Festival Of (Too Many) Lights

by Estee

Rating: everyone
Tags: Main 6, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Mayor Mare, Spike, Comedy, Random
Length: 10939

In retrospect, Mayor Mare would admit that having a Hearth's Warming home decorating contest in Ponyville had been a really bad idea.

If there's a holiday, then somepony's probably overdecorated for it. The Greening has seen entire homes blend into the local grass, while Lambvent shrouds neighborhoods in wool and Hearth's Warming traditionally welcomes guests into homes through making it impossible to see where the front door is. But if Ponyville's going to get dressed up anyway, then Town Hall might as well have a little contest built around it. The mayor signed off on that.

Which meant there was a period of at least two seconds in which Marigold Mare completely forgot her town hosts the Bearers -- and that she'd just given them a reason to compete against each other.

Shall we count down to the inevitable one home visit at a time? In six, five, four, three...

(Now with author Patreon, SubscribeStar, and Ko-Fi pages.)

Rated C for they don't celebrate Christmas Crackfic.

Published 2023-12-24 23:00:02 UTC
Last updated 2023-12-24 23:00:02 UTC

...Two, One...

In retrospect, she would admit that holding a Hearth's Warming home & business decoration contest in Ponyville had been a really bad idea. But at the same time, the mayor recognized that managing her town in the Bearer era required a certain fundamental understanding: namely, that there was no longer any such thing as a good idea. There was absolutely nothing which Marigold Mare could introduce to her citizens while counting on a 0% chance of disaster and given that, her leadership duties had developed a rather binary feel. To wit, she could either try to deal with the risks, or she could take the much more practical route and just shut down the entire town.

Option #2 had, when viewed through the soul-shrouding darkness granted by theorizing around two in the morning while the smoke was still clearing, been explored. The dispersion of now-former residents across the continent would be relatively simple, especially once she channeled the last batch of disaster relief funds away from rebuilding and turned them towards relocation. The main problem would be getting the Bearers resettled. Marigold's fantasies had been wrestling with that one for a while. When it came to dealing with the needs of assembling the group in a hurry, the single best solution was to have them all in the same new town. Marigold fully understood that, and was still trying to figure out which politician in the realm would have the honors. She couldn't quite manage to decide whom she hated that much.

But it was fantasy. A harmless way of venting when the stress and smoke began to overwhelm, no worse than finding a soundproofed corner in which to unleash profanity. Because Marigold knew that her town hosted heroes. Without the Bearers, the world as she knew it wouldn't exist and without them living in direct proximity, her immediate portion of it would require considerably less repair. Because there was an old political saying: the difference between genius and stupidity was that genius had limits. And in their own ways, each of the mares was both an utter genius and an absolute idiot. Multiple occasions had seen those states superimposed.

She had to be very careful with what was done around them. What she said, and that applied to every last mare. Because they had certain things in common, and one of the worst was to take whatever speech she'd just made and invert it into what they'd wanted to hear.

There was nothing she could bring to her town which a Bearer couldn't turn into a cue for disaster, and so she tried to keep things more or less normal. When every possible move might start a fire, the options became 'motionlessly wait for death, which won't take very long because you can't risk breathing either' or 'carry fire extinguishers at all times'. Sanity seemed to require leaning towards the latter.

She'd announced the decoration contest, because that was normal and the majority of her citizens liked to pretend 'normal' still existed. But on that late afternoon, as she sat at her battered desk in the too-small dark office, with Sun beginning to descend towards the horizon... that was when the reports began to drift in. And once she'd translated away from the Complaint, Frantic, and Why Isn't Anypony Doing Something?, a basic truth emerged.

The Bearers were taking part in the contest. All of them. And based on what the witnesses had passed along, it was due to an active, all-parties group wager.

Marigold had, over the course of several years, developed a reaction pattern for that kind of news. First, she listened for explosions. If there weren't any, she would clean her glasses, trot to the window, and check the sky to make sure it was still there and, if this held true, more or less the same color as before.

The atmosphere reported in as 'present'. However, there were some odd flashes of light off in the distance. They appeared in strange colors from multiple directions and given the orientation of her window, the mayor suspected she was potentially missing half of them.

She didn't hear any screams. This seemed to indicate that she had some time, and the weary mare used a few precious seconds of it to indulge in a weary sigh.

Then she put on her winter coat and left the office. Because there hadn't been any explosions yet, and a personal tour of all six Bearer homes felt like her best chance to maintain that. Verify the reports, make sure it was actually that bad, and then Say Something. While being very careful about what she said.

Even so, her secretary was asked to gallop towards the police station and put the standard townwide evacuation drill on standby.

Just in case.

She arrived at her first destination after Moon had been raised, because it was that point in the year when daylight was a rather scant commodity. It still allowed her to see what each Bearer was doing for the contest, in whatever degree of glowing glory might exist. And when it came to her initial stop, the timing allowed Marigold to catch Rarity outside the Boutique.

The designer was rather placidly adjusting a long string of lights, with a soft blue corona tweaking the placement here and there. Further flickers of magic removed glowing beads, swapped in new ones: each entered or emerged from a saddlebag in turn. It was all being done in solemn, contemplative silence within chill, crisp night air. Rarity knew exactly what she wanted to achieve, and she was simply going to keep working until her vision had been fully manifested within reality. That was what the unicorn did.

It was, to some extent, what all of them did.
Which was most of the problem.
But with Rarity...

The white mare (bundled at the center of some very fine cold-weather garments) paused when she spotted Marigold approaching. Asked for a few more seconds, because this next adjustment simply had to be completed. And then did so, in front of a witness -- and not just the ones who'd been staring out of their windows the whole time.

After that, she was free to talk.

"Of course, I hardly have any expectations of winning the whole thing!" Rarity gushed. "Not when one considers the range of artistic talents available in Ponyville! I have an eye for color and shade, of course, but -- I work in cloth, Mayor. Something which requires the balancing of hues, and still does not change the fact that I design for solids." With the smallest hint of blush, "I am rather unaccustomed to using light for the sake of light alone. And so I do not doubt that I am making small errors. Things which the judges will register, where I would not."

Marigold maintained a careful silence, offering nothing more than a quizzical, querying expression delivered over the top of her lenses. In part, this was because she was still working out what to say. The rest was due to the simple fact that any void of syllables created around Rarity was going to be filled in a hurry.

"So I cannot win," the unicorn added, and kicked in a tiny shrug of regret. "In truth, I am expecting Bayleaf to take the prize -- yes, Mayor, Bayleaf: ask our cinema's projectionist about the tricks which can be done with light! But we all know that each effort will be scored -- and those scores will be posted at Town Hall once the contest is over. So the winner of our little collective wager need not prevail for the contest as a whole. Simply having the highest score among our six is sufficient."

