flags and banners. The chill breeze bit at Twilight, although the sensation was a pleasant one after the claustrophobic backstage of the Cloudiseum.

Dash lay back on the springy cloud surface, carefully pulling Twilight down beside her and cradling the mare in her forehooves, the smooth silver fabric of her flight-suit soothing and cool against the lavender unicorn’s trembling body. Dash felt her give a small sigh, and her eyes stopped darting from side to side, some of the fear leaving her expression. Twilight nuzzled into the pegasus’s neck, huddling close as if in need of warmth.

“I’ll be okay,” murmured Dash. “I trust you, I trust the princess, and I trust myself to not do anything stupid.” She smiled, looking down at the unicorn, her eyes wide and sincere, hoping that Twilight trusted her in return. “I’ve been stressing myself out about this for so long now, wondering if I’m doing the right thing. I know how much it’d hurt you if anything happened to me, and I don’t wanna risk that. You… you know I wouldn’t be going through with this if I thought it might go wrong.”

Twilight smiled back, a genuine warmth in her eyes, replacing a little of the panic. The iron fist closed over her heart seemed to unclench a little, and her eyelids drifted closed for a moment. “I… I trust you too, Rainbow. I know you won’t let me down.”

In that moment, Twilight felt truly content; more at peace than she had for many of these past weeks. She had told the truth; she trusted the pegasus implicitly, not only to keep her safe, but to keep herself safe as well, for Twilight’s sake. She knew that old determination burning in Dash’s eyes, but understood that now its focus was different; no longer egocentric. She felt as if she were a part of Dash now, just as the pegasus was a part of her, as they lay curled up together on the breeze-tossed cloud.

She’s going to be okay.

Are things different now?

“Rarity, do you mind if I have a word with you?”

The pearly-white unicorn jumped a little at the soft voice behind her, as she sat alone on one of the seats in the waiting area. She turned to see the mare whose mysteries filled her thoughts standing behind her, still clutching that wide-brimmed hat beneath her wing. She really did have a knack for approaching silently, Rarity reflected. “Oh, Fluttershy. I didn’t realize you were there.” She turned her head, catching sight of the apologetic expression on Fluttershy’s face. “Of course you can, dear. Have a seat.”

The pegasus pulled over one of the white folding chairs, and sat down opposite Rarity, throwing her a grateful, if bashful, smile.

“First of all, I’m sorry Lightning Flare behaved like he did,” mumbled Fluttershy, blushing a little. Being a pegasus herself, she apparently could not avoid a slight sense of responsibility, no matter how unfounded that sense was.

“Oh, darling, don’t you apologize too. The fault lies with him and him alone,” insisted Rarity, firmly. Then, she let out a small giggle, sounding almost nervous. “The… The way you stared him down like that… It was quite something. I’m glad I wasn’t on the receiving end of it.

Is that true, Rarity? A small, wheedling voice spoke up chidingly in the back of her mind, and she too felt a slight sting in her cheeks; her embarrassed reaction making a liar out of her.

I need to stop thinking like this. All I’m doing is hurting myself.

Perhaps. Perhaps not.

At least I’m not living in self-doubt anymore. I’ve done all I can, and if I’ve failed, I still tried my best. I feel better for that. Less of a coward, anyway.

“I didn’t realize you could use your stare on other ponies,” Rarity said, largely for the sake of covering up the slightly awkward moment of silence, eager to hide the fact that her thoughts had overtaken her again. She stared with apparent fixation at her forehooves, hoping that Fluttershy had not noticed her suddenly rosy complexion.

The canary mare squeaked almost inaudibly, hiding her face a little behind her mane. “I didn’t know either. I don’t think that it was the stare; not properly, anyway. I heard him throwing those accusations around, and it… it just made me so angry with him. Then when he started on you, I just… just couldn’t…” She sighed, shaking her head at the memory and settling gently back on her chair. “I don’t know what to think anymore, sometimes.”

What does she mean by that?

“You said you wanted to talk to me,” Rarity blurted out, absent-mindedly leaning forwards a little.

Fluttershy nodded, still hiding behind her mane. She bit her lip, nervously, and the one eye that was visible broke contact with Rarity’s. “I just need to talk to somepony who’ll understand. It’s about Lightning Flare. I… I keep thinking about why I reacted to him like I did. I scare myself sometimes… I could barely hold myself back from chasing him down the corridor. It was all I could do to keep myself in check, but I know that I’d normally hide from somepony who was being so aggressive.”

Rarity leaned further forwards to rest an encouraging hoof on her friend’s shoulder. “Perhaps it’s for the best. Maybe you’re gaining some confidence at last.”

“I’ve been running away from myself for so long,” Fluttershy murmured, her voice breaking slightly. “But it’s… it’s not worth it anymore. I wanted to do this differently; I wanted to do it better, when we had more time. I just can’t stand being a coward like this anymore.” She shook her head, her voice dropping even quieter than her usual scarcely-audible tones. “I… I didn’t stand up for Twilight, did I?”

She sighed, apparently steeling herself, and lifted her gaze back up into Rarity’s eyes. Her blush was a furious burning shade now, but her gaze was steady and unflinching, almost fierce, a light of self-assurance that Rarity had only ever before seen igniting in anger. “I can be honest with myself, Rarity. And it’s been far, far too long since I’ve been honest with you. It wasn’t his anger that made me want to hurt him. It was because he directed his anger at you. Right then, I’d have done anything to defend you. You were the one thing that mattered most to me.”

She rested her own hoof on Rarity’s, which still lay limply on her shoulder, and shook her mane clear so that she could look into Rarity’s eyes with both of her own. Her gaze had softened, the words coming easier, and she edged toward the unicorn almost without meaning to. Rarity felt the mare’s sweet breath tingling across her fur, and she was suddenly conscious of her own heartbeat, of the blood in her cheeks, of the look that must even now be in her eyes. “You… you still are,” Fluttershy whispered. “Rarity, I was wrong, and I'm so, so sorry... I... I...”

“Rare’! Fluttershy! Ya’ll ready?”

The two mares whipped around at the loud voice of Applejack behind them, and saw three of their friends rounding the corner of the corridor. Dash was not amongst them, although according to the swelling thunder-like roar of voices that shuddered around them, she was being introduced to the crowd prior to takeoff. Twilight looked a little windswept, although nopony seemed to notice.

Rarity leapt backwards with a yelp, the moment shattering as she broke contact with Fluttershy’s eyes and instinctually jerked her hoof back. Fluttershy, however, barely moved after her initial frightened jolt. Her hoof fell lamely back to her side, and she dropped her gaze to the floor, her face beet red. Bitter, silent tears of resignation welled up in her eyes.

I don't believe it. All that planning, all that waiting, and I... I just told her. She knows, but there's so much more she doesn't know. What must she think of me? Maybe this is what I deserve for being so weak.

“We’re up, guys! They’re calling us,” exclaimed Pinkie, excitedly. Twilight raised a hoof slightly to silence her, noticing that something was amiss.

“Of… of course,” murmured Rarity, sounding a little shell-shocked. Her expression was one of surprise, but beneath that lay the barest visible hint of euphoria; a vague hope that she had for so long denied, suddenly rekindled.

Fluttershy said nothing, utterly unable to look at the alabaster unicorn. The beautiful simplicity of the moment was long dead, wasted, and the next time she would not be prepared. The fears and complexities had come back tenfold, invading the oasis of certainty that she had found for such a short time. She had no idea what had possessed her to admit the truth to Rarity at this, the worst of times. Fluttershy had seen the wondering look in the unicorn’s eyes when she had stood up to Lightning Flare on her behalf; she had read and understood the question in Rarity’s gaze. It was not a question that could be answered with anything other than the truth, and she knew that Rarity deserved her honesty, after being so generous with her own. It had been inconvenient, and impractical, and utterly the wrong moment, but she had not been able to wait for one second longer.

Fluttershy realized that her eyes were suddenly screwed shut, as if keeping her tears in could somehow protect her from the weight they bore. She was biting her lower lip, and tasted the faintest hint of blood. It tasted of catharsis; of the pain that she felt she so richly deserved.

You fool, Fluttershy. First you let her down to protect yourself, then you spring this change of mind on her at a time like this. You gave her no time to think about what you said. She’ll be so confused, so betrayed that you could lie to her like that.

I told her the truth, didn’t I? At least she knows that I've changed my mind.

But she doesn't know why you changed your mind, and you know perfectly well that you’d lie to her again if it suited you. One truth isn’t going to change that.

“…Fluttershy? Fluttershy!”

The sharp, frightened voice cut through the spiraling descent, and Fluttershy pulled herself out of her mind with some difficulty. The four ponies were looking at her, fearfully. She realized that she was rocking gently back and forth, eyelids still tightly closed, hot tracks of moisture running down soundlessly from her eyes. She knew from bitter experience that the world never just went away, and she forced herself to open her eyes.

“What’s the matter, ‘Shy? What’s up?” Applejack’s voice was urgent, anxious, as she knelt down beside Fluttershy.

“I…” The canary mare’s voice cracked; words were impossible.

“Leave it, Applejack.” A second voice. Rarity’s. Her words were measured, restrained, but not without a slight break to them. “She won’t want to talk about this now. You three go ahead.”

Twilight looked mutinous, but Rarity threw her a look that brooked no argument. Applejack and Pinkie nodded in silent acknowledgment. The three ponies filed back around the corner, heading to wait at the foot of the staircase that led up into the arena. Knowing that she had only seconds, Rarity knelt down beside the still-seated canary pegasus. “I don’t want you to be afraid anymore, Fluttershy,” she whispered.

Fluttershy tried to break eye contact, but Rarity’s proximity made it impossible. “I… I’m so sorry.”

“Later,” Rarity murmured, her voice low and gentle. “Keep your apologies for later if you like, but I promise you won’t need them.” She took Fluttershy’s hoof between both of her own. “Right now, I need you to be brave for me. Dash is up there waiting for us to see her off, and we both need to be there for her.”

Fluttershy got tentatively to her hooves, unable to prevent herself from shaking a little. Rarity was there to steady her, however. “I’m such an idiot,” Fluttershy whispered, beginning to walk towards the corridor, her cheeks still a vivid red. “I tried to say so much on a day like today. I should have realized I’d have no time to explain myself.”

Rarity sighed. “You’re not an idiot, Fluttershy. Sometimes our feelings just get the better of us; they escape. I know that far too well, and I'd never dream of judging you for it.” The white mare smiled, her eyes a little watery. “I... I understand what you're saying, and it makes me happier than I can say... I just need to know what made you see me differently. I don’t really understand what’s going on in your beautiful head yet, darling. But I truly want to. There’s so much I want to tell you, but you’re right. I have to understand you first, and we don’t have the time right now.” She stopped walking alongside Fluttershy, and the pegasus stopped too, meeting Rarity’s eyes of her own volition for the first time. “Later,” Rarity promised. “After today, we’ll have all the time in the world.”

Fluttershy nodded, mutely. This was more than she had dared to hope for, and she wanted nothing more than to embrace the unicorn and sob her gratitude into her mane, to pour out her fears and faults for all to see until someday, someday, she might begin to be worthy of this mare. But she could not. Not today. That was the understanding.

“Thankyou, Rarity,” she whispered, simply. The words sounded painfully inadequate to her, but Rarity did not seem to care. The unicorn smiled, a delighted shine dancing in her expression that she had done her best to repress given Fluttershy’s delicate state.

Swallowing hard in apprehension, and picking up her hat once again, Fluttershy trotted forwards to join the others at the entrance to the arena, Rarity walking solidly by her side, a quiet contentment smouldering in her eyes.

The noise up here was incredible. The roar of the crowd hammered at Dash’s ears as she stood atop the dais of cloud that was to be her takeoff area, looking around at the packed arena. She was surrounded by various pieces of equipment, manned by four ponies who had been sent down from Trottingham to officiate the record. A refreshment table had been set up on the platform to ensure that Dash was hydrated before the attempt, and she emptied a second water bottle, her mouth suddenly dry from the anticipation.

The atmosphere, the sounds, the sights, all of them were reminiscent of last year’s young flyer’s contest. Of course, Dash’s attitude could not have been more at odds with the last time she had been here. She no longer felt like a nervous wreck, or an amateur. Certainly Lightning Flare had been right about one thing; she was an athlete at the peak of her game. Arguably the two most powerful magic users in Equestria were looking out for her, keeping her safe. Her heart was pounding, but it was beating for excitement, not fear.

Cutting easily through the noise of the crowd, a trumpet fanfare sounded, bright and sharp. Looking around, Dash saw the distinctive figure of Princess Celestia alighting on the royal box, flanked by a small cohort of guards. Her heart dropped a little in her chest, as she realized that this was the first time she had been in Celestia’s presence since the incident in Canterlot. In truth, she had no idea how the princess had reacted to the news. For all she knew, the alicorn was moments away from calling for Dash’s immediate arrest.

Desperately, she tried to catch Celestia’s eye. The princess met her gaze steadily, registering the apprehension in Dash’s expression, and gave an almost-imperceptible nod, her eyes kind, but not without some small warning. Dash understood her meaning perfectly well. The record could go ahead, but this was a reprieve, not an exoneration.

The sound of the crowd swelled once more, and she looked around to see the five others approaching across the narrow cloud-bridge to the dais. Twilight was leading, with Rarity and Fluttershy bringing up the rear, side-by-side, the latter wearing her protective hat. Dash noticed that Rarity kept glancing at Fluttershy, and biting her lip to keep from smiling. The two of them were also walking a little closer together than normal, although, in fairness, the bridge was not very wide. The wind whipped at the ponies as they crossed, and Applejack looked a little green at the dizzying drop that greeted her each time her eyes strayed downwards.

Dash watched as Twilight too caught sight of the princess. She watched as Celestia once more gave that slight nod of permission. The unicorn relaxed visibly, and nodded back to show her understanding and gratitude. Then, she approached the dais where the cyan pegasus stood.

“Five minutes to go,” Twilight said, as she climbed the steps to the launching area, her voice loud in order to carry over the hum of the crowd. Her smile was a little nervous, but she was infinitely more collected than her earlier state of near-panic.

“I still dunno why they made me come up here without you guys.” Dash scowled slightly at the memory, and Twilight laughed.

“You’re the star of the show, you’re the one they want to see.”

Limelight appeared from behind one of the magically-powered speed measurement devices, having apparently discovered that magical operation does not create a machine that is free of faults. The bug had apparently cleared up, however, and the various banks of screens and dials lit up across its face. It was a testament to the seriousness of the situation that Twilight’s interest remained firmly directed at Dash.

“Okay,” Twilight was suddenly businesslike. “I’ll be your eyes down at cloud level. This kit allows us to track your course, so I can tell you if you’re running off the right path, or into turbulence. I’ll be able to tell you when you enter the measured mile above the Cloudiseum.”

“Talking of which, how’s that communication spell going?” Limelight enquired, sidling over to the two mares.

Twilight nodded. “Just about to set it up. Hold still, Rainbow,” she warned the pegasus, her horn beginning to spark. Dash held herself as immobile as possible, as the tip of Twilight’s horn emitted a narrow silken strand of yellow light, that stretched out and touched Dash squarely between the eyes. The pegasus winced a little, expecting discomfort, but it did not come. Still concentrating hard, Twilight retreated back along the cloud-bridge, the strand stretching out between them, growing ever more taut, and apparently demanding ever more magical resources from the unicorn, who gritted her teeth. Dash could feel the tug of the strand, but dug her heels in and refused to move as best she could. Twilight was still stoically trudging backwards, step-by-step, building the tension of the connection between them. Then, with a cracking sound like a whip, the strand snapped in the middle, rapidly consuming itself along its length with a hissing, fiery glow, and finally vanishing.

There was silence for a moment.

“Did it work?”

Dash jumped. Twilight was standing almost twenty feet away from her, but her low voice rang out in the pegasus’s ear as if she were standing by her side. Dash grinned. “Loud and clear, Twi’.”

She heard the unicorn give a sigh of relief. “I’m really glad I only had to do that once. It’s exhausting.”

Somepony tapped Dash on the shoulder, and she turned to see Limelight. “Are you ready? It’s time.”

Dash nodded. She had expected to feel fear at this moment, but instead she felt only elation. The nerves she had felt earlier had melted away since she took her place on the dais. Perhaps it was the encouraging atmosphere, or just the sense of sheer anticipation that gripped the Cloudiseum. She knew that this was doubtless a dangerous undertaking, but at that moment the danger seemed distant, almost irrelevant. She was running on excitement. She looked around at her friends, and at Twilight as she approached them rapidly across the bridge.

Applejack was the first to step forwards. “Good luck, sugarcube. Ya’ll be careful now.” She bestowed a brief hug on the pegasus, and smiled warmly before stepping back. The rest of her friends took up the pattern, stepping forwards to offer a few words of encouragement. Fluttershy was the next-to-last. She held Dash in a tight, almost fierce embrace, and thanked her, although Dash had no idea for what she was being thanked.

Finally, there was Twilight. Her eyes were a little tearful, partly due to nerves, and partly because today was a culmination of weeks of struggle for the pair of them. With luck, today was the day they could put Sunset behind them, and move on.

“You’re going to be amazing,” she whispered in Dash’s ear. Dash opened her mouth to respond, but was cut off. Apparently the lavender mare had decided to throw caution to the winds, uncaring of the number of ponies that surrounded them, because the next moment Twilight was kissing her. Dash kissed back hungrily, enthusiastically, without thinking. The crowd realized what was happening, and a swelling roar of approval greeted the moment of contact, but Dash was deaf to the noise, her mind filled by her love’s presence. The unicorn’s heady scent filled her, and she recognized that taste that was so sweetly familiar, and yet so fresh and electrifying even now. When Twilight finally pulled away, she gazed at Dash for a few moments, still holding her tightly, her eyes half-closed and dusky. “See you soon,” she whispered, her low voice easily audible in Dash’s ear over the sound of the audience, with the help of the communication spell.

“Hey,” Dash winked at her. “Maybe I’ll see you first.”

With that, she turned and walked to the cleared area at the edge of the dais. Downing the last of her water bottle, she looked straight ahead, focusing on the coming few minutes. The scene around her seemed to slow. She took several deep, calming breaths, soothed by Twilight’s lavender scent still clinging to her fur. The fog of enthusiasm cleared a little from her mind.

Don’t do anything stupid.

For a second, the world seemed silent. The crowds surrounded her, uncountable eyes boring into her head from every direction, their cheers muted.

She could feel the cloud beneath her hooves, and still she focused on her breathing. The announcers shouted, and the wind at whipped her as she stood, statuesque.

Turning, she met Twilight’s eyes.

The Unicorn nodded minutely at her, and it was time. Twilight’s scent had faded, and the adrenaline took over. The empty air before her called to her; this was her world. Nothing could reach her in her world.

She closed her eyes, flared her wings, and let the sky take her.

Fly To Me

A Bluebird’s Song

~~~
The ends of the world
Form a ring from here
As wide as the eyes
Or as wide as the mind can be
~~~

Fly To Me

The view up here was incredible. At such height, the world spread and melted into itself beneath her, scraps and swathes of cloud and forest blurring into one another. Dash had always felt so content up here, alone with her thoughts as she arced lazily towards Ponyville, saving her speed for the return leg, gaining height with each passing second to reach the thinner air. The sheer solitude of this most private of places never failed to take her breath away, no matter how many times she returned here.

“I bet it’s quite a sight up there.” Dash smiled at the familiar voice, so close in her ear that she could almost imagine she felt the unicorn’s breath on her fur. Sometimes, the right company was infinitely better than solitude.

“I’ll take you up this high someday,” she replied, shouting over the hissing air and glancing back over her shoulder at the rapidly-fading Cloudiseum. At this height, she felt herself breathing a little faster than normal, but she cut through the thinner air with a wonderful smoothness. The insulated suit protected her from the worst of the cold, but she felt it bite harshly at her face as she moved ever onwards. She had attained these speeds with barely a thought, her wings locked and unmoving at her sides. She knew that she must have been travelling at several hundred miles an hour; the buffeting wind howling in her ears was testament to that, but at such a height the ground below seemed to inch by, scarcely appearing to move at all.

“I’d like that,” came Twilight’s quiet voice. Then her tone became businesslike. “You’re only a few minutes from Ponyville. You need to turn to begin your run as soon as you cross the Everfree border.”

Dash looked down, her eyes sweeping the landscape ahead of her. In the middle distance lay the rustic scattering of fields and houses that comprised Ponyville, thatched roofs gleaming up at her in the midday sun, lying on the lowering edge of the dark green forest. The Everfree curved around, cutting a dark swathe through the landscape, dominating the north-eastern vista. Dash had never before appreciated just how close Cloudsdale was to Ponyville; at these speeds the journey had been a matter of mere minutes.

She realized that her concentration was wavering in and out of thought, and it almost cost her. An errant gust of squalling air clipped one of her hooves, and her rear legs collided with a painful crack, sending a sharp bolt jabbing up the muscle. She let out an involuntary grunt as she forced herself back on course.

“Are you alright?” Twilight’s voice was sharp and concerned.

“Yeah,” Dash replied. “I’m good. Just a bit of turbulence.”

“On the way back, the air’s going to be the most dangerous thing by far,” Twilight said, warningly. “Don’t take it lightly.”

Don’t lecture me, Twilight, Dash thought to herself, a little irked. This is what I do best.

She shook her head, dispelling the sudden burst of irrational irritation, and feeling rather angry with herself.

She’s not lecturing you. She cares about you, and you owe it to her to keep yourself safe.

Nothing’s going to happen to me, she thought, a warm burst of confidence filling her, replacing the self-criticism in favour of the thrill of the open sky. I can’t be touched up here.

“I won’t take this for granted, Twi’,” she replied at length, although a nagging question sharp in her head queried the truth of her words.

With a shake of the head to dispel the disquieting thoughts, she put on an extra spurt of speed, waiting for the moment to begin her run. Below her, the Everfree border inched ever closer.

An expectant hush had fallen over the Cloudiseum, as the cyan form of the pegasus arced beyond sight into the sky.

The judges had busied themselves once again around their respective machines, and Twilight was darting from one to the next, keeping an eye on turbulence, as well as Dash’s speed, course, and altitude. Rarity and Fluttershy were watching her a little nervously; it was as if she were waiting for something to go wrong. Twilight knew that Dash had done this many times before, but something had seemed different about her today, just before her takeoff.

She had not seemed the understatedly self-assured mare who had offered her comfort and reassurance on the stadium’s roof only a few minutes previously. Something about her demeanour was different, and a little worrying. She had caught the look in her friend’s eye many times before, before she attempted a nigh-impossible stunt or some insurmountable challenge. It was the look that had been on her face before she charged into a dragon’s cave in a moment of frustrated impatience. Perhaps it was the crowd; something about the sudden idolization and attention had begun to snap her back to how she had been before.

No. No, she’s not weak enough to let that happen.

Twilight trusted Dash more than anything, but even so, her self-assurance seemed weak and a little unconvincing.

I still can’t believe she feels the same way.

As the speck that was Dash arced towards the Everfree Forest, Rarity’s eyes were focused not on her, but on Fluttershy. She had no idea what had made the timid mare change her mind, but change her mind she apparently had. It was all she could do to control the impulsive smile that kept threatening to break across her face, and she forced herself to temper her sense of joyful surprise with caution.

Blueblood had taught her to approach romance extremely carefully, and never to take anything for granted. She knew that she risked setting herself up for a fall if she once again fell into the trap of idealism.

Fluttershy’s not Blueblood, you know, she chided herself. She rejected you in the first place to avoid hurting you. She wouldn’t change her mind now if she didn’t know for sure that she could see this through.

I just want to know why she changed her mind… Oh Celestia, I hope I didn’t make her feel guilty or beholden to me.

Stop second guessing her. This is why you asked her to wait, isn’t it? These are the things you two need to talk about.

She realized that she was staring vaguely at the back of Fluttershy’s head. As if feeling the impact of her gaze, the pegasus turned her head, blushing a little when she caught the direction of Rarity’s eyes, but smiling a small and nervous smile nonetheless, her eyes partially hidden beneath the coyly-angled hat. For a moment, she might almost have been mistaken for seeming flirty. The small smile held such promise, and now that she was getting over the shock of their interrupted moment, it seemed that Fluttershy was relaxing and letting herself feel the pleasant lightness of a shared burden.

The timid pegasus had apparently realized that Rarity was genuinely not angry with her for her change of heart, and the gratitude in her eyes was palpable. Rarity felt her heart rise into her throat a little.

