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Just over the Horizon · FiM Minific ·
Organised by RogerDodger
Word limit 400–750
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Horizons
Twilight sat atop an old pillow, watching the sun begin to set from a crystalline balcony, when there was a knock at the door behind her.

“You can come out,” she called. The door slid open, and the sound of many hooves tinked on the hard crystal. Twilight turned and saw her friends trotting out. She noticed once more the strong presence of purpose in their movements, and she realized now she was incredibly envious of it; and yet, she marveled at the commanding presence they bore. She marveled at how she could ever grow into that. Perhaps that was why it struck her more than the aging fur of their coats, the lines in their brows and cheeks, or their graying manes.

“Hello girls.”

“Heya Twilight,” Rainbow said with a toss of her mane, and Twilight pitied that its vibrant colors had dulled. Dash managed a cocky grin that somehow felt...mature. For once in her life, Twilight felt security in a smile from Rainbow Dash—something she would miss terribly.

“The sun’s about to set, obviously,” Dash said, “so we don’t have much time. We all got away as quick as we could.”

“Got away?” Twilight echoed, rising up off her pillow. “From…?”

“Yes darling, I’m afraid she would rather throw a fit if she knew what we were doing.”

“Why would she do that?”

“Oh Twilight,” Fluttershy chimed with that wonderful, wonderful smile. The fullness of grace had been completed in her over the years, just as the union of elegance and maturity had in Rarity. “So often you’re afraid to do what you’ve already chosen in your heart to do, what we’ve all decided to do. And we’ve come to give you that little push you need.”

“More like a shove,” Dash added.

Fluttershy smiled, an old familiar meekness appearing, and said, “Even if you—or rather, her—aren’t okay with that.”

Twilight couldn’t help her mouth from opening.

“Do…do what, exactly?”

“Tell you why we really came here, of course!” Pinkie said.

“Wait…you mean you didn’t come to stop another Changeling invasion?”

“Nope!”

“But,” Twilight spluttered, “they were amassing one—”

“Oh, it never would have amounted to much,” Pinkie said nonchalantly, and when Twilight’s face grew red, added, “turns out you’re just as good at lying to yourself as ever!”

Very slowly, Twilight sat down. Behind her the sun began kissing the horizon. The others noticed this, and the feeling of urgency grew.

“Then, why…?”

Applejack stepped forward, and with heavy a sigh that seemed to resonate through each of her friends, looked up at Twilight. Her gaze was terrifying, for Twilight knew it saw through all deceptions, and she felt naked under it.

“Twah, the reason we all came was for her, and for you. There’s something awful wrong between you and the princess, and it’s going to ruin the both of you. That’s why we came. It wasn’t to stop an invasion, it was stop a broken friendship. But you—or rather, her—lost the nerve, and so here we are.”

Twilight felt choked. “The…princess…?”

“Princess Celestia.”

“Wha…what…” Twilight swallowed a few times. “What’s wrong between…between…”

Applejack opened her mouth to answer, and then swore when the sound of an opening door reached their ears.

Twilight Sparkle walked out onto the balcony.

“Hello girls! Saying goodbye?”

Her voice was as clear as a crystal, and strong. A light radiated from her, and she stood tall and proud, her horn long and sharp. Age had not touched her. She was beautiful.

And yet her wings sagged just a bit.

“Yes darling, just saying goodbye.”

The older Twilight looked at the sun as it was just about to fully set, and then at younger Twilight. She smiled.

“Glad we could help.”

“Me too,” the younger princess said quietly. She watched herself walk with boldness, a boldness she marveled at, to the edge of the balcony. The others quietly followed her.

“Time to return home, to our time,” Twilight said, sounding terribly sad all of a sudden.

Twilight felt herself begin to panic, her chest constricting. She wanted to shout, but her friends, or rather, her older self’s friends, were suddenly mute, an uncertain fear in their eyes when they looked at their old princess friend.

The sun set, and they began to glow.

“Wait! What do I—”

Applejack turned and pierced her with her gaze. “Be honest with her.”

And then they vanished, leaving Twilight too look at a hazy, uncertain, blood red horizon.
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