"So there is a wager," Marigold verified.

"Of course!"

There were many reasons to just let Rarity talk and one of them was that if you gave the designer enough verbal rope, she generally wove the strands around her own neck. And if you simply stood back and let her act...

Holiday lights played across white fur. A patch of exceptionally bright red brushed against the snout, and the designer's eyes twitched.

"Recognizing that you are not part of the judging panel, have no influence there, and can speak only as a neutral observer --"

Marigold nodded.

"-- what do you think of my efforts?" Rarity inquired.

"Your --" was as far as Marigold got.

"Currently, let us confine that to -- the centerpiece," and, when that didn't get the desired reaction, the little sigh was added in for Drama's sake. "The Boutique." An elaborately-curled tail swayed in the proper direction.

Marigold looked back along the indicated route.

Quite a ways back.

"I wanted to go for 'pleasantly understated'," Rarity said. "So many ponies use the old traditions as an excuse for garish, don't you think?" The snort was supposedly ladylike. "'Allow the lights to give your home a warm glow, while outlining a welcoming path to your door.' Mayor, some of the participants create so much glare as to make it impossible to find a door."

There were no ponies on the street near the Boutique, or for quite some distance around. Rarity was Working, and her experienced neighbors knew to stay out of the way. Something which held up even when the Work Zone became somewhat more mobile.

It provided a clear sight line, and Marigold looked.

Basic drape lines around the whole of the exterior. Soft tones. She's favoring pearlescent luster on low-intensity colors. Emphasizing the natural curves of the structure while outlining the trotway to her entrance. Gentle whites, very pale blues, and a surprising degree of taupe.

It wasn't exactly spectacular. The composition seemed to suggest an odd amount of caution: somepony who was attempting to work outside their normal limits (in multiple senses), and wasn't sure just how far they could push. But It all coordinated, because that was what Rarity desired.

...well, most of it coordinated. The intermittently flashing patch of brilliant red didn't really fit. Most of that was hitting the Boutique's second-floor bedroom window. The cat, patiently watching all events from behind the safety of the glass, fully ignored all effects upon her own fur. The pony, whose eyes had just twitched again, did not.

"Just a minor tweak..." she muttered. The white horn ignited again. Glowing beads emerged from the right saddlebag, replaced the just-removed red ones which were being tucked into the left. "An ongoing process, obviously. So what do you think?"

"It's very peaceful," Marigold decided, because peace was a precious commodity in her town and there was about to be somewhat less of it.

"Is it not?" Rarity proudly said. "And with that carmine removed -- oh, bother: now the tyrian purple is trying to shove a snout in! If you'll pardon me, Mayor --"

She approached the next window. Two mares stared at her through the glass. She didn't seem to notice.

"And this comes down," Rarity hummed, "and that goes up, and one stitch at a time, we assemble --"

"Miss Belle?" Marigold asked.

"Hmmm?"

"What are you doing?"

"Completing the display," the designer patiently explained, and did so in tones which suggested that she was speaking to a very small foal. "When one, and by 'one' I indicate 'myself', completes a creation, one must also have the proper environment for showing it off. What dress is truly complete upon the sales floor without the Boutique as a backdrop?" Beads marched through the air, coming and going. "I rearrange my interior colors rather often, especially when it comes to seasonal collections." With open-if-mild offense, "Don't tell me you haven't noticed my cool winter blues!"

"I did," Marigold lied. "However..."

"Hmmm?" Two full strands came down.

"...you are currently completing your display through adjusting the Hearth's Warming decorations on the Claimer household. While standing on their property. And taking down their glowbeads."

The designer didn't even shrug.

"A proper display of light," Rarity declared, "needs to factor in all of the light around it. My centerpiece does not function at its best in the presence of these --" snort, sniff "-- more gaudy hues. So I am making adjustments. To help the area -- coordinate."

"Their property," as repeats went, had a certain valiance. "Their lights..."

"While asking nothing for my labors. This is simply devotion. Improving the view for all," the designer peacefully noted -- then looked off to the west. "Oh, dear. And now that this has been adjusted, we have bilious green streaming in from the next block!"

Marigold spared a glance back at the Boutique. This was followed by examining the ring of six 'adjusted' displays around it.

And the ring after that.
And the one after that.

"Well, light does travel a long way, does it not? Twilight assures me that it's famed for it." The designer oriented towards the next offender, began to trot. "And perfection takes time. Onwards we go..."

"Miss. Belle."

The designer didn't turn back. But she did stop moving.

"Yes?"

Marigold chose her next words carefully.

'Trespass.'
No.
'Violation of another's artistic vision.'
...save that for a special occasion.
Let's see. To open...

The chosen words got Rarity's attention. They made the pleasantly-dressed body turn to face Marigold, as the designer frowned with careful thought.

It was also exactly the wrong thing to say. But Marigold wouldn't know that for another day, so she kept saying it.

The second stop was Sugarcube Corner, for what could still be seen of it. The baker was also outside. Her choice of decorations was currently being -- layered.

Pinkie was happy to explain what she was trying to do. Pinkie was generally happy to explain herself, because she understood that her activities could very easily come across to outsiders as being something utterly random. And she always had reasons for everything she did.

Always.

For those who knew Pinkie... if they truly listened to what the earth pony was saying... then they would come to realize that the baker's creative process actually worked in a series of small, utterly logical steps. Pinkie evaluated her current problem and decided on the first thing to do. Once that was done, she relocated her viewpoint and considered the second step. Which led to the third and so on, across the full length of the racecourse. She approached the resolution of issues in the same manner as a recipe. You did this and this and this. Keep the order, respect the ratios. Nothing too early or too late. Tiny, fully rational little leaps. Always thoughtful, carefully building the next link in the chain.

"So I thought about balloons with glowbeads inside," the baker happily explained from her elevated post, carefully adding another layer to the top portion. "Because I've always understood balloons, and I thought the light would come through nicely. But it's just about winter now, and you know balloons in the cold! Even helium sinks too fast. And the balloons would shrink, which changes the thickness of the outer layer. The light would keep shifting. It would have looked really nice for about five minutes. And then I'd be back out here. With a pump. Or a heat lamp. Or replacement balloons. And I don't know when the judges are coming by." With a tiny, exceptionally brief frown, "It would have to be at night, wouldn't it? To get the full effect. But maybe they'd visit just before dawn, to avoid the crowds. 'At night' makes for a lot of clock space.' Hopefully, "Do you know?"

Marigold shook her head.

A small bird dropped to the ground. Staggered a little, then hopped away across the cold stone.