Twilight’s voice cut through their moment of introspection, addressing Dash. “You’ve crossed the border over the Everfree, that should be enough of a run-up for you. It’s time to start heading back.”

Dash grinned as the words sounded in her ear, the moment of internal conflict long forgotten.

“Let’s get this done,” she muttered, lowering her goggles and mouth-guard, so that she would be able to talk in spite of the wind.

“I’ll tell you when you’re entering the measured mile,” added Twilight, her voice framed between nerves and excitement. There was a moment of silence, and Dash could sense the unicorn steeling herself. “Good luck, Rainbow.”

“Thanks, Twi’,” the pegasus replied. She turned her head, looking over her shoulder, judging her next move.

Forget the wings. They don’t matter. They’re only there for stability. She repeated the mantra that she had lately used to help control her flight with her mind alone. Don’t flap, don’t flare.

She threw herself into a half-corkscrew, pulling hard around to the right, the distant land flipping and blurring as she twisted in mid-air. Fixing her eyes dead ahead, she locked her wings at their fullest extent, and closed her eyes for a moment.

Let’s go.

The effect was immediate. She could feel the familiar adrenaline-spiking tug of acceleration, as she cut through the sky like the blade of a knife. The air whipped at her, forming into a smooth slipstream in her wake, both freezing and exhilarating her in equal measure.

Still, the earth below her barely seemed to move.

A roaring filled her ears, and she willed herself onwards. This was the easy part. If something went wrong now, she could put the brakes on, and most likely bring herself to a halt without injury. Before too long, however, and this would not be the case.

A few scraps of high flying cloud were the only clue to her true speed. They whipped past in blurred strands, vanishing almost instantly behind her, or ripped to shreds by the vortex created by her passing. She eased herself gently to the right to avoid a patch that she was swiftly approaching, not wanting to mist up her goggles, and shifted herself back onto course.

She had been a moment too early, however. The tip of her wing clipped the edge of the cloud-bank as she passed. The sting shot along her primaries, and for a moment she veered off course. Her first thought was to try and correct the buffet, but she was trapped by her own slipstream, and if she tried to go against the flow of the air around her, the force of the impact would probably injure her. Instead, she allowed the motion to reach its natural conclusion, twisting herself around in a smooth barrel roll, finally leveling herself out, her heart pounding from the surprise, still willing herself into acceleration. She could have sworn that she felt the magical energy humming in her wings.

As soon as she recovered and regained her sense of direction, she called to Twilight, realizing that she had wasted precious distance in righting herself. “I’m going higher, I need to get above these cloud patches.”

“Got it. You’re on course, stay on that axis,” Twilight informed her. Dash smiled at the tone of voice. She could just imagine the expression on the unicorn’s face as she feverishly analyzed the data presented to her. There was nopony else more meticulous; nopony else she trusted more to be on her ground crew. She was in safe hooves, that much was certain.

A tell-tale whine began to build in her ears, a conical silver corona forming around her, whipping itself away into the shape of her slipstream behind her. She gritted her teeth, the familiar resistance pushing back on her, just as it always did moments before the breach. This part was always one of the most challenging.

Keep those wings steady.

Screwing her eyes shut, she forced herself to overcome the ever-increasing drag, feeling as if the air itself was conspiring to keep her on the dull side of the sound barrier. No matter how many times she performed this stunt, it was never any less taxing. The throbbing whine was shaking through her, filling her ears, clouding her mind. She made one more effort of will, pushing herself forwards.

Then, the sky around her seemed to explode. Her vision whited out for the briefest of moments, as she came crashing through the sound barrier.

There was a collective intake of breath around the stadium. Twilight and her friends stared, awed as usual at the sight. Above the horizon, way up high, came a flaring blaze of prismatic light. The shockwave rolled out, glowing and vivid even so many miles above them. All was silent; almost eerily so. After all, Dash was bound to arrive before the sound of her Rainboom reached them.

Then the cheers began to rise up from the crowd, who got to their hooves as one, the sounds rolling around the stadium as the wave of rainbow light dissipated into tendrils on the horizon. For most of them, this was the first time that they had seen a Rainboom. It had clearly not disappointed.

One beam of light, however, remained; streaking towards them up high and drawing a die-straight rainbow line across the sky behind her, glowing in her approach. If Dash had been too small to see before, she was certainly visible now.

Rarity watched the fading shine in silence, her eyes wide and her mouth open a little at the spectacle. She felt herself shiver slightly at the perfect balance of boldness and beauty. For some reason, the sight evoked those long days shortly after opening her boutique for the first time. Her only escape from the disorganization and the sudden workload had been her books. The compilations of pegasine poetry left behind by one of the line of stallions with whom she had, for such a fleeting time, shared her life. A history of imperfections, of temporary solutions, of lightning conductors, but still a history that she could not bring herself to regret. Or to forget.

Her head was suddenly full of the memory of Fluttershy’s scent, and the questions that came bound up with it. One verse in particular came to mind, a few errant lines from a well-worn and long-lost anthology of poetry. She found herself murmuring the familiar words to herself, and she still found them rolling off her tongue with ease, despite the years.

“But find me in the cloudscape’s amber swirls,

The swathes you cut, the sights that pass you by

Now rest your heavy head; your wings are free-”

“So tell me, love, why do you fly to me?” Rarity’s eyes shot open at the soft voice near her ear, pre-empting her words, and she saw Fluttershy’s gentle smile as the pegasus stood at her side.

Rarity blushed, partly that she had been overheard, but mostly in pleasant surprise at Fluttershy’s knowledge. “You’ve read that poem?”

The timid mare nodded. Her cheeks were tinged pink, but less so than usual. She seemed almost composed, although it was clearly a struggle. Her voice, when she spoke, was low and measured.

“Rarity, you know you said that we needed to talk? That you needed to understand me?”

The unicorn nodded, blushing too at the intensity of Fluttershy’s expression. She knew that even discussing such matters as this must be cripplingly embarrassing for the eponymously shy pegasus, and she admired her resolve.

“Well,” Fluttershy’s hoof pawed nervous circles into the cloud beneath her. Rarity heard her take a deep breath, and she looked up to suddenly meet the unicorn’s eyes. “Would… would you like to go out for dinner with me sometime?”

It was all Rarity could do not to squeal out loud, but she could not contain her smile no matter how hard she tried. Fluttershy looked overjoyed at the alabaster mare’s reaction, but her blush had returned in full force and she hid behind her mane. It seemed that Fluttershy’s bouts of courage were as short-lived as ever.

“I’d like nothing better, Fluttershy,” Rarity replied, gently, as soon as she felt sure that her voice was under control. Fluttershy let out an audible sigh of relief, and fluttered a couple of inches of the cloud surface in her excitement. She landed, biting her lip as if she wanted to explain her motives.

“It’s just… I feel like I made such a mess of things up here,” she eventually blurted out. “I just want to start over. I want to do this properly, I…”

The unicorn rested a calming hoof on Fluttershy’s withers, and the latter fell silent. “It’s okay,” Rarity murmured, soothingly. “You don’t have to justify yourself to me, darling. I trust you.”

Fluttershy sighed, and the sound was unusually contented, free of the stresses of the everyday fears that the pegasus carried on her back. In one last flare of courage she turned and hugged Rarity tightly, nuzzling her cheek, her shivering breath tingling down the unicorn’s neck. “Thankyou, Rarity.”

Above them, the shining rainbow streak approached, her speed rapidly building.

“You’ve broken thirteen-hundred!”

Twilight’s voice was almost drowned by the roar of the air. Dash’s teeth were gritted, her mind honed into that now-familiar state of determination and focus. She knew that her slipstream was protecting her, but if she went even slightly against the flow of the wind around her, she would be utterly exposed at such deadly speeds, and the force of the air would shatter her wings like sugar glass.

Don’t think about that. You’ve done this dozens of times in practice.

Speech was largely beyond her now, so she did not reply to Twilight’s update, preferring instead to concentrate on keeping her course straight and level. She could see the Cloudiseum again now, a round speck far below her on the edge of Cloudsdale’s sprawling aerial mass.

Her speed was still steadily increasing. The horrible drag of mental fatigue was beginning to weigh at her, but she was not worried yet. If anything, she felt better than she usually did at this point in practice. Usually her fear of what might happen if her wing edged outside the slipstream tended to nag at her, but today her worries were somehow allayed, leaving her free to concentrate on the task at hand. She did not know the reason for this sudden fearlessness, but enjoyed it immensely.

“Nearly there, Rainbow. There’s a bit of turbulence just east of you, stay sharp.”

Dash could already feel it; the slight shake in her primaries, the tell-tale signs that something was up ahead. Carefully, she eased herself to the left, as gently as possible. She missed the main body of the turbulence, but she felt her wings shaking hard as she was buffeted by the residual air flow.

The Cloudiseum inched closer; it seemed almost directly beneath her now, the stands clearly visible, filled with microscopic ponies. She caught sight of the square dais in the centre of the pearly oval, although it was too distant to pick out individuals at this height. She realized that she was still trailing a rainbow pathway behind her, straight as an arrow as it lanced across the sky.

Well, at least they’ll be sure to see me.

Twilight’s voice sounded in her ear again, and with a sudden quickening of the heart, Dash knew what was coming. “Fifteen hundred, and holding. You’ll hit the measured mile in three… two… one.”

Twilight turned to the others, her teeth slightly gritted. Applejack had her hat pressed to her chest, Pinkie was bouncing on the spot with an ear-to-ear grin on her face, and Rarity and Fluttershy were standing beside each other, craning their necks to watch Dash’s overhead progress. The canary pegasus’s hoof was just barely touching the unicorn’s, and their motions had a strange synchronicity to them. But Twilight had no space in her mind to concentrate on anything other than Dash. The next few moments would determine everything; all the fears she had held so close and secret, for fear of acknowledging them.

“Well.” She gulped, looking around at her assembled friends. “Here she goes.”

Above them, the rainbow-trailing speck blazed across the sky, now close enough to be visibly pony-shaped, if somewhat blurred by her speed. The crowd had fallen silent, and even Celestia in her royal box was staring in quiet admiration at the sight. A low, tooth-shaking rumble filled the air, as it was split by the speed of the pegasus. Limelight and the judges were glued to their machines.

Twilight wanted to screw her eyes shut, but forced herself to watch. Her heart hammered, and beads of sweat formed on her forehead, only to immediately melt into her fur.

Now or never. If Sunset were going to act, they would have to do it now.

The noise suddenly increased tenfold in volume as Dash roared overhead. Even at this distance her sheer speed was clearly apparent. The crowd seemed to be holding its breath. The arcing blade of light overhead was the only real thing in the world, for just this one moment.

Then, one of the judges turned and nodded at Twilight, signaling her.

That was it. It was over.

Just like that. In a strange way, it was anticlimactic.

“Rainbow… You’re done. That’s it,” Twilight whispered, her voice suddenly choked. Wave after wave of relief built up and suddenly broke, crashing over her. She sank to her knees, and realized without knowing why that she was crying. All the weight and the fear was lifted from her, and her breathing was heavy and a little laboured. Her friends rushed to her, surrounding her, but she forced herself back onto her hooves. The world seemed strangely silent. The lightheaded giddiness was overpowering, but she had a job to do, and would see it through to the end.

Above her, the speck was slowing down, already distant due to its sheer speed.

Slowly, Twilight picked her way towards the judges, her cheeks still streaked with tears of relief.

For the first time, she allowed herself to think about the future. Without being able to admit it to herself, she had until now refused to think beyond this day, refused to make the plans that she may never be able to enact. As if mirroring the sudden freedom she found herself faced with, the crowd burst into cheers.

Suddenly, she and Dash were no longer trapped. They had all the time in the world.

She read off the number without really seeing it. The record was, of course, broken. More than that, it was smashed. Even so, Twilight knew deep down that Dash would be disappointed.

Fifteen hundred and ten miles per hour. Just short of the target that she had set for herself.

It did not matter, of course. None of it mattered right then. Dash was safe, and that was the only thing of importance at that moment.

“Dash?” She spoke into thin air, having to speak loudly to overcome the noise of the throng of ponies, who had stood to deliver a standing ovation. The figure ‘1510’ had been projected onto the Cloudiseum’s many spires, the number shining down on the stadium from all directions, for all to see. From the overall reaction, it seemed as if the assembled ponies felt that they had been given their money’s worth. For some reason that she could not explain, however, Twilight felt a strange, nagging sense of incompleteness. She did not know its source, and largely dismissed it as paranoia, but her paranoia had led her right before. It seemed like a fool’s errand to ignore its voice this time it came calling to her.

“Twi’?” The pegasus did not sound tired anymore. If anything, she seemed more fired up than before, if the tone of her voice was anything to go by. “How’d it go?”

It was all Twilight could do not to laugh aloud. “You were amazing. I told you you would be. Fifteen hundred and ten! The crowd’s going crazy down here!”

There was silence from Dash. It stretched out for long moments, and Twilight’s smile faded. She looked up, and saw that the rainbow streak was no longer slowing down. It accelerated again, thrusting away into the distance until the pegasus was nigh-invisible once again. A moment later, the trail of prismatic light began to turn, still supersonic, aiming herself back towards the Cloudiseum.

Dash’s next words were like a kick to the stomach. Her voice was flat; her tone would brook no argument. “I’m going again.”

Twilight felt her chest constricting, and for a moment she could not speak; she could not breathe. Her brain, however, did not rest in its constant stream of analytical thought. She lurched towards the silver machine that was being used to map out turbulence in the area, almost trampling one of the judges in the process.

It was as she had expected. The machine’s screen provided her with real-time information about turbulence in the area. Red meant violent air currents, blue meant clear skies. As before, most of the screen was blue, but a thick line of red was boiling directly over the Cloudiseum. The wake of air from Dash’s first passing. If she made another attempt so soon, the roiling air would tear her apart.

“Rainbow, no! You can’t!” she yelled, desperately.

Immediately, Applejack was by her side, her eyes fearful. “What’s goin’ on, sugarcube?”

“She’s going again,” choked Twilight.

“I can do this, Twi’,” came the reply, sounding in her ear. “I’ve got to do this.” Dash’s voice was determined and self-assured. Twilight screwed her eyes shut, beginning to panic. Dash was an amazing flyer, but she could not perform miracles. Battling her way through turbulence of this magnitude would simply not be possible.

“No, Rainbow, you don’t understand!” she exclaimed. “If you try again now, you’ll hit your own wake. You’ve left behind so much turbulence from the first try, even you can’t get through it!”

Still the pegasus could be seen accelerating towards them once again. “It’s you who doesn’t understand, Twilight.” Dash’s voice was suddenly low, already strained with the effort of acceleration. The rainbow trail now had a slight wobble to it, as she caught the tail-end of the air she had disturbed. “If I don’t do what I set out to do, this’ll just be another failure. I wanted a new life, Twi’. A new life with you, and I’m not gonna start that with a failure. I’m doing this for you.”

“No!” Twilight screamed. “Don’t you get it? If you try and fly through these conditions at those speeds, you’re going to die!”

Dash laughed, and the sound made Twilight more afraid than anything the pegasus had previously said. “Relax, Twi’. I’m the best flyer in the world, you know that. This is a piece of cake.”

Twilight sank to her knees, tears rolling freely down her cheeks, the awful sense of powerlessness eating her from the inside. “You… You…” The crowd was humming in confusion, none of them really knew what was happening. Limelight and the judges were hovering on the sidelines, in a state of equal confusion.

She promised to come back when I asked her. How could she betray me like this? Do I mean that little to her?

“Now look here,” Applejack’s angry voice came from behind her, shouting into the air above her, which was once again starting to hum with the noise of the approaching pegasus. “Ya’ll are not gonna do this to Twilight! You get your flank down here right this buckin’ second!”

“She can only hear me, Applejack,” Twilight said, her voice utterly defeated, her tears falling and pooling on the cloud beneath her. “And she’s not listening.” Looking around, she saw that Celestia’s box was deserted, and what was left of her heart seemed to vanish utterly. One by one, the ponies who she thought that she mattered to were proving her wrong.

“Please, Rainbow,” she begged, her voice a barely-audible whisper.

“Twi’,” came Dash voice, suddenly gentle. “I’ll be okay.”

You won’t. This is it.

“You promised me… You told me you’d come back to me. Please, come back to me…”

Dash felt good. No, she felt better than good. She felt amazing.

What the hell are you doing?

The force of the wind was shaking her, but she did not care. She could take it. The sense of supreme ability flooded her with an easy, confident courage. The sensation was infinitely stronger than it had been earlier, gripping her, forcing her onwards. She felt as if she could achieve anything. Twilight’s fears meant nothing, for what fears could the sky hold for a flyer such as her?

You promised her. This is insane, why are you doing this?

The small voice of reason was smothered.

I’m doing this for her. I want to be happy with her. I don’t want to always be looking back at this with regret.

Don’t you dare use her as an excuse. You need to put a stop to this right now. Land and pray to Celestia that she forgives you. You wouldn’t deserve it.

The buffeting sensation was getting stronger, but she could cope.

I can do this.

You can’t. You know perfectly well that you can’t. What’s wrong with you?

Nothing’s wrong with me. I’m not going to be weak any more.

She gritted her teeth, pushing into the whirling, stormy air.

Dash realized suddenly that she was thirsty; that the exertion was finally taking its toll. It did not matter; she was running on determination now, and she had seen how far determination could take her.

It was as if two sides of her personality were in conflict. Without warning or explanation, the egotistical, selfish braggart that she had worked so hard to repress had risen up and taken her over. She willed herself to be sensible, but she was riding a wave of euphoria and denying her instincts was nigh-impossible. She knew, however, that she must. She was travelling through the suddenly-violent sky at over a thousand miles per hour. This was not the time for an identity crisis.

Twilight’s fear-filled voice was still in her ear, but over the howling air it was impossible to make out her words.

Come on, Dash. You’re the strongest-willed pony you know, but what good is that if you can’t control yourself?

She was still accelerating, despite herself. She must be nearly above the Cloudiseum now. Right into the teeth of a storm of her own creation.

She had seconds, and deep down she knew it.

Why? Why are you doing this? You know it’ll end badly, just admit it to yourself. What’s made you suddenly so overconfident?

Overconfident.

Suddenly, breathing was difficult, as if the air had been sucked from her lungs by the shock. It was so obvious. Such a simple trap, and they had walked right into it. Like all athletes, the last thing she had done before the attempt had been to take a drink.

The words of a letter came floating to the front of her mind, penned seemingly an eternity ago by Celestia herself, regarding the members of Sunset.

…One of them is the acclaimed potioneer, Root Blacksap, who you may know as the inventor of the Draught of Foolishness…

Then, the ghost of Twilight’s voice: …makes the drinker overconfident, prone to rash decisions…

Sunset did not need assassins; they had been infinitely more subtle. It was the easiest thing in the world to spike a drink, especially when the guards were all watching the crowds for suspicious activity.

Sunset did not need to destroy her themselves. All they had needed to do was give her a little push, and watch her destroy herself.

Oh, Celestia. Twilight, I’m so, so sorry.

Dash knew what was happening to her. She could hear Twilight’s voice, even now calling to her. The unicorn who had saved her in so many ways. The one pony who had stood by her no matter what, almost putting her own loyalty to shame. Twilight needed her, and she had made a promise.

Suddenly, she could control herself, and began willing herself to a halt. She was still travelling at well over a thousand miles per hour, and it was all she could do to keep herself in a straight line, let alone reduce her speed. The pearly oval of the Cloudiseum was almost immediately below her. She knew that she the turbulence would be the worst directly over the Cloudiseum, because that was where she had flown the fastest.

She was braking as hard as she dared. Her speed fell by over a hundred miles per hour in just over a second. Of course, it was not enough.

Time was no longer running out. Time had run out.

“Twilight!” she yelled out over the roaring gale. “Twilight, I’m coming down now! Sunset are here, they…” It was too late. She had crossed too far into her old flight-path.

The next instant was like nothing she had ever felt. The roiling wall of air that she had tossed to gale forces in her wake struck her. Her slipstream was gone, disintegrated, crushed and flung aside by the force of the wind.

She felt like a rag doll; utterly exposed. The current seemed to wrench her in two directions at once with a sickening jerk, and her wings snapped backwards, far beyond their natural reach. Dash was aware of a dreadful splintering, tearing sensation; it felt as if two white-hot knives had been plunged deep into her sides. She screamed, but the sound was whipped away from her, ripped from her lips and thrown aside.

Her consciousness waned. Direction and distance and time meant nothing.

A sense of falling.

The cold, spiteful bite of failure.

The sound of the mare she loved more than anything, screaming her name in panic.

The knowledge that she could do nothing to comfort her.

The darkness took her.

Everfree

A Bluebird’s Song

~~~
Lift off this blindfold, let me see again
Bring back the water, let your ships roll in
In my heart she left a hole
~~~

Everfree

All they could do was watch.

Twilight stared, fixated, as the twisting prismatic trail marked Dash’s tumbling descent. Somehow, she could not bring herself to look away. Her ears felt blocked; the confused murmuring of the crowd that had changed to cries of horror was dimmed and muffled as if underwater.

The communication spell had fallen utterly silent as the ragdoll figure fell, still arcing forwards at an incredible speed.

Desperately, Twilight turned, her horn flaring, casting desperately around in her mind for some spell that might be of some use. Scarcely aiming, she tried to seize the distant pony with her magic, flinging burst after burst of glowing light crackling out across the sky, but her target was too far away and moving too fast for even her powers to take effect.

Suddenly spent, her knees were shaking too badly for her to remain standing, and she sank to the ground.

How could you do this to me?

Sunset… The shouted word echoed in her head; a warning. Dash had obviously worked something out, in those last desperate seconds.

It doesn’t matter. Sunset didn’t do this. She did.

The rainbow-trailing dot sank ever lower. Then, suddenly, it sank through the canopy of the distant Everfree Forest, and was lost to sight.

Twilight buried her face in her hooves, and screamed an inarticulate, ugly sound into the cloud beneath her, hot tears pooling on her cheeks.

This was wrong. It was so, so wrong. She was utterly powerless. She had never felt more needed, but never less able.

It was her all along. Sunset had nothing to do with it. All this time, I’ve been so scared for the wrong reasons.

I thought I could trust you.

Then; she realized.

I still trust you, Rainbow.

You wouldn’t do this to me.

She forced her eyes open, forcing away the bitterness of her earlier accusations. She felt angry, frustrated, abused, but deep down she knew. Dash would not do this to her; not the Dash that she loved. Something had been done to the pegasus, she knew it with absolute certainty.

The unicorn got to her still-shaking hooves, and turned to her friends. Applejack and Fluttershy were staring in mute horror at the spot where the slowly-dispersing rainbow trail vanished into the dark Everfree. Rarity was crying, quietly; her usual bawling drama and affectation was nowhere to be seen. Pinkie Pie seemed to be in shock.

The crowd had fallen silent, but for the vague buzz of a thousand whispers and the occasional fearful shout.

“I’m going after her.” The words were quiet and choked, but they instantly caught the attention of the four ponies. Her mind was sparking, making connections, linking thoughts and memories and pure gut instinct. Throughout her life, many ponies had described her as a genius, some in jest, and some in something close to fear as they observed just how true their words had been. She could solve any puzzle thrown at her, and she felt achingly close to the solution of this one.

“How?” burst out Applejack. The mare was angry and frustrated, and the fire of that anger was turned on Twilight, simply because she had been the first to speak. “Ya’ll ain’t learned to fly, and ‘sides, she fell from miles up. What’s the use…?” She shook her head, and Twilight looked away as the usually stoic mare succumbed to open tears, the pride leaving her eyes.

She’s a pegasus. They’re like cats; they’re good with falls. She might well be alright, but not if she’s left in the forest for long. Her trail points to where she landed, but it’s disintegrating. I don’t have time for this foolishness.

Foolishness.

That was it. She did not quite realize why, but she knew that she had the solution. Her eyes roved, at first not knowing for what she was searching. Then her gaze alighted on an empty glass bottle, thrown aside by Dash moments before takeoff.

The pieces clicked together in an instant.

“Root Blacksap,” she growled, her eyes narrowing furiously.

“I fear so, my student,” came a familiar voice from behind her, commanding yet as gentle as always. The barest of shakes was audible in her tone though, hinting at an underlying pain.

“Where were you just now?” Twilight turned to Celestia, who had approached in silence. Her accusatory tone was unintentional, but audible nevertheless.

