It would be nice to say that all was quiet in the halls of Canterlot Castle: specifically, the halls directly outside Princess Celestia's private chambers. Unfortunately, this was not to be the case, as the current Acting-Captain of the Guard was paying the solar princess a not-so-clandestine visit.

And so, the guards outside their princess' chambers had to stand at attention, fighting to maintain neutral expressions, as the admittedly distracting sounds of the unofficial "meeting" drifted out from behind the doors. In all honesty, just the fact that the two pegasi managed to remain at their posts as the all-too-familiar grunting and slapping sounds echoed through the halls could be considered an accomplishment.

The one on the right was trying especially hard to ignore the sounds and focus on just about anything else. At the moment, he was unsuccessfully trying to distract himself by counting the tiles in the floor's mosaic pattern. At the very moment that he completed one of the arcs of flame branching out from the stylized sun, a scroll appeared in front of him in a gout of green flame, making him lose his count.

Both guards stared at the scroll for a moment, then looked at each other. Then at the doors to Celestia's chambers.

"Your turn," the one on the right said.

"I did it last time!" the other snapped. "Get your facts straight!"

"What about that time I had to deliver that missive while you were conveniently out with the feather flu?"

"I was actually sick!"

After a moment, the guard on the right sighed heavily. "Fine. I can see there's only one way to settle this."

"Hoof wrestle?"

"No, you idiot," the right-hand guard snapped, fishing a single bit out of his pocket.

"Oh," the other replied, as the guard flipped the coin in the air and caught it deftly on his ankle, covering it with his other foreleg.

"Call it."

"Heads."

"It's tails."

"Bull. Let me see that."

The guard snatched the coin from his comrade, and studied it intently for a moment. Finally, he swore, tossed the coin back and snatched the scroll off the ground. "If I get mooned, I'm blaming you," he said, before raising a hoof and knocking on the door.

A brief scuffle could be heard from inside the room, before a male voice called, "This better be important!"

"Letter for the princess," the guard responded. After a brief pause, the door opened, revealing a sweaty and flushed Princess Celestia.

"I'll take that," she said, wrapping the letter in her magic and levitating it somewhere inside her chambers.

The guard peeked around her, noticing Aegis Shield, the Acting Captain while Shining Armor was on his honeymoon, standing in a corner, as flushed as the princess. "I hope you weren't too busy," the guard said dryly.

"Not at all," Celestia responded. "We were just about to finish our second round."

The guard made a face, and snuck a pleading glance at his comrade.

"You can watch if you want," Celestia continued warmly.

"I'll pass," the guard replied, his voice shaking.

The alicorn shrugged. "Have it your way," she said, turning back to the ping-pong table in the center of the room. "What was the score again?" she called to Aegis.

"Ten billion to one, my favor," the unicorn replied.

"It is not."

"Then keep track."

Celestia was just about to launch into a fierce rebuttal, but her Acting Captain cut her off. "What's the letter?"

The alicorn frowned. In all honesty, she hadn't even looked at it. It was likely some notice from a noble, demanding an audience or something equally tiresome. With a heavy sigh, she retrieved the scroll from where she'd flung it carelessly into a corner, loath to spend even a moment away from her game.

However, the moment she took a closer look at the parchment and noticed the slight charring around the edges that was indicative of dragon fire, her yearning for a good game of ping-pong was driven from her head.

"Another one?" she said, puzzled. "Why would she-"

Aegis moved toward the door, recognizing the expression on Celestia's face. "Shall I take my leave, then?" he asked, all stiff formality once again.

Celestia took a moment to finish reading the letter before responding. "Yes. I'm sorry, Aegis, but I'm afraid I have to cut our match short. Shall we call it a draw?"

"Something wrong?" Aegis asked, stiffening. "I can deploy a contingent of heavy cavalry if you-"

"That won't be necessary," Celestia interjected. At least, I hope not. "My pupil just needs some…well, let's say she needs some guidance.

Her acting Captain nodded in understanding. "Shall I prepare a carriage?"

Celestia smiled and flared her wings. "I do have these, Captain."

Aegis sighed. "You know I can't let you go without an escort, Your Higness."

"I suppose I'll just have to sneak out, then," Celestia replied, launching off the ground and diving through an open window before her Acting Captain could even say a word. By the time he opened his mouth, all there was to chastise was a single white feather bobbing on the eddies of air.

Spike glanced up from his book as the door swung open. "The library's closed," he called out.

"It's me," Twilight said as she walked through the door.

The dragon frowned, glancing outside. The sun had barely moved. "Uh…you're back already?"

"Something wrong?" Twilight asked.

"No!" Spike replied. "It's just…you said you needed to think. And I thought…"

Twilight smiled. "Oh, Spike. There's nothing to think about! I just needed to clear my head."