"Too bad," Pinkie considered. "Or maybe too good. Because I probably would have gotten up to adjust some things just before they came. And you sort of have to finalize at some point, don't you? The batter can only have so many ingredients before they clash, and then it still has to go in the oven. Commitment. Doesn't this fascise look nice?"

"Of course," the mayor neutrally offered. "Commitment." She didn't feel qualified to comment on the fascise. The brown wheat cornice was also giving her some trouble.

Another bird came down. It looked lightly concussed, which was a rather hard expression to get across with a beak.

"And I thought of some other things," the young mare added. "But you weren't there when we all made up the rules for the bet!" With an annoyed snort, "You should have heard them! 'And Pinkie, you can't use anything which didn't exist before you wanted to use it!' How is that fair?"

Marigold smiled and nodded. It was usually best to smile and nod while talking to Pinkie. The dual act made multiple muscles apply vital pressure to the brain and, in theory, helped keep the whole thing from coming apart.

"I didn't think I could do enough with lights alone, because party lighting doesn't suit the holiday," Pinkie said. Then she took up a paper tube in her mouth, squeezed out part of the next layer, and put the empty cone down on a convenient crenelation before resuming speech. "And I told you about the balloon problem. So I thought, you know, we're all probably going to wind up working with what we know best."

From the outside, it looked random. But Pinkie was always rational. Forever logical. She asked the next question, and saw where it led.

"Except for Rarity, because you can't really sew light."

It was just that if the most logical answer to Step Three was to rotate the next link ninety degrees away from reality and thrust it through a startled dimension or five, then that was where Pinkie was going to start on Step Four. And the chain would just keep going from there.

"I tried. The stitches don't hold. But maybe that's because I'm not very good with thread."

All the way to the end.

The next two staggering birds gave off the appearance of being heavily concussed, and they hadn't even been listening to Pinkie for very long.

"So you did this," Marigold observed, and looked up.

She had to go quite a ways up. Pinkie had been busy.

"I'm just waiting for Rainbow to tell me this didn't exist before I made it!" Pinkie grumbled, wiping some stray frosting off her forehooves along the way. "And it did! It just existed as flour. And sugar. And some other ingredients, because this isn't meant to be eaten! I mean, I know it looks tasty! And smells even better! But there's tricks you have to use for building a giant centerpiece like this! Obviously a normal cruller that's got an arc three body lengths high isn't going to hold up under its own weight! But you knew that."

"I did not," Marigold admitted.

"Really? Huh. I thought everypony -- well, it's more than just cake boards. You sort of have to build in little joints. Interlocking sections. And add in the special touches which make it instantly go stale! So it'll hold up longer. And the icing sort of serves as the stabilizer. As long as you don't get it too close to anything which could make it unstable. But how often does that happen?"

Marigold looked up at the giant cruller.

The rings of baked-together croissants took a while. Each had been given a coating of glow-in-the-dark icing. Marigold wasn't certain how it was possible to create icing which glowed in the dark, but it was obvious that Pinkie did. And if things went very, very wrong, might go so far as to explain how.

Churros, when found in their base state, already looked a little like columns. A mare who'd upped the scale by a couple of thousand percent had looked at the results and then gone for the next perfectly logical step.

"This roof can take seven layers," Pinkie proudly declared from the builder's perch atop her Temple Of Baked Goods (Already In Progress). "Because it's a seven-layer cake. And what's more welcoming to a Hearth's Warming guest than food?"

Five stunned birds dropped.

"Even if you can't actually eat it," the baker considered. "But it still smells right. Strong scents, too, with the treatments I had to use! It'll smell right for days!" Thoughtfully, "Do you think the birds know it can't be eaten? Because they keep trying. On instinct, I guess. And pecking into something that solid really isn't working out. But I thought they'd tell each other to stay away. Or maybe it's Fluttershy who has to do that."

There was a much louder thump. Wings splayed across the road.

"...ow..."

"It's not for eating, Cloudchaser!" Pinkie called down. "And if it was, I'd have a Free Samples sign up! With a posted servings limit!" A frustrated head shake. "Maybe the birds don't have enough real language. But you'd think the pegasi would have passed the word after the first time. Or the fifth. Honestly, nothing can eat this. Except fish."

"Fish," Marigold said, because speaking was a good way to make sure her brain was still intact.

"Most of this will come undone after a good soaking. But then it's only good for fish food. Or bait, because it smells really good to them too. But you have to take the icing off first. If the icing is still there, then nothing here should be exposed to too much water. Or Else. Maybe even Or Else Or Else. Anyway, the weather schedule is clear until two days after Hearth's Warming, and I'll have it down by them. I'll scrape everything before --"

"Miss. Pie."

Pinkie stopped. Listened.

Marigold said a few things. Some of them concerned town ordinances regarding unsanctioned construction. But, as a certain sentence had been effective with Rarity, she chose to repeat it.

It was still a mistake.

"...oh, there was a lot of arguing over the rules!" Twilight half-laughed as the little mare trotted across the grounds outside the library tree, with several large scintillating objects bobbing along behind her in a corona bubble. "You should have heard us, Mayor! 'No quantum materializations, Pinkie!' And then I had to explain quantum."

"You explained quantum," Marigold checked. Even in the presence of potential disaster, a miracle still had to be verified.

"By the time I was done," the librarian happily declared, "they all knew exactly how to spell it." Thoughtfully, "The definition may need a few more weeks. Anyway, they were so busy trying to keep Pinkie in reality --" and her tones dropped into the confidence of shared conspiracy "-- that they overlooked one little detail..."

She steered around one of the already-placed glittering encampments. So did Marigold, with her streaked tail brushing against the facets.

"And that being?"

Which was when a giant column of green flame erupted two hoofwidths behind the last trailing grey strand.

It was huge. It was three times brighter than Moon. It lanced into the sky, lit up a good portion of the night, and did so in total silence. The roar which sounded in Marigold's ears had been born in her imagination, along with all phantom sensations of heat.

She frantically lashed her tail, because part of her was convinced that it was on fire. Sitting down on top of it also seemed to be an option. But there had been no harm. The local temperature hadn't increased by the smallest fraction of a degree. There was nothing except a silent roar of light, ascending in a column which was more than tall enough to cook Pinkie's temple. One support at a time.

Twilight didn't seem to notice. She just paused, looked around the Moon-lit grounds, and allowed her corona bubble to split. The new, smaller quasi-sphere floated towards a designated landing point.

"They forgot," a merry young voice called out from roughly three body lengths behind Marigold, "to tell her she couldn't work with me."

...of course. "So this is a dual effort," Marigold said.

"They're up against family!" Twilight laughed. "Applejack's going to be really annoyed when she realizes that slipped through. She probably did everything herself." Thoughtfully, "If she didn't spot the loophole. She's smart that way. But I thought that since Spike was in it with me, we needed to do something together."