“I realized what was happening as soon as Rainbow Dash started arguing with you. I had to take steps to apprehend the caterers. They didn’t try to get away; I doubt that they know anything.” The princess hung her head. “I failed, Twilight. I failed to see the obvious, once again.”

She bowed her head, respectful once again despite the time of crisis. “Princess, I failed too. I didn’t imagine this for even a moment. But now isn’t the time, I need to go to her. I’m going to bring her back.”

“I’ve sent a squad of pegasi. They’re on their way now.”

Twilight gritted her teeth, her voice suddenly rising to a frustrated shout, in spite of herself. “They won’t get there in time. The trail’s fading and who knows what’s waiting down there in the forest! I’ll teleport down there if that’s what it takes.”

“No.” The princess’s voice was emphatic. “It’s too long-range to be accurate; you’d just as likely teleport yourself inside a tree. Even I don’t have the ability to travel these distances accurately. My guards are fast, the pegasi are all highly-trained flyers. You’ll have to trust them.”

There was silence for a few moments. Twilight knew that Celestia was telling the truth, but still had half a mind to try her luck anyway. This was insane; every conundrum had a solution. She knew that. She just needed the right piece; the right spark.

Rarity walked up beside her, her eyes red, her cheeks blotchy. Looking around, Twilight saw that her friends all looked terrified, but that was good. Fear meant that they still had hope. It was despair that she had dreaded seeing in their eyes.

What if there’s no chance? What if I’m just in denial? Even without the fall, losing control at those speeds…

“Twilight,” Rarity’s voice was scarcely a whisper. “All we can do is wait. It’s Rainbow we’re talking about, remember. She’ll pull through; she always does.”

Twilight pulled away from the alabaster unicorn, lowering her head and snorting. “I am not waiting here, I’ll…”

“Let me through!”

The voice was distant, but it caught Twilight’s attention. To her right, there was a commotion from the crowd. It seemed as if a pony was trying to jump the barrier into the arena. Two guards attempted to contain the pony, but a powerful shove sent them reeling backwards, allowing the intruder a clear flight to the dais.

Twilight’s eyes widened as the newcomer landed on the takeoff area between her and the others. A pure white pegasus, his mane a sun-kissed gold, his eyes fiery. They had all assumed that he had left in a fit of indignation, but apparently he had taken his box to spectate nevertheless.

Lightning Flare furled his wings, his gaze fixed on Twilight. The guards were converging on him from around the arena, but he ignored them.

He’s going to blame me for this, Twilight thought in horror, and then with a crushing sense of defeat: He’d be right to. It's my fault.

Even so, she did not have time for any distractions. Her horn flared, and she knew that she could toss him away from her with ease if he tried anything. Celestia’s horn did the same, and the princess and her student stood side-by-side, preparing to defend themselves.

Instead of advancing, however, Lightning nodded at Twilight, and gestured to his back.

“Get on,” he grunted.

Twilight stared in amazement, momentarily not understanding the seemingly non-sequitur situation. Celestia realized what was being offered before her protégé, and raised a hoof, halting the advance of the guards who had been closing in on the white pegasus.

“What?” Twilight blurted out.

“Get on,” he repeated, his voice frustrated. “I’ll take you to her. We can get there before the guards... and before anything else.”

Twilight opened her mouth, and closed it again, unsure of whether to trust him. For all she knew, Lightning planned to dump her off his back at the first opportunity, and fly away considering Dash avenged. On the other hand, he might just be genuine. There was surely only one way to discover the truth of the situation.

“Twilight…” Rarity began, warningly.

Would Dash take this kind of risk with her life if it meant the chance of saving mine? Twilight thought to herself. The answer was almost laughably obvious, and she hated herself for even this momentary hesitation. She had to go. Now.

“Thank you,” she whispered, gratefully. She hoped fervently that her gratitude was well-placed, as she stepped forwards. Celestia did not speak. Likely she knew that Twilight would not be dissuaded, and that any attempt to do so would be yet another delay.

Lightning did not smile. “I might not be the fastest flyer in the world, but I’ll have to do.”

“I don’t doubt that you’re a faster flyer than I,” Celestia said, quietly. She was clearly not oblivious to Lightning’s open dislike of Twilight, and her voice took on a warning tone. “But remember, I hold you personally responsible for Twilight’s safety until she reaches the forest. Don’t disappoint me.”

Lightning nodded. He was intelligent enough to know not to answer back in a situation such as this.

Twilight positioned herself carefully on Lightning’s back, gripping tightly with her hooves. The stallion’s shoulders were broader than Dash’s, his whole form significantly more muscular, offering fewer means of hanging on. She had never flown at racing speeds with Dash, and knew all too well the forces involved. As an extra precaution, she wrapped a single magical band around two of them, a purple loop that shrank to fit, holding her in place. She saw Lightning’s eyes narrow; given his antipathy to unicorns, such close contact with magic must have been near-intolerable for him.

She felt the pegasus beneath her stretch out his wings, preparing to take flight, and Twilight turned to her friends. “I’ll see you all soon, alright?” she said, in a quiet voice.

None of them, however, had the chance to reply. At that moment, Lightning rocketed up into the open sky.

The sensation was utterly unlike anything that Twilight had ever felt before. The force of acceleration felt as if it were stretching her; her insides were somersaulting. The wind hammered at her face, her tail and mane whipping madly from side to side. Her eyes were streaming, and she screwed them shut, occasionally risking peeks as the sky around them. She was extremely glad of the extra magical grip, and felt sure that without it she would have slipped straight off the stallion’s back.

After a moment’s climbing to clear the stadium’s spires, Lightning leveled out, and then angled himself downwards, rocketing towards the end of the rapidly-fading rainbow trail.

“Why… why are you doing this for me?” Talking took extreme effort. The flow of air tried to hammer the words back down her throat, and it was all she could do to choke out the words.

“I’m not,” came the blunt reply. “I’m doing it for her.”

Twilight nodded, although she knew that he could not see. This made sense. The dislike and contempt in his voice was unmistakable, even shouting over the wind. This uneasy alliance was clearly the best that she could hope for. The forest was approaching fast below them, and Twilight knew that they must have long overtaken the squad of guards dispatched to find Dash.

“Everyone’s heard of you, Sparkle,” Lighting called back over his shoulder. The ground was pounding past below them; his wings were pumping furiously. Beads of sweat ran down his neck and mingled with his fur. “You’re quite a unicorn, I’ve got to admit that. If… if she’s still alive down there, you’re her best chance.”

For Twilight words were excruciating. It was the first time somepony had actually voiced aloud the uncertainty of Dash’s survival. It somehow made that unthinkable risk horribly real; horribly possible.

“Hold on tight,” Lightning growled, looking back to his front. His next words seized Twilight’s fullest attention. “We’ll be going supersonic any second.”

For the second time that day, the Cloudiseum was bathed in the light of a pegasus breaching the sound barrier. Instead of a rainbow shockwave, the sky was illuminated by Lightning Flare’s trademark Thunderclap; a sparking, crackling corona of electricity that shot out from the point of the breach. The air seemed to warp as the blue-and-yellow tendrils hissed outwards, warping the air like a heat-haze. Instead of roars of adulation, the sight was met with a low murmur.

This time, the atmosphere in the stadium could not have been more different. Some of the crowd had got to their hooves, and were edging almost guiltily towards the exits. Most stayed glued to their seats, either in the hope of news, or in shock at what they had just seen. Banners hung limply, streamers lay flat and lifeless on the stands.

Celestia had taken control of the situation on the dais. The judges had gone backstage, knowing that this was a crisis beyond their abilities to resolve. Limelight had taken to the announcer’s podium, and was roughly explaining the situation as he knew it to the slowly-thinning crowd, stressing that they had no news as yet, but that with luck, Dash would be safe.

“A chariot’s on its way. I’m going to Canterlot hospital,” the princess announced. “There’s no point sending healers into the Everfree, it’s too dangerous. I’ll have them patrolling the border to wait for them to come out. If all goes well, she can be in hospital within minutes of Twilight getting her out of the forest.”

If all goes well.

Applejack took a step forwards. “No offence, your highness, but surely ya’ll might be more useful down in the forest yourself?”

Celestia shook her head. “As soon as Twilight lands, she will immediately start getting Rainbow Dash of there. The trail’s practically gone, and if they’re on the move I’d have no way of knowing where in the forest they are.” She sighed. “Besides, I trust Twilight with my life. In this case, I trust her with Rainbow Dash’s as well.”

The farm-pony nodded. “Ah understand. We all know Twi’d go ta the ends of Equestria for that pegasus. If anypony’s in with a chance, it’s her.”

“Then we’re in agreement,” Celestia said, briskly. “Now, I’ll need a pony to help co-ordinate the search, one who knows the lie of the land around the edge of the forest. Applejack, you’re with me.”

“Got it, your highness,” replied Applejack, moving forward to stand by the princess’s side, and turning to the others. “They’ll be alright, you guys.” She did her utmost to inject a note of conviction into her voice, but it still rang a little hollow.

“Pinkie Pie, I’ll need you too. Your sense may be of some use.”

Pinkie nodded, uncharacteristically serious. And stepped forward to join Applejack on the princess’s other side.

A few moments later, a carriage drew up, drawn by two burly pegasi in full royal guard regalia. Celestia and the two earth ponies climbed in side-by-side. The princess turned to the other two. “You wait here, or return to Ponyville if you wish. We’ll get news to you as soon as possible.” For a moment, she seemed a little tearful. Rarity and Fluttershy looked away, embarrassed. “I’m… I’m sorry. If it wasn’t for my lack of vigilance...” Celestia said remorsefully.

The carriage’s door closed, and the vehicle took flight, circling the stadium once to gain height, and then sped away in the direction of Canterlot.

The moment it was out of sight, Fluttershy turned to the unicorn beside her. “I’m going down there,” she said, bluntly.

Immediately, Rarity was at her side, her eyes fearful. “Fluttershy, you can’t! The princess wanted you to stay here with me, and besides… what good would it do?”

Fluttershy sighed, hanging her head. “Of course the princess wanted me to stay,” she muttered. “She’s already risking two of the Elements, she wouldn’t want to risk a third. But I could help, Rarity. You know I could. The birds know the Everfree better than anypony, and they’ll listen to me. I can organize them into search parties. We’d find them in minutes that way, even on the move. Besides…” The slightest note of fear shook her voice, but she repressed it. “I should be down there with them. I can deal with the creatures.”

Rarity sighed. “I just… I can’t bear the thought of risking you too.”

“I owe this to Dash,” Fluttershy said, simply. “She stuck by me for years, she was my one friend when I was growing up. She stopped my life from turning into hell, and I can’t stand by and watch this happen. Rarity, can you look me in the eye and tell me that Rainbow wouldn’t stand a better chance of getting out of there alive if I went to her now?”

There was a moment’s silence, and then the alabaster unicorn dropped her gaze, defeated. “Of course she would. Of course she’d have a better chance.” She took a step towards Fluttershy, gently nuzzling her cheek. “Very well. I’m not going to stop you, darling. Just… please be careful.”

Fluttershy smiled at her, warmly, a sudden flush warming her cheeks. “I will,” she murmured, clasping Rarity’s hoof between her own. “Because I owe you, too. All the times I didn’t speak up, and all the times I hurt you by not saying anything. I’m going to make up for those times.”

She knew that she needed to go, that every second now was an unforgivable delay. The memory of an errant thought, now painfully true, flashed across her mind.

Sometimes it feels as if you have all the time in the world, but sometimes the world has ideas of its own.

But what if I don’t come out of that forest? What if I never see her again?

For so many years of her life, fear had held Fluttershy back, but now was not the time for fear. Her heart was hammering, expanding to fill her throat. The unicorn’s breath bloomed across the face, halting her own, but for the first time in her life, Fluttershy felt able to do what was needed. Now there was no time for fear.

She craned her neck forwards, nuzzling Rarity’s blushing cheek in return. Taking a final half-step forwards, she released Rarity’s hoof, and draped her fetlocks loosely around her neck. She could feel the silken, sensual coolness of the unicorn’s fur, and was aware of the pearly mare’s body quivering a little at the sudden contact, her breath catching audibly. Fluttershy’s nuzzles changed to small, sweeping brushes of her lips, moving gradually inwards across Rarity’s cheek, until they were nose to nose, their snouts just touching, their cheeks burning and heated. Fluttershy needed to know that Rarity wanted this as much as she did. She looked deep into the unicorn’s eyes, watching the momentary uncertainty crumble away, replaced with a steady, slow-burn gaze that told the pegasus all that she wanted to know. Rarity’s eyelids fluttered closed, an expectant sigh dancing across Fluttershy’s lips, acting as a catalyst, leading them to the inevitable conclusion.

Their lips melted together in one fluid, mutual motion.

It was easier than breathing. The knowledge that they had mere seconds only served to make the contact sweeter before its unavoidable end. Fluttershy found herself pushing forwards into the kiss, searching, pressing her lips hungrily and aggressively against Rarity’s. She felt as if a lifetime’s repressed emotions were pouring out, leaving her free and near-weightless. The unicorn’s forelegs rose, burying themselves in Fluttershy’s luxuriant mane, pulling the mare closer with the smallest of squeaks.

Then, the connection broke. They leaned back, flushed and panting. Rarity’s eyelids flickered open once again, and she met Fluttershy’s smouldering gaze. “Wait for me,” the pegasus whispered, the words almost fierce.

“Always,” promised Rarity, her voice low and sincere, her expression near-delirious.

The canary pegasus turned, still breathing hard. She was shocked at her own courage, but incredibly glad that she had taken this opportunity while she knew she still could. She supposed that there was nothing left to be said. She could not delay a moment longer.

She took two steps to the edge of the cloud, fixing her eyes on the dark shape that was the Everfree forest.

She took a deep breath, flaring her wings, and leapt into the empty air.

“Okay, we’re coming in!”

Twilight breathed a sigh of relief. Feeling the hammering wind and watching the ground hurtle by was without a doubt exhilarating, but she was chilled to the bone by the frigid air, and the incessant battering had left her aching and numb. At such speeds the journey had taken mere minutes, but to Twilight it felt unending. Other than her cold and windswept appearance, however, she was unharmed. Lightning had been true to his word, and although she knew full well that she was merely a means to an end for him, Twilight could not help but feel grateful to the abrasive pegasus as he coasted to a smooth halt above the forest.

By the time they reached tree level, the end of the rainbow trail had almost completely dissipated. The squad of guards was far behind them, nowhere to be seen. Twilight sighed, realizing that she was going to have to do this alone. She could not expect Lightning to stick his neck out to protect them on the ground. Beyond the rapidly-fading trail of prismatic light, there was no indication among the canopies of Dash’s tumbling passage. Twilight’s heart sped up in fear at what she may find beneath the brooding swathes of leaf.

“Okay,” she gulped. “Take us down.”

Carefully, his wide wings beating slowly, Lightning descended through the canopy, edging between the wide boughs and branches. At one point, they disturbed a nest of small birds, which took fright and rose, shrieking into the sky.

Then, they were through, and the sun was all but lost. Lightning alighted with a soft thud on the leaf-strewn ground, and they found themselves in the gloomy trackless half-light of the Everfree forest. There was no path in this part of the woods, and the earth was carpeted almost knee-deep in the detritus of an ancient forest. Thick, knotted roots twisted beneath the leaves and scraps of bark, snaring at Twilight’s hooves as she climbed off Lightning’s back.

She could not see far, and her vision was obscured by clutches of dark trunks. The forest chattered and squawked with the calls of a million small animals, the darkness around them alive with invisible motion.

There was no sign of Dash. This may have been a good thing, Twilight reasoned; perhaps she was able to move herself, maybe even find some shelter. She wanted to call out to the pegasus, but knowing the inhabitants of this place as she did, that might well be suicidal.

“You’d better go,” Twilight whispered to Lightning.

He shook his head. “I’ll stick with you until you find her. That way I can take whatever news it is back with me.”

Twilight sighed, still scanning the area. “Thanks for this,” she said, keeping her voice low.

“I don’t want your thanks,” replied Lightning, shortly. “You see anything?”

“No,” Twilight shook her head, deciding not to press the issue of gratitude just then. “She must have come down somewhere around here.”

“The trail was faint,” Lightning pointed out. “She could be anywhere in this area.”

Then, through the trees to their right, they heard a single, drawn-out howl.

Twilight’s heart seemed to fall through her stomach at the sound, and she began to run towards the sound, crashing through the undergrowth giving no thought to her own safety. Lightning followed instinctually, hot on her heels. The Everfree was filled with packs of wolves, that much was common knowledge. Usually they roamed by night, but something had disturbed them.

Suddenly, something caught Twilight’s eye, and she pulled herself to a halt. A rare beam of sunlight was falling between the trees, illuminating a patch of moss to her left. It was covered in thick spatters of blood. She closed her eyes at the sight, her stomach churning a little. She was not squeamish, but she could make a good guess at the source of the stains. At the same time, however, she felt a welcome re-ignition of hope.

She’s alive; she’s been able to move herself. She’s hurt, but alive.

She moved a little slower now, listening hard for the sounds of more wolves, and scouring the ground. She was not a natural tracker, but in the gloom she was able to make out occasional splashes of blood on the leaves below, leading her onwards. Lightning picked his way alongside her. He had noticed the flecks of red, but made no comment.

A few minutes later, Twilight was suddenly blinded by the sunlight streaming between the trees, and covered her eyes with a hoof as they adjusted to the illumination. She stopped walking, and Lightning did the same. Evidently, he had adapted to the bright light faster than Twilight, because he gave a gasp, pointing silently ahead of them.

Twilight turned, still half-shielding her eyes. Her mouth fell open, and it was all she could do not to cry out, in equal measures of joy and horror.

They were on the edge of a small clearing, dotted with rocks, the trees encroaching some way overhead, trying to steal as much light as they could for themselves. Against a wide, sun-kissed boulder on the far side of the grassy patch, her motionless face distorted with the shadow of pain, lay Dash’s unconscious form. A speckled, irregular trail of blood led across the clearing, and was seeping into the ground around her, matting her fur. Her chest was moving up and down in ragged, half-choking breaths. She had obviously dragged herself this far before passing out, overcome by the exertion and her injuries.

However, Twilight did not have time to examine the extent of her love’s injuries, for Dash was not the only occupant of the clearing. Around her unmoving form circled six large wolves, sniffing at her and occasionally leaning in for a closer look before hopping back again. They had obviously been awoken by the crash landing, and had tracked down the smell of blood that they knew so well. Twilight realized through her shock and fear that it was Dash’s bright colours that had saved her so far. For the wolves, the pegasus’s vivid coat and mane screamed that she was dangerous, or perhaps even poisonous. It had made them wary, but in a contest between hunger and wariness, hunger would always eventually win out.

Twilight glanced sideways at Lightning, half expecting him to fly away and leave her to resolve the situation alone, but he did not. He caught her eye, and simply nodded, grimly. The unicorn nodded back, and there was something frightening in her eyes. She said nothing, but her horn ignited with a sharp hiss.

She stepped into the open clearing, and looked around at the assembled pack. They might have been wary of Dash’s inert form, but none of them realized for a second that the real danger was directly behind them.

One of them stepped forwards to take an exploratory bite of the pegasus.

It never stood a chance. The crackling beam of purple light smashed into the side of its ribcage, hurling it backwards. Its flying body clipped a tree-trunk with its hind leg, and it span out of sight into the dim forest.

Immediately, the five remaining pack members turned on the newcomers, their yelps of surprise changing swiftly to furious snarls. A bold grey one charged forwards at Lightning, its jaws snapping. Twilight sent a burning bolt towards it, which missed by inches. Taking advantage of her distraction, two great russet beasts, each easily half as tall again as Twilight, began to converge on her. As soon as the grey was near enough, Lightning spun on the spot with surprising grace, and launched a perfectly-timed kick with his powerful hind legs.

Twilight was not focusing on Lightning; her attention was consumed by the two snarling masses bearing down on her, but even so she heard the crunch of impact, and the whine of the injured wolf.

Two down, she thought to herself. She felt no triumph for what they were doing, but equally she felt no remorse. This was a necessity. Friendship, Twilight knew, was kind, but love could be a cruel, selfish thing; it made it impossible to regret even the most unpleasant of things done in its name.

Concentrating her powers once again, Twilight opted for a different approach this time. With a flick of telekinesis, she raised a pebble from the ground beside her.

With a second flick the pebble hissed through the air with the speed of a bullet, smashing home with a sharp thud. She did not know where she hit the wolf, but it lost its balance and crashed to the ground, semi-conscious.

Behind her, Lightning grunted, and there came a second crunching impact. The whining of the fallen grey wolf suddenly stopped.

Of course, the first red wolf’s companion was still a danger. The other two were hanging back, wary now. This one, however, was fuelled by anger. In the time it took for Twilight to take down its counterpart, it had already closed the distance between them, and leapt into the air, pouncing towards her with a furious snarl.

The red-brown beast was streaking through the air towards her, mere feet from impact. Twilight panicked, and instinctually did the first thing that came into her mind.

Desperately, she redirected her telekinesis from the pebbles to the wolf itself. She seized the wolf’s head with the glowing magical field, and gave a sharp twist.

There was a cracking sound that split the air, and the great animal was suddenly nothing but dead weight, its glassy eyes staring at its murderer as its head lolled horribly from side to side. Twilight had a fraction of a second to feel nauseous at what she had just done in her moment of terror, but the dead wolf was still moving, propelled by the force of its final leap.

The sixty-kilogram mass of solid muscle slammed into her, knocking Twilight clean off her hooves. All of the wind was crushed out of her as she and the animal skidded back halfway across the clearing. Eventually, they rolled to a halt. The wolf’s body was slumped across Twilight’s lower torso, its legs giving a few final twitches as they grudgingly conceded the fact of their own death. She strained beneath the warm, furry mass, but could not move. Her magic felt drained, and for the moment there was no way that she could shift the crushing weight.

Lightning stared down the last two wolves, the motionless form of the wiry grey one lying at his hooves. In unison, the black-coated creatures turned and slunk away, defeated expressions in their eyes. The russet one that Twilight had struck with the stone had evidently regained enough sense to make good its retreat as well.

“Lightning!” Twilight called to him. “Get me out from under this!”

The gold-maned pegasus caught sight of her situation, and began picking his way across the clearing towards her on bloody hooves. The whole place smelt of the damp stink of wolf, and Twilight knew that she must smell the same.

Suddenly, Lightning halted, halfway between Dash and Twilight. He looked from one to the other, indecision registering on his face.

With a horrible, sinking feeling, Twilight knew what he was thinking. He could take Dash and leave now; he could return with some story of how they had become separated. Of how there was nothing he could have done.

Lightning sighed, apparently making up his mind.

He closed his eyes, and shook his head minutely, determinedly looking away from Dash; away from temptation. “Let’s get you out of there,” he said, his voice almost gentle. He took a step towards Twilight, who breathed a sigh of enormous relief.

Then, with a snapping of twigs and a low, bitter growl, one of the two remaining wolves came bounding back out of the dark trees, revenge ignited in its amber eyes. The other had apparently given up, but this one was not one to be defeated. It was an enormous jet-black creature, and with a single bound it was on Lightning, whose defenses were down. He was bowled to the ground by the heavy beast, which pinned him down in a vicious flurry. Its jaws snapped down hard on his rear leg, and he screamed.

Twilight let out a yell of shock, and her eyes narrowed. A burst of burning anger overcame her mental exhaustion, and her horn burst into life once again.

I'm not letting you go now.

Her horn pulsed and a shuddering shockwave of magic threw the limp mass of fur and sinew clear of her, and she rose unsteadily to her hooves. A second pulse of light enwrapped the magical appendage, and the wolf was struck with the force of all her fury, crashing sideways into the ground with an earth-shaking thud. Lightning scrambled away from his downed assailant, snorting in pain and clutching his wounded leg.

Twilight advanced on the cowering beast, her eyes and horn glowing with shimmering purple stars. She stood over its stunned form, and prepared to deliver the final blow, forming a shimmering ball of force in mid-air that shook the air with a heat-haze quality. Then her eyes met the eyes of the now defenseless wolf, and she realized what she was about to do, the adrenaline haze fading.

No.

What am I doing?

She closed her eyes, letting the fog of fury leave her mind. She had been borne on the anger of the urge to protect Dash, but now that she had done so, she knew that she had to put her anger aside. She quenched the hissing ball of magic with a thought, and opened her eyes again to look down at the wolf.

