The Trinity of Moons: Ancillary Mirrors

We get food and company while aboard the ship: the crew brings us a table, a few plates and a hot, potato pie. Nothing great, just a standard issue Navy ration. It warms us up some against the altitude chill.

As part of the ration, they also give us a strong, black, malty tea. It feels a little too much for my nose and tongue, but Quartz enjoys her own cup, then the leftovers from our cups too. At least it is safe to drink. I don’t have to check my own biochemical index against it — in this timeline most food and drinks are compatible with almost everypony. It is going to break in a few nines of histories down the line.

The company isn’t that great either. The crew sends an investigator unicorn mare to us: tall, her cutie mark carefully hidden by the white and blue royal armor, with a dark magenta coat, teal eyes and a short, well tied, cinnabar mane.

She doesn’t give us her name at all, but practically demands to know ours, while keeping a cold, piercing gaze on me when I — the last among us — tell her, “I’m Lure.” She insists on the full names then. This one I provide too, Lure Stardust.

Focused all the same, she requests names and cutie marks of my siblings - none - parents, aunts, uncles, and grandparents - which I give, feeling a growing pit in my stomach. She writes my answers down and stands up, carrying a small cupcake in her teal horn aura before giving a curt nod and saying, “Thank you, citizens.” before leaving.

I breathe out — it seems I forgot for a little while how to do that. My friends look disturbed too, to put it mildly.

After some tight, shuddering, emergency hugs, Stylus asks me, “Sorry, Lure, but whose relatives were you giving? Because I know they weren’t Bittercup’s.” He doesn’t even wait for me to answer. It actually hurts. Why ask then? “Bittercup’s dad’s called Wormwood, not Echo… and they aren’t Stardust either?”

“N-no…”

It occurs to me I was indeed telling the truth, recalling ones from my latest, Rose Moon timeline. With a morbid curiosity I wonder if I’ve screwed something up. Then, how much exactly, if I did. I feel singled out.

Quartz confirms that a few beats later, “She ain't never asked us so many questions. Only you. But don't you worry none, sugar. We'll be on your side, sure as the sun rises. Y'all can count on that, Lure.” She sounds confident, reassuring. She flashes a smile at me.

That helps more than it honestly should. I return the smile. They know I don’t want to be alone against that unicorn.

Yet we have to run and reach the Princesses before they find out all my family and myself for that matter… well, I don’t think we exist in this timeline.

More ponies come down to look at us too: they speak pretty little but none of them looks at me with the same piercing, unblinking, transparent clarity like that investigator did. “Don’t worry,” one of them says, “Tempest is always harsh if she’s suspicious. And she’s always suspicious.” That batpony who ditched Stylus recently takes a visible joy in telling us that we shouldn’t leave the deck anymore.

“Why?” Quartz asks.

“You meddled too much.” she replies curtly.

There are always at least a couple of winged ponies checking if we are still in place.

I can see where they come from. I’m not interested in testing their patience for things like bathroom breaks — I can guess they check the doors there and don’t give me any privacy. Thankfully, my friends aren’t under such close observation.

The navigator brings us a blanket with a star pattern stitched into the fabric and a simple mattress for the night, then asks if we want a lullaby song to help us fall asleep. I wouldn’t mind but Stylus decides he’s too old for that. I smile at the small label at a corner of the blanket, “Rarity Belle Industries Inc.”

When I fall asleep, I see no dreams, except for the faint presence of Blue Moon, promising me that everything is just fine.

By the time we wake up in the morning, the ship is already moored at one of Canterlot’s towers. Before breakfast, Quartz calls for us, “Well now, we can go on and open up this here letter, can't we?”

With her personal knife she cuts open Bittercup’s farewell letter and reads it.

“Hi! Guess what?! I gotta go on a mission! It's for this other, older Luna, and I have to go to another time to stop some bad stuff from happening. It's about this Nightmare Moon - she's like, super evil! I'll explain it all later.

“I'll probably be back before you even read this, but just in case... could you ask Princess Luna (NOT Celestia!) about the Elements of”

The letter abruptly ends there.

We look at each other.

“That there Nightmare Moon... she anythin' to do with yer Red?” Quartz inquires, ever practical.

I can’t help but wince. No, of course not, but- “No,” I tell her. “Maybe a little? But not directly. That’s different.” I change the topic just in case. “Look, could you take the letter - it could be very important. With this letter… Maybe Princess Luna teleported Bittercup? Let's go to the castle with it, ask the Princess what she's up to, and we'll find out everything right away.”

Wishful thinking, I know. I remember one who was ‘other, older Luna’ just like written in the letter. I have strong suspicions it is Blue Moon but– that would be hard to explain on the run. And then, it’s only suspicions.

I don’t know what to do if it was Blue Moon who stole Bittercup. Luna would be so much easier… so I hope for Luna.

We don’t go very far into the capital. In fact, we don’t even set a hoof on the port. I only barely see the intricate web of monorails, fluttercrafts threading through the mountain air, and rich rainbows of crowds deep down below.

At the bottom of the ladder, that reaches the top of the marble tower, Tempest meets us. After a momentary battle of staring daggers at one another and mutual positioning she does not single me out from my friends. Small joys, smaller victories.

“Come with me, fillies. We have a lot to talk about.”