She set the smaller burden down. The separated bubble winked out, leaving behind a glittering, half-glistening mound of faceted rock, slightly taller than the small mare's own back.

It looked like a cross between coal, obsidian, and amethyst. There was something about it which almost longed to twinkle, show off deeper highlights within -- but no matter how deeply Marigold looked into the semi-crystalline structure, all it did was tuck more of the night into the depths of deepest purple and black.

"These originally came from the Burning Lands," the librarian casually said.

Marigold's stomach performed three expert, fully-silent backflips.

"The dragon realm."

"Yes," Twilight patiently explained. "They're border stones. The palace had some in storage. I asked if I could study them." Hastily, "And I am studying them, with Spike's help! Because you need a dragon to make it work! Without Spike, they would just be stuck in storage for --"

"Border stones," Marigold repeated.

Twilight, who hated being interrupted during a lecture, glanced back. Purple eyes narrowed with mild annoyance.

"I said that."

"And... what do they do?" Other than what that last one just did, which is --

"They define the borders of a dragon's territory," Spike helpfully said as the little reptile caught up, pausing next to Marigold's right flank. "You just set the stones in place, and then --"

"-- show her, Spike!" Twilight enthused. "Because she's never seen it before! Really, who has? Because this isn't just the most unique Hearth's Warming decoration of the season!" The striped tail began to twist itself with excitement. "It's educational!"

The small dragon happily nodded. Scrambled up to the newest emplacement, as Moon reflected off tiny highlights in his scales. Stopped about half a body length away, pursed lips which only existed due to anatomical technicality, exhaled...

The flame didn't splash across the rough facets. It didn't make the stone glow red, and no heat cracks threatened to spread. It simply went inside, as every last lumen of warmth was sucked into the depths.

"See?" Twilight asked. "It needs a dragon!" Smiling, "Because I tried it with my corona, Mayor. Just in case nopony had tried that before, because I forgot to ask the palace for their old notes. And I think some of my energy went inside. I get the same feeling when I move them. But it doesn't seem to be clashing with anything, so... maybe it just faded out." She executed a traveling shrug. "Anyway, it won't go off if Spike gets close. Because he's the one who charged it up, so the stone thinks it's marking his border."

"His --" Marigold tried.

"Not that it really thinks, of course!" Twilight hastily corrected herself. "But if I trot up..."

She did. And when she was roughly four body lengths away, the stone discharged.

This time, the silent roar possessed more in the way of red. It also shot at least fifteen floors into the sky, and Marigold heard a not-very-distant cry of alarm as a passing pegasus, who wasn't quite recovered from the earlier encounter, veered off on instinct alone and in short order, introduced herself to bare branches, a balcony, and one small telescope which was waiting for a seasonal meteor shower.

"You don't have to dodge it, Cloudchaser!" Twilight called out. "It's completely harmless!" Paused. "Well, it's completely harmless as far as I know. It's certainly harmless by itself, because it's just meant to show approaching dragons that they're getting too close to someone else's territory and the owner is marking the border. They aren't trying to start a fight." Thoughtfully, "In theory, I suppose it could have some odd interactions with other, more exotic forms of energy. And maybe some exceptionally weird matter. But it's a minuscule chance, and it's not as if we have any of that around, right?" Another, half-delighted shrug. "Anyway, we're still trying to figure out how to adjust some of the settings."

"Settings," Marigold attempted, and was surprised when the lecturer allowed her to get that far.

"I should be able to tell the stone how close somepony else can be before it goes off," Spike said, and the young tones were slightly abashed. "Because it's radiating something which detects other creatures. Somehow. But I haven't been able to change very much. I can't figure out how." His arms, moving without conscious notice, sent his hands behind his back. Scraping sounds indicated claws being wrung against each other. "And we both thought that it would need to radiate up, because so many dragons fly. But getting it to stop checking for travelers that far up..."

Twilight just shrugged again. "But it's harmless!" she declared. "From all evidence. So ponies really don't have any reason to freak out. I keep explaining that."

On the balcony, Cloudchaser was just starting to pick herself up again.

"You'd think everypony would pass the word," the little mare added. "And then I wouldn't need to keep picking up the telescope. Especially since I put that sign up in the high branches and somepony could at least read it. Anyway, Mayor, we're inverting the normal use! Because normally dragons would use these to warn somepony off, but Spike and I are using them to build a welcoming path to the door --"

"Miss. Sparkle."

Twilight stopped talking.

Getting Twilight to stop talking could be something of an achievement. Marigold, noting an equal amount of silence from Spike, decided to treat the minor success as Step One. And then she told both siblings exactly what she'd told Rarity and Pinkie.

On the most technical level, it could be said that it worked.

Temporarily.

When it came to dealing with Rainbow, the initial issues tended to be rather visible. Failed stunt practices had their consequences, and the weather coordinator had yet to offer a plausible theory for why impact craters kept appearing on other ponies' property -- or rather, she couldn't offer one which wasn't her. 'Spontaneous ditches' had about the same success rate as spontaneous combustion, along with a much lower number of True Believers.

Marigold had read the reports before striking out for Rainbow's residence or rather, the empty lot directly beneath it. But when it came to verifying everything -- all she had to do was look up. And because she'd had advance warning, she did so while wearing rubber-soled boots and being ready to dodge at all times.

Under normal circumstances, she would have needed to ask for an explanation. But the home's occupant often gave off the impression of possessing at least one sense beyond the normal limit. The typical pegasus could see heat and ion charges. Rainbow had a preternatural capacity for picking up on when somepony was paying attention to her -- or anything she'd done. And so within seconds of Marigold's arrival, the display's creator had merrily swooped out of an open window, ready to explain everything.

Rainbow knew the visible portion of the stunt wasn't always enough. If a pony was going to be really impressed, then they had to be told how it worked.

"And seriously, who can't do glowbeads?" she announced from the apex of a near-permanent hover. "You can buy glowbeads by the hundreds in Barnyard Bargain!" With open irritation, "And then you probably have to buy them again next year, because of course most of them can't be recharged. That's how they get you."

"Mmm-hmm," Marigold pontificated. She'd been dealing with Rainbow ever since a somewhat younger mare had first been assigned to the weather team. Trying to get a word in during the early stages was generally unwise.

"Except for Pinkie," Rainbow added. "But we made sure to close that loophole." Her wings flapped with aggravation, and a small dust devil went skidding around the lawn of a nearby ground house.

Marigold risked a glance at Rainbow's right-side neighbor. Nopony had protested as dead grass was torn out of the brown lawn, and all of the windows remained dark. However, the partial head turn, when added to the fresh removal of vegetation, went a long way towards letting Moon show her the blackened spots.