“Go to sleep,” she whispered. A single blue spark detached itself from the tip of her horn, and floated down towards the creature’s great furry head. Inches shy of its nose; the spark split into two, and sank into the wolf’s unfocused eyes. Immediately, they drifted closed, and the beast curled itself up almost reflexively, its breathing deep and even. It would wake up in a few hours, doubtless somewhat bruised and sore, but very much alive.

Enough harm’s come to enough creatures today. I won’t be responsible for any more.

There was a low groan from behind her, breaking the sudden silence. She turned to see Lightning hovering unsteadily a few feet above the grassy ground. His leg was an undeniable mess. The wolf’s bite did not go deep, but it had split his hoof and clotted the blood flow to it. His face was pale, and he clenched his teeth. “I can’t walk,” he grunted. “There’s no way I can put any weight on this.”

Twilight looked from him, to Dash’s motionless form. Her heart was in her mouth, and whatever she had to do, it needed to be done quickly. “You’d better go, if you can still fly. There’s no point in you trying to stay down here.”

“You’re sure?” Lightning’s jaw was locked with the pain, but he kept his voice steady. “I guess I’d just slow you down, but I feel bad about leaving her.”

“We don’t have time to argue, I need to see to Rainbow.”

Lightning nodded, beginning to circle the clearing. “Alright then.” He sighed, looking over his shoulder. “Twilight… Thanks. For saving me, and for looking out for her.”

Maybe I don’t want your thanks, either. The unpleasant thought flashed across Twilight’s mind, but she dispelled it, recognizing the olive branch for what it was. “Anytime,” she said, quietly. “Now, go and get that leg looked at.”

Lightning nodded. “Good luck,” he added, before turning and taking flight. A moment later, he was lost to view behind the lowering treetops.

Twilight closed her eyes for a moment, gathering her thoughts. When she raised a hoof to wipe the dirt from her cheek, it shook a little. She kept impulsively replaying in her head the image of that wolf leaping at her, filling her vision. Desperately bringing her horn to bear. That awful wrenching crack of the wolf’s neck breaking, and its life ending.

She knew that the memory would haunt her for some time, but right now there were more important things to be dealt with.

Turning, she skirted carefully around the two dead wolves, and crossed the clearing to crouch down beside Dash.

Twilight was no medic, but even the most cursory of inspections showed that the situation was not optimistic. Her breathing was ragged and shallow, her eyes only half-closed but clearly unconscious. Both of her wings were horribly fractured, bent back to an unnatural angle. One lay slumped across her back, the other dangled limply at her side.

Twilight’s stomach lurched when she saw the source of the bloody trail through the forest. The left side of Dash’s torso and her hind leg were lacerated. Falling through the Everfree’s canopy had taken its toll on her, the branches and twigs whipping at her and leaving scores of deep gashes. The pegasus was already horribly pale, and was losing more blood by the minute. Celestia only knew what internal damage had come about when she struck the ground.

I can’t do this… Twilight felt panic clouding her judgment. Cuts and bruises and cracked ribs she could deal with, but this was in another league entirely. This would take a team of professional healers, and even then a healthy dose of luck would be needed.

You can. You’re not in here to heal her, you’re in here to get her out.

If she makes it that far…

“T… Twi’…?”

Dash’s eyes flickered, and Twilight’s heart gave a leap. She knelt down by her side. “I’m here, Rainbow,” she murmured. “I’m going to get you out of here.”

“Twi’… Sunset, they… I’m so sorry…” Dash was suddenly overtaken by a fit of coughing. When it subsided, her lips were flecked with tiny spots of red.

“I know, Rainbow.” Twilight struggled to keep her voice steady and soothing. “Don’t worry, I know. Don’t try to talk. You were amazing.”

Dash’s breathing was hard and laboured, and she winced with pain each time she inhaled. Twilight’s eyes filled with tears of sympathetic agony, but she forced herself to stay on task.

“I’m going to try and stop the bleeding,” she said, quietly. “If you’re in too much pain, I can send you to sleep for a few hours.”

The pale pegasus coughed again, less violently. “Don’t… don’t you dare put me out. I wanna… be able to look at you.”

Twilight smiled, tearfully, and leaned down to set to work. Ordinarily, she would have cleaned the wound before stemming the blood flow, but these were not ordinary circumstances. She had nothing to hand, no antiseptics, no supplies of any kind, and Dash could not afford to lose any more blood.

She closed her eyes, and her horn glowed brightly. She tried to remember the healing spell that she had been taught as a filly, and it fixed itself together piece by piece in her brain. It was designed to repair minor playground injuries, not anything of this scale. Of course, she had greater reserves of magic than most unicorns, which had to count for something.

She rested her horn gently on Dash’s wounded side, and the pegasus gasped sharply.

“I’m sorry!” she exclaimed, wincing.

“It’s okay. Keep going.” Dash’s voice was a little steadier now, although it still shook a little.

Twilight ran her horn over the injured area several times, cocooning Dash’s chest and leg in a light yellow glow. She watched the blood flow gradually wane, and then began going back over each individual gash to ensure that it was properly clotted. She tried to inject a little pain suppression into the spell she was weaving, and Dash gave a weak sigh of relief.

That might have been a mistake, Twilight thought to herself. Pain might just be the thing that keeps her awake. If she slips away now, I don’t know if I can bring her back again.

Despite her rationalization, she could not bring herself to regret what she had done, as she heard the pegasus’s breathing start to ease a little. She began siphoning off the excess blood that was matting Dash’s fur, cleaning her up a little. She had not yet looked at the wings; she had made up her mind to cross that bridge when she came to it.

“Twi’…” Twilight looked up, extinguishing her horn. Her voice seemed slightly more alert now, which could only be a good thing. She seemed a little stronger as well, now that the blood-flow had been stemmed. “Th… thanks for comin’ after me. I’m sorry I messed up so badly.”

Twilight leaned forwards, unable to understand why Dash was apologizing. “Rainbow, you were incredible. That potion’s strong stuff, and the moment you realized what was going on you just threw it right off. I should be apologizing to you; I never even imagined that they’d try something like that… I was so blind.”

Dash broke into another coughing fit, and once more her lips were flecked red when the spasms subsided. Again, Twilight realized the horrible possibility of internal injuries, damage that she had no way of even attempting to repair.

Despite the pain in her eyes, Dash smiled at her. “Hey…” She murmured. “If… if I don’t make it back…”

“Don’t say that,” pleaded Twilight. “You’ve got to; you didn’t get through all this to just give up now!”

“But… if I don’t.” Dash’s gaze was gentle. “There’s this unicorn, she lives in Ponyville Library.” She coughed once again, and when she resumed speaking her voice was quieter. “She’s purple, she’s gorgeous, and a bit… a bit of a nerd, you know?” The pegasus winked at her, even that simple motion painfully laborious for her. “Yeah… If you see her, tell her I love her. Tell her I love her more than anything in the world. Tell her I don’t… regret one second of it.”

She craned her neck forwards as much as she was able, her eyes wide and shiny with moisture. Twilight understood what she wanted, and leaned forwards as gently as she could, making absolutely sure to not rest any of her weight on Dash’s body.

Dash’s lips were a little sluggish and ill-coordinated, but still they danced with Twilight’s, bearing a touch that spoke of gentleness, not weakness. Their tears mingled freely, seeping into each others’ fur.

For the briefest of moments, Twilight feared the worst, but if anything Dash’s strength seemed to be building. Their gazes were locked, and the light in the of the cyan pegasus’s eyes told Twilight that she was so very far from ready to give up.

It was all the motivation Twilight needed. She pulled away, climbing to a half-standing position, a plan already forming in her mind. “You know what I think?” she said, her voice one of quiet determination. “I think you’re going to have to tell her yourself.”

Her horn flared, and she looked down into Dash’s swimming, magenta eyes.

“We’re getting you out of here.”

Blood

A Bluebird’s Song

~~~
They said to lose my life
Or lose my love
That’s the nightmare
I’ve been running from
~~~

Blood

The dark forest was glimmering.

Dash was cushioned on a pillow of magic, suspended a few feet above the ground. Around her, slowly and methodically, Twilight was weaving. A glowing blue ribbon was slipping smoothly from the tip of the unicorn’s horn, encapsulating the injured pegasus in a protective cocoon that wound around her body again and again, from her head to her hooves.

Clearly Dash was in no fit state to move herself even one step further, but Twilight knew that they needed to get away from the clearing before the allure of fresh meat presented by the dead wolves brought more predators sniffing around the place. Her love kept breaking into coughing fits, occasionally bringing up more blood. Each fleck was like an icy dagger through Twilight’s chest. She knew that magically carrying Dash was her only option, but was determined to offer her at least cursory protection.

She had no way of splinting the pegasus’s wings, and instead used her magic to prevent them from moving and causing Dash further pain. Perhaps this was not the best way, but her blood chilled at the memory of the way Dash had screamed when Twilight had tentatively tried to straighten her left wing.

With luck, they could reach the border of the Everfree before nightfall. Twilight had considered building a beacon of some kind of attract the squad of guards that would shortly be roving in a search pattern over the forest, but a nagging intuition warned her against doing so. She could build a fire, but it would waste time, and would likely attract other, more dangerous attention. No, it was better to get moving as fast as possible, and trust herself with Dash’s defence.

“There!” The last glowing strand fell into place, and the protective shell around the floating pegasus was complete. It was a shimmering purple-blue aura, transparent and comprised of an almost gossamer texture which belied its strength. “Can you hear me?”

“S… sure,” came the reply, faint and muffled through the magical field, but audible. The fatigue and the extent of her injuries were beginning to take their toll on Dash, and her voice was weak. It made Twilight’s heart accelerate with barely-suppressed fear, and she knew not to congratulate herself just yet. She wiped a bead of sweat from her brow. Holding the pegasus up was easy enough now, but after a few hours of walking the strain from such prolonged use of magic would without a doubt take its toll.

Maybe we should wait. The guards might find us here.

Twilight banished the nagging indecisive thought. They might be searching for hours, and this place smells of fresh meat. They won’t be the first ones to find us.

The forest around them was chattering and shrieking, a million glowing eyes peering curiously at the tableau. Twilight’s mind was made up; she knew that they were beginning to attract attention.

It was time to move.

The squad of guards descended in tight formation towards the forest canopy, armour shining in the early afternoon sun, scanning the misty green mass with professional, practiced eyes. The trail left by Dash’s descent had long-since faded, so it seemed that a traditional search was the only option.

“Fan out, check the area,” commanded Sergeant Ignis, the grey-flecked stallion who was in overall charge of the operation. “I don’t want anypony going below the treeline until we know we’ve located her.”

“That might not be possible, sir,” noted the corporal to his right. “The canopy’s thick; visibility to the ground is basically zero. The princess said we shouldn’t waste time. I say we should get hooves on the ground as soon as possible.”

“We’re not going down there without knowing that we’re going to find, and that’s final.”

The group of stallions were coasting to a halt above what was their best guess of Dash’s location, and the corporal turned to reply when an angry voice sounded to their left.

“Where in Equestria have you been?”

In surprised unison, the squad of guards turned their heads at the angry voice, to see a wiry white pegasus making his painful way through the sky towards them. His frizzy, golden hair was matted with dirt, and he seemed in a bad way; blood dripped freely from his wounded leg, and each beat of his wings made him wince.

“Useless!” he exclaimed, as he got closer. Apparently he was making his way to Ponyville hospital in order to get his leg seen to. “Bucking useless, the lot of you!”

The sergeant recognized the irascible newcomer as Lightning Flare, and he realized what must have happened. His soldier’s brain clicked through the situation, and arrived at the logical conclusion. Twilight was on the ground, but for some reason Lightning had left her behind. His heart sank at the sight of the battered stallion’s injuries. “What happened to your leg?”

“Wolf,” grunted Lightning. “We dealt with them fine, but one of them got me.” He paused for a moment to catch his breath, and them confirmed Ignis’s deduction:

“Sparkle’s fine. So’s Rainbow Dash, but I had to bunk. I’d just slow them down.”

Ignis breathed a sigh of relief that their charges were, for the moment, safe. Lightning’s bitten leg, however, was quite a concern. As a general rule, if the wolf did not finish its target off, the bacteria in its fangs would likely do the job if not treated. He motioned to the squad’s medic, a skinny recruit with a heavy supply pack. “Dockleaf, get a bandage and some antiseptic.” He turned back to Lightning. “We can patch you up in mid-air, hopefully that’ll be enough for you to get yourself to hospital.”

Lightning nodded. “Bastard split my hoof, too,” he said to Dockleaf as the medic approached with an antiseptic spray bottle. His eyes watered as the fine, stinging mist peppered his injuries, but no sound escaped him. Perhaps it was a matter of pride. “Those wolves are tenacious,” he added, his teeth gritted.

Ignis turned to the injured pegasus. “By the way, what makes you say we’re so useless?” he asked, one eyebrow raised, his voice coolly unconcerned.

“Because you’re miles off!” exclaimed Lightning, as Dockleaf wrapped a bandage around his leg. This was not a particularly precise operation when conducted in mid-air, but the results were surprisingly neat. Canterlot guards were well-trained, and it seemed as if the hours of practice had paid off.. “I’ve been flying for about ten minutes now,” Lightning pointed left with his good hoof. “They’re a couple of miles that way, or at least they were.”

“Did you tell them to wait for us?”

Lightning shook his head. “I didn’t expect to run into you. It would’ve taken you hours to find them, and who knows what would’ve found them first?” He shrugged. “Best I can tell, Sparkle’s gonna be heading for the forest border. Dash looked in a bad way though, she needed serious medical attention. Maybe

they’re still patching her up in the clearing. You might still catch them.”

Ignis’s brow knotted thoughtfully, as he came to a decision. “Okay, we’ll start there. Which clearing do you mean?”

Lightning gestured leftwards once again, visibly less pained now that his hoof was at least slightly protected from disease and the elements. “About two miles that way. It’s a pretty small clearing, a couple of dead wolves lying around. Can’t miss it.” He snorted. “Actually, having seen your sense of direction so far…”

“We’re not all racing flycolts,” snapped the burly corporal, his temper flaring up at the stallion’s arrogant attitude. “We came as fast as we could, but we didn’t have any trail to go by.”

Lightning raised his hooves with a wince, his expression reconciliatory. “Okay, okay, sorry. Thanks for patching me up, you guys.”

“It’s stuff like this that we normally have the Wonderbolts for,” noted the corporal, still glowering at the gold-maned pegasus. “We could use them right now.”

Ignis nodded, calmly. “Now you should get to a hospital, before that leg goes septic.”

“Sure.” Lightning turned and began to flap his slightly steadier course towards Ponyville. He glanced back over his shoulder at the guards, his expression almost pleading. “Just… try to get there on time. Twilight saved me back there. I’d like to be able to think I bought her some protection.”

“We’ll do our best,” promised Ignis, before turning back to his squad. He had never seen Twilight Sparkle personally, but he still cared what happened today. Lightning’s appearance had therefore been heaven-sent. It would not have reflected well on him or his career if the princess’s long-term protégé got herself lost in the Everfree on his watch. Of course, that may well already have happened, in which case they still had a search on their hooves.

Motioning left, the unit of guards rapidly re-organized themselves into tight formation, and sped off in the direction of the clearing.

The afternoon was beginning to wear on, and the heat was sticky and oppressive beneath the crushing forest canopy. Twilight trudged onwards through the pathless undergrowth, the shining cocoon suspended in mid-air by her side, her horn wreathed in glowing, flowing sparks. The creatures that dwelt this deep in the Everfree had, so far, left them alone. Twilight was thankful for this; her sides were shining with sweat, her breaths coming hard and fast from the trek, and the mental exertion of supporting Dash’s prone form. The thought of having to defend them once again was nigh-intolerable.

Every few minutes, she would flick her horn skywards, reiterating a simple compass spell that she had learned as a filly. Her horn would tug her head to the north, and she knew that as long as the spell pulled her head to the left, they were progressing eastward as planned. East, she knew, meant Ponyville. East meant the forest’s edge. But how far away was that edge? When she had flown over the green expanse with Lightning, it had seemed as nothing; a carpet of matchsticks that could be easily crossed in mere moments.

From the ground, it was a very different matter; potentially a deadly one. Her heart leapt in fear and sympathy every time she heard Dash cough, or groan at the pain in her wings. The pegasus drifted in and out of conversation, occasionally talking to Twilight about home, or one of Pinkie’s parties. The mundane. The reassuring self-distraction. Then she would lapse back into silence, and Twilight could tell that, for Dash, every second was a fight for consciousness.

At some point, the subject turned to their time together. It was a topic that Dash clung to, her voice growing a little stronger as they picked their way together through these recent, beautiful memories. Their first kiss… their first night. Twilight was surprised and bashfully pleased at the vividness of Dash’s recollections, and both ponies found themselves a little lost for a few minutes in this pleasant escapism, as the unicorn trekked their path onwards between the gloomy trees.

“It… it was Discord. Did I ever tell ya that?”

Dash’s voice drifted through the magical shield by Twilight’s side, and she turned to look at the pegasus, her hooves crunching gently through the undergrowth. Her words seemed to make no sense, and for a moment Twilight feared that Dash was delirious due to the blood loss or trauma. The mare was certainly worryingly pale, her coat still matted with dried blood.

“Discord?”

“Yeah…” Dash turned her head a couple of inches to look at the unicorn by her side, and her teeth gritted in discomfort.

“Don’t try to move!” exclaimed Twilight, fearing that the pegasus would do herself further injury.

Dash chuckled, the sound interrupted by a sharp, painful cough. “Worth it,” she croaked, the corners of her mouth twitching. “Anyway… Discord… That was the first time I ever really saw you in… in that way.” It might have been Twilight’s imagination, but Dash’s breathing now seemed slightly easier. Or perhaps simply fainter. She had no way of making the distinction, and the sense of helplessness and uselessness filled her with fear. She forced herself to concentrate on Dash’s words. At that moment, there was nothing further that she could do for the pegasus.

“You cast that memory spell on me…” Dash continued. “But… it wasn’t just my memories you gave back to me. It worked both ways. I saw ya, Twi’. So brave and so afraid… beautiful and so, so lonely. You’re powerful; you could become a goddess if you wanted, but you’re afraid it’d set you apart. You… you can’t see how far you’re already set apart.” She sighed; a low, contented sound. Twilight realized that her eyes were brimming. “Ever since then, I guess I was falling in love with you. Bit by bit. Day by day.” Dash laughed, weakly. “For months, I told myself it was just a crush. That was how it felt. Then… that article. That crash. You helped me, you didn’t laugh at me… you… cared. I guess that was what it took for me to realize just how much I cared, too.”

By the last few words, Dash’s voice was painfully weak. Were it not for the force field and the pegasus’s injuries, Twilight felt that she would have embraced the cyan mare and simply not let go. “It was that article that made things different for me, too,” she murmured. “The way it changed you back to the way you used to be. I guess you could say I saw the real you as well, only it took me longer.” Her smile was tinged with sadness, her teeth a little clenched with the continued effort of holding the mare aloft. The area of her forehead around her horn was beginning to burn with the stinging pain of magical exertion. “I just wish I’d taken the time to really get to know you before. I wish I could have broken down your barriers the way Fluttershy did years ago. I... I think I’d have fallen for you such a long time ago if only I’d made the effort to dig beneath the surface.”

Dash gave a small snort. “I didn’t make it look like there was anything to dig for, did I? I must’ve seemed so… shallow.”

“You were guarded,” replied Twilight, gently. She was pleased with the flow of conversation. If she could keep Dash distracted and aware, there was hopefully little chance of her falling unconscious. If she could keep herself distracted, she did not have to dwell on what might well happen next if Dash did fall unconscious. “Lots of ponies guard themselves with bravado, but you were hiding for so long that even you couldn’t tell the difference between your face and your mask.”

Dash laughed again, the sound coming out bitingly rough and pained. “That’s… that’s why I can’t live without you, Twi’. You made me better. You made me believe I was better than all that. I can never repay you for what you did. I’m just… I’m sorry I dragged you down here with me.”

Twilight shook her head. “Don’t apologize, Rainbow. And for what it’s worth… you’ve already repaid me. You’ve done that a thousand times just by being with me. I couldn’t imagine life without you now.” Cold claws seemed to rake across her chest at the ill-chosen words. “Just hold on,” she choked, barely able to get the words out. “We’ll be out of the forest soon.”

You don’t know that. It might be another full day’s journey yet, maybe more.

I don’t care. I’m not going to stop walking until we’re back at Ponyville, or until I keel over.

“I know we will,” from the faint tone of Dash’s voice, she was about to lapse back into one of her periods of silence. “I… I trust you, Twi’.”

Twilight continued for a few more wearisome minutes, the magical cocoon bobbing along in her wake. Suddenly, however, she halted. A flash of sudden colour caught her eye.

A small bird had alighted on the branch of a tree a few feet from them, and was regarding them with quick, intelligent eyes. Its wings were a vivid sapphire-blue, its chest banded russet and white. Something about its gaze made Twilight stop half-apprehensively in her tracks.

Suddenly, it began to sing; a rapid, staccato chattering that cracked like a whip above the other sounds of the forest. Twilight stood, near-fixated, listening. The sound was not a pleasant one as such, but it seemed somehow significant. As if attracted by the call, a second bird, a robin this time, landed beside the first. It scrutinized Twilight and her charge for a few moments, and it too began to sing.

A third voice broke out among the bushes, then a fourth. The forest above them was criss-crossed with darting wing-tracks.

Suddenly, the air around them was alive as other birds flocked from all around to the sudden clarion-call, acting with a unity that Twilight had never thought possible of wild creatures.

At least, not possible without help. Twilight watched the mass of whirling wings, breaking into a sudden smile. She knew who was behind this; she knew only one pony who could instruct wild creatures with such skill and finesse. They were not alone down here.

“Wh… what’s going on?” For Dash, the world was hazy and indistinct through the magical shield, but she could make out the small forms filling the air and trees around them.

“Fluttershy,” replied Twilight, a new determination in her voice.

With renewed energy, she pushed on through the forest. As long as the birds could find them, Fluttershy could too. It was only a matter of time now before help arrived.

The birds moved with them, hopping or fluttering from branch to branch. As if they had realized the need to keep a low profile in the treacherous forest, they had more or less fallen silent, barring the occasional chirp or rustle of wings.

Suddenly, their chattering noise ceased altogether. Twilight stopped again, looking around at the suddenly-deserted trees. There was no sign of a single wing nor glinting eye among the leaves.

No, wait, one remained. The quick-eyed little creature which had been the first to spot them remained. A bluebird, Twilight now realized. Its eyes bored into her, and it let out a series of low, warning notes, so quiet as to be almost inaudible. It seemed to be trying to tell her something; something its heightened senses had caught before her.

Twilight eyed it in apprehension.

Why’s it being so quiet? It didn’t exactly hold back earlier, did it?

An unpleasant thought struck her.

If something’s here, it’ll already have heard us. The bird’s trying not to provoke it.

She heard Dash’s breath catch in shock behind her, and her eyes roved around the trees. They were hemmed in on all sides by towering, gnarled trunks, and Twilight could pick out no glint of a hostile eye among them.

“Twi’…” Dash whispered, horrified.

Then she heard it. A soft, sibilant hiss. Twilight’s heart seemed to freeze at the proximity of the sound, and with great trepidation looked downwards.

It was all she could do not to scream aloud.

A tiger snake. Easily six feet long, its thick black body coiled over itself, partially buried by the shifting leaves that carpeted the ground.

It lay inches in front of her hooves, regarding her with lazy, glittering eyes; one more step and she would have trodden on it. One more step and she would have been dead, along with Dash.

Snakes. To say that Twilight was phobic of the things was practically an understatement. She could not breathe. Every nerve in her body was willing her to shriek and bolt; to put as much distance as possible between herself and those pitiless black eyes. But she could not. Right then, Dash was her priority, and they needed to get past this new obstacle.

She looked up for a moment, her eyes seeking the bluebird whose warning had saved their lives, but the branch it had occupied was bare. She realized that, were it not for Fluttershy, they would both be dead.

Of course, they may yet be. She could tell that the snake was weighing them up, trying to decide whether or not she was a threat. Certainly the glowing, hovering magical cocoon had unnerved it to some degree. Twilight considered attempting to immobilize it somehow, but unicorns were not the only magical creatures in Equestria, and the sight of a flaring horn would get a predator’s guard up in seconds. Indeed, the low glow emitted by her horn to keep Dash’s cocoon in the air had already cast a narrow-eyed suspicion into the snake’s gaze. She had no idea if she could strike faster than the creature, and had no intention of betting their lives on it.

