Author's note: Does anyone else find this to be a desperately hard fandom to capture the magic of in writing? Having written for it both an acrostic sonnet and the first chapter of a traditional story, here I am consigning both of them to my backup account, as neither seems to precisely do justice to what an MLP fanfic ought to be. (In my defense, I have, I think, at last discovered the proper approach to that ideal, and am currently at work on a story to embody it.) Anybody who wants to adopt and complete this story, therefore, is welcome to volunteer via review or PM; if I find myself sufficiently impressed by your portfolio, I'll send you a skeleton outline of the plot as originally envisioned, along with such later portions of the story as already exist.

Disclaimer: Lauren Faust and Napoleon Marache are responsible between them for anything you may recognize.

"Okay, Spike," said Twilight eagerly. "Give me another one."

Spike flipped through the pages of The Whitecloak Treasury of Chess Problems at random, and his claw alighted on a curious diagram on page 121. "Okay, how about this?" he said. "White has rooks at Q5 and KB3, bishops at K6 and KN3, and the king at QN5; Black has a pawn at K7, the queen at KN7, and the king at K5. It's your move as White, and you're supposed to mate in two moves."

As he spoke, Twilight sent the crystal chessmen flying to the appropriate squares on the inlaid obsidian chessboard that Cadence had sent her as a Hearthswarming gift. (The book of problems had been Shining Armor's contribution; he knew his sister.) "Okay, let's see," she said. "The two rooks together guard all the empty squares around Black's king, and the upper rook is protected by the king's bishop, but the lower rook is in trouble both from the king and from the queen. So I'd think the trick would be to move it over to the queen's side – but then there's no safe way to deliver check except B-B5, and that won't work if Black moves the queen onto…"

A knock at the front door interrupted her analysis, and she raised her head and blinked dazedly for a moment. "Um… come in?" she called.

Her guest needed no further invitation; the door burst open, and a polychromatic blaze streaked through the Golden Oak Library till it reached the air just above the chessboard, where it resolved itself into the familiar form of Rainbow Dash. "Hey, Twilight!" she said. "I was just, you know, hanging around being awesome in this part of town, so I thought I'd drop in and see how you… ooh, is that a chess game?" she interrupted herself eagerly. "I didn't know you and Spike played chess! Who's got which pieces? –And how the hay did you get in that position?"

Twilight giggled; this was a side of her friend she hadn't seen before. "It's not actually a game," she said. "It's a chess problem – sort of a puzzle. See, Shining Armor…"

"Oh." The enthusiasm abruptly evaporated from Rainbow Dash's face. "Right – this is you. Should have remembered."

Something in her tone raised Twilight's hackles. "What's that supposed to mean?" she demanded.

"Ah, don't worry about it," said Rainbow Dash, waving her hoof tolerantly. "It's a free Equestria, right? Even for eggheads."

"I am not an egghead!" Twilight snapped. "I have a healthy appetite for intellectual stimulation! What's wrong with chess problems, anyway?"

"Nothing, if you're an egghead," Rainbow Dash replied equably. "But you've got to admit it's a pretty silly way of using a chess set. I mean, it's not like you're ever going to actually see that position in a real game, so what's the point of knowing how to checkmate from it in three moves or whatever?"

Twilight took a deep breath. It was silly of her to feel stung; this was just Rainbow airing her opinions, after all, not one of her old Canterlot classmates taunting her for using books to hide from real life. "The point is, not everypony wants to have to depend on real games," she said. "When you play a game, you're just trying to win, and it doesn't matter whether the positions are interesting or not. But some ponies care about the positions themselves – all the different patterns the men can make, and the new possibilities some of them can make us see. Right, Spike?" she added, glancing hopefully at her draconine amanuensis.

Spike, whose attention had wandered off in the direction of lunch, started at this sudden appeal from his mistress. "Um… sure," he said. "Sure, patterns… patterns are good. New possibilities are good. Sure."