The sudden brilliant flash of electric blue would have offered further assistance, but that was when Marigold automatically jumped to the left.

The crackling consequences passed some distance over her back, then grounded themselves in a fencepost. Rainbow simply waited for the associated peal to stop echoing, checked to make sure the local audience wasn't deaf, then kept talking.

"And about the whole 'path to your door' thing," the pegasus groused. "Most ponies can't reach my door. So I thought I'd just make it about the lights. And show that I did it."

She proudly looked up. More electric blue danced in the core of magenta eyes, and also across the entirety of the cloud.

"You know," Rainbow far-too-casually said, "most pegasi wouldn't be able to get lightning coursing like that."

"Really?" Marigold asked. It was possible to do that and check for more blackened spots. Rainbow wasn't really watching her.

"Not across their entire house. Not constantly." In a combination of open pride and unsubtle irritation fused by sudden empathy, "You know, I think I finally get why Rarity's so annoyed when ponies don't talk about some of the colors on her stuff."

"Really?" was being asked to do a lot of work in the conversation.

"She's always talking about how the deep purple stuff takes so much work on the dyes. How it's expensive to make, and fussy to mix, and it could go wrong at any tiny step." The sleek head slowly, regretfully shook. "And I thought she was just being Rarity, you know? But I've had so many ponies come by already, and not one of them has said anything about the blue. It's like they don't know how hard it is to make lightning come out hot blue every time. Or they don't care!"

"Lightning playing across every surface of your home," Marigold observed.

Two more peals went off. The 'blackened spot' count went up by an equal number.

"Yeah! But just the outside, obviously --"

"-- how," Marigold patiently asked, "do you keep it from discharging to ground level?"

"You can't," Rainbow proudly said.

Another bolt struck fifteen body lengths behind them and, to Rainbow's credit, it was a hot electric blue all the way down.

"You can't," Marigold repeated.

"Did you say something? There was thunder --"

"You can't."

"Obviously! But I don't think it goes off that often. And I kept it low-voltage. It won't do anything more than boom and give ponies a tingle. And maybe a few strands of fur might go dark, but that's a new look, right? For the holiday. I bet Rarity could work with that. Anyway, it's not like I'm bothering anypony. All of my neighbors are visiting family for Hearth's Warming."

"Really."

"They got a late start, though."

"Did they?"

"I know Dancer's going to the east coast," Rainbow stated. "She really should have left earlier than the night after I started testing the cascade effects." With preemptive offense, "And I made sure the discharges were legal, Mayor. So don't even start."

"How could you --"

Proudly, "I adjusted the weather maps and designated my neighborhood as a lightning strike zone. Legally!"

Marigold considered that most of Rainbow's immediate neighbors probably were visiting somepony. And should any of them share attorneys, the same pony.

"But hey, dark houses, easier to see my stuff, right?" Rainbow poorly timed her words. "And nopony's complaining about tingling. Honestly, the only way this kind of amperage is going to cause real trouble is if it got mixed up with something weird, and probably not even then. So I know you're not one of the judges, but you're here right now. What do you think? It's better than Applejack's, right? Because I got a peek at Applejack's -- don't tell her I looked! -- and honestly, she's gonna have a hard time selling what she did as coincidence. And if you're thinking mine is something spectacular because of course you are, then maybe you could have a word with the panel --"

Marigold said her piece.

Rainbow listened.

Perhaps that should have been the truest warning sign.

After that, it was time to leave the heart of Ponyville. Marigold's fifth visit required heading for the outskirts, while the last would bring her to the town's absolute border.

It was a long trot, which gave her time to reflect on just how well things were going. Rainbow had already been dampening the voltage into nothingness and given Pinkie's labor rate, the pediments and pronaos were probably down by now. All she had to do was shut down the final two mares, and all would be well.

She didn't really use the trip to consider what she would say to the last two, because she would be using the same words from her first four stops. They were obviously words which worked. So what she mostly thought about was the nature of the Rainbow/Applejack relationship.

There were ways in which every Bearer was at least a partial reflection of every other. When it came to the farmer and weather coordinator, most of the mirror was highly polished, and to touch an orange hoof on one silvered side just might find a cyan one matching every move.

They were, in certain rather fundamental aspects, extremely alike. In fact, one of the ways in which they matched was their mutual tendency to deny it. Both of them could keep up the protests for hours on end -- while completely ignoring that, once the observer factored for accent, they were pretty much using the same vocabulary. Applejack and Rainbow twinned to the point where most of Ponyville had decided they either needed to kiss already or just go directly for each other's throats. Either way, a number of problems would be effectively and instantly solved, with just as many new ones being born.

Rainbow had gone for a visible discharge of light...

"Ah," the farmer proudly stated as she stood with Marigold at the start of the new, well-shaded path which led to her own front door, "have been waitin' t' pull this one out for years."

It started as well-shaded, because the intertwining branches which laced through the air blocked out so much of Moon's glow.

"Years." Really, so much of being a politician came from listening to what ponies said and then appearing as if you were prepared to fully agree with all of it.

It started as well-shaded. Then there was a twinkle of light. Followed by a burst, and a spark...

"Not jus' the Bearer years," Applejack clarified. "Ever since our flyin' impact zone came t' ground, or as close as she ever gets. Ah figured she'd take an interest in the holiday eventually, for more than jus' seein' how many gifts she can nose over. While countin' what comes back." This snort had no interest in being ladylike. "Y'think Rarity passes out the presents? Rainbow's keepin' a tally. Anyway, Ah always knew she an' Ah would be goin' up against each other on this. The other four?" In the low vocal music of confidentiality, "That's more or less what you'd call a side consideration. Long as Ah come in ahead of that one, everything's fine. An' with all that time t' plan..."

Several bursts went off. Marigold blinked a lot. The farmer, whose eyes were shaded by the hat's brim, was fine.

"Plan," the younger earth pony said. "Ah should've started earlier than Ah did."

"Really?"

"Well, even with family help on the big push -- an' Ah don't want t' hear a word out of Twi! -- it would've been easier t' get more of a lead from the gate. 'least, that's what mah dumb big brother thought." The second snort was louder. "Had t' hear that fool, Mayor. Barely talked him into helpin' me -- helpin' his own family! -- an' Ah had t' call in some favors t' do it. Plus he even wanted me t' sign a waiver. Sayin' he'd tried t' warn me an' nothin' which might happen was his fault. Bein' worried over nothin'."

"Why would he be worried, do you think?" Marigold asked.