They needed to find a way around.

She began to step backwards, painfully slowly, hoof by hoof across the crackling ground. The tiger snake’s head swayed, its eyes illegible, its balance a knife-edge.

Dash’s breathing was suddenly ragged and catching in the back of her throat. Twilight felt a wave of cold panic sweep across her; she knew what came next. The prone, hovering pegasus did everything she possibly could to prevent it, but the spasms were already wracking through her body, and she could not stop them from escaping.

She broke into a coughing fit that echoed off the trees, horribly loudly. Her broken wings shook, and Twilight knew that the involuntary motion must be terribly painful for the pegasus, and the familiar, awful feeling of helplessness washed over her.

Immediately, though, it was replaced with terror. The noise had roused the snake; it reared up into the air, its eyes fixed on the unicorn who had dared to disturb its rest.

It hissed furiously, drops of venom spitting from its open mouth. Then it struck at Twilight’s neck.

She had only had the time to take three steps back before Dash began coughing, but those few feet saved her life. Her mind was blank and screaming in horror, unable to conceive of even the simplest of spells or defences. She was suddenly clouded, consumed with the base fighting instinct common to every horned creature, blessed with magic or otherwise.

Her head snapped down, bringing her horn to bear in a sweeping parry, the motion ugly, ill-coordinated, and not even slightly magical. It was enough. The lunging snake’s fangs snapped down hard on the solid alicorn surface with a sharp, jarring crack. The serpent’s tail thrashed as it tried vainly to break through the surface and deliver its venom.

Somehow though, the impact had disrupted the horn’s magical field. Perhaps it was sheer distraction, or perhaps the current of magical energy had simply been interrupted. Either way, Twilight felt every bit of crackling energy drain out of the air around her, and the burning of magical fatigue in her forehead began to recede.

She realized what had happened, and cried out in horror.

Behind her, the mare she loved crashed to the ground. Twilight could do nothing, but she heard the pegasus scream. Clenching her teeth, she shook her head violently. The tiger snake’s grip slipped a little, its fangs gouging scores into the surface of her horn. It broke away with a hiss, and prepared to strike again, this time at Twilight’s face.

This time she was ready. Magic did not even occur to her as she acted with a deftness of instinctual motion she had never thought possible.

In a single, graceful motion, her neck arced to the left, evading the serpent’s lunge. Planting her hooves, and acting entirely on impulse, Twilight twisted her head smoothly back to the right, and slammed her horn home.

When she looked back on the incident, Twilight could never tell if it had been some untapped skill, or simply desperation. Either way, the blow was perfectly aimed. It pierced the underside of the snake’s head, emerging from the back of its neck with a truly horrible sound. Twilight screwed up her eyes to protect them as hot liquid ran in rivulets down her forehead and face, and she jerked her horn free. The twitching snake collapsed to the ground, its thrashing tail growing progressively weaker and slower, until eventually it lay motionless at Twilight’s hooves.

This would be another bad memory later. Another guilt, another recollection to spend solitary early-morning hours over, wondering if it could have been done differently. But not yet. Right then she felt nothing.

Unaware of her stained horn and face, moving almost in a dream-state, Twilight rushed to Dash’s side. The cocoon was still intact, and had absorbed the worst of the damage, but they had a problem nonetheless. She semiconscious pegasus gazed blearily up at Twilight, her face suddenly horribly pale. Twilight saw with a freezing rush of horror that the impact had re-opened the wounds on Dash’s side and leg. Blood was pooling in the bottom of the magical field, soaking into Dash’s fur.

With a hasty wave of her horn, Twilight dispelled the cocoon without a moment’s thought. There was no way that she could rebuild it now, not in such a magically and physically weakened state. It did not matter, though. All that mattered was the rapidity of Dash’s ragged breathing, her heart-rate skyrocketing as it struggled with what limited supplies it had. Her eyes fluttered closed, and it seemed as if the pegasus had finally succumbed to unconsciousness.

You let her fall for a second time. You failed her again.

Desperately, Twilight attempted the clotting spell once again. She ran her glowing horn across the open wounds again and again, but to no avail. The flow continued, spreading out in a pool, staining the unicorn’s shaking hooves.

Blood on your hooves, and don’t you know it? This is your fault.

Twilight’s brain had jammed. She had no time.

She’s not going to make it. Not like this.

Yes she will. There’s an obvious answer to everything. There’s no puzzle without a solution.

Blood. What was that about blood? In Cloudsdale?

Twilight’s memories flowed like water, or perhaps blood. The important parts seemed to glow, forming their steady way to solutions.

The preparation room, back at the Cloudiseum.

They had done everything to Dash, for the sake of preparing her. They had styled her mane and tail, checked her flight suit, checked her for drugs…

Taken a blood sample. Twilight’s mind homed in on this memory; the rapid analysis of the sample, the cloud-walking unicorn doctor with his impressive range of identification spells, splitting the sample up into its components in mid-air in front of him, before scratching his chin and coming to a conclusion.

The four words that Twilight had heard him speak echoed in her head:

“O Positive. She’s clean.”

O Positive. Dash’s blood type; thankfully common. Indeed, a perfect match for Twilight’s own.

There was only one thing to do, of course.

Well then, she thought to herself, once again raising the near-unconscious pegasus into mid-air, her heart hammering as if it knew what hardships were coming for it next. Now we’re really against the clock.

It was simple, really; a precise fluid teleport link. Maintaining a constant flow would be tricky, but she reminded herself that it was nothing she had not attempted before. She began by pulling some moss up from the forest floor, and pressing it green-side down against the injured area of the pegasus. Even in her hazy state, Dash inhaled sharply at this sudden pressure. Two hurried flicks of her horn pulled down sturdy strands of the ever-present vine that seemed to creep its way up every tree in the Everfree. A little clumsily, she knotted the moss tightly into place with her horn and teeth. It would do little to stem the blood flow, but would at least prevent the wound from being exposed to the forest air, now that its protective cocoon had been stripped away.

Even the small exertion of pulling down the climbing plants had made Twilight’s forehead burn horribly with magical exhaustion. She raised a hoof instinctually to rest on her burning horn, and it came away red and sticky with the snake’s blood. She must look like a monster.

Focus. Fluid teleportation. A transfusion’s the only thing that’ll save her at this point.

Gritting her teeth, her horn began to spark. She held out her hoof, sending a probe along her foreleg, searching for the artery, homing in on the warm, pulsing heat. When she was sure she had located it, she planted the pinpoint entry gate of the teleport link, and felt the magical tingle beneath her skin. Then, she did the same to Dash, scanning her horn across the pegasus’s leg. These detection spells were elementary to her, but she had never imagined that she would be using them for something such as this.

Taking a deep breath, she positioned the exit of the teleport link carefully into Dash’s bloodstream.

The strain of holding up the pegasus and maintaining the teleport link was immediate and debilitating. Soon the light-headedness of blood loss would creep up on her too, another enemy trying to bring her down.

She had to move.

As quickly as she felt was possible, Twilight struck on through the dense forest, staggering every few steps. She could not tell if Dash was regaining conscious or not, and she did not dare look back to check. Certainly the pegasus was not talking. On the brighter side, whilst it might have been her imagination, she fancied that the trees were thinning a little, and this knowledge spurred her on.

After a few minutes, she was conscious of her heart-rate rising, battling the incessant loss of blood. She could almost feel the fluid draining from her system.

What would Rainbow think if she knew I was doing this?

She'd tell you to stop, of course.

The silence was strangely intimate.

After fifteen minutes, she was panting from the exertion of simply trudging on. Her sides were once more drenched in perspiration. She felt numb and light-headed, she treeline seeming to melt a little before her eyes. She was more than prepared to bleed herself dry for Dash, she just prayed that it would not be in vain. Dash hovered by her side, her crude bandages of moss stained a dark red. She was still losing blood nearly as fast as Twilight could provide it. She had had no idea that the lacerations from Dash’s fall had cut her so deeply.

Time lost all meaning.

Still she pushed on.

Ten more minutes passed, or it may have been an hour or a few seconds. By this time, Twilight was running more on willpower than ability. Every root snared at her hooves, trying to trip her. Every tree was a predator. Fluttershy’s birds had never reappeared, nor had any semblance of assistance.

One hoof in front of the other.

She was keeping herself awake second by second. Her chest was heaving, the empty-lung sensation of enormous altitude gripped her mind, fogging it with near-asphyxiation.

One hoof in front of the other.

It’s just a hop, a skip, and a jump.

A clearing. A cave’s mouth looming, black and cavernous.

A narrow path, lined with blurring, melting trees.

One hoof in front of the other

Another clearing. Sun-kissed grass and wild flowers. Her delirium-addled mind was painting the sunbeams into watercolour swirls and cascades.

There are worse places to rest.

The pain in her forehead was blinding, as if a glowing-hot brand had been pressed to her skin. Magic was impossible. Taking one more step was impossible.

Forgive me, Rainbow…

Twilight was not aware of her knees giving out, or her magic dying. All she knew in her blood-starved mind was that the world was suddenly sideways. The coolness of grass and fallen leaves was caressing her cheek. Somehow, Dash lay beside her, blue and red clashing on her coat. Her face was motionless. Her chest was quivering. Her eyes were closed, their deep, magenta secrets guarded.

I wanted to see them one more time.

At least we’re together. Maybe they’ll never find us. Maybe we’ll be together like this forever.

I’d like that.

Somewhere in her throat, she mustered a whisper, letting her breath caress the face of this joyful, impossible, incredible mare, one last time.

“I… I love…”

Dash’s smile filled her imagination, a smile that laid no blame on her, a smile that told her that her love had been treasured and reciprocated, right to the end. In a strange way, she was content.

Whiteness tinted her vision, growing in strength. Her ears were full of hissing nonsense noise.

The nothingness rose up in a roaring tide, and swallowed her.

Falling Flames

A Bluebird’s Song

~~~
This world was never meant
For one as beautiful
As you
~~~

Falling Flames

What if I don’t want you to change?

What if I wouldn’t want you to be any different?

What if I said I couldn’t live without you, just as you are?

What if I said we go together, or not at all?

Her breaths were long and shallow, but their very presence was a surprise. A vice-like grip was crushing her skull.

I’m breathing.

Twilight’s eyes flickered open, and the pain in her head increased tenfold as the light speared into her eyes. Disjointed hazes of memory crowded into her brain, each clamouring for acknowledgement.

The small room came slowly into focus. White. Sterile. A fat, ruby-red intravenous drip fed deep into her right foreleg. The bed was soft, the blankets comfortingly heavy. A hospital, but not one that she recognized. The room was deserted, the sky outside the window the dusty amber haze of late evening. She was alone.

Suddenly, her heart began to hammer at the onslaught of memories. A cold, rusty blade seemed to plunge into her chest. She was alone.

“Rainbow!” she screamed, suddenly flailing against the impossibly heavy covers, trying desperately to sit up. She was dimly aware of a pulsing beep; the machine that was feeding her blood had apparently triggered some kind of alarm at her awakening. She managed to raise her head, but a wave of giddiness and nausea welled up inside her. Her hearing failed, and spots of nothingness bloomed in her vision. Her head collapsed, unconscious, back onto the pillow, as she blacked out.

“Twilight?”

It was an instantaneous eternity later, and a dim, echoing voice impinged upon her darkened consciousness.

“Twilight Sparkle?”

Once again, her eyes opened. Slower, this time. Rushing, she knew, would not end well. The face of a stallion in full guard regalia shifted gradually into view. His fur was flecked with spots of grey, and he sported a rather impressive black eye, still inflamed and bloody where he had been struck. He looked tired.

“Rainbow?” Twilight whispered, praying to hear that warm, slightly coltish voice respond from somewhere outside her field of view. No such response came, however, and her breathing sped up as she began once again to hyperventilate.

“I need you to focus on me.” The voice was stern, but kindly. Twilight felt compelled to exert some kind of control over herself, and tried to fix her eyes on the guard’s, her breathing still hard and a little ragged. “My name’s Sergeant Ignis, and you’re in Canterlot Hospital. The doctor’s already conducted a full examination, and he says you were very lucky to avoid severe brain damage.”

“How… how long?”

“We brought you in earlier today. You weren’t physically hurt, you should be back to normal soon enough. You were just exhausted and… drained.”

Twilight stirred again, but stars popped horribly in her vision and she groaned.

“Don’t try to move,” Ignis warned her, gently. “Your blood pressure’s still nowhere near what it should be.” He sighed. “What you did was… incredible. If it weren’t for you and your friend Fluttershy,” (for some reason, his good eye narrowed in annoyance at the word ‘Fluttershy’), “Rainbow Dash would doubtless be dead.”

A wave of giddying relief came crashing over Twilight. “She’s alive?” she gasped, refusing to believe it until she heard the confirmation uttered aloud.

“She’s alive,” echoed Ignis, but somehow there was no triumph in his voice. An unspoken qualification hung in the air between them, turning the moment sour. Twilight did not enquire further. Right then, it was enough that the mare she loved was alive. She could live with anything, as long as Dash was alive. As if to distract the unicorn, Ignis looked over his shoulder and motioned to somepony outside her field of view. “I think she’s okay, you can come and talk to her now.”

Tentatively, Twilight edged her head to the left. She realized that Ignis and herself were not the only ponies in the room; Applejack and Pinkie Pie were sitting on those cheap, functional chairs that seem such a permanent fixture in any hospital.

The tips of Twilight’s mouth twitched upward. “Hey guys,” she murmured. Their smiles of relief were tinged a little with consolatory sadness as they trotted over to the bed.

“Hey there, Twi’,” Applejack said, quietly. Both ponies had a strange air of respectfulness about them, obviously surprised and impressed in equal measure the lengths to which Twilight had been prepared to go to save Dash.

“I’m so glad you’re okay,” whispered Pinkie. Her hair had lost a little of its customary bounce; whilst not utterly straight, its usual maniacal frizziness was somehow lacking. She smiled, but seemed uncharacteristically serious. “Is it okay if…?”

Twilight understood what she was asking, and nodded. “It’s fine. I’m not physically hurt.” She smiled, weakly. “Just… mind the head, if that’s okay.”

Pinkie nodded, a little of her bounce returning. She gently embraced the prone purple mare with her forelegs, her eyes a little tearful. “Thanks for bringing Dashie back,” she murmured. Applejack followed suit after Pinkie had relinquished her hold, hugging the librarian with the utmost care.

“Where are the others?” Twilight asked, after Applejack too had pulled away.

“Rainbow… she’s in the room next door,” began Applejack, not quite meeting Twilight’s eyes. “She’s gonna be okay, Twi’.” There was something frightening in her voice; the farm-pony was obviously trying to convince herself. “Rarity’s looking after Fluttershy, in the burns unit.”

Twilight made another ill-advised attempt to sit up, but fell back almost immediately, her vision gone, her ears plugged in a burst of light-headedness. “Burns unit?” she exclaimed, as soon as her hearing returned.

“Don’t you go worryin’, sugarcube. She’s fine,” promised Applejack. “They said they’ll prob’ly let her out tomorrow.”

Ignis stepped forwards once again. “If I may,” he interjected. “I think I should bring you up to speed myself.”

Twilight nodded, and immediately regretted it. “I’d like that. What… what happened down there?”

Ignis sighed. “Before I begin, I should forewarn you that you won’t think much of me after I tell you what happened. I’m not proud of it, but I stand by what I did.”

The bedridden unicorn raised an eyebrow. “Go ahead,” she said, warily.

The Everfree Forest, several hours ago.

“Any sign?”

“Nothing yet, sir.”

Sergeant Ignis snorted in frustration, kicking out halfheartedly at a loose stone among the undergrowth. The guards had arrived at the clearing to find it deserted, apart from two wolf corpses and an ominous pool of drying blood around a sun-kissed rock. It had been easy to find the place from the dark wheeling masses of ravens that jockeyed for scraps of the freshly-fallen wolves. With no obvious reason to stay among the cawing and the stench, the group of stallions had been tracking their quarry eastward as best they could for the past few hours, spears at the ready in case of an all-too-likely attack.

The worst part was how open the situation had become. Like any soldier, Ignis knew all too well the value of not rushing blindly into a situation without intelligence. Unfortunately, that was exactly what they had done. He assumed that Twilight and Dash would be heading eastwards towards Ponyville, but the details were utterly unknown. The wounded pegasus could be ten metres or ten miles away. For all he knew, Twilight might even have made the pair invisible or inaudible or some other infuriating piece of unicorn magic.

They had long ago given up the pretence of moving silently, instead favouring speed, fanning out through the trees. The burly corporal had managed to find a hornet’s nest the traditional way, but had escaped with little more than cursory stings and a bruised ego.

The afternoon was beginning to wear on, and the heat was sticky and oppressive. Ignis sighed, turning to their designated navigator, the overburdened Private Dockleaf.

“Where are we now?”

The slight stallion cast a practiced eye over the map in his hooves. “We’ve got oaks behind us, so we’re in the eastern crescent,” he replied, after a moment. “Nearly at Ponyville. I’ll be honest, if we’ve not found them yet, they’ve probably made it out on their own.”

Ignis did not look convinced. “Or we’ve just missed them.”

Dockleaf shrugged. “Unlikely, Sir. Transporting the injured doesn’t often leave room for subtlety. Besides, she’d know we were coming, so she wouldn’t go out of her way to get camouflaged.”

“That seems reasonable,” agreed Ignis. “I think we ought to-”

He froze, suddenly. His pegasine danger sense, honed by the rigorous training of the Guards, was buzzing in the back of his head. Something was wrong, but what was it?

“Sir?” Dockleaf began, but Ignis raised his hoof for silence.

“The animals,” he whispered, the low sound carrying in the sudden quiet. Dockleaf realized immediately what he meant; the continuous chattering and shrieking that usually filled the forest had gone utterly silent, as if the wildlife had suddenly decided to vacate the area en-masse.

Then, in the distance, came a roar. It was a harsh, grating sound, like two pieces of rusty iron being ground together. Immediately the other guards, who had until now been picking their way between the boughs, darted back to Ignis’s side, creating a circular formation, spears outwards.

“What is it, Sir?” hissed the corporal.

Ignis shook his head. “I don’t know, but it’s big. It seems distant though...”

He would have continued, but at that moment there was a crashing in the undergrowth to their left. The squad wheeled around as one, bringing their spears to bear, ready to hurl. A panicked figure came charging between two trees, skidding to a halt and backpedaling as best she could with a cry of shock. A faint smell of burning hung about her.

Ignis raised a hoof, and the guards lowered their spears warily, eyeing the newcomer. A canary-yellow pegasus mare, her face streaked with dirt and tears. Her luxuriant mane was also dirty, the tips seemed to be singed. She was shaking, her eyes wide. Ignis had been in Ponyville when Nightmare Moon returned, he had tried to mount a pitiful defence. He had seen that expression of wild fear on the faces of guards before, and he knew that this mare would need careful handling if she were to avoid a breakdown.

He took a step forward, but the mare shrank away from him. “Miss,” he said, gently. “My name’s Sergeant Ignis, you’re going to be okay.”

“I… I’m F-Fluttershy,” whimpered the pegasus, biting her lip to hold back further tears.

It was strange, though. Ignis could have sworn that something was changing in her eyes, the initial fear beginning to recede.

“What happened to you?” he asked, making a conscious effort to keep his voice low so as not to startle the obviously timid mare.

Fluttershy closed her eyes, taking several deep breaths, controlling her shaking. When she looked up, her tear-tracked face was set with a kind of fearful determination. Ignis was impressed at the self-control of the obviously terrified mare. “It’s a dragon,” she said, a slight shake to her voice. “You’re down here looking for Twilight and Dash, aren’t you?”

Ignis nodded, and Fluttershy continued, sitting down and leaning her back against a tree-trunk to catch her breath. “So am I,” she said at length. “My birds can track down anypony, they know this forest better than any of us. It must have been about forty minutes ago now, but my birds found them. The main group sent a few back to me, so they could lead me to them. I was… I was so close.”

“What happened?”

“F-fire. Out of nowhere, this fire that just… ate everything it touched. Right where Jasper and Carnelian were flying. One moment, they were there. Then they were… they were gone.” Her voice broke, and her eyes filled with tears, but she forced herself on. “I… I can’t believe such a big creature can move so quietly. Maybe I was in his territory, or something like that. I only just got behind a rock in time… I don’t know what happened to the other birds. Maybe they got away… I hope so. They’d never have been there if it wasn’t for me…”

Ignis could tell that he was starting to lose her. He knelt down beside her, trying to make eye contact. “Miss? Fluttershy, I need you to look at me.”

The frightened mare obliged, swallowing hard and once again forcing herself under control. She looked the stallion in the eye, her gaze quite steady. Again, Ignis was surprised.

“I’m not… not sure he knew where I was,” she continued. “I heard him lie down, this great ground-shaking thump. I… I couldn’t move. I must have hidden there for about twenty minutes, and I guess I thought he’d fallen asleep. I tried to make a break for it.” She paused for a moment, collecting herself. Ignis could see how much of a challenge this was for her, and once again admired her ability to keep talking. In spite of her apparent universal phobias, the mare made up for it with a strength of will greater than many soldiers he knew.

“He spotted you?”

Fluttershy nodded. “He spotted me. I don’t think he thought I was worth chasing, but he sent a fireball after me. I managed to get behind a tree, but the sparks... got me. I’m not hurt, it’s just my mane,” she hastily clarified, in response to Ignis’s concerned look. “He couldn’t aim between the trees once I got deeper in. I just ran and ran… I was stupid, I could have tripped and broken a leg, or run into any kind of awful thing… I just wanted to put as much distance as possible between me and that dragon. Then… then I found you.”

“Sir,” Dockleaf appeared behind his sergeant. “If we’re to have any chance of finding them, we’ll need to move.” He turned to Fluttershy, smiling at her. He seemed somehow less of a solider than the others, more personable by a long way. “Do you think you can walk, miss?”

Fluttershy nodded, getting unsteadily to her hooves. Her knees shook just a little, but her breathing was even despite her still-widened eyes from the draconic encounter. She looked almost ashamed of herself, as she brushed the dirty tear tracks from her face. “The birds scattered,” she admitted. “I tried to call them as I ran, but no bird’s going to go any where near a… a d-dragon. Not even for me. I don’t know where they are any more than you do.”

In the distance, the great beast roared once more, an incandescent plume of flame dancing up above the treeline. Fluttershy let out an involuntary squeak, cowering a little and hiding behind her singed mane.

Ignis nodded. “We’d better move if we want to find them.” He looked warily at the hovering smoke above where the dragon lay. “Besides, I want to put as much space as possible between us and-”

“Wait!” Fluttershy’s voice was suddenly urgent, and despite its relatively low volume, Ignis fell silent, to his own surprise. All eyes turned to Fluttershy. “I… I hear something. Let me check for sure.”

She tipped her head back, letting out two low whistles through her teeth. Then, she broke into a smile, sighing with relief. “Sapphire!” she exclaimed. With a near-inaudible whirr of wings, the bright-eyed bluebird descended through the trees and nestled into Fluttershy’s hair, letting out a few rapid chirps of greeting. “You came… Thank you,” Fluttershy said gratefully to the small bird, obviously pleasantly surprised that he had braved the dragon’s proximity for her sake. “Do… do you know where they are?”

Immediately, Sapphire took flight again with a high note of affirmation, circling her head twice, then flying off in a rough north-easterly direction. He alighted on a branch, half-obscured in the oppressive gloom, and turned to stare at the group with his quick, intelligent eyes.

Fluttershy turned to Ignis, a determination rekindling in her eyes, washing away the barely-suppressed fear and hopelessness. A subtle shift of power had taken place, to which Ignis was not oblivious. Suddenly, this timid, fearful mare was in charge. “I’m going to find my friends,” she said, quietly. “Come on, it’s this way.”

Ignis raised an eyebrow, looking from her to his squad. He knew not one thing about this mare, or the tracking abilities of her animal friends. Right now, however, it was all her had to go on. He felt a little undermined, but on the other hoof, if his squad saved the princess’s protégé, there may well be a promotion in this. He could live with taking the back seat for a while. He jerked his head at the group of guards.

“Let’s move.”

The ground shook a little beneath her, and Rainbow Dash opened her eyes the barest of cracks. Groggily, she realized that she must have blacked out. The last thing she remembered was burning pain in her wings and lacerated body, the twitching of the speared snake, then Twilight tearing her cocoon apart, her face bloody, her eyes empty.

