Love At Second First Sight

Our story begins with a letter, an alicorn, and half her memories gone. 

‘Dear Princess Twilight,’ it reads, written in beautiful calligraphy, ‘you have consented to magically-induced temporary amnesia. Don’t worry! If Discord—who you should remember—did as agreed, your memories since moving to Ponyville have been altered. Crucially, certain ponies in your life have been removed from your memories, so as to prove a very important point on the matter of destiny and love. 

‘Discord will explain further. Love, Princess Twilight Sparkle.’ 

“This is silly,” says Princess Twilight Sparkle, re-reading the letter for the fifth time. She has many questions, primarily that she’s a princess and has wings now, but Discord’s explained that three times and doesn’t seem keen on a fourth. She looks up at the draconequus. “Explain again why I let you alter my memories.”

“I said love is just memories,” he begins, sounding really rather bored. “There’s nothing destined about it. You went on a loooooo—” His neck stretches out as he speaks. ”—oooong speech about how that’s not true, and some bonds are stronger than memories, and yadda yadda blabbity bla.” 

“Then I told you you were stupid,” he says. “Which is true! But Fluttershy got angry at me, and Rarity said I was unromantic, and then Applejack got involved.” He scoffed. “As if she knows anything about romance! Regardless, you think love is destined, and I think that’s stupid.”

Though she agrees, she certainly doesn’t say it. She might not remember much, but she does remember being righter than him, so mum’s the word. 

“Right,” she says instead, “so what now?” 

“Now,” he says, his head stretching out all the way to her, “you do research!” 

He snaps his fingers, and five small pony marionettes float next to him. They are all unique, varying in sizes, colors, and races—two earth ponies, two pegasi, and a single unicorn. 

“These are your best friends,” Discord informs her.

She frowns. “Spike is my best friend,” she says.

“Well, he’s getting replaced,” Discord presses, “by these five. And it gets worse.” The marionettes start dancing around her. “You need to figure out which is your special somepony. You’re going to meet them, and if you’re right about love being destined, you’ll know which one you’re dating! And if you’re wrong, I win, and you’ll have to carry that shame with you forever.”

“Right,” Twilight says after a pause. “And why didn’t anypony try to talk me out of this?”

He gestures to the marionettes. “They tried! But you wanted to prove you were right.” 

“Hrm.” That did sound like her. She does really enjoy being right. “Fine. I’ll do it. Who do I start wi—” The pink marionette slaps itself against her face. “…Right.” 

Pinkie Pie, Twilight thinks, is like a particularly sentient and furry pink puffball. She’s guiding Twilight through a bakery with mouth-watering treats and morsels as far as the eye can see. 

“And I’m friends with everyone?” asks Twilight, thinking that doesn’t sound right at all. 

“Yep!” exclaims Pinkie. “And that’s why you’re the Princess of Friendship.”

“Right,” says Twilight, frowning deeply. “Are you sure?” 

“Yep!” Pinkie insists, now leading her down into the basement office. “I should know, ‘cause I literally know everything about everyone, and I know you’re the best at friendship. Literally!”

Twilight frowns. “I don’t know about that,” she insists. “I also don’t think you can literally know everything about everyone.” 

Pinkie giggles. “Yes, I can, silly! Look!” 

She guides Twilight into an office, and Twilight’s eyes grow as wide as her mouth at the sight of not one, not two, but dozens upon dozens of binders inside bookcases, as well as chalkboards and spreadsheets pasted on every wall. 

“Wha… What is this?”

“My spreadsheets!” Pinkie announces. She takes a binder out and opens it to a very detailed chart on one Lyra Heartstrings. “I make sure to learn everything about everypony, and then catalogue everything into my binders as per Raggedy Register’s archiving method.”

Twilight’s heart skips a beat. Something stirs in her heart. “…You know Raggedy Register’s archiving method?” 

Impossible. Only Celestia and maybe Cadance knows it, only because it was Twilight’s foalhood hyperfixation.

Pinkie nods. “It’s the BEST cataloguing method. You were super surprised the first time I told you, too! And then we spent a whole month re-doing it!”

Twilight blinks. A month? She couldn’t imagine spending that much time with anybody that wasn’t Spike. Even then… 

…Was Pinkie her special somepony? 

“Oh, also! I made you a little treat,” Pinkie says, offering an orange and yellow cupcake.

“Oh, uh, thanks,” Twilight stammers, her thoughts miles away. Just because someone was meticulous in their archiving methods didn’t mean they were—

The cupcake hits her mouth. Exquisite. Buttery. Like she and this cupcake were meant to be. 

Oh, she thinks, relishing her sweet treat. Oh, it’s her. 