Spike blinked, momentarily stymied. If he knew Twilight at all, a grammatical error from her mentor should have sent her into a state of complete panic. It had sent her into a state of barely restrained panic.

"I was getting myself all worked up over nothing," Twilight continued, reshelving a biology textbook that Spike had missed, mainly due to it having slid under a table. "So, I decided to just take a quick walk to focus my thoughts, and I realized just how silly I was being."

"So…" Spike ventured, "you're okay with Celestia making a mistake?"

Twilight surprised him by chuckling. "Oh, Spike. She didn't make a mistake! She never makes mistakes. Once I realized that, there was only one logical answer."

Alarm bells immediately started ringing in Spike's head. He knew she was being too calm. Any second now would come the wild, illogical assumption, and then the-

"She must have been in the middle of her weekly ping-pong match with Aegis Shield, and just dictated the letter to someone else. She didn't make a mistake. Whoever transcribed the letter did!"

It took a moment for her words to register. "Uh…" Spike managed. That…actually made sense. In a bizarre, grasping-at-straws sort of way, but as long as she wasn't convinced her fundamental understanding of grammar was incorrect…

"I'm just glad I realized what I was doing before I embarrassed myself," Twilight finished, still grinning. "So…how about we keep this between us?"

Spike chuckled nervously. "Yeah…about that…"

Twilight ignored him and strode over to the window. "You know, I can't even imagine what the Princess would think if she knew I freaked out about something as silly as that. Magic kindergarten might be a little far-fetched, but I can see a whole lot of annoying psychological evaluations coming out of that."

A frown crossed her features at that last sentence. It seemed that wherever she went, there was some so-called professional yapping at her about "delusions," or "obsessional behaviour," or some other such nonsense. It was downright irritating at times.

Spike, meanwhile, swallowed nervously and wiped some sweat from his brow. "I guess," he said, forcing a laugh.

The forced chuckle trailed off as he detected movement through one of the windows. Something large and white had just landed in front of the house. A moment later, there was a knock at the door.

"Oh! Now who could that be?" Twilight said, refusing to let anything disrupt her good mood.

Before Spike could even wince in anticipation, she'd opened the door. "Good after-" she began. Then she saw her mentor standing before her, and her expression instantly flashed to horror as she made a dozen connections at once. To her credit, she managed something that sounded vaguely like "Gah!" which, depending on the language, could be interpreted as "One moment please," before slamming the door and wheeling on her assistant.

"Spike," she asked quietly. "Why is Princess Celestia at my door?"

Spike winced. "Well…I may have gotten a little worried, and sent a letter asking her to come down here…"

"You WHAT?"

"I thought it was a good idea!" Spike protested. "You were acting funny again, and I thought it would be best not to take any chances!"

Twilight took a deep breath, her mind racing. "Okay," she said. "This might not be all bad. Maybe I can convince her you were just inviting her down for tea-"

"I specifically mentioned that it was because you were acting strangely," Spike replied.

"Spike…" Twilight moaned, putting her hooves over her eyes.

A series of knocks sounded from the other side of the door. "Twilight?" Celestia's voice called.

Dear Harmony, she's treating me like a spooked animal! Twilight thought. Okay, focus. You can fix this. Maybe I can pretend nopony's here? No, that's ridiculous. She already saw me. And every second I wait just makes it worse…maybe I can convince her that it was a mistake? Better than letting her think I'm some kind of obsessional nutcase.

Twilight took another moment to plaster a smile on her face, and swung the door open. "Why, Princess Celestia!" she said warmly. "What a pleasant surprise! Can I get you anything?"

Celestia blinked. "Is there any reason you slammed the door in my face a moment ago?"

Twilight's smile cracked. "I…uh…thought you were somepony else! There's this door-to-door salespony who just doesn't take a hint, and I…uh…thought you were him, and…"

To her immense relief, the Princess seemed to buy her pathetic explanation.

"So," Twilight said shakily. "What brings you out here?"

Celestia looked past her into the library. "Spike sent me a letter saying you were getting worked up over something. He seemed to think it was serious enough to require my presence."

"Did he?" Twilight said nervously, forcing a laugh. "Oh, that Spike. What a kidder. Ha ha…"

Celestia frowned. "I didn't get the impression that he was joking."

"Well, you know dragons," Twilight replied, a bit too quickly. "Sometimes, when he's had too much amethyst…"

"Is everything all right?" Celestia asked, cutting her off. "You look nervous."

"Nervous? I'm not nervous!" Twilight scoffed, unaware that her right eye had begun twitching violently. "Well, you can see that there's nothing wrong here, and I know you have important things to be working on-"

Twilight left her mouth on autopilot, her mind racing. She's not buying it. This isn't working. But I can't back out now without looking like an idiot! I should have just explained what was going on. Stupid!