Now, there was no pain. That was strange. The dew-soaked grass brushed her cheek, and her left wing was crushed underneath her as she lay on her side. The pressure on the broken limb should have been agonizing, but somehow it was not so. All she was aware of was a strange light-headedness. Somewhere in her muddled brain she knew that the absence of pain was bad. Things were beginning to shut down. Pain was a self-preservation instinct. Maybe her subconscious had realized that there was too little left to be worth preserving.

Twilight. Where was Twilight? The world was a broken watercolour mess, and she could make out nothing distinct. With a great effort, she tried to open her eyes a little further. The green of the forest was dominant, but the glistening ruby staining of the grass around her also seized her attention. She caught a flash of purple, lying beside her in the grass.

“Twi…?” she whispered, her voice cracked and near-inaudible. The unicorn did not respond.

Her vision was white at the edges. She had the sensation of slipping backwards down a steep incline.

All was silent. She was floating. Floating away.

Crash!

She felt the earth-shaking sound more than she heard it. Everything felt unreal, and she could not rouse the cognitive strength to question the noise. However, her vision cleared a little, and she was suddenly a little more aware, as if the motion of the ground had roused her a little. She was vaguely conscious of lying in some kind of liquid that stained the grass around her fallen body.

I’m still bleeding. Twilight’s spell must’ve broken when I fell… It must be deep.

For some reason, she could not let the thought go. Something did not add up.

We must’ve been going for ages… The rate I’m losing blood... I should be dead by now.

Once again, her eyes alighted on the purple mass beside her, still blurred in her half-shut eyes. The unicorn was horribly pale; her eyes closed and peaceful as if in sleep.

No! Oh Celestia, no... Twilight, you didn’t…

She wanted to speak; she needed to scream out her guilt and frustration, but she was too weak. She tried to move her head but the sense of lightheadedness made her nearly black out, and she did not try again. It was all she could do to cling to consciousness as it was.

Another crash; nearer now. All she could do was lie and watch, her raised heartbeat wastefully pumping away what little remained of her life. Her borrowed life.

Twilight’s life, she thought with a shriveling sense of shame in her chest.

Somewhere on the edge of the clearing, the trees parted, their trunks bent and ripped aside like matchsticks. A flash of green appeared between the broken wood, and then a long, snake-like body began to tread its gradual way into the clearing, making no attempt at stealth or speed. It was a dragon, but one unlike Dash had ever seen before. Its body was low and reptilian, four-legged with small, atrophied wings. She could not see clearly enough to make out its eyes, but its very motions were animalistic and feral.

Somehow, Dash found it impossible at that moment to feel anything so proactive as actual fear; instead she was aware of a withering resignation.

I’m so sorry, Twilight. Thanks for coming after me.

The beast was regarding the two ponies, with a lazy gaze that said it was all too pleased with itself. It had obviously drawn by the scent of Dash’s blood, and she felt almost relieved. One bite, gone. Infinitely better than the slow, near-artistic deliberation with which the wolves would have dealt with them.

That was the moment she gave up hope. The moment that her willpower, which had sustained her so far beyond the point of physical collapse, finally failed her. With a supreme effort, she shifted her gaze away from the dragon, and let her eyes rest on the beautiful mare curled up beside her.

They were together. They would always be together. There was no point or gain to be had in guilt or fear at this stage.

With a sense of something close to relief, she fell willingly into the waiting darkness.

She did not see the glint of light as the first spear arced through the air, and buried itself in the dragon’s wing.

The dragon was a setback, that much was obvious. It was obvious from its predatory advance on the two obviously injured ponies, and it was obvious from the sweat beading on Fluttershy’s face and neck. Ignis’s squad had spread out around the perimeter, keeping silent and taking careful aim with their spears.

Ignis held up a hoof, rotating it twice in mid air, indicating the squad should wait for his signal. He was waiting for the dragon to lower its head; waiting for it to be vulnerable.

Fluttershy mumbled something incoherent, her eyes closed. Ignis leant closer, realizing that they might well have a problem if they brought down a creature, even one such as this, in front of such an obviously nature-loving mare. He cupped his ear, indicating that he needed her to repeat herself.

The canary pegasus looked up and met his eyes. Her expression was halfway between guilt and determination. Her voice was still a whisper, but a little stronger now. “Aim below the wing,” she said, quietly, her voice emotionless bar a slight shake. “The scales are thinnest on the underside; there are two major arteries unprotected just beneath the wing-joint.”

Ignis could tell that Fluttershy hated herself for abusing this knowledge of animal anatomy in this way; she was a healer, not an accessory to killers. But she had obviously made a decision. There was no time to risk trying to reason with the beast; Twilight and Dash were short on time, and if she had to make a choice between their lives, and the life of a dragon, then the dragon was a sacrifice that she was apparently prepared to make.

The sergeant nodded gratefully, and turned, indicating the target area on his own body, then gesturing to the dragon. Nods of assent came from the edges of the clearing, and Ignis drew back his own spear, clamping down on the shaft with his powerful wing muscles.

There was only really one way to unambiguously signal an attack. Ignis cast his spear into the clearing, and Fluttershy gasped, unable to watch. The throw, however, was unlucky. The dragon lowered itself at exactly the wrong moment to take a sniff at the downed unicorn, and the barbed silver spike struck home into its wing, piercing the membrane and tearing out a great hole before rebounding off the thick scales of the dragon’s upper body.

It roared its horrible, gratingly metallic roar, and spun to face this assailant, its spiked tail whipping dangerously close to the fallen ponies. With well-practiced coordination, the three stallions lurking in the trees to the dragon's rear charged into the clearing, flinging their own spears. With a sound of breaking metal, one of them punched through the dragon’s vulnerable underside, burying itself neck-deep in its stomach. The second struck its elongated snout, digging in deep and sticking in place. The third spear struck an armoured plate head-on and fell, buckled to the grass.

Surrounded, with no way to turn, the dragon began indiscriminately blasting lashing tongues of fire into the trees around it. Immediately, with practiced skill, the guards took cover behind rocks or thick trunks, weathering the searing heat.

Suddenly, Fluttershy took flight. Bringing the creature down had never been her intention; she simply needed the guards to make a distraction. That way, the dragon would be encircled, and its resolve would be weakened. It would be in no position to resist her significant powers of persuasion. She was terrified, her heart hammering as she approached the one creature that haunted her nightmares on such a regular basis, but pressed on regardless. Ignis, unaware of her abilities, watched her with horrified eyes.

The dragon let out one last blast of un-aimed fire, and by sheer bad luck the tip of it caught Fluttershy’s foreleg as she flew, scorching the fur and blistering her skin. She gritted her teeth against the searing pain, her eyes watering, but she knew that to cry out before establishing her all-important eye contact would invite certain death.

The dragon was holding momentarily still, scanning the woods for the source of these stinging pinpricks. Fluttershy seized her moment, alighting on the tip of its nose with a soft thump. Her fear tugged at her mind, but the prevalent emotion was anger; anger to the point where she was barely articulate. The pain in her leg was horrible; the unfairness of the situation unbearable, and she refused to get this close to saving her friends only for some dragon to get them first.

She stared into the beast’s surprised eyes, and narrowed her own gaze. When she spoke, her voice was quiet, and infinitely more dangerous than the shout she felt boiling inside her.

“Listen to me,” she hissed, the intensity of her stare drilling into the dragon. “You’re going to turn around, and you’re going to go back to your cave. If I ever hear of you trying to hurt anypony again, me and my friends,” she gestured around at the guards, “will find you.” She leaned closer. “You don’t want that, do you?”

The dragon’s eyes were still mutinous, although it apparently could not summon the willpower to break her stare entirely and swat her away. With a snort of anger, Fluttershy realized that there was no time for subtle persuasion. She seized between her teeth the silver shaft of the spear still wedged in the dragon’s snout, and twisted the barbed tip sharply around and upwards, never once breaking eye contact with the monster. It let out a whimper of pain, and the last of its resolve crumbled under the mare’s infamous stare. “You don’t want that, do you?” Fluttershy repeated, her voice more forceful now.

The dragon’s eyes were submissive, and it shook its head mutely. Fluttershy nodded, giving it one last warning look before turning her back on it, trying not to rest any weight on her burned leg. The pain was bad, but the injury could have been much worse. She had seen similar injuries on forest animals before, and they usually healed up in a few days, given a decent dressing and a burn-salve.

Already, Dockleaf and a couple of others had entered the clearing, and had set to performing field examinations on the two fallen ponies. Dash’s bandages of moss were ripped clear, her wounds disinfected and tightly bandaged up once again.

“They’re alive,” announced the medic, “but they’re in a bad way, the pegasus particularly. We need to get them out of here.”

“Put me down,” Fluttershy commanded, her back to the beast’s submissive gaze. Obediently, the dragon lowered its head until its chin brushed the grass, and Fluttershy stepped off into the clearing, with a bound somewhat lacking in her usual grace. Now that the immediate danger had passed, she was shaking, and more acutely aware of her injury now that the adrenaline burst was dying away.

The guards advanced into the clearing, expressions wary but undeniably impressed. Fluttershy turned to Ignis. She expected him to be pleased, perhaps surprised or grateful. Instead, the look on his face scared her. It was the look of a stallion coming to a difficult, unpleasant decision. He closed his eyes for a moment, apparently making his mind up. “Well done, Fluttershy,” he said, quietly, his expression one of utmost guilt. “I’m sorry you have to see this.”

Then, he nodded over Fluttershy’s shoulder at the brawny corporal. “Do it.”

Everything happened too fast for Fluttershy to realize what was being done until after the event. In one swift, practiced motion, the corporal drew back his shining spear, and flung it with all his might into the unsuspecting dragon’s eye. It met no resistance; piercing almost up to the hilt with a terrible plunging sound.

The beast made no noise. That was the worst of it. It did not roar or twitch; it simply slumped, unresisting to the forest floor, as if it were a marionette whose strings had been cut. The corporal observed his handiwork with something close to a craftsman’s pride. Thick, burgundy blood was pooling around the fallen creature’s head.

Fluttershy was utterly speechless, as she turned from the once-imposing dragon to Ignis. The sergeant looked genuinely apologetic.

“I’m sorry, Miss,” he said, quietly. “Dragons are cunning creatures; you can’t reason with them. As long as it knew where we were, this extraction was compromised.”

To Fluttershy, his words were meaningless noise. For a dragon to fall in combat seemed somehow right, but calming it before making this cold, callous betrayal left Fluttershy breathless and horrified. She felt as if she were a part of it; as if this unnecessary, undignified death were her fault. She wished that she had let them simply bring the beast down in the first place; at least that way it would have had a chance to defend itself, rather than being put down like an unresisting dog.

It had submitted to her, just like the last one. Just like any animal. Ignis was a fool; he knew nothing.

She looked over her shoulder. Dash and Twilight were already on stretchers, and their bearers were preparing to take flight. That was good. Her friends were safe now; Ignis was surplus to requirements. Deep down, Fluttershy knew that any soldier would have done the same, that when recovering such an important charge nothing could be left to chance. None of it mattered though; she felt used and dirty, an abuser of her abilities.

“I came in here to save two ponies,” the sergeant stated, bluntly, his tone of apology no longer evident. “I’m under no obligation to protect monsters.”

Fluttershy lunged at him. She was on him in a fit of blind rage before he could react, and she slammed home her un-burnt forehoof into his face, just beneath his eye, leaving a jagged cut and knocking him backwards. Unfortunately for her, Ignis was a sergeant of the guards, at the pinnacle of fitness and training. She had made a good account of herself with the first blow, but within seconds he had restrained her, holding her immobile in a painful leg-lock. The canary mare thrashed furiously, until Dockleaf came rushing over, drawing a syringe from his pack.

Fluttershy felt the cold needle slip into her kicking hind leg. The plunger was pressed down.

Suddenly, struggle was impossible as the sedative paralyzed her system.

The world seemed to melt, and the chemical sleep took her.

Twilight was sitting upright in her bed; her head swam but she felt just able to retain consciousness as Ignis doggedly told his story. By the time he finished, Twilight had no idea what to say. She was torn between an enormous sense of gratitude, and an anger that she feared was irrational.

“Why did you kill it?” She asked at length, her eyes wide.

“It tried to kill two of your friends,” Ignis reminded her, coolly.

Twilight sighed. “I know… I know. But I can vouch for Fluttershy, she can make creatures do anything for her. I once saw her single-handedly convince a dragon to abandon its cave, she’s amazing. You saw the way she handled the birds.”

“That’ll all well and good,” replied Ignis, “but you were in no state to vouch for anypony back there. For all I knew, that dragon was pretending. It might just have roasted us all the moment we’d turned our backs. Imagine for a moment that you were a solder. What would you have done, in my hooves?”

Twilight opened her mouth to speak angrily, to insist that she would have acted differently. Then she closed it again.

He knew nothing about Fluttershy’s abilities. He couldn’t have known that the dragon had really submitted. Twilight, can you look him in the eye and tell him you’d have taken that risk, if Dash’s life had been at stake?

Her morality recoiled from the idea. There must have been a better way. I can’t justify trading one sentient creature’s life for another.

And yet you’d have made exactly the same choice as Ignis. Besides, what about those wolves? Or the snake?

That was self-defence.

Don’t act noble. Killing’s all the same to the one who ends up dead.

She looked up at Ignis, and her anger dissipated, against her will. They both had blood on their hooves; she had no right to judge him. This was not her fault, and it wasn’t the sergeant’s fault. It was Dusk Tempest’s, and he was beyond the reach of anypony’s vengeance now. At this stage, blame was pointless.

“Thank you,” she said, eventually. “I’d… I’d have done the same.”

Still, it did not feel right. Sometimes there was no clean solution; no easy, pleasant answer.

“I want to see Rainbow,” she added, suddenly.

Applejack was immediately by her side, raising a calming hoof. “Now, sugarcube, I’m not sure that’s…”

“I need to see her,” repeated Twilight, forcefully. “I need to see she’s alive.” At that moment, she felt unable to trust anything beyond the evidence of her own eyes. She shifty looks, the consolatory tones of voice, the unspoken but obvious fear in the eyes of her friends. It all added up to something, and she needed to know what.

“Twilight,” interjected Pinkie, “please just… wait. You can hardly sit up right now, you’re not gonna be able to walk.”

Twilight gritted her teeth. “You’re keeping something from me. Something’s wrong, and if you won’t tell me, I’ll find out myself.” She sat up straighter, ignoring her hazy, fluctuating vision, and prepared to swing her hooves out of bed.

Applejack sighed, hanging her head in surrender. “Okay, sugarcube. You win.”

Twilight froze, and looked at the farm pony with an expectant gaze. “What happened?” she asked, quietly.

Still Applejack did not meet her eye. “Ah’m sorry, Twilight. We were stupid, we just thought it’d be easier on you to wait fer you to be stronger. We shoulda known you’d never accept that.”

Twilight gritted her teeth, a few errant sparks falling from her horn as she stared Applejack down. “What happened to Dash?” her voice was low, her breathing sharp and fearful.

Applejack took a deep breath. “Twilight… She’s in a coma.” She looked up to meet Twilight’s gaze, and her vivid green eyes were swimming. “The doctors don’t think…” the earth pony sniffed, her voice scarcely audible, utterly removed from her usual optimistic tone. “They don’t think they’ll be able to wake her up.”

Old News

A Bluebird’s Song

Part One

~~~
So we live, you and I, either side of the edge
And we run, and we scream, with the dilated stare
Of obsession, and dreaming
~~~

Old News

“Welcome back to paradise, sugarcube.”

Rainbow Dash groaned; the world inside her closed eyelids was a watercolour supernova, the colours painting themselves into kaleidoscope patterns in the darkness. An immense pressure bore down upon her head, and she blearily opened her left eye. Above her, the face of Applejack swam into focus, evidently torn between concern and exasperation. As Dash’s senses returned to her, she realized that she was lying on the damp dirt road leading from Ponyville to Sweet Apple Acres, and a gentle drizzle was picking at her fur.

“AJ?” Dash murmured, and the Farm Pony looked relieved, holding out a hoof to hoist the bedraggled pegasus back onto her feet.

“Now what in tarnation were you tryin’ to do this time?” Applejack demanded.

“Seven-twenty invented corkscrew flare,” replied Dash, a little of her usual bravado creeping back into her voice at the mention of her newest creation, despite the slur in her voice and the unsteadiness with which she stood. She rubbed at the top of her head, and winced at the painful egg-shaped lump that she felt there. It was a relief when she inspected her hoof to see that her head was, at least, not bleeding.

“Uhh, you what now?” Applejack raised one eyebrow, bemusedly.

“Nevermind. Didn’t work.”

“Fair do’s," Applejack clearly had decided not to press the subject. "Now, come with me if ya feel okay with walking. We need to get ya’ll cleaned up.”

Gratefully, Dash fell woozily into step beside her friend, and the pair began to head in the direction of the farmhouse. As they walked, it was obvious that the pegasus was not her usual, talkative self, seeming almost subdued. Inside her head, she was running back over the last few minutes, trying to work out where the stunt had gone wrong. She remembered getting her spins up to speed as she plummeted towards the ground, and executing the main part of the stunt perfectly, but then, without intending to, she had remembered the events of this morning.

The story in the newspaper.

It had felt as if her chest had crumpled like a tin can all over again. In the brief moment of distraction, she had failed to account for a rogue patch of turbulence, and it suddenly buffeted her, throwing her off course before she could pull up. There had been no time to adopt a crash position, all she remembered was the ground rushing up to meet her, flaring her wings desperately out like a parachute, then feeling the blackness take her with a sickening thud.

She was staring blankly ahead of her, and started slightly when Applejack tapped her on the shoulder.

“Everything okay, sug’?”

Tell her, just tell her what’s happened! a small voice in the back of Dash’s head shouted at her, but her already injured pride forced it into silence, and instead she let out an airy chuckle. “Me? ‘Course, why wouldn’t I be? I’ve had worse crashes than that!”

Applejack clearly wasn’t buying it. “Ah dunno, ya’ll seem kinda… Off.”

“I told ya, I’m fine!” Dash had not intended to snap, but the words came out angrily nevertheless.

“Okay, okay, sheesh. Sorry Ah asked.”

The dejected pegasus looked at the ground with a sigh of resignation. “Sorry, AJ,” she muttered, “I didn’t mean to yell at ya. I’ll be fine once my head stops aching.”

Being the Element of Honesty had its advantages. It did not only instill truthfulness into its bearer, it also ensured that Applejack was quite adept at knowing when she was being lied to. It was perfectly obvious to her that Dash was not telling her the whole truth, but she decided not to press the issue, particularly not when her friend was in such a weakened state. Actually, the very fact that Dash was weakened was partially the cause of Applejack’s concern. She had seen her shrug off much worse injuries than this one, often laughingly, but now the silence that fell between them had a gloomy pall to it. Fortunately, the Sweet Apple Acres farmhouse was coming into view through the thickly-planted trees that surrounded the road, and a short while later they were at the front door.

“Sorry, I don’t wanna mess your day up,” Dash said, sheepishly, “I’ll clean up a bit and get out of your mane.”

“Don’t you worry none, Rainbow,” the Farm Pony waved an airy hoof, “you’re in a state, even if ya’ll don’t wanna tell anypony what’s up. Least I can do is make sure ya’ll get cleaned up properly.”

“Thanks, AJ.” Dash smiled genuinely for the first time that day, and gave Applejack a quick hug. Then, she trotted through the door into the farmhouse, looking briefly around at the light, terracotta-tiled interior the kitchen, dotted with Apple family heirlooms and sporting a few disassembled plough parts leaning up against the wall, probably a project of Big Macintosh’s. Deciding to locate the shower first, she headed towards the stairs at the far end of the room.

“Anytime, sugarcube. Bathroom’s second on the left!” Applejack called after her swiftly disappearing form. “Now what in the hay is up with that pony?” She added to herself in a concerned undertone.

Half an hour later, a dry and mud-free blue pegasus could be found heading draggingly along the cobbled streets into the centre of Ponyville. Despite Dash’s insistence that she’d already taken up enough of Applejack’s time, the ever-understanding Earth Pony had insisted on giving her a healthy helping of apple pie before she left, and had waved her off with a look of concern still etched clearly on her face. Rainbow Dash knew that she had worried her friend with her gloomy behaviour, and guilt weighed heavily on her, knowing that she had been too cowardly to even tell Applejack what was actually wrong. A vicious internal battle was raging inside her, and every time she closed her eyes she saw the newspaper article, heard the words echoing inside her head, saw his face smirking back at her.

She’d laugh at me if I told them, they all would.

Of course they wouldn’t, they’re your friends.

They’d think I was being petty. They’d think I’m big-headed and stupid.

You are being petty! Why are you letting this bother you so much?

I don’t even know…

“You are so useless!” Exclaimed Dash, halting in her tracks, her angry voice echoing off the buildings to either side of her. The overspill of her anger burned hot in the corners of her eyes. There was silence. Looking around, she realized with cringing embarrassment that she had spoken her final self-addressed thought aloud, and that several ponies in the street had stopped to stare at her, assuming that she was addressing one of them. Dash closed her eyes, cheeks burning. The lump on top of her head was still aching in violent pulses, and she wished that she had taken up Applejack’s earlier offer of a bandage.

“Are you okay, miss?” A gruff-voiced brown stallion with a long, curly mane had sidled up to her, and was looking askance at her as if worried about her sanity. Dash did not stop to reply. She needed to get out of here, now. Her pride meant a great deal to her, and for the third time in one day it had taken a beating. Flaring her wings, she lanced off into the sky, straightening the stallion’s mane with her downdraft, and leaving him thoroughly confused.

As she flew, seeing the town spread out like a cobweb below her, the pain in her head doubled with the exertion, making her groan aloud.

I need a headache cure, she thought to herself, rubbing the sore patch in irritation. Below her, in the middle of town, the library stood out alone in the square, surrounded by dots of moving colour as Ponyville’s population went about their daily routine. Making up her mind, she began her descent. After all, she reasoned, maybe what she needed right now was a dose of magic.

The library was dimly lit, window shutters closed despite the cheerful midday sun beating down outside. A trestle table had been set up in the centre of the room, and was covered in books, beakers, and the paraphernalia of a student of the magical sciences hard at work. Owloysius flapped confusedly about overhead, surprised by the sudden presence of his native darkness, and hooting in puzzlement. The librarian herself was standing at the table, gazing with rapt attention at the concoction bubbling in a glass cylinder in front of her.

“Okay, that seems reasonable,” Twilight Sparkle muttered to herself, levitating a pencil and jotting down a few notes on a clipboard held also in midair. She looked around for her assistant.

“Spike!”

“Yup?” The diminutive dragon popped up beside her, eager as ever.

“Experiment four worked out okay. Now, can you get me sealed beaker of crude Rainbow Seed, and a cylinder of potassium dichromate?”

“Will do!” Through the darkness, Twilight heard Spike clumping around, and there were a few muffled crashes from the next room.

“Ouch!” Came the dragon’s voice, irritated. “Why’s it gotta be so dark in here?”

“You know how photosensitive unrefined Rainbow is, Spike. Remember last time? You’ll get used to the dark, you’re supposed to live in caves, after all.”

“I guess so,” came the grudging reply, as if caves were not at all what they were cracked up to be. There were a few more moments of thumping and muffled muttering, then a noise of triumph. “Ah, got it! Here we go.” Spike tottered back through the door, holding various items of glassware several sizes too big for him, and nursing a stubbed toe with the other claw.

Twilight relieved him of a few of the more precarious items with a giggle. “Thanks, Spike.”

Spike dumped the vial of muddy, viscous liquid that was unrefined Rainbow onto the table with a sigh of relief. He was about to place the tall cylinder too, when the shutters covering the tall window on the wall above them were pulled aside. Light flooded the room, shining directly onto the beaker of Rainbow Seed.

“Oh, brilliant,” sighed Twilight, with resigned cynicism, in the second of silence that followed. Then the light did its rapid and inevitable work.

The rainbow liquid exploded into sudden, vivid colour. More impressively, it also expanded a hundredfold in size, shattering the beaker and filling the room with ricocheting lances of coloured light. Concentrating hard through the sound of the rainbows pinging off the walls, Twilight’s horn began to glow. In her head, she ran through a complex multiple vanishment spell, feeling the red sparks crackle against her forehead. In a second, the rainbows, the broken glass, and the cacophony were all vanished into thin air, leaving behind only echoes and small clouds of purple smoke.

