//------------------------------// // Vozrozhdeniaya (Pt. IV) [XII] // Story: Synthetic Bottled Sunlight // by NorrisThePony //------------------------------// xi Celestia awoke several hours before the Sun’s call, instead drawn into consciousness by the more belligerent tug of Luna’s Moon calling to her like a swaddled infant. While the Sun indeed rose at different hours as the year progressed, it did so in an order one could easily memorize. Luna’s Moon, however, seemed to have its own chronometer that, even after a thousand years, Celestia occasionally had trouble adapting herself to. She had found it much easier to simply adapt to having to awaken at obscure hours to serve the Moon’s need, and then sleep away the remaining hours until the Sun did much the same. There was no need to light a candle, for the guest room in Blueblood’s suite boasted an enormous, sliding glass door that exposed her to the yellowish, light-polluted skies of New Canterlot. Twilight had called such an effect ‘skyglow’, and Celestia had no trouble understanding why she had used such a term. Yawning and grabbing one of the blankets off of the guest bed, Celestia draped it over her back and made her way over to the sky glowing like a beacon. She outstretched a wing and guided it along the wall to make sure she was moving along it, all the while casting magic all about to measure her surroundings. Luna’s ‘echolocation’, as her sister had dubbed it, had seemed like an intriguing but ultimately trivial tool when she had first taught it to Celestia, but now, with her eyesight nothing more than light and muddy colour, it had become a necessity. She reached the glass wall and eased the sliding door open. Even as the temperature continued to warm with Spring finally underway, Celestia shivered as she stepped out onto the suite’s generously sized balcony. So high up past New Canterlot, it did not seem to matter how warm the air around her was. Her horn alight, Celestia yawned again and hunted for the Sun through the skyglow. She found it without much trouble and guided it skyward, before turning to the Moon… ...And frowning when, for the third time in the past week, it was someplace completely different from where she had left it. “What in the…” Celestia murmured, her magic hunting through skies. When she finally found the Moon, she nearly cried out in surprise when a magic stream besides her own rubbed subtly into the sight of her mind’s eye. Like a friar’s lantern, it fled from her before she could settle on it having existed in the first place, but nonetheless Celestia recognized the magic stream all the same. She had only made contact with it once before, but it was difficult to forget the tell-tale signs of a unicorn's magic—like a pony's eye, it was recognizable even if she could not fully see the pony themselves. “Twilight Sparkle...” Celestia whispered, quickly sending the Moon on its way and cringing as Luna’s familiar curse bit into her chest. A familiar scent of cigarette smoke answered her query, and a foreign voice from somewhere down the balcony called out. “If you are looking for Blueblood, he is ‘out,’” A feminine voice spoke. “I know not where, but there is a high-probability it is a bar or a… ahem, a ‘gentlestallion’s club.'" The mare tutted disapprovingly. “He should be back by morning.” “Oh.” Celestia’s response was one syllable. “I suppose you are Blueblood’s aunt, yes?” The mare asked. “But of course, that’s a silly question, isn’t it? Of course you are. I don’t believe Blue has many alicorn relatives left, all things considered.” “I…” Celestia stammered. Whoever was speaking, it was a voice Celestia had never heard before. She headed in her direction, and as she did she could make the mare out beyond merely her vague outline. Only when she was practically three feet beside the mare could she make her out with any clarity. The unicorn was snow-white in colour, with a professionally styled mane of dark indigo. She was leaning over the glass railing of the balcony, her head angled down at the streetcars and drunk ponies scurrying about eighteen floors below, the mare looking as though she were some alien creature contemplating their purpose. In her telekinesis she held an opera-length cigarette holder, which she took a long draw from as she turned her head to examine Celestia in return. “Yes, I certainly am,” Celestia finally answered, sitting next to the mare so that she did not have to continue looking down upon her. It was hardly a good feeling; always having to look down at ponies from above instead of into their eyes. She ruffled her wings a little. “Princess Celestia, at your service.” The mare exhaled smoke deeply from her nostrils, raising an eyebrow in passive amusement and looking like a mischievous fairy-tale dragon. It was as though she had decided that Celestia was entertaining enough to warrant her attention, and yet she was not quite interested enough to look particularly in awe regarding her presence. It seemed to Celestia like it had been a very long time since this mare had any particular investment in most things—she had about her an aura of perpetual resignation. “Indeed. I was wondering when I would see you myself...” Celestia caught a glint of dying moonlight as the