It wasn't quite the ringing endorsement Twilight had hoped for, but it would do. "Besides," she added, turning back to Rainbow Dash, "if you thought long enough, eventually you'd figure out how the standard chess game itself could always be won or drawn in a certain number of moves. I mean, there's only so many ways you can play it, and one of them has to be best, doesn't it? So if the game itself is really just a big, unsolved problem, what's wrong with liking simpler problems where the beauty of the solution isn't hidden so deeply?"

It sounded quite reasonable to her, but Rainbow Dash seemed to be continuing unimpressed. "Patterns?" she said. "Hidden beauty? Twilight, it's chess. It's something to play, not to get all Rarity-ish about."

"You can't make that a…" Twilight began; then she broke off abruptly, and gasped. "Rarity!" she exclaimed. "Oh, sweet Celestia, I was supposed to meet Rarity at the train station today! She's counting on me to help her deliver Fluttershy's belated-Hearthswarming gift, and I'm standing around here doing chess problems! What kind of friend am I?"

"You mean that new incubator she ordered from Manehattan?" said Spike. "I thought that wouldn't arrive till Monday."

"This is Monday!"

"It is?" Spike blinked, and glanced at the calendar. "Oh. I guess it is. Man, the days really fly by this time of year, don't they? Probably because of all the cold weather; you can't wait for it to be over, so they're generous and don't make you."

But Twilight was in no mood to discuss the relation of time and temperature. Grabbing a scarf and a pair of earmuffs off the hat-rack, she galloped out the door without so much as a fare-thee-well, leaving Spike to glance at her guest and murmur awkwardly, "I'm sure she meant to say goodbye."

"Mm-hmm," said Rainbow Dash vaguely, as she swooped down and rearranged Twilight's chessmen into the standard opening position. "So, Spike, what do you say we have some real fun with these beauties? Spot you pawn and move."

"I really am sorry, Rarity," Twilight said, as the two unicorns trotted along beneath the silver-wrapped crate that their combined magic was holding aloft. "I didn't mean to leave you hanging, I promise."

"Oh, think nothing of it, dear," said Rarity. "Really, it's just as well; if I hadn't been browsing the magazines at the newsstand while I waited for you, I wouldn't have known what an irate letter I need to write to Haute Couture this afternoon. Can you imagine, a reputable fashion designer claiming that glitter is the new sparkle?" She sniffed. "The idea!"

Twilight made a suitably sympathetic sound. "So what makes this particular incubator so special, anyway?" she said, glancing upward at the package.

"I'm sure I don't know," Rarity replied. "But it was at the top of Fluttershy's wish list, and I'm not about to question her expertise." She paused, and an anxious look came into her eyes. "Of course, it was two months ago that we swapped those lists; I hope she hasn't changed her mind about it since then…"

"Oh, I'm sure she hasn't," said Twilight reassuringly. "Anyway, it's the thought that counts, right?"

Then she remembered that this was Rarity she was talking to – the pony who, while she did try to appreciate the well-intentioned but ill-chosen gifts she received herself (she had even succeeded, the year before, in thanking Applejack for a hoofcrafted curling iron made from apple twigs), would melt her horn off her head to keep from letting her own generosity misfire. Hastily, she changed the subject. "So, how did you like your gift?"

"Oh, it was marvelous!" said Rarity, brightening up considerably at the memory. "I didn't even know they made potpourri from twinkleberry leaves! However did you find it?"

Twilight explained about the little specialty shop in Canterlot that her mother had introduced her to, so many years before. Rarity, who always delighted in Twilight's reminiscences of her Canterlot upbringing, pressed her for details; these, when provided, in turn reminded her of a cherished shopping excursion from her own foalhood, and the conversation grew quietly into an aimless amble through the fields of memory, such as delight and enrich close friends and bore everypony else to tears. It will therefore not be related further here; enough to say that it bore them all the way to Fluttershy's cottage without a single pause in its flow, and that it was with a sense of mild regret that they broke it off when they finally got there.

They gently lowered the crate onto the ground beside the walkway, and Rarity tapped daintily at the cottage door. "Fluttershy?" she called. "Are you in, dear?"

In response, more or less unexpectedly, there came a sound like a frightened yelp from the other side of the door, accompanied by a confused chattering and scraping that suggested a small rabbit taking alarm. It only lasted for a moment, and then it was hushed – but that moment was enough to inspire the two unicorns with a sense of something strangely amiss.