"Oh, he explained that part!" Applejack admitted as a rope-bound tail lashed. "'Applejack, you can't use magic to crossbreed plants over less than five generations because there's no telling how the results are going to come out! Applejack, I know you need to force-grow these trees so they'll be ready for the holiday, but doing that to what's essentially a new species -- there could be side effects! Applejack, what if they're unstable?' An' Ah thought Rarity was the Princess Of Whine? Might jus' owe her an apology, 'cause my dumb brother got real close t' claimin' the crown. An' just look at the results, Mayor! Y'can see how well it came out! We've got a new cultivar!"

Light reflected off silver. Then light was generated by silver, absorbed by green, and zapped across the shaded aisle to ground itself in silver again.

"Look at 'em," Applejack proudly declared. "Sixteen healthy trees. Perfectly healthy. So's the fruit!"

Marigold inspected the fruit. Several lush silver specimens were hanging down from the branches. The majority, in defiance of gravity and common sense, were hanging up.

They glowed. Some did so more intermittently than others. A number discharged, and did so in relative silence. Judging by the scent, three were in the process of cooking themselves.

"Winter Zap Apples," the farmer happily mused. "Mah idea. Our little storm-brewer wants t' use lightning, right? Ah'll show her. Ah've got my own lightning. Earth pony lightning. Tell me that ain't worth a higher score than hers."

One silver apple abruptly developed its own full corona, all sizzling and spiking whites.

Then it discharged.

The older mare mare just barely jumped back in time.

"COLT OF A --"

Instantly, more desperate over words than the spontaneous projection of unknown magic, "Don't curse!"

Marigold froze.

"Don't -- what?"

The farmer checked the trees. Examined rustling leaves, inspected the bark, and slowly exhaled.

"Don't curse," she repeated. "That don't end well. Also, don't worry 'bout getting hit. Just makes y'feel warm inside for a little while." Paused. "At least, that's what it does for earth ponies. Can't say for the unicorns and pegasi. They were runnin' too fast t' quiz. But since y'can't go that fast unless you're healthy, Ah figure --"

" -- why can't I --"

"-- little secret 'bout Zap Apple Jam? Not that it'll let y'make it, so Ah'm not worried 'bout telling you. But the jars don't hold unless y'yell at them first. A lot."

"And why is that important here --"

"-- new cultivar, new crossbreed 'cause Ah had t' get some winter trees in the mix t' keep 'em alive an' producin' in the cold. So new apples, right? Even if they look a lot like the old ones. Could be a new jam. An' it took Granny years t' work out how t' make the seasonal stuff. So Ah thought, take her process an' start from scratch. Follow the same steps she did."

"Oh?"

"She didn't always curse at the jars."

"...oh."

"Turns out Winter Zaps are kinda prudes," Applejack stated. "They don't take well t' anythin' that's even the least bit spicy."

"...oh..."

"If'fin Ah mull 'em for cider? Ain't even gonna risk cinnamon."

"So what do they --"

"-- y'know how some ponies say curses are kinda like a verbal blast?"

"Yes."

"They blast back."

"Miss --"

"But Ah took care of the risk. Put up a sign at the entrance." In open offense, "Which Ah'm guessin' you didn't read. Finally startin' t' see Twi's point on that... Anyway, new Zaps, new rules. Ah figure on havin' the whole winter t' start on workin' those out. An' no matter what mah dumb college colt of a brother thinks, ain't nothin' bad gonna come out of speed-breedin' a new cultivar, even with the amount of magic the original Zaps pack in. Jus' gotta work out the rules. We've already got No Curses. An' while that's goin' on, they still make for the kind of holiday decorations which the flyin' ego can't match! Ah even got a welcomin' path down! An' once Ah plant the rest of the Acres... well, it'll be somethin' to see." Decibels fell away, and proud green eyes glanced to the side. "So Ah know y'ain't part of the panel. But y'got influence. What do you think of mah --"

"-- Miss. Malus!"

Eventually, orange hooves began to awkwardly scrape apologetic little trenches into the cold ground.

And then there was one.

"...I don't mind explaining it," the beautiful mare softly said as they stood together, looking at --

-- at...

...getting beyond 'at' was currently taking a serious amount of work.

"...I don't think anypony's put together something like this," Fluttershy decided as the one visible eye carefully regarded the twisting, curving, racing results. "Not that I've seen."

Marigold forced herself to inspect the nearest of the wide clear tubes --

-- teeth went by.

She was completely certain about the teeth. Ponies were, in the technical sense, a prey species. Marigold could identify an oversized mouth full of pointed fangs from twenty body lengths away. So a giant repository of glimmering death had just sped by.

Furthermore, it had done so while glowing. It had radiated orange and purple and some surprisingly dark blues, in odd curving patterns and isolated speckles alike. And it had done all of this in close proximity to the cottage, directly in front of Fluttershy, and the caretaker hadn't reacted at all.

Well... she did smile. Very slightly.

"...I wanted to go with my strengths," she quietly told Marigold. "I thought everypony else would use theirs. But I didn't want to dress up my residents and ask them to carry glowbeads. They hate wearing things. Most animals do. And as for carrying..." Yellow feathers twitched. "...no. They have other things to do. So I thought... why not try with the ones who don't do much of anything?"

"And this is where you chose to start?" Marigold carefully asked.

She took a careful breath. The scent of salt drifted out of microvents which had been placed in the top of the nearest tube, saturated her nostrils.

Glowing green went by. More purples. A full school of not-quite-electric blues darted part her, then took the upper bend and used the momentum to clear the loop.

"...no," the mare shyly admitted. "I thought... insects. But even if I asked Snails to coordinate with me and talk them into it, there just aren't enough at this time of year. They're mostly hibernating."

"Of course."

"...even the winter fireflies are two moons out," educated a near-precise mirror of a certain librarian's lecturing tendencies.

"You don't say," felt safe enough.

"...and they only glow for a few hours. In their whole lives. So I thought, if I was really going to go for bioluminescence..."

Marigold stared at the new structure which took up so much of the space in front of the cottage. The twisting, curving near-maze of tubing, with each water-filled passage wide enough to let a pony swim among the fanged mouths. If they could find a way in. And didn't have any interest regarding the finer things in life. Like living.

She tried to track the full system of loops. It was like trying to work out the geometry of a water park ride which had been set up in the vicinity of a black hole. Some of the curves were trying to bend through each other.

"The glass?" asked the older mare.

"...I have a glassblower who owed me a few favors," Fluttershy softly said. "Or a few kennel service bills. She takes long trips away from her pet. This is how we settled up."

Long trips to the local asylum until she feels better?

"...I think it's very artistic," the pegasus eventually said. "Because she said so. I didn't want to disagree with her."

"And... the -- piscine -- decorations...?"