"Twilight," Celestia said sternly. "I've known you for years. I can tell when there's something bothering you." An edge of steel entered her voice. "Or when you're lying."

"Don't be ridiculous," Twilight squeaked. "I wouldn't lie to you! What a silly-"

"Oh, for Pete's sake!" Spike howled. "Make it stop!"

Both Twilight and Celestia turned to him, the former frantically making "shut up" gestures, the latter frowning in consternation.

Spike took a breath. "All right. Yes, I sent you a letter because Twilight was acting strangely. No, there didn't end up being a problem. And if she's acting oddly now, it's because you've showed up completely unannounced. Now can we please just forget about this and turn it into an ordinary visit?"

Celestia paused for a moment, and nodded. "Well, if you put it that way, why not? If I might ask, what kind of behaviour was Spike so concerned about?"

Twilight blushed. "Oh, I don't think we need to go into that…"

"Why not?" Spike said. "It's actually pretty funny when you look back on it."

"Fine," Twilight said, stifling a chuckle. Now that she thought about it, it was a little funny. Of course, she had no way of anticipating what was about to happen. If she had, she likely would have clapped both hooves over her ears and begun loudly singing "Waltzing Matilda," regardless of what immediate consequences that would have resulted in. In reality, every instinct was screaming at her to change the topic and move on. Unfortunately, her brain was so drowned in relief that everything seemed to have been resolved that her instincts were little more than a distant fly buzzing in her ear.

"I thought you'd made a mistake in the letter you sent me a little while ago," she said, giggling. "Which was ridiculous, because you never make mistakes. Funny, huh?"

Celestia cocked her head. "Which one? You mean that letter I penned about an hour ago?"

Twilight nodded. "Yes! That one! Which was about a mistake Spike made, in fact. Isn't that iron..." Her voice trailed off as Celestia's words sunk in. "You penned that letter yourself?"

"Of course I did," Celestia replied, puzzled. "You're my pupil, after all. Having one of my scribes pen a letter to you would be downright insulting."

"But…" Twilight sputtered. "That means…"

"That means what?" Celestia asked, frowning. "Is there something wrong? You're starting to sweat again."

Twilight shook her head, forcing her features to remain neutral. "Oh, nothing. Just…one of those hot summer breezes. Heh heh…"

"Tell you what," Celestia said. "How about you show me this letter? We can lay both our concerns to rest."

Spike was already there with the scroll in his claws, eyes flicking nervously toward Twilight. "It's here," he said cautiously.

"Ah," Celestia said, unrolling the scroll. Her eyes quickly scanned it for a heart-stopping period, at the end of which she shrugged. "I see nothing wrong."

Twilight's jaw dropped. "But…look here!" She thumped her hoof down on that infernal 'it's.' "The apostrophe shouldn't be there!"

Celestia peered closely at it for a moment. Then she laughed. "What do you know? You're right. I didn't even think about that."

"But…" Twilight sputtered. "But…"

"But what?"

"You never make mistakes!" The unicorn protested, staring at the glaring error in the letter. "How could you…"

Celestia draped a comforting wing over her shaking pupil. "Twilight…everypony makes mistakes. It's part of life."

"No," Twilight whispered fiercely, pushing herself out. "Not you. Not…" Tears suddenly blurred her vision, and she turned away.

"Twilight-"

"Don't talk to me!" Twilight sobbed, pulling away. How could she? Celestia was nothing less than perfect! Flawless, even! How dare she mar that image of cool, collected dignity with even so much as a simple mistake?

Deep down in her mind, nearly drowned out by horrified panic, one voice rose up above the tumult. Get away.

Twilight lifted her head, tear-stained eyes searching wildly for an easy escape. Finding none, she resorted to her final line of defense and teleported out of the library. She didn't care where, as long as she went away.

Celestia stared at the moment Twilight had occupied less than ten seconds before, blinking wildly to clear the afterimage from her eyes. After a long moment, she turned to Spike, standing beside her with a near-identical expression of bewilderment.

"What did I say?" she asked.

It was raining. A part of her realized that it had been raining for a while now. After a moment's consideration, she decided that she didn't care.

Let it rain. What could she do about it, anyway?

Not that she wanted to do anything. All she wanted to do was sit beside this tree, watch the rain pour down, and do her best to be miserable.

It was stupid. She knew that. She was overreacting, just like she always did. But she couldn't help it.

Twilight grimaced and dragged a hoof through the dirt, scrawling random patterns in the soil. The reasons for her reaction were perfectly logical, of course. Here was Celestia, an immortal, worthy and deserving of worship…how could she be expected to be anything less than perfect? Especially when viewed by a pupil.

And of course, when reality reared its ugly head, it was bound to be a shock. Nopony was perfect. It was unfair to think that anypony could even come close to it.

But no amount of detached rationalization could erase the burning feel of betrayal in her heart. And now here she was, upset about being upset.