As they exchanged mystified glances, they heard Fluttershy's voice, even more diffident and tremulous than usual, calling from within. "Who… who's there?"

Rarity blinked. "Don't you know my voice, darling?" she said. "I knew this dry winter air was playing havoc with my throat, but I did think…"

"Oh, of course, Rarity," said Fluttershy. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean that. It's just… is anyone with you?"

"I'm here," said Twilight. "Fluttershy, what's up?"

"Well…" There was a sound of hooves pawing at the ground. "It's not really… I don't know how to say… it's just…"

"Are you just not in the mood for company, dear?" Rarity offered helpfully. "Heaven knows, I can understand that."

There was a moment's silence behind the door. "I… guess you could put it that way," said Fluttershy slowly.

"Fine," said Rarity briskly. "Twilight, clear that snow out from underneath the parcel, will you? Then Fluttershy can come out and open it when she's ready, and the wrapping won't get all soggy on the bottom."

Twilight obligingly cast a quick Desiccatio spell, quietly impressed by the ease with which Rarity was foregoing the pleasure – to her, as all her friends knew, a particularly intense one – of seeing her present opened. Slowly but surely, we're all of us growing up, she thought.

"Marvelous," said Rarity. "All right, Fluttershy; have a lovely morning – or what's left of it, anyway – and we'll see you… well, when we see you, I suppose."

She turned and began to trot back down the walk, and Twilight followed behind her. They hadn't gotten more than a few paces, however, when Fluttershy's voice called urgently, "Wait!"

Her friends stopped, and turned back. "Yes, dear?" said Rarity.

"It's just… I shouldn't…" Fluttershy took a deep breath. "You, Twilight – you're my friends, aren't you?"

"Of course we are, Fluttershy," said Twilight.

"And doesn't that mean that it doesn't matter what happens to a pony – even if it's the most horrible thing that anyone could imagine – to a real friend, she's still the same pony she always was?"

Rarity and Twilight exchanged nervous glances. "Well… yes," said Twilight. "Of course that's what it means." She swallowed. "Why?"

In response, there came a patter of hoofsteps, and the cottage door creaked open. Slowly and gingerly, a familiar yellow form stepped out into the light, blinking painfully as the harsh winter sunshine struck her eyes. With the unconscious grace that was native to her, she placed herself in two-thirds profile on the top curve of the walkway and looked up expectantly at her two friends, evidently awaiting their remarks on the horror that had befallen her.

From one of them, at least, such remarks were quickly forthcoming. "Oh!" Rarity gasped, clapping a hoof over her mouth. "Oh, Fluttershy, darling, you poor thing! I didn't even know that sort of thing could happen – and I'm sure I don't know why it had to happen to you, of all ponies."

Fluttershy nodded. "You see why I wasn't eager for company," she said.

"I certainly do," said Rarity.

"You do?" said Twilight, baffled.

Rarity glanced at her in surprise. "Don't you?"

In truth, Twilight didn't; the Fluttershy who had come out into the sunlight looked, to her, exactly the same as the Fluttershy she had met on her first day in Ponyville. But she hated to ask for clarification about something that her friend found so obvious, so she summoned all her powers of observation and examined Fluttershy with the keenest scrutiny she could muster, trying to find some detail out of place.

Snub-muzzled face: check. Long, flowing pink mane and tail: check. Surprisingly gangly legs: check. Butterfly cutie mark: check. General air of kittenish demureness: check. So what was it about the little pegasus that was so…

And then, as she thought the word, her eyes widened in realization. Of course, it was obvious – as soon as one remembered (which, somehow, Twilight didn't always) what kind of pony Fluttershy was… or was supposed to be.

"Fluttershy!" she exclaimed. "Your wings! What's happened to your wings?"

Fluttershy winced and lowered her gaze to the ground, self-consciously wriggling the smooth shoulder-flanks from which saffron plumage ought to have been springing. "I don't know," she whispered. "I don't know, Twilight! I don't know!"