A shining lanternfish swam by. It was followed closely by a lit-up angler, multiple glowing jellyfish, a blackdragonfish which mostly survived through having no actual dragons know about it, and hundreds of tiny radiant shrimp.

"...the aquarium owed me a lot of favors."

Another angler swam through. Fangs gnashed. It was half of what they were there for.

"...they're why I've got the proper salinity set up," the pegasus added. "And pressure, and temperature. And the enchanted vents help keep everything oxygenated. The aquarium ponies did that part. And they placed some mobile barriers in the tubes, to keep everyone from eating each other. Even though some of them are still trying. That one mare got really upset when she saw Mister Terrordeath make a lunge." Far too calmly, "I don't know why. It's just nature. I said the same thing to the next six ponies who came by and they just kept staring. They weren't even worried about the mental health of the fish! I asked. Because I thought about that. They usually swim through water and when they look down, there's just more water. But now if they look down, there's glass and after that? It's air. How are they going to deal with air?"

"Miss --"

"...I think the fainting was completely uncalled for."

"MISS --"

"...some of the ponies fainted. Fish usually don't. But if the ponies were... oh, what if it was critical fainting..." Fluttershy worriedly said.

"...what?"

"...it's bioluminescence! I had to take whatever colors I could get. Which means I'm not matching the traditional holiday hues! Oh, I hope that doesn't hurt my score too badly! Is that the sort of thing which the judges look for? Because I thought you would know, and as long as you're here -- why are you here...?"

Which was as far as Marigold was going to let it go.

Startled deliveryponies at the Acres. Freaked-out visitors to the cottage. Little lightning strikes and unscheduled thunder all around Rainbow's house, pegasi going off-course at bakery and library alike, added to the fact that unless somepony stopped her, all of it was going to be redone by a single white unicorn just to make the hues match. It had to end here.

"MISS. PHYLIA."

But this was the last stop.

Fluttershy hesitated. Her mane slipped forward, hiding that much more of her face.

"...yes?" the pegasus meekly asked.

Marigold had been to see all of them. Spoken to the entire group. And for her opener, she'd started with the same words, the right words. The ones which had led to it all being taken down, well before any true disaster could strike.

"Why," the mayor gently asked, "during this time of welcoming, acceptance, and reconciliation -- are you putting forth so much effort to beat those who care about you as much as anypony in the world? Even if you won... what have they done to you, that you would wish for their holiday feelings to center around frustration and loss? Why are you trying to hurt them? Because there is always a winner in such games. But there are also losers, Miss Phylia. Losers and injured feelings and a time of bitterness." As softly as she could manage, "It's nearly Hearth's Warming, Fluttershy. Shouldn't you all just -- put the competitions away for a while? Simply love each other?"

The visible eye went wide.

And then it squeezed shut, as the first tears began to well.

It was over.

Marigold went home. She took to her cold bed, and tried to take comfort in the knowledge that the nation's legislators were on the verge of their holiday break. Her husband would be home soon. In time for Hearth's Warming, when they could welcome and warm each other.

She got up the next morning, mailed out a few of the more personal greeting cards on her list -- those which truly came from her, and so couldn't use a government stamp -- then went to her office. There were still things to do before the local government shut down for the holiday, and one of them was drawing up the judge's decoration inspection route. Especially since there were now six sites which could be safely removed from the path.

The older mare filed papers, sorted official copies, answered a few residential complaints, and went about what was actually a rather peaceful day.

The first frantic complaints of Why Isn't Somepony Doing Something? didn't reach her until Sun was nearly all the way down.

Marigold considered herself to be in exceptionally good shape for her age. Being in charge of Ponyville had a number of requirements, and the ability to desperately pound hooves towards any portion of it on a moment's notice was not the least of them.

She had a good turn of speed, and could race many younger ponies into the dust. But she'd still lost some time in going by the police station, because every strand of fur on her hackles had gone up and somepony had to give the order to start evacuating now. Just. In. Case.

And then she galloped down darkening streets, heading directly for the tree which rested so close to the center of her town. The home of the library and what was, at best, a partially-sanctioned research laboratory. A place where Discord occasionally dropped by, most likely in search of inspiration.

It was rather hard to see the actual tree, and very little of that came from the loss of light involved with a descending Sun. There was just too much in front of it.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING?" she screamed at the six mares and sole little dragon who were so busy at work and because it had been a scream, she just barely managed to get their attention.

The collective look they gave her was a rather quizzical one. After all, they had so very much to do, and none could understand why anypony would want to interrupt. Not when a crackling cloud was still being wrestled into exacting position over a partial temple of baked goods, to the place where it would best set off the lights which shone from recently-transplanted trees while working with those which shone through the maze of glass tubing.

"Just a minute, Mayor!" Twilight finally called out. "I need to move this one border stone." A corona flared, lifted and lowered. (Six columns of flame went off, none of which emerged from the moved stone.) "There. Applejack, you can transplant the last tree in now."

"Thank y'kindly, Twi. Rarity, how's the color balance looking?"

"Rather good, actually. Pinkie, can you shade your icing to a slightly darker tone?"

"On it! Just don't get it wet!"

"And... Fluttershy?"

"...yes, Rarity? Oh, Pinkie, be careful with your hooves around those birds! They look a little stunned. I should ask them why..."

"Can any of your swimmers alter their hues?"

The caretaker considered the question. "...not really? Not right now, anyway. Some of them have different glows for mating lures, but this isn't the right time of year."

Just a little disappointed, "You're quite certain?"

"...yes. A corkwing wrasse could change the color for its whole body, and so could a pointy-snouted reef fish. But they don't glow, so I didn't borrow any."

The designer sighed. "A pity. Still... perhaps if you whisper the right sweet nothings to those in the tubes, they might be temporarily convinced to start dating. Do any of them glow taupe?"

Marigold felt rather as if they'd lost the core of the issue.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING?" she repeated, and hoped those words were the right ones. Words which would work, because she'd thought the first ones had done the job and it had only led to this, as Pinkie wove long curves of dough around glass and Rarity's corona added pearlescent glowbeads here and there while Rainbow's cloud crackled...

Six mares stared at her, and did so with five-and-a-half identical expressions of helpless confusion.

Spike simply stopped breathing fire into his current border stone. The youngest peeked out from behind the rock, timid eyes reflected in the facets.

"What you told us to," the little dragon carefully said.

"What I --"

"We shouldn't be putting so much effort into beating each other," Spike quietly told her. "Not at this time of year, when it's all about -- coming together. Reconciling differences."

"Crossing the kind of divides," his sister added, "which once said that earth ponies, pegasi, and unicorns couldn't be friends at all."

The little dragon walked up to the smallest mare. Reached out a hand, protectively curled the claw tips inwards, and rubbed at her fur.