Though Twilight is sure Pinkie Pie is her special somepony, her researcher instincts dictate that she should evaluate the other options. 

In this case, the yellow pegasus Fluttershy, who’d suggested a picnic at the park. Fluttershy seems kind and polite, with a gentle voice and features. 

“Is this spot okay?” she asks, setting down a picnic mat below a beautiful, old oak tree. “I thought you’d like it! It’s our favorite spot.” She pauses. “Well… not your favorite spot, but…”

“The not-amnesiac me,” Twilight says, and then quickly adds, “But it could be mine, too!”

Fluttershy’s giggling is light like windchimes. “I hope so. This spot is special.” 

“Right.” Twilight fidgets in her spot, especially when Fluttershy fixes her with an inquisitive stare. “Are you okay?” 

“Oh, yes,” Fluttershy says, warmly. “Are you okay?” 

“…Maybe? I mean, I’m fine, but this is a little strange, to be honest? It’s weird that you say this is our favorite spot, but I don’t remember that. Don’t get me wrong, it’s a nice spot, but it means nothing to me, and—That feels hurtful? Isn’t it hurtful? I feel like I’m being rude. I should stop talking.” 

If Fluttershy is in any way bothered by the outburst, she doesn’t show it. Instead, she offers a warm smile and pats the spot in front of her. 

“May I braid your mane?” 

A bit thrown off by the intimate request, Twilight awkwardly sits down right where Fluttershy wants her, her back to the pegasus, hoping it’ll smooth over her rudeness. 

She freezes involuntarily when a hoof delicately brushes down her mane, but then relaxes when, strand by strand, Fluttershy threads her mane together in movements as slow as they are methodical, the tip of her hoof brushing against Twilight’s neck. 

 It feels intimate, but not intrusive. For one who currently doesn’t remember ever having a sleepover or close female friend, there’s something arresting about finally engaging in such an unspoken but universal tradition she’s read about all her life. 

And then Fluttershy begins to sing, and oh. Her heart stirs. 

It’s a lullaby, a hummed rendition of a song of old, something so familiar that has long stopped inspiring delight until this moment where it sounds new and mesmerizing, covering Twilight like a thin layer of new snow. 

It takes noticing a hint of amusement in Fluttershy’s hum for her to realize with mortification that she’s closed her eyes and fallen back into Fluttershy’s embrace. 

“Oh my gosh,” she whispers, petrified. “I’m so sorry.”

“Why are you sorry?” Fluttershy asks, and Twilight reconsiders if Pinkie is the one. “I’m just happy you’re happy.”

“You hangin’ in okay?” 

Up in the clouds, Rainbow Dash—the cyan pegasus—watches as Twilight follows along, deftly navigating her way through. 

“I would have thought I’d have forgotten how to fly,” Twilight calls out. “But I’m doing pretty well.”

“Well, DUH!” Rainbow turns onto her back. She grins. “I taught you! ‘Course you’d fly like a pro, memories or not.” She realigns herself, aiming for an oncoming mountain. “Sweet! We’re almost there. I left it all set up.”

“Left what set up?” Twilight asks, speeding after Rainbow into an opening in the mountainside. “Wait, Rainbow!”

She follows Rainbow inside the mountain, through dark and damp tunnels, until her breath catches when she arrives at an oasis within—a small valley with a lake and a reading nook with bookcases and beanbags. 

“Oh my gosh,” she breathes as soon as she lands, her wings flapping excitedly at her side. “This is—This is—” Her next words are a blur as she inspects all the books, rattling through titles and editions and—

Rainbow watches her, pleased as punch. “This is even better than the first time I showed you! And we haven’t even gotten to the best part.” 

“The best part?” 

Rainbow rubs the back of her neck. “I maaaay have secretly asked Discord to wipe something else from your memories. Hey, how many Daring Do books are there?” 

“…Three?” 

“Nope,” Rainbow says, and Twilight nearly has a heart attack when the pegasus produces two new books she’s never seen before. “Five! See, ‘cause we both wish we could re-read the last two for the first time again, and—! Hang on.” She fishes out papers from her saddlebag. “I even did these trivia and question pages and stuff for after. They’re probably not as good as yours, but I thought you’d like ‘em.” 

“Wow, I—Uhm—” 

“Come on!” Rainbow exclaims, tumbling onto a beanbag and patting the one next to her. “I need to see your reaction to the big twist.” 

As Twilight takes her place next to the pegasus, something stirs in her heart. And in her mind, because now she really doesn’t know who her lover is. 

“I realize nothing can be done, but I really do wish you’d picked any other week to do this.” 