There was silence. Spike was lying on his back, tail vertically stuck out behind him, a look of blank shock on his face. Twilight’s heart was hammering. An accusatory rebuke rising in her throat, she looked up at the window, to see a guilty-looking blue pegasus hovering just outside. Despite the situation and property damage, not to mention the cost of crude Rainbow liquid, she felt her anger ebb slightly. She found it difficult to be irritated with Rainbow Dash for long, despite her overconfidence and over-excitable attitude. Perhaps it was the cheerful colour scheme, she thought idly.

“Oh look,” she remarked sarcastically, “another rainbow-coloured disaster. Do you always come in pairs? Oh, and have you ever heard of doors?”

“Uhh, sorry Twi’,” Dash said, quietly, not meeting Twilight’s eyes. She looked ashamed, and did seem genuinely apologetic, but Twilight could tell that there was something else wrong. Spike’s eyes at last returned to their normal size, and he stood, shaking his head, and set about opening the other shutters, the enforced darkness no longer being necessary. Owloysius returned sulkily to his perch, and eyed Twilight with a baleful gaze as if he suspected her of pranking him.

“Oh, don’t worry about it. It wasn’t important.” Twilight waved a hoof dismissively, aware that something was the matter and not wanting to make Dash feel worse about whatever it was. “No harm done!” She noticed that despite her deliberately blasé attitude to Dash’s slip-up, the pegasus was still avoiding her eyes.

“Are you okay, Dash?” She asked, concerned.

“Huh? Oh, yeah, I’m fine.”

“Hmm.” She looked at her friend quizzically. Something was up, that much was obvious.

“I kinda had a bit of a disagreement with the ground just now.” Twilight saw Dash’s hoof gingerly tap the top of her head, and hearing this distracted her from her previous train of thought.

“What, you hit your head?” exclaimed Twilight, in concern. “When? Are you okay?”

“About half an hour back, AJ helped me out though, got me cleaned up and stuff. I was wondering if ya had a headache spell anywhere?”

“Of course!” Twilight replied quickly, and rapidly began cycling through spells in her head, trying to settle upon the most appropriate for the situation. “Does it hurt anywhere else?”

“Nah, not really,” Dash shook her head. “Look, Twi’, do ya mind if I come in?”

The unicorn blinked, suddenly realizing that Dash was still standing out on the window ledge. “Oh, sorry!” she gasped. “Come in, come in! Some host I am, it’s just I was so worried I completely forgot to ask you in, and I-” Twilight realized that she was babbling, and Dash chuckled slightly, gingerly edging in through the window.

“Hey, no worries,” Dash smiled, hovering gently to the floor. Then she sighed. “Look,” she began, “I…” Her voice tailed off. The lavender mare opposite looked at her in concern.

“Yes?” she prompted, unsure what Dash was trying to say to her, but hoping that she could help.

Just tell her! Dash urged herself.

She’ll think I’m weak...

You’re weak if you don’t!

Okay, fine, fine.

“I need to tell ya something,” she began, looking at the floor.

“Is this what’s been bothering you?” Twilight asked, gently.

“Yeah… I was too nervous to tell AJ, I thought she’d think I was being stupid. I think you will too, but maybe you’ll be able to help me out with this.”

“You know I’ll do my best to help you, Rainbow. We all will.”

“I know, Twi’. Thanks, it means a lot to me.” Dash’s voice carried an uncharacteristically genuine sincerity. Twilight smiled encouragingly at her.

“So, what’s up?”

Dash took a deep breath, steeling her pride for a hammering. “Ya know what? It’ll be easier for me to show you.”

Twilight looked at her, bemusedly. “Sorry?”

“D’you keep newspaper archives here?”

This came as a surprise to Twilight. What could be in her archives that was obviously causing Dash so much concern? Her friend was downcast, depressed, a world away from the overconfident, loud pegasus that they all knew so well. Were the papers circulating some rumour about her? Anger bunched in Twilight's stomach at the idea.

“…Sure, they're down in the basement,” she replied at length, recovering from her surprise. “Don’t you want that headache remedy first?”

“Nah,” Dash shook her head, wincing at the motion, “I wanna get this over with, I’d probably just chicken out again if I waited around.”

Dash was already trotting over to the door leading to the basement stairs. Twilight also stood, following her.

The basement was dark, illuminated only by a few bracketed candles, kept alight indefinitely by enchantment, which cast an eerie glow over the circular stone room. Twilight went first, walking down the steps at perfect ease, unconcerned by the bizarre and slightly creepy room. Dash did not seem nearly so certain, and followed gingerly down the steps, looking this way and that with increasing unease. She had never even realized that this place existed below the library. She halted on the stairs when she noticed the room’s contents. Most of the centre was taken up with large amounts of complex scientific equipment, including what appeared to be an inverted metal dish covered in multi-coloured lightbulbs and incomprehensible information dials, evidently designed to be strapped onto the head. Dash chuckled, more out of nervousness than humour.

“What’s that, Twi’? A brain-fixing machine?”

Twilight turned distractedly, halfway through unlocking a large row of filing cabinets where she stored newspaper records. “Something like that,” she replied, “it’s never really worked too well ever since I hooked Pinkie up to it, if I’m honest.”

Dash shook her head. “Heh, yeah. Makes sense, I guess.”

Twilight returned to opening the filing cabinet as Dash caught up with her.

“Okay. Which paper are you looking for?”

Dash thought back for a second, before replying. “Cloudsdale Bugle, if you’ve got it. It’s from a couple of weeks ago, though I only got round to reading it today.” She shook her head, sighing in self-annoyance. “I dunno why I’m showing you this, it’s so stupid, really.”

“No, it’s not,” insisted Twilight, “whatever’s bothering you, I need to see it. Now, the Bugle? I think we’ve got them, should be in this one… Hang on, no, this one.”

Twilight pulled out one of the cabinet’s drawers, revealing a row of neatly stacked newspapers, steadily progressing to greater states of age-administered yellowness the further they were towards the back of the cabinet. Dash trotted forwards, looking into the drawer, ears drooping slightly at the sheer mass of paper to be sifted through. She had never been one for jobs that took much time.

“Great,” she said, unconvincingly, “okay, fine. It should be in here… somewhere…”

Dash began riffling through the papers, glancing at the front pages one by one.

“They’re all out of order!” she exclaimed, in annoyance.

Twilight rolled her eyes. “Sorry,” she said, sheepishly, “that’s the last time I get Spike to re-archive the papers late at night.”

“They’re not that bad,” Dash shrugged, her voice muffled because her head was inserted halfway into the drawer.

“You know, Dash, I never really had you pegged for the type who reads the papers,” remarked Twilight.

“Hey, what can I say? I like to keep up with the news as much as the next pony. Just ‘cos I can’t plough through Shetlandspeare like you doesn’t mean I can’t read, ya know!”

“I suppose. Seems a bit low-intensity for you though?”

“Are you kidding? Low intensity can be cool. You seen how much I sleep?”

Twilight could not really think of any way to reply to this. It was a reasonable point. Dash seemed to spend half of her life charging around the sky like a madmare, and the other half snoring. She was clearly not a pegasus who went in for half-measures.

“Aha! Got it.” Dash’s head emerged, dusty yet triumphant, from the cabinet, a relatively new-looking newspaper clutched in her teeth.

“Now we’re getting somewhere,” smiled Twilight.

“Great, now can we get out of here? It’s creeping me out.” Dash muttered, eyeing the bizarre head-apparatus uneasily.

A short time later, Twilight and Dash were back in the main library, with the newspaper spread out on the table in front of them. The sun was streaming into the room, illuminating the dancing dust motes caught in the lanced beams, and Twilight could not suppress a librarian’s instinctual pang of horror at the damage the bright sunlight would do to the archived newspaper.

“Here’s the article, look,” said Dash, having followed a reference on the front page. “I know you’ll think I’m being petty, Twi’, it’s so stupid of me to be bothered by this. I wish I knew why it’s messing with my head so much. Sometimes I wish I had your brain.”

“We’ll get this sorted out, don’t worry.” Twilight smiled reassuringly at Dash, who looked extremely on edge. Then she ran her eyes over the article, glancing over the headline, set below an image of a grinning white pegasus stallion with a square jaw and a frizzy shock of bright gold mane. With a sinking feeling, Twilight began to read.

New Pegasus Air Speed Record

Earlier this week, history was made when aspiring stunt flyer
Lightning Flare was recorded travelling at a speed of
1100 miles per hour during the famous Nova Academy’s
Fifty-Mile Sprint. We asked Flare, a pupil of the academy,
if he had any ambitions of joining a racing team, or perhaps
even applying for the Wonderbolts. “Maybe I’ll go for the Bolts,”
He told our reporter yesterday. “If they’re lucky, that is.”
In what is swiftly becoming his signature move, when he breaches
the sound barrier, Flare creates a sizzling shockwave of electricity
to accompany his sonic boom. His growing fanbase is reportedly
referring to the stunt as ‘The Sonic Thunderclap’.

Flare’s remarkable achievement has placed him ahead
of Miss Rainbow Dash, the previous record holder, who was
the driving force behind the famous incident at last year’s
Young Flyer Awards, in which she saved the lives of several
Wonderbolt members, along with that of her friend Radiance.
During this remarkable feat, Miss Dash was calculated as
travelling at a maximum speed of about 900 miles per hour at the
base of her dive, after the replay had been analyzed by experts.
This extreme burst of speed made her the first recorded pegasus
to break the sound barrier, creating her signature ‘Rainboom’,
which many pegasi have since tried to emulate, without success.
But, while her performance is not likely to be soon forgotten,
it would appear that, at least for the moment, there is a new
champion in the skies. After all, you never know where
Lightning is going to strike next.
For our exclusive interview with Lightning Flare,
please turn to page 21.

For a few moments, Twilight was speechless, a twang of sadness for her friend burning in her chest. She remembered only too well the over-the-top celebrations the previous year, when Dash had come bursting eagerly into her library, a week after the Young Flyer’s Championship, waving the letter informing her of her record achievement. Pinkie Pie had thrown a particularly raucous party, and the levels of exuberant boasting must have woken most of Ponyville.

Twilight could understand a pegasus of Dash’s pride being thrown into depression by having one of her crowning achievements trodden into the dust. Dash was looking at her, almost pleadingly. In that moment, she understood why the pegasus had not wanted to tell anyone. It was not because she was afraid of admitting to being defeated, it was because she was afraid that the others would think her juvenile for being bothered by her own defeat. Twilight cast around for something to say, wanting to tell Dash that it did not matter to her, that she could completely understand her disappointment, that she would do her best to help her through it. She failed to find the right words, glanced down at the article again, and exasperately blurted out the first thing that came into her head.

“Radiance? Seriously?”

Draconic Measures - Part I

A Bluebird’s Song

~~~
Under the stars which prick us and call us
Connect us to hope that perfection’s within us
Here on the ground, the reckless and hopeless
Damned by the slip of a pen
~~~

Draconic Measures – Part I

Marble has a strange quality under moonlight, the chequerboard tiles glinting almost hypnotically as the clouds outside the window cut the silver beams into morphing, ragged strands. Tonight, this sight did not go unseen.

When you reached a time when the centuries whirled by, one flitting into the next in a blur of near-forgotten faces and regrets, sleep did not come easily. The sun watched the world turn, and the sun watched the world die, just as it had always been.

Celestia could not feel the cold, but still she shivered as she stood at the window, gazing at the watercolour night, watching the stars cascade. Sometimes, she felt that eternity might be worth it, if it was an eternity spent in this world. She closed her eyes, the thought of eternity picking at the corners of her mind, millennia of memories clamouring for acknowledgement. She remembered the day, that terrible day, when they told her that she must live forever. She had been unable to stop shaking, imagining counting, counting the seconds. No matter how long she existed, she would always be able to count one more second, one more second, and onwards into forever.

She felt herself spiraling, felt the black fear close over her heart, but she forced herself to open her eyes, concentrating on the beauty set out before her. This was her world, the future did not matter yet.

Happiness is not at the end of the road. Happiness is the road. She repeated the words inside her head, willing herself to believe them.

Celestia looked down to the city beneath her. When she was alone, she never thought of herself as ‘Princess’, the word feeling less like a title and more like an irritating soubriquet, rolling smoothly from the tongues of well-oiled bureaucrats. It was not a part of her, it was a part of the machine that had been built around her.

I have my school, at least. She could draw solace from that fact, knowing that there were ponies like Twilight Sparkle in her life, ponies whom she could consider as friends, as equals. She knew that one day Twilight Sparkle would grow old and pass on, just as all of her previous protégés had done. She knew that one day Twilight’s image would be engraved with the others, hidden on back of the golden circlet that she wore always across her heart. She would be another face plaguing her mind on sleepless nights like this one.

But not yet. Not yet.

Behind her, there was a green flare, illuminating the tiles with a soft hiss. A large package formed itself in the centre of the flame, and fell with a thump to the floor.

“Twilight?” Celestia muttered, surprised at the late hour of the delivery and the thickness of the sheaf of parchment.

Unable to help but feel relief at the sudden distraction, she pulled the stack over to herself with her magic, walking back over to her unmade bed and untying the string binding the parchment together. For some reason, she felt a sensation of foreboding at this unorthodox delivery. She noticed a loose page with what appeared to be a diagram on, and pulled it out from the pile, seeing that it was an x-ray image of a pegasus wing, heavily annotated in her student’s distinctive hornwriting.

Twilight had mentioned recently in a letter that she was chasing up a few pet projects, and Celestia realized that this could well be part of one. She looked closely at a scribbled note written across the main wing-bone. Alicorn?

“Oh no,” she whispered.

Feverishly, she seized the letter from the top of the pile and looked through it, her eyes widening in horror as she read. The final few lines seemed freshly inked, compared to the rest. This message had been edited after its initial writing. The new lines were scrawled in a panic, and they chilled her to the bone. “Oh no…”

Dumping the papers onto the bed, she cantered across to the wall and pulled the emergency bell-rope hanging down from the ceiling, setting off a loud jangle outside in the corridor.

There was the sound of rapidly approaching hooves, followed by a barked command. The door burst open, five guards charging in, spreading out in a well-practiced response pattern, scanning the room for immediate threats.

“Is something wrong, your Highness?” enquired the Captain of the Guard, a gruff-voiced stallion with quick, intelligent eyes.

“Instruct the secretary that my business for tomorrow is to be postponed,” Celestia began, without preamble. “Captain Gladius, prepare a detachment of your men for rapid response if needbe. I’m going to Ponyville. Now.”

“Princess?” Gladius seemed a little taken aback, but recovered himself. “Very well. What is the nature of the threat?”

Celestia paused, sighing. She had hoped that she would never have to say these words. “It’s Sunset. They’re back.”

Gladius nodded, curtly, unable to hide the shock in his eyes. He turned to leave. The guards saluted, two of them sharing a significant look, then they too turned and departed.

Celestia ran her eyes again over the hastily-added last words of the letter, closing her eyes, hoping against hope that she would arrive in time. She walked to the window, casting it wide open with a spark of her horn.

“We’re on our way, Spike,” she whispered, and leapt gracefully from the window, soaring out into the moonstruck air, leaving the note lying on her bed, the fresh ink of the final line glinting in the moonlight.

Princess, we need you. They have spike.

Ponyville, Several Hours Ago.

Twilight opened her eyes, blearily. She was greeted by Dash’s sleeping face, still wearing an expression of quiet elation. Their hooves were still wrapped tightly around one another. Twilight realized that they must have drifted off in a state of exhaustion, but she could still feel herself glowing. She sighed contentedly and blushed a little as she remembered the last few hours. Dash seemed to sense her stirring, and her eyes blinked open a crack.

“Hey, you,” Twilight murmured, smiling.

Dash just gazed at her sleepily for a few moments. “Hey,” she finally whispered.

“That was amazing…” Twilight snuggled closer, savouring the warmth between them. Right then, very little seemed to matter. No mysterious unicorns could concern them. Reality could wait until later.

Dash chuckled, kissing Twilight lightly on the tip of her nose. “I know you were.”

Twilight flushed, both flattered and a little relieved at the same time. “It’s not a subject I’ve done much reading up on,” she smirked.

“Aw, come on,” Dash teased her. “Never felt a bit lonely? Never found yourself hanging around the romance section in the evenings?”

“...Well, maybe a few times,” Twilight confessed. Dash smiled, leaning in to tuck her head happily under the unicorn’s chin, breathing in the gentle scent that she now felt so well-acquainted with.

“Heh, I reckon it payed off,” she replied in a muffled voice, her words almost lost through Twilight’s fur.

“At least Spike didn’t interrupt us this time.” Twilight felt pleasantly relaxed, feeling the pegasus’ mane tickling her chin.

“Yeah, last time was bad enough,” Dash looked up, and winked. “This time the little guy’d never have been able to look ya in the eye again!”

Twilight sat up a little, looking across to the window and seeing that the sun was nearly set. “I wonder where he is, actually…”

Dash looked a little concerned. “Does he usually go out on his own?”

“I’m sure he’ll be fine.” Twilight lay back down, cuddling up to the pegasus again. “He mentioned something about going to Fluttershy’s.”

“She told you?”

Spike was incandescent. That morning, he had remembered with a dreadful sense of foreboding that this was the day of Rarity and Fluttershy’s weekly spa session. He had no doubt whatsoever that Rarity attended just as much for the gossip as she did for the company and treatments, and he had a horrible feeling that if anything were going to slip out, the spa was where it would happen.

He was indeed helping Fluttershy with her garden, finding it a convenient way to hang around at her house. He had pretended to just be passing, knowing that she was digging her garden over at the moment, but it had taken him a significant amount of time to pluck up the courage for broaching the subject of Rarity. It had occurred to him that Fluttershy was more likely to tell him the truth about what may or may not have been said under the cover of the steam room earlier that day, so he had come to her. He had needed to know if his secret was safe.

It was lucky for him that his considerable digging ability gave him a good reason to be around Fluttershy, and she seemed grateful for his help. At last, after finishing the final patch of carrots, he had innocently inquired if Rarity had been forthcoming with any particularly interesting news about their friends. Fluttershy had not replied immediately, but her blush and nervous squeak had been answer enough.

“I can’t believe it!” He exclaimed angrily, after his initial outburst, and slapped a clawed hand to his forehead. “That’s the last fire ruby she gets off me!”

“What’s the matter?” Fluttershy squeaked, seemingly confused by his outburst.

“You know, don’t you… About…” Spike ground his teeth a little in frustration.

Fluttershy blushed even deeper. “You mean… Twilight and Rainbow Dash?” Her voice was almost inaudible by the end, any discussion of romance with anypony other than Dash or Rarity practically rendered her incapable of speech.

“Yes! And Rarity just told you!”

Fluttershy shook her head quickly. “Oh, no, it wasn’t like that,” she sighed. “She started to say something about it, she said that I wouldn’t believe it, then s-she stopped herself.”

Spike was unimpressed. “Didn’t stop herself well enough, did she?”

“I… I wheedled her about it,” Fluttershy whispered, hanging her head. “She told me that she’d walked in on Rainbow and Twilight… uhh…” She opened her mouth a few times, but seemed to decide that attempting to utter the word ‘kissing’ would probably render her catatonic, so she skipped over it and moved on. “Anyway, I kept asking her until she told me. But why’re you so upset about it? I’d never have asked if I knew you were this bothered by it…”

She was looking apologetically at him, even though she clearly did not understand why he was so concerned. Spike was surprised that Rarity had replaced his intrusion with an invented one of hers, although he still felt betrayed, and very resentful towards her nonetheless. He did not know Fluttershy well enough for her to come out of her shell around him, and he utterly failed to see how she could be in any way ‘persuasive’. Despite that, he was at least a little grateful that Rarity had altered the story so as not to drop his name into it, not that it would help when the news got back to Twilight.

He chuckled, dryly. “She told you that she walked in on them?” It hardly mattered now what Fluttershy knew, and he felt that he owed her honesty seeing as she had been so open with him. “I guess you deserve to know why it’s bothering me.” He shrugged, then a thought occurred to him.

If you tell Fluttershy the truth, she’ll hate Rarity for it. You know how much she values trust.

Rarity would deserve it, I’m gonna tell her the truth. She should know how Rarity messed me around.

“It was…” He stopped again. Fluttershy was looked at him in worry, but he was still struggling with himself.

Maybe Rarity deserves it. But Fluttershy doesn’t.

That’s too bad. Tell her!

Fluttershy had such a close friendship with Rarity. Don’t destroy that for her for the sake of revenge. You’ve made one bad decision already. Don’t make a second.

“I… I was jealous.”

Fluttershy looked taken aback at his words.

“Jealous?”

Spike sighed. He knew how angry Fluttershy would have been with Rarity if he had told her the truth. It was better for her not to know.

“Yeah, I was jealous that she told you first.” He hung his head, doing his best to look shamefaced. “Twilight let me know about her and Dash. She told me that Rarity had seen them together. I’d hoped that Rarity would tell me first. I was stupid, foalish… She hardly knows me, of course she wouldn’t mention it to me.”

“That’s why you were angry that she told me?” Fluttershy’s eyes were wide.

“…Yeah.” Spike hated himself for lying to Fluttershy, but he knew that he was sparing her, that the truth would hurt her more. “I guess I wanted to know she trusted me. She’s probably told you how much of a crush I’ve got on her.” He paused, looking bitterly at the ground. “Feelings like that can make you do really stupid things.”

He sighed at the truth of his own words. Well, there you go, Rarity. I just saved your flank. Celestia knows you didn’t deserve it.

Looking up, he saw to his great surprise that Fluttershy’s eyes were a little wet. “I know what you mean,” she said, quietly. “Don’t worry, I understand. I remember in Flight School, there was a colt I… kind of liked.” She blushed. “I asked Rainbow to fetch me a primrose from the ground, the same colour as… as me, and I left it in his locker.” There was a pause. “Turns out he was allergic. Broke out in hives, then spent a day or two in the infirmary. I couldn’t even pluck up the courage to give him a card. I guess he thought it was a trick somepony had played on him.” Fluttershy smiled at the diminutive dragon. “I know what crushes can make you do.”

Spike chuckled. “Yeah, I guess. You couldn’t have known, though. I was just plain stupid. I should have known it wouldn’t end well for me.” The words meant one thing to Fluttershy, and something else entirely to him. To Fluttershy, they were reconciliatory. To himself, they were a warning for the future.

“You’re in love. You’ve got the right to be stupid sometimes. Thank you for telling me about this, Spike, it was very brave of you.” Fluttershy looked kindly down at him, seeming much more at ease around him now. From another pony, the words may have seemed patronizing, but from Fluttershy they seemed utterly genuine. “You’ve been a great help with the garden. Would you like some tea before you go?”

Spike looked at the horizon, seeing that the sun was now nothing but a corona on the brink between the land and sky. He should be getting back, but on the other hoof he was tired from digging, and felt that he needed a pick-me-up.

He nodded. “That’d be great. Thanks.”

As he followed Fluttershy into her cottage, he was wondering if he had done the right thing. He was not at all happy with Rarity, or with the fact that she would simply get away letting him down in this way, but he felt a warm glow of pride inside himself. Fluttershy was her usual, cheerful self, and he knew that she would not be had he told her the truth. He knew that he had done the right thing. As he sat down on the sofa, he wondered if he still had a crush on Rarity. There was still a swooping sensation in the pit of his stomach when he pictured her in his mind, but it was tempered with a sudden caution towards her. He fully intended to confront her about this, but some other time, after things had stabilized.

“Herbal or normal tea?” Fluttershy asked him.

“Uhh, normal, I guess,” he replied, a little distractedly. A few minutes later, Fluttershy returned, one cup in her hooves, the other in her mouth.

“Ee oo go,” she said, in a muffled voice, depositing his cup down on the table.

“Oh, sorry! I’d have come in to get it if you’d told me it was done,” Spike exclaimed, but he was unable to help giggling a little at Fluttershy speaking with the cup in her mouth. The canary pegasus smiled too, realizing what the joke was. She sat down opposite him, warming herself up by holding her tea closely to her.

“Are you okay with Twilight and Rainbow being together?” she asked softly, then squeaked, hiding her face behind her mane. “If you don’t mind me asking, that is,” she hastily amended.

“No worries,” Spike waved a claw, taking a swig of his tea. The liquid was just out of the kettle, and was scalding hot, but that was one of the advantages of being a dragon. It felt barely warmer than ordinary drinking water as he swallowed. “It was a bit… surprising at first.” He smiled to himself at how literally true that had been. “But it’s Twilight’s life. She’s like a sister to me, so as long as Dash treats her okay then I’m fine with it.”