"Which said," the youngest softly stated, "that a dragon and a pony couldn't be part of the same family."

And Marigold couldn't speak.

The designer stepped forward.

"We came together, Mayor," the unicorn fiercely declared. "To reconcile our differences -- and balance our visions."

"And cake," Spike added. "And glass. And border stones. There's a lot of balancing. And trying to make it all fit."

"We were just being silly!" Pinkie decided, and layered on a little more icing as multiple fish swam that much closer to the hidden vents. "Silly is for different holidays!"

"...and this one is about staying with each other," Fluttershy gently offered. "When we need each other."

"'bout family," Applejack summarized. "An' that's what we are, right? Family."

"If you say so," Rainbow offered with rather surprising generosity. "I'm just trying to make our one, collective entry look awesome!"

"A welcoming path of light," Twilight wrapped it all up. "The warmth from the light of our hearts."

Marigold looked over the top of her lenses. Examined seven happy, proud sapients in the final rays of light from a nearly-departed Sun. And took one more breath.

"BUT THAT'S NOT WHAT I BUCKING MEANT --"

Several dozen Winter Zap Apples flashed.

Energy of an undefined magical type, created through hasty crossbreeding, discharged in multiple directions.

Some of it went up and met lightning, only a little of which had been considering coming down. Other portions hit the glass tubes, weakening the integrity before interacting with fish who had been straining to reach the perfect bait. Some sank into border stones and set up a one-of-a-kind meeting with dragonflame and lingering traces of corona. The rest seared off some of the icing to expose a dark brown, and that last was what the designer frantically projected her own strength towards in a desperate attempt to stop it all. Because dark brown was no part of the collective vision, and it had to be brought down to taupe.

The world went white.

It had very little choice. White was, in some definitions, the absence of color. And the initial reaction from combined energies, chemicals, and icings was so intense as to drive all sound, sanity, and hues away.

But that only lasted for a second. And then there was light. Some of it could be presumed to represent the light of their hearts, but the vast majority came from an inadvisable, impromptu experiment in magical interactions.

There was rather a lot of it.

There was light, accompanied by colors. All of the colors there were, plus a few which had never previously existed and just wanted to get in on the fun. And when you had every last color in a single place, overlapping and melding...

The world went black.

It stayed black for a while. It was just more peaceful that way.

Seven heroes were in the Solar throne room, so closely huddled together in front of the throne as to let the same vibratory rate of fear echo through fur and scales. Marigold, who didn't have any active charges to consider, was standing near the door.

A huge white mare was looking down at them from that elevated throne. Feathers resulted, and the glow around the horn was just a little too bright.

"I've spent most of the day talking to Sun," the Princess told them.

Nopony said anything.

"It wanted to quit."

Anything at all.

"Because if ponies can create that much light," the alicorn added, "then what's the point of it even being there?"

"Glck," Twilight said, because the little mare was going to say something eventually and given the current circumstances, 'glck' was about as good as it got.

The giant white head slowly shook, and the pastels of the mane twisted against each other. "I had to point out the orbit problem. Namely, that Ponyville can't do that."

"Gah," Spike helpfully chimed in.

"Although," royalty calmly proposed, "we could try launching it into space. Just as a backup option. One which, in theory, might solve a few problems. Or at least isolates the next ones."

"...um..." Fluttershy failed to contribute.

"As it is," the Princess concluded, "I am still going to be dealing with a sulky satellite for the rest of the moon. I want to thank you all for that." And pushed her forelegs against the throne, sending the giant body half-upright so the mare could stare down all the more. "Thank you oh so very much."

"It's not our fault!" Pinkie desperately tried. "It isn't! Maybe you can say that we should have considered what having all of those things so close together might do, especially the new and untried and possibly-mutated -- look, the fish mostly just stayed around my part! Flopping! But the water -- I remember telling the mayor something about water and why it shouldn't touch everything I'd been working on and I should really stop talking now."

"It ain't our fault, Pinkie."

Marigold silently watched.

"Would you care to explain your reasoning, Applejack?" asked the Princess.

"If'fin somepony," the farmer half-muttered, "an' Ah am perfectly happy t' say who, hadn't let a certain term fly..."

"And you're willing to trust that over the entire time the display would have been present," the alicorn too-calmly asked, "nopony would have cursed in its vicinity. Ever. Certainly not from holiday stress, or mere coloring of speech."

Applejack's head dipped.

"Or the border stones wouldn't have discharged into a cloud," the Princess mercilessly continued. "Something which we now know interacts poorly with lightning. While, incidentally, triggering rain. We could ask what else the Winter Zaps might have done, but I'd rather not get an answer to that question until the Ill-Advised Crossbreed Council clears them from the emergency quarantine. And perhaps it would have been better if all of the disparate elements -- and Elements -- had been a little further apart -- but I understand that somepony felt that close proximity would help make the hues work..."

Rarity was now staring at the floor.

"The Mayor's vocalization was ill-timed," the alicorn conceded. "I'll allow that. I am not punishing her for it, because you can't convince me there wouldn't have been any others. And yes, you can say the whole thing was just a one-in-a-million accident -- but I asked Princess Luna to run the math and in Ponyville, those apparently crop up nine times out of ten. So... having considered all testimony, unfused most of the evidence and Fluttershy, for the last time, the fish just have stomach cramps -- my judgment in this matter is --"

"WAIT!"

Seven heroes. Six mares and their loyal protector. And on a night which had threatened to last forever, those six mares had, of their own free will, united to save the world.

"What is it, Rainbow?" inquired an alicorn's excessive patience.

"They took the whole thing down!" yelled an aggravated weather coordinator. "What was left of it!"

"Many ponies did that, yes," the Princess said. "Once it was safe. Since all of you were still in holding..."

Seven heroes. A septet which still resided in Ponyville, forever looking for more things to save that world from.

"And I know for a fact," Rainbow protested as the others did nothing than helplessly look on, "that some of them were the decoration contest panel judges!"

"Yes," the Princess agreed. "And?"

Seven sapients who, when the usual sources of outside disaster ran low, usually wound up trying to save the planet from themselves.

Marigold ran the town which hosted them. She knew what they were like. Tried to deal with all of it, the good and the bad which could arise from those who so often only heard what they'd wished to hear. She accepted that on some level, chaos had permanently moved in, and done so when Discord merely visited. And ultimately, all she could do was try to keep her little part of the realm intact. She indulged in fantasies, yes, but -- the stress had to be released somehow. Cursing could be the least of that.

Still... she knew they were heroes. Those who had acted of their own will to save the world.

At least, the first time had been of their own will.

"Did we win?"

The remainder were presumed to be community service.