"Listen," Bittercup sniffled. "I honestly don't know where I am. I don't know how I got here. I don't remember much except darkness. If Nightmare Moon returns, everything will be lost forever. I have to stop it. That's what the Moon said. That's all I know."

She sniffled again and fell silent.

Twilight Sparkle asked cautiously, "So, Princess Luna asked you… to stop Nightmare Moon. But that was eight years ago… if it even needed to be done then! Because everything turned out okay."

Bittercup shuddered violently. "I… I didn't explain it well. It wasn't Princess Luna, no. They look alike – the same dark blue color, but… this Blue Moon doesn't have a title. I wouldn't forget her, even without a title. She glows with calmness and terror. I wish I never met her." She choked back a sob, repeating the same story for Twilight. The others had already heard it twice. Fear gleamed in her golden eyes, her words slightly different from the previous two times. Not like a memorized script.

"And you have to understand – Moons don't lie. They can't lie. I saw it with my own eyes. I saw how the world changed – I felt it. Felt the change. It’s bad. A patch of grass turned blue, right in front of me, because she said it was blue. And it always had been — I can’t remember how it was, I know it’s changed by the true word. I have to stop Nightmare Moon's eternal darkness. That’s promised, and she doesn't lie. Please, believe me. It doesn't even matter if I return home – when the darkness falls, nothing will matter anymore."

Sitting down on her haunches, she wrapped her wings around herself and breathed out the last words.

"Because I've seen that darkness. I know how it descends. What will happen next. And how swiftly you will all die."

Twilight Sparkle and all the Crusaders were at her bed — well, technically Scootaloo’s bed, but the orange mare wasn’t going to have it back any time soon. Twilight was looking over her reference book — Bittercup’s accent really wasn’t matching with any known region. A quick medical examination from Sweetie Belle twelve hours ago showed exhaustion, hunger, emotional distress — it was like the filly went through Tartarus itself to reach them. Thankfully, nothing physical which would scar her. in fact her skin was, suspiciously at odds with her general condition, almost untainted — no bites, no scratches, save for the single bruise from where Scootaloo’s scooter collided with her side.

Yet, despite that her general condition was disturbing — her vital signs a little unstable, her consciousness drifting back and forth between reality and the nightmare she has just described. Sweetie Belle was trying to support the filly with her magic, staying professional to not let her worries slip, lest that worsens Bittercup's state. Scootaloo and Applebloom simply were there for her, and that helped too.

By their combined effort, step by step through the day, Bittercup was getting away from the brink where she had teetered at dawn.

Nearly ten hours ago, the Princess of Friendship – sometimes called the Princess of Magic, because friendship is magic – had located the interdimensional rift through which Bittercup had arrived. Two tears in space north of Ponyville still glimmered across the magical spectrum, as vibrant now as they had been at high noon when the Princess first crossed the threshold of Scootaloo’s house.

Now, at sunset, she was confident she could simply send the filly back to where she came from — Bittercup’s very presence in this time was stretched, tense. “Improper?” Sweetie Belle suggested once she heard the explanation.

“Yes,” Twilight agreed. “I could do nothing at all, and she would still go back on her own soon enough. Like… a stretched rubber band or a boomerang. She’s not meant to be here.” She considered her next words carefully. “Not with you, Scootaloo. It’s like– from the world’s point of view you two coexist in the same space and might as well be the same pony. I wonder how she’s with us now. By all accounts, it shouldn’t be possible.”

Scootaloo blinked. What? She wasn’t feeling anything odd. Surely something should be off when–

“You mean, this filly is taking my place?” she asked, just to be sure.

"In a way, she already has. I mean, I see that you're different ponies, but if I cast a spell aimed at one of you… I don't know who it would target. Maybe you. Maybe her. Maybe both. Or maybe the world would collapse into a singularity and cease to exist because something like this just isn't possible." Twilight sighed. "It would take several chalkboards of formulas to explain this to my students. Or, I suppose, one equation for Starswirl the Bearded."

Scootaloo shuddered, and decided that she’d think about it later. Right now, they have to help the filly in her own room.

“Don’t worry,” Bittercup called to them, “I won’t go. I won’t until I– Until I’m sure the darkness won’t come. It has to– I have to stop it. It’s worse than anything I can say. Please. Think more. Oh… maybe call your Princess Luna? Maybe she knows?”

Twilight slowly nodded. “We’ll do that. Now, please, try to rest, young one.”

Bittercup sniffled. The Crusaders crawled onto the bed and formed a group cuddle around her. Then, they showered her in a series of soft, whispered sweet nothings and reassurances until, eventually, the displaced filly relaxed. Scootaloo felt a small, cozy warmth inside her. A familiar comfort from her foalhood had returned: adult or not, the Crusaders had never stopped being a team.

Twilight left soon but not before writing and sending an urgent missive for Princess Luna.

Once Twilight’s quiet steps subsided, Scootaloo’s wings twitched slightly; expanded, and only after a moment the pegasus managed to fold them back.

Applebloom looked at them, dumbfounded, wide-eyed. She blinked a couple of times.

The impossible sight was gone. Scootaloo’s wing were pretty small and orange as they always were.

Applebloom shook her head and said nothing, to not disturb Bittercup who just, finally, fell asleep.