Standing still atop a stage, wearing an unfinished blue dress held together with pins, Twilight listens politely as a pretty white unicorn—Rarity—glares through red glasses at some fabric that refuses to be cut.

“You knew I had to finish your outfit for next week! If you had picked, I don’t know, next next week to do this, we could have gone to dinner! Something nice like the girls got to do, but—” Snip! The fabric finally gives in. “A fitting it is. C’est la vie, I suppose.”

“I’m sorry?” Twilight offers meekly.

“Whyever so? This isn’t your fault. Well. It is, but you understand.” Rarity turns to look at her, the irritation in her voice not matching her fond smile. “Are you all right, dear? Do you need a break?” 

“No, I’m fine,” Twilight promises, braving the stiffness in her legs. “So! What do we usually do during these?”

“Chat, mostly,” Rarity says, turning back to her fabrics. “We left off on music-arcana theory.” She clicks her tongue. “I still think ‘magic music’ is a more snappy nom-de-plume, but whatever the scientific journals like, I suppose.”

Twilight bolts upright, startled. “We were talking about music-arcana?”

“Oh yes. You’d made some notes during your time on the other side of that mirror,” Rarity says, “and you were giving particular thought to the metamorphic resonance of it all, and why exactly should someone strumming away in one dimension adopt some of the qualities of their counterpart. We discussed how Standard Universal Harmonic Theory didn’t account for it, and there were tests you wanted to do through co-ordination with your mirror counterpart. If you want that schematic you sketched for a magical harp back, by the by, it’s in the top drawer over there. I looked it over and made some notes.”

“…You’re talking about it like you know what you’re saying,” she blurts out. 

Rarity blinks. “…it would seem so, dear.”

Twilight clears her throat. “Sorry, it’s just—You care about music-arcana?”

Rarity hums. “Well, I confess it isn’t something I sought out myself, but you were working on a big project for it, so I read up during downtimes to see if I might assist.”

“But… To speak about it as casually as you just did, and—you said you made notes on my design? That’s months of study. Hard study.” 

Rarity smiles delightedly, lifting her glasses over her horn. “Why, that’s exactly right.”

“But Fluttershy said you’re always really busy.”

The smile grows. “Why, that’s exactly right, too! I am awfully busy as of late, especially with the new Trottingham store.”

Twilight’s heart stirs. “…And you still took the time to do all that just for me?” 

“Of course, darling,” she says, fluttering her eyelashes. “You read all the romance novels I throw at you, it’s only fair I read yours. It’s what friends do, and memories or not—” She winks. “We are the best of friends, you and I.”

The last is Applejack, whose ‘date’ so far has been to sit together on a porch swing and watch the sunset. They’re leaning comfortably against each other under the warm sunlight, and as nice as it is, Twilight is torn by a question. 

“Is this it?”

“Yup,” Applejack replies, handing Twilight a cold cider. “All I planned. First thing I thought of.” She hums. “Actually, Granny’s makin’ dinner for all of us later, but we do that every week, so that ain’t real special.”

“…Right.” 

Twilight isn’t exactly underwhelmed, just surprised, and as if she can sense it, Applejack continues.

“This is all mighty silly, I think. But you wanted to do it, sugarcube, and I know I don’t hafta prove a darn thing, don’t matter whether I’m the one or not,” she says, watching Twilight from the corner of her eye. “I know you always make the right choice in the end, so I trust you to do just that.” 

“… So you just didn’t plan anything because you think I’m always right?” 

“Eeyup,” Applejack says, and then offers an earnest, lopsided grin as she tips her hat. Twilight’s heart stirs when she declares, “And I reckon I’m always right, too.” 

“Go on, Twilight. We’re waiting.”

Gathered outside the castle, Discord towers over Twilight, arms crossed. It is deathly quiet, everypony waiting with bated breath for a resolution.

“Well, you win,” Twilight says, and gasps ring out. 

“What do you mean ‘he wins’?!” Rainbow exclaims. 

“I don’t know who it is. I have a guess, but there’s no way it’s right, and if that isn’t right, then I just don’t know.”

“Well, you still have to guess!” Discord insists, reaching out with a paw. “Give the note!”

Resigned, Twilight offers a note with her guess. Discord smirks as he reads it, but then his smirk vanishes as a hat appears on his head, which he immediately grabs and throws on the ground.

“It’s not fair!” he screeches. “I should have won!”

Twilight’s eyes widen. “…What? But—! No, that can’t be right!” she blurts out. “Can it? No!” She turns to the mares. “Right?”

But one by one, they smile. 

“All five of you?!” she gasps. “AT THE SAME TIME?!”

“Well, well,” Rarity purrs, she and the four other loves of Twilight’s lives grinning widely, “it would seem love really is destined after all!”