mare lifted a wineglass to her lips. “...that is, on anywhere but newsprint.” It was yet another unusual reply from this mare, but Celestia simply smiled. The mare did not speak much further, she instead took another heavy drink of wine and leaned back over the glass balcony. “...So, I have introduced myself,” Celestia proceeded, somewhat awkwardly, when the mare said nothing further. “To whom do I owe the pleasure?” The mare gave her an amused glance. “Depends which mare you’re looking for, darling,” she replied, moving the cigarette holder to the other side of her snout and taking another exaggerated draw. “The millionaire fashion industry mogul? The blushing bride of Equestria’s last remaining royalty?” At that, Celestia nearly keeled over in surprise—as much by the shock that this mare (who she had initially assumed some haughty and tired maid solely by her apathetic behaviour) was indeed her niece-in-law. “You’re what?” “Ah, I see dear Blueblood hasn’t filled his aunt in on every detail of his personal life,” she said, free of any evident mirth towards Celestia’s comically surprised expression. “Yes, I am his wife. Miss Rarity. And please don’t go forgetting the ‘missus.’” “I… I shan’t.” Celestia nodded, tempted to point out the inconsistency between Rarity’s insistence on ‘Miss’ and her self-identified marriage. “Meeting you is…” “A shock?” Rarity offered. “I was going to say a pleasure, but a shock certainly works too, yes. But… you are quite right, Blueblood did not mention you before. I am surprised we did not meet last night.” “I was at a charity auction,” Rarity replied, and rolled her eyes. “Goodness, what an ordeal that was.” “Indeed. I’ve been to my share of charity auctions myself. Generous cause or not, they can be considerably stressful.” “Quite.” Rarity gave her first genuine looking smile of the evening, although it was quick to fade as she sipped her wine again. “Actually, now that I think about it, it was at such an event me and Blueblood met. It was …” she frowned, trying to recall. “Hrm, admittedly, those ‘philanthropy events’... they blur together after awhile. Regardless, for a mare who always had a sort of fillylike attraction to Equestria’s one prince, I was probably more drawn to him than I’d like to admit.” Celestia laughed. “Oh, trust me, I’ve been there too.” “Oh, what I wouldn’t give to be back there now,” Rarity replied, closing her eyes and smiling wistfully. “Goodness, it’s so much easier, isn’t it? Being starstruck like that? So much less to think about. But yes, I approached him, we got to talking about ourselves. I was hardly some peddler you see—even back then—so we had plenty of stories of grandeur to share. It’s an odd feeling; going to a charity event where half the mares are wearing thousand-bit dresses you designed.” “I can imagine,” Celestia said. While it was scratching at her, she decided not to draw attention to the first part of Rarity’s speech. It was the sort of vaguely-sorrowful introspection towards once-greater love that Celestia wished she did not know so well. It was the sort of introspection that—despite her better judgement begging her to stop being so melodramatic—reminded Celestia of the poor, emotionally and optimistically derelict ponies she had known during Discord’s long rule over Equestria. Of course, Rarity seemed anything but poor—she indeed seemed quite the opposite—but where she surely had wealth in abundance, she did not seem to have any real direction, nor hope of one revealing itself for her. Eager to reroute her bitter mind elsewhere, Celestia swiftly changed the subject. “So, you are a fashion designer then? A rather revered one, it seems. Care to tell me about your line?” Rarity gave an unlady-like snort. “Are you referring to the one that my name is upon? I must confess, I haven’t really had direct input on ‘my line’ in years. Mostly, I look at machine-stitched designs fresh from an assembly line, express my distaste towards the incurably dreadful ones, and sign on lines one through eighty-seven. Then, I tell my benefactors how beautiful and unique and hoofwoven every dress on my new line is.” She viciously finished her wine and set the glass down on the porch. “Fashion mogul indeed. I carry a pen more often than a sewing needle, Your Highness.” Celestia blinked. She hadn’t been expecting Rarity to respond to her simple question with another heartfelt rant. “I… I see.” “Oh, listen to me.” Rarity saw Celestia’s surprise and evidently misinterpreted it as discomfort. “I apologize, Miss Celestia. You didn’t care to hear all that.” “It’s quite alright,” Celestia replied. “And it is quite the opposite. I am actually very intrigued. But… if you’ll forgive my boldness... if you are so disillusioned with the state of the fashion industry, why take part in a system you dislike?” “A question I have been asking myself for years, I assure you.” Rarity sighed. “Truthfully, it’s a silly daydream of mine to go back to my Manehattan days.” “Oh?” Celestia cocked her head. “Mmhm. Back when I was an independent seamstress. Hemming dresses and suits for a living. Creating designs on the side in my spare time, and wearing them about with hopes of being noticed. Considerably more humble, but at least my work had character. But