Fluttershy nodded. “I’m happy for them. Dash’s liked Twilight for so long now.”

Spike winced. “Oh, hay. I’ve just realized. I’ve left them alone in the library together.”

The pegasus looked confused for a few moments, then flushed bright red. Spike remembered how shy she was, and cursed himself mentally for being so brash. “All I mean was, I’ll have to be careful,” he clarified. “You know, when I head back. I don’t want to walk in on them a-” He stopped himself with a gulp. He had very nearly said ‘again’. “Uhh, I don’t want to walk in on them after Rarity already did. Yeah.”

“Oh, I see.” Fluttershy whispered, hiding behind her mane a little, her face still scarlet.

“Anyway,” Spike laughed, “It’s not as if-”

He never had a chance to complete his sentence. Neither of them even had a chance to look around.

The door to the cottage burst open, the hinges cracking as it smashed into the wall. The many animals in the room awoke in one voice, scattering throughout the tree, the birds frenziedly circling above. Two ponies charged into the room, both unicorns, both hooded and wearing lockets bearing a strange motif that Spike did not have time to see.

Fluttershy screamed, but Spike was too frozen by shock to even react. Two horns flared, and they were plucked up into mid-air and rammed against opposite walls. The pulsing light surrounding them changed in intensity. Spike realized, through the daze of stars from where his head had struck the wooden wall, that he could not move a single muscle. He saw Fluttershy’s eyes rolling in her head, full of panic. He could not call out to her, he could not do anything.

The last of the birds flew, screeching, from the open door. There was silence, but for the soft magical hiss issuing from the unicorns’ horns, as they stood and inspected their prisoners.

One of them laughed, and Spike saw him cast the fearful Fluttershy a derisive glance. “Don’t worry, miss,” he drawled. “It’s nothing personal.”

Dancing In The Fire

A Bluebird’s Song

~~~
You never want to run away again
But you looked into the eye of hell
And it left you comatose
You found your fears and you gave them names
Found them carved into a silent stone
And you left each one a rose
~~~

Dancing In The Fire

Rainbow Dash threw herself to the right, a moment before the knife’s blade pierced her chest. The edge snagged on the primaries of her left wing, ripping out a few vivid feathers with a burning sting as it hissed past. Dash saw Quintus’s eyes narrowed in focus, caught the sun-kissed glint of the blade, taking in the scene on the mountainside steps as her reflexes took over and the world seemed to slow to a shifting tableau.

The moment passed.

Then she was falling, the wind tugging impatiently at her, the helpless sensation of freefall weightlessness deadening her mind and turning her stomach. With no other options left, she had hurled herself from off the steps, out into the open air and the deadly plummet. The cliff-face rushed past, the jagged rocks at the foot of the mountain blurring in their approach, still hundreds of feet below her. Forcing herself to concentrate through the shock, and the stinging pain in her wing, she pulled herself up from her uncontrolled descent. She had seen the confidence in Quintus’s face; he was skillful and he knew it. If she tried to flee, he would pick her out of the sky with a well-aimed throw of his blade. Her only option was to fight, and now was the best time; now that she had the advantage of surprise on her side.

Looping around in a wide arc, she shot back towards the meandering staircase cut into the near-vertical mountainside. Quintus’s golden armour worked against him, marking him out as a shining target, looking around wildly to see where she had gone. He noticed her at the last second. His eyes widened, and his horn flared, drawing back the dagger in mid-air for a second strike.

He was too late. Dash barreled into him from the side, breaking his magical hold on his blade and sending it flipping up into the air. The momentum of the charging pegasus sent them both tumbling backwards up the stone steps, and it was a minor miracle that neither of them slid off the edge. The knife clattered down onto the stairs some way below them. Dash shook her head to clear it of the starburst patterns that popped in her vision. Crashing into a fully-armoured stallion had left her dazed, and she realized too late that Quintus had been thrown clear of her grip by the impact, and was even now getting to his hooves, wincing as he felt the bruises along his side where he had been hit.

Before she could stand up, Quintus had reached her, and aimed a vicious forward kick at her chest. She tried to roll with the strike, but her co-ordination had failed her and she was tossed back down three more steps. Fighting the sudden, breathless pain burning in her side, she opened her eyes to see the armoured form walking down towards her. The sun was behind him, silhouetting him and crowning him in an undeserved halo.

Dash’s mind was swimming, and her eyes screwed up against the blinding light.

Please, not like this.

Quintus methodically raised an iron-shod hoof, aiming for her throat as she lay prone on the ground, preparing to stamp down. Dash’s eyes widened. For a moment, she imagined that she heard Twilight’s voice. To her, it was the sound of all that she stood to lose. All that she could not bear to lose.

Not like this.

Fuelled more by desperation than intention, she drew back her hind legs and launched an explosive upward kick. She had directed the blow at his chest, but her aim was wild, and her left leg missed. However, her right hoof did its work well enough. It smashed home with a jarring crunch just below the base of her assailant’s un-armoured neck. She felt his collarbone snap beneath the blow, and Quintus let out a yell of pain.

Knowing that she had only seconds while her opponent was distracted, Dash pulled herself to her hooves and kicked out again, striking Quintus with both hooves in his armour-clad shoulder. It did no lasting damage, but the impact forced him down onto his knees.

“You are not going to take me away from her!” Dash yelled furiously, the words rising like bile in her throat, forming of their own accord.

“I don’t want to have to do this,” Quintus grunted, suppressing the pain in his voice with obvious difficulty. “You don’t understand. I've got to.” He glared at her, but the anger in his eyes was mixed with sadness, and his horn began to glow sharply and fitfully.

Somehow, Dash knew. This was the endgame. This fight would be over in the next few moments, one way or the other. Only one of them was going to walk away.

Her intuition was needling at her brain. Something was about to happen. Last time the warning had come too late. This time, however, it guided her well.

Quintus was concentrating hard on a spot some way behind her, his horn sparking and flaring. Dash spun around, just in time to see the sun glint off the magically-gripped dagger that had fallen on the stairs behind them, as it was flung towards her head. Instinctually, Dash let her knees crumple, falling onto the hard stone steps a split-second before it reached her. She felt the hiss of air against the top of her head as the dagger sliced through the open space where she had been standing a moment earlier.

Her head whipped around to track the knife’s path. Having missed its target, the deadly projectile was continuing on its path, heading directly for where Quintus was shakily rising from his knees. His eyes widened in horror as the blade flew towards him, propelled at his neck by the strength his own magic. In hindsight, he could have brought it to a halt had he thought to use his horn, but his actions were driven by animalistic fear and immediate self-preservation, rather than rational thought. He tried to dodge wildly out of the path of the blade, but his unsteady hoof slipped on the smooth stone step.

The blade clattered harmlessly against the steps once again, released as the light from Quintus’s horn died. Dash gasped as she realized what was about to happen, and caught a glimpse of her would-be murderer’s face, his expression wide-eyed and disbelieving as he fell sideways into the empty air.

Acting without thinking, she dived forwards to try and grab him before he could fall. She did not know why she was trying to save him, but in that moment it mattered to her that she tried. Her forehooves closed around his waist, but his armoured bulk was too heavy for her, the polished golden metal proving too slippery to keep a hold on. As he slid from Dash’s grip, her hoof snagged on a thin metal chain around his neck, which snapped when she tugged on it in a last-ditch attempt to pull Quintus to safety.

At the last second, he looked her in the eye. His gaze was full of fear and remorse. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered.

Then it was too late. Gravity claimed him, as he tumbled over the edge of the stone cliff-face. Dash stumbled backwards when the chain around his neck suddenly broke, and collided hard with the mountainside at her back, her heart hammering, the terrified yells of the falling stallion pounding at her ears.

She sank to the cold stone, breathing hard and shaking uncontrollably. She heard as the screaming grew fainter and fainter, until suddenly, jarringly, it stopped. The echoes faded, leaving a ringing, horrible silence in their wake.

At this height, no sound of the inevitable impact reached Dash’s ears. She did not move for several long minutes, as the shock set in. She did not have the stomach to look over the edge of the steps, fearing the sight that would await her even at this height.

Dash’s chest throbbed painfully, a stinging red welt obvious on the surface even through her cyan fur. She looked almost carelessly down at the metal chain still wrapped around her hoof, and saw that Sergeant Quintus’s dog tag hung from the end, a simple metal rectangle, functionally embossed with his name and rank. To her left, Dash caught sight of her assailant’s golden blade, lying with the tip buckled by its collision with the stone, two steps up from where she sat.

Still shaking a little, stunned at how close a brush she had just had with death, Dash pulled herself to her hooves, and risked a glance over the edge. She did not want to, but she was driven by the need for closure, and a slight but insistent morbid curiosity. The eternal mist that swirled around the stony foot of the mountain obscured the scene below, and it was too high to pick out any detail. She thought she caught sight a crumpled shape among the stony crags, but at this height it could just as easily have been a boulder.

Shaking her head, she turned away from the edge, stowing the chain with Quintus’s identification beneath her wing.

I can’t believe I killed somepony.

The harder part of her, however, was stubborn and felt little or no remorse.

Don’t waste your guilt on him. He was prepared to kill you on the off-chance that you might be dangerous. He already killed one pony, maybe more. He swore an oath to protect ponies when he joined the guard, and tossed those promises away for money. Besides, you didn’t kill him. He wasn’t thinking clearly. His own stupidity killed him.

Despite the truth of these words, Dash picked up his dagger and took to the air, hovering just below the stone steps. She found a jutting crack in the mountainside, just below where he had fallen, and she wedged his blade in place there. It was hidden from general view, but marked the spot where her enemy had fallen. It was a mark of respect that she did not think he deserved.

Then, however, she realized that she needed to think. Soon, Quintus would be discovered to be missing, and hooves would be swiftly pointed in Dash’s direction. After all, he had been last seen walking down to the dungeons with her. With the other guards unaware of Quintus’s betrayal, she would be arrested. She knew that Celestia would believe her explanation, but she would certainly be detained in a prison cell and might even miss the record attempt. Twilight would be frantic. She had, perhaps, fifteen minutes before the rest of the guards came looking for her.

She knew what she had to do. The dungeon guards were expecting her, and her best chance was to speak to Cloudshine, learn what she needed if she could, and leave before the alarm was raised. With luck, Twilight could settle matters with the Princess before the guards came knocking on the door of the Hotel Zephyr. Neither Quintus nor the guard whom she had first met had known her name, and that made things easier. It was fortunate that neither of them had recognized her. Had one been a pegasus, she might well not have been so lucky.

It’s time to go. Time’s running out, Rainbow. She briefly inspected herself, not wanting to walk up to the dungeon guards having obviously just been in a fight. There was nothing she could do about the angry red welt on her side, or the multitude of other bruises that would doubtless flare up the next day. She had a nasty feeling that the kicked to her chest might have cracked a rib. She noticed with a slight drop of her stomach that there was a spray of dried blood, not her own, dotted up the lower part of her right rear leg, from where she had broken her opponent’s collarbone. There was also a deep cut along her right cheek, from where she had caught herself on a sharp edge of Quintus’s armour when she had crashed into him.

She snorted, angrily. She had no saddlebags, nothing around her but stone, and no way to clean herself up. She realized that she would simply have to rely on the authority of the Princess that came with her visit, to prevent the guards from asking too many questions.

Steeling herself, still in a cocoon of slight unreality due to the shock, she walked down the remaining steps to the dungeon door. It was a thick, burnished brass slab. Apparently its thickness was what had prevented the guards within from hearing the commotion on the steps outside. The heavy door swung open easily at her touch, perfectly balanced on its hinges. She walked through, trying to focus, and trying not to think about the sound of Quintus as he fell.

Before her was a small entrance hall, the walls clad in plain marble, bare of decoration. A few seats stood around the walls, for visitors to wait. The light from the torches was dim and wavering, which acted to Dash’s advantage, obscuring her injuries and bloodstained leg.

Two guards stood at the door to the cell-block, both of them pegasi. They snapped to attention as she approached.

“Miss Rainbow Dash?” One asked, his voice a gruff bark.

Dash nodded. “Yeah.”

“The Princess told us to expect you. Normally we would accompany you, but she left instructions that you were to be allowed to visit Cloudshine alone.”

A pang of guilt struck across Dash’s thoughts. Celestia’s done this for you, and this is how you repay her? One dead guard and no explanation?

Twilight can fix this, but it needs to be fixed later. Right now, I’ve got a job to do.

“I won’t be long,” she muttered. She had intended her words to sound determined, but all she managed was a tone of sadness.

The guards probably caught onto her mood, but discipline prevented them from mentioning it. “Second door at the bottom of the stairs. She’s in the third cell on the right.” The guard on the right took a heavy ring of keys from a hook on his armour, and deftly unlocked the heavy door behind them.

Heart pounding in apprehension, trying to ignore the burning in her side, Dash began to descend the marble staircase. She pushed the second door she came to at the base of the stairs, and it opened with a low creak.

Immediately, there was a gasp from within the dark block of cells, a sharp, clear intake of breath that cut the cold silence like a knife-edge. Dash looked around as her eyes adjusted to the light. The cells were arranged on either side of a central aisle, barred at the front, and separated from one another by marble walls.

“Who’s there?” The voice was a mare’s. Younger, but sharper and less scratchy than Dash’s. “You’re not a guard.”

“No.” Dash’s voice was quiet, but it carried easily through the echoing space. “No, I’m not.”

Dash heard the sound of Cloudshine getting to her feet. “I know why you’re here,” her words were surprisingly calm and measured. “Who sent you? Is it the League of pegasi? Or one of the Cloudsdale triads?”

Dash laughed, bitterly. “You think I’m here to kill you.” She decided to test the water, see how much her half-sister knew about her. She began to walk along the aisle, approaching the third cell on the right. “My name’s Rainbow Dash.”

“Ah, the pegasus comes back to roost.” Cloudshine sounded almost pensive. “I can understand that. We tried to kidnap your friend, we threatened you and your precious little librarian. I figured if anypony wanted to hold the knife, it’d be you.”

“I told you. I’m not here to kill you.” She stepped in front of Cloudshine’s cell, deliberately keeping herself half-hidden within the shadows. Her eyes widened as, for the first time in her life, she set eyes upon her younger sister. Cloudshine was a light olive-green unicorn, her cutie-mark depicting a crossed sword and horn, set over a backdrop of a jet-black cloud. Her horn was encased in a black, wooden magic-dampening cone. However, it was her mane that proved surprising. Like Dash, she had inherited the vivid prismatic shades that had run in her mother’s mane. It was a shorter, more functional mane than Dash’s, but the colouration was unmistakably identical. Cloudshine’s eyes were defiant as she looked across at Dash’s silhouette.

“Why are you here then, if it’s not about revenge?”

“This isn’t about Sunset. It’s not about unicorns or pegasi.” Dash stepped into the light, and Cloudshine gasped as she saw Dash’s mane. “This is about us.”

Cloudshine shook her head in bewilderment. “Who are you? I guessed from your name that you must be… But I never… What’s going on?” She suddenly looked fearful as she noticed the fresh wound on Dash’s cheek, as a fresh thought apparently occurred to her. “You shouldn’t even have gotten in here. How’d you get past…?” She stopped herself before she let slip the name.

“Sergeant Quintus, you mean?” Dash shook her head, sadly. She felt no triumph over what she had done. If it was indeed a victory, then it was a hollow one. “He tried to stop me from reaching you. He’s gone.”

“You’re lying!” exclaimed Cloudshine, taking solace in anger and taking out her frustration on the pegasus before her, one of the ponies who had thwarted them at every turn.

“I’m not,” Dash replied, simply. Unfurling her wing, she took the sergeant’s identification tag in her hoof, and tossed it through the bars to Cloudshine. She caught it on the end of her hoof, and looked down at it, obviously recognizing it for what it was.

She snorted in frustration, and looked back up at Dash, her eyes angry. “I’m not playing these games. Who the buck are you?”

This was not a time to be delicate. Dash was acutely aware that any moment now the door could come bursting open, with a squad of guards behind it ready to track her down. “Cloudshine, I’m your half-sister. I’m looking for our mother, and you’re the only pony who might know where she is.”

The unicorn’s mouth fell open, and she hurriedly closed it again. Whatever she had expected Dash’s motives to be, this evidently did not fit the bill. “You’re… you’re my half-sister?”

Dash nodded. “I dunno how much Mom told ya about her history.”

Cloudshine shrugged, still a little suspicious. “She told me she shacked up with a pegasus in Cloudsdale for a good few years. She told me he used to smack her around, but she never mentioned a kid. She hated pegasi after she left that guy. So did my Dad, he used to take me out on pro-unicorn marches and things when I was a kid.”

“Big surprise,” Dash remarked, sarcastically. “No wonder she never mentioned me. I’m her guilty little secret. I’m the reason she never looked back, because she was scared of what she might see.”

She sighed. She had expected to find a hardened criminal in this cell, a murderer and kidnapper. Instead she had found a mare barely beyond her teens, one who had been brought up to make the wrong choices, but was cursed with sufficient intelligence to rationalize those choices to herself. Over the years, this filly’s family had convinced her that she was in the right, that she was justified. “Why’d you get involved in this game?” Dash asked, sadly. “You’re too young to spend the rest of your life in a cell.”

“Because I’ve seen what you pegasi do to the rest of us!” Cloudshine flared up. “I saw what a pegasus did to my Mom! You’re warlike enough without additional power, if it wasn’t for you and your territory squabbles, the second Griffin war would never have even happened. Do you know how many unicorns died defending Cloudsdale because you pegasi are too stubborn to sit down and talk?”

“That was like two hundred years ago! You’re living in the past, Cloudshine. You and your friends need to open your eyes and see that the world’s moved on. It doesn’t matter if you’re a unicorn or a pegasus or an earth pony, nopony cares about that stuff anymore!”

“History only ever repeats itself, your kind are just as power-hungry as ever. I’ve read about the way you ponies profiteer off weather protection!”

Dash burst out into a loud, humourless laugh. “Profiteer? I’m on the local weather team, we get funding from the mayor and the council. We don’t even get enough for decent cloud vacuums, we-” She cut herself short, and shook her head, intensely irritated with herself. This was not the time to get dragged into a pointless debate about politics. “Look, none of this matters right now. I don’t care about you, and I don’t care about Sunset. Do you know where our mother is?”

She confidently expected Cloudshine to refuse to tell her, and so was surprised when the unicorn nodded. “Sure.” There was something unpleasant about her sudden smile that Dash could not quite place, although she did not have time to think too hard about it. “If you really wanna know, she’s in Manehattan. The address is Seventeen, Palm Avenue.”

Dash eyed her, suspiciously. “You’re trying to trick me.”

Cloudshine shook her head. “You came here to ask me a question, and I’m giving you an answer. Like you said, this isn’t about Sunset, this is about you and me, as sisters. I promise you’ll find her there, but I can’t promise you’ll like what you find.”

“I can live with that,” replied Dash, shortly. “I just want closure.”

You’ve got what you wanted, provided she’s telling the truth. It’s time to go.

She turned to leave, turning away from the pony in the cell. The presence of Cloudshine made her uncomfortable. She was a stranger. An enemy, even. Despite this, Dash felt as if she had known the unicorn all her life. Their similarities were too pronounced to be ignored, their shared stubbornness driving them in such radically different directions. She realized with a shudder of horror that she could easily have turned out similar to her sister. Just like Cloudshine, an untrue idea had rooted itself in her mind, and dominated her life. At least for her it had not been destructive to others, and she had known Twilight, who had been able to help her through thick and thin.

Her sister had not been so lucky. The hatred of pegasi her parents had spoon-fed her from birth had seized onto her brain like a cancer. She had joined a group of terrorists, she had mooted the kidnapping of Spike, the threats leveled against Twilight and Dash, and the murder of Dusk tempest. Dash’s past had hurt her and brought her down, but Cloudshine’s past had turned her into a monster.

“Dash.” Cloudshine’s voice rang out behind her, but she kept walking. “Just before you go, I want you to know I don’t like what we do.”

Dash halted, despite herself, not turning around. “You don’t have any right to say that,” she spat. “You were one of the leaders, you could have stopped it. You could at least have tried.”

“We’re keeping the balance. I feel like I’ve got a duty. I know what pegasi have done in the past, and I know you’d do it again if you get the power.” She sighed. “I guess we failed. Sparkle will have released her findings by now, won’t she?”

“Probably,” Dash nodded. “It won’t make much difference. So what? Pegasi have magic, what difference does it make?”

“Unicorns have always had magic, and pegasi have had flight,” Cloudshine replied. “That’s how it’s always worked. It’s not the discovery so much as what will come after it. Ponies always think the world’s moved on, but it never does. We need the pegasi for the weather, the earth ponies provide food, and the Princesses control the sun and moon. Tell me, Dash. What does anypony need the unicorns for?”

“So that’s it?” Dash asked, contemptuously, still not turning. “Paranoid? Afraid you’ll be redundant?”

There was a pause. “Yes. Yes, I suppose so. The world looks frightening when you don’t have a place in it.”

“Don’t give me that. You enjoy this. You enjoy what you do, I can tell.”

“What’s enjoyment? A moment without fear? The satisfaction of knowing you’re good at what you do? Maybe I do enjoy this life, but it’s fear that drives us. It makes us cling to the status quo harder than ever.”

“Don’t you dare think that excuses what you’ve done,” Dash said, darkly.

“I don’t think we're the 'good guys' for doing what we do, but we have to do it. Just like Sergeant Quintus did.”

Dash snorted, loudly. “Quintus? He didn’t have to do anything, you were paying him. He killed Dusk for you, and he tried to kill me. He could have just walked away, but instead he took your bits to do your dirty work.”

“Bits?” Cloudshine laughed, softly. “We weren’t paying him in bits. There are better ways to ensure a pony’s loyalty. Remember Root Blacksap?”

“The potioneer?”

“That’s the one. Invented the draught of foolishness, and worked on the potion of forgetfulness. Sergeant Quintus was the test subject for a little idea of mine. Two years ago, we sent somepony by the dungeons at night. Quintus was standing guard. He’d just got divorced, he was sleepy, a little inattentive. Life had caught up with him. It was a simple matter to add a large dose of forgetfulness to his drinking water as it was being brought to him.”

Dash turned, her eyes full of horror. “You…”

“We stole his life, yes.” There was a strange, perverse pride in Cloudshine’s voice. “We left him with just enough memories to know who and where he was, but even that took some explaining. We had small stashes of the antidote planted around the city, none powerful enough for total recall, just enough to bring back a few selective months or events. When we needed him to do something, we’d give him the location of one of the stashes. The bigger the job, the more we give him back.”

Tears were forming in Dash’s eyes, which burned furiously. “So he never had any choice?”

“He had a choice, certainly, but he made the right one in the end, after we told him that he had a foal. That was his payment for killing Dusk Tempest; we gave him back the day his son was born, and a few birthdays for doing the job so well. The kid’s alright, by the way. He lives with his mother. She and Quintus never saw each other anymore, but we didn’t tell him that.”

I thought he'd died a coward. It was him or me, they gave me no choice.

“You bastard!” Dash yelled, storming back over to the cage. “You took an innocent stallion and made him kill for you. Made him die for you! You turned him into a murderer, and you’ve done the same to me! If these bars weren’t here I’d break your neck now. I’m leaving. I hope you rot in here, you and your friends.”

I was wrong about her. There’s no chance for reconciliation, she’s too far gone.

She walked away towards the door to the cell block, knowing that she had wasted precious time, and hoping that she was not about to pay for it. “I guess this proves one thing, though,” she spat back over her shoulder. “This isn’t about unicorns or pegasi or politics. Quintus was a unicorn; one of the ponies you’re supposed to be protecting. You don’t care about any of them. You’ve been doing this for fun.” With one last disgusted look back at her sister, she walked through the door and slammed it behind her.

She took the stairs three at a time, wanting nothing more than to leave this place and its inhabitants behind her. She passed the guards at the top of the stairs without speaking or making eye contact, keeping her gaze set straight ahead of her. The moment she was out in the sunlight, she took flight, leaving the cold mountainside behind as fast as her wings could carry her.

She needed to escape, to leave this place behind. She had to see Twilight; only then would she feel safe.

As she sped away from the lights of the twinkling city, she knew one thing with absolute certainty: The past had a lot to answer for.

Seventeen, Palm Avenue, Manehattan.

One day soon, she hoped, she could bring her demons to account. Not just for her sake, but for the sake of the sister she had lost.