"Twilight!"

Her head jerked up as Spike's voice floated through the rain. No. She wasn't ready to face him. She didn't deserve his concern. And Celestia would almost certainly be there, cool and unruffled and trying to calm her down in that maternally patronizing way of hers…

Twilight chuckled, putting a hoof to her head. I've really made a mess of things, haven't I?

"Twilight?"

The unicorn's head snapped around. Only then did she realize where she was: right beside Carousel Boutique. And Rarity was standing in the doorway, her glasses perched elegantly on her nose, frowning at her. "Whatever are you doing out in the rain?" she exclaimed. "You'll catch a chill in this weather!"

Twilight almost groaned. "Rarity, I…I just want to be left alone."

"Nonsense!" Rarity replied, trotting to her side. "I simply can't let you stay out here in good conscience. Come on, then. I won't leave until you have a roof over your head."

Twilight glanced over. Rarity had certainly come prepared: she'd made sure to grab an umbrella on the way out, which perfectly covered her entire body, and more importantly, her mane and tail. She knew better than to call it a bluff. With a heavy sigh, she followed Rarity into the boutique.

"Now then," Rarity said, producing a cup of tea seemingly from nowhere and settling it in front of Twilight. "Something is obviously troubling you. I won't ask you to tell me, but you might feel better if you got it off your chest."

Twilight intently studied the surface of the tea. "It's…it's nothing."

She glared at her reflection. "And that's what's bothering me. I'm upset about nothing. Why should I care if she makes a stupid mistake? It's not my problem! It's not even hers!"

Her voice had risen steadily as she spoke, until she was on the verge of shouting. "Why should I give a flying feather if she's not perfect? Why should I care if anything's perfect? It's just one more thing I can't be!"

She took a deep breath, closing her eyes and trying to calm herself. "I'm sorry," she said after a long moment. "You didn't need to hear that."

"Don't be," Rarity replied. "And no, I didn't need to hear that. But you certainly needed to say it."

Twilight shook her head and chuckled. "It just occurred to me that this all started because Spike used the wrong form of 'there'. Can you believe that?"

She shook her head again and took a deep swig of the tea. It tasted like rosehip, with a hint of peppermint. "Stupid," she muttered, draining the cup.

Her eyes scanned the room, around which was scattered bolts of fabric and a king's ransom in gemstones.

Rarity shifted nervously. "I ah...must apologize for the mess. You see, I received a sudden burst of inspiration, and-"

"Don't worry about it," Twilight said, waving a hoof.

A small white sign taped to the wall caught her eye. It had been placed above a small binder in a corner, which Twilight knew was used for appointments. Sometimes, ponies with more bits than sense would sign up for a one-on-one designing session, for which Rarity would bill them a seemingly excessive rate. When asked, however, she had simply blinked and replied, "You obviously haven't seen what Canterlot designers charge."

In any case, the sign was a new addition. But something looked wrong about it. Something that Twilight didn't notice until she physically read it.

The sign read: "Penis broken. Please use quill."

For a moment, the implications of the sign's literal meaning struck home, and Twilight had to fight back a gag of disgust. Then she read it more carefully, only to discover something even more loathsome.

"Rarity," she said, struggling to keep her voice even. "How long ago did you put that sign up?"

The alabaster unicorn looked up. "Oh, earlier this morning. Why?"

Twilight jerked her eyes back to the sign. Earlier this morning…

Could it be coincidence? Three blatant errors in one day, two from ponies whose attention to detail rivaled her own, and one from her own assistant?

Something was wrong. Something was very, very wrong.

Twilight cleared her throat and stood up. "Thank you, Rarity," she heard herself say. "I feel much better now."

Rarity frowned, glancing at the sign. "Is something wrong?"

Yes! she wanted to yell. I don't know what it is, but I know something isn't right!

But she couldn't say that. Rarity wouldn't understand. None of them would. "No," she said. "Everything's fine." She smiled. "Don't worry about it."

If one had looked over her shoulder at that precise moment, they might have seen something. Only a flash; a silhouette of a shadow. They may have said it looked something like a pony, except all wrong around the edges. It was almost as if it was fraying, or coming loose.

Of course, they couldn't have made out anything more than that. Not the way its hoof was extended, hovering indecisively an inch from the back of Twilight's head. And certainly not the expression on its ruin of a face.

Had anypony been able to see it, they may have said it simply looked…thoughtful.

Not angry. Not malevolent in any way.

Thoughtful.

End of Part 2

To be continued…

Grammatically, it's fine as long as you capitalize Princess. All I can say is, you better have a damn good reason for portraying best pony as an unstable whackjob (not that the actual show hasn't done that a few times) willing to fly off the handle and bail on her mentor over one mistake. Other than that, good job, and I say keep the dick joke. Everybody loves a little dirty humor now and then.