those… those things I call dresses nowadays?” Rarity shuddered again. “Cold, impersonal things. With my name upon them. And ponies pay top dollar. Goodness, I feel like such a crook sometimes.” Rarity plucked her spent cigarette from the holder, peered at the smoldering affair for several seconds, then let it fall down to the street far below with a mighty sigh. “I admit I don’t even know why I’m telling you all of this,” Rarity said. “You’re amongst the few, and I’ve only just met you personally.” “I suppose it is not everyday you meet an alicorn. Regardless, I appreciate the trust,” Celestia said earnestly. “Excuse my boldness… but, if you are so disillusioned with your lines… why not just return to crafting them by hoof? You seem to be more than qualified to.” “Oh, that’s an ideal daydream,” Rarity replied. “An impossibility, however. Do you know how many dresses I’d have to make in a day to stay in competition? I’d be found dead at a sewing machine before I’m forty.” She rolled her eyes. “No, it’s either that, or I continue this.” This. Rarity had said the final word with an emphasized, if unintended, edge. As though she may as well have added ‘charade’ to the end of her sentence. While she hated herself for believing so, it did not seem quite ludicrous to stipulate that ‘Money’ had been an invisible bridesmaid and best-stallion at Rarity and Blueblood’s wedding. “Well, Miss Rarity,” Celestia said. “I personally think you should consider seeking a few qualified seamstresses and do something you enjoy, instead of what you feel your reputation demands of you. I know for a fact I would pay top-dollar for a dress woven with even a trace of your hoofwork.” For some time, the howling high-altitude wind was the only answer, as both mares stood shivering in the morning air; Rarity still perched over the balcony and Celestia now back on her hooves. “Obliged,” Rarity said eventually, her gaze cloudy and distant even to Celestia’s feeble eye as she peered down to the traffic far below. With another sigh, Rarity lit another cigarette and poured another drink. xii There was something trance-like about much of the day that followed. Celestia had wandered back into the suite and Blueblood’s butler had greeted her with a modest smile and offered to fix her some eggs, which she gratefully accepted. It was technically morning, after all, albeit the dwindling hours before sunrise. Rarity joined her in the suite before long, but only to tell her that she was free to use any of the perfume and make-up she needed. Then, the eccentric mare bid her farewell and disappeared out the front door to places unknown. When she had finished her omelette—which she told the butler was of high-class restaurant quality—she headed off to the suite’s enormous bathroom and made good on Rarity’s offer; she found light purple eyeshadow and dozens of bottles of perfume. The former she applied to both her good eye and the perpetually closed one, but after sniffing several of the perfume bottles, she decided they were far too intense for her taste. Finally looking up, Celestia decided that the mare in the mirror was one she was starting to mend ties with. Dying away was the defeated, saddened expression that had plagued her for so long. In its place was a patient, neutral smile, and a cloudy, cataract-covered eye that still shone with life and hope. Melancholy still lined her smile’s outskirts, but it was a melancholy like childhood nostalgia. A longing, but not an overhanging sadness. Hope and optimism where despair had once reigned supreme. How far she had come, Celestia thought, in the two months of freedom she’d stumbled through. She half expected to one day wake back to cold, synthetic sunlight and security cameras peering down upon her, her confused mind swiftly exposing her relief as a foolish fantasy. Twilight Sparkle, the Sunrise Scroll’s success… surely too many miracles had laid down before her for such not to be the case? ...And yet, some sliver of cynicism within her still felt she did not quite deserve such miracles. Perhaps the synthetic light and cold, artificial air was what she truthfully deserved; after all, how much mercy would fate have on a sister-killing monster like her? So distracted was Celestia that she did not notice Blueblood until he cleared his throat, pushing such thoughts away to call upon her at some other time in the close future. “You're up early, Auntie,” he said, and she looked up, meeting his smiling gaze in the mirror. “Got into Rarity’s racoon kit, have you?” Celestia laughed without turning. “Is the eyeshadow too much?” “No, no, of course not. I'm only kidding. You look very nice,” Blueblood assured. “So, I presume she… uh, introduced herself?” At that, Celestia turned. “Yes. Blueblood… I don’t know what to say. She seems very nice… but are you two seriously…” She trailed off, but Blueblood promptly picked up where he presumed her thoughts left off. “...happy together?” Celestia turned back around, her gaze falling to the depths of the porcelain sink. “That isn’t where I was going.” “No, but it’s what you were thinking.” “I really don’t want to intrude on your personal affairs.” “Oh, hosh-posh,” he said. “I was the one who brought it up. But yes, we are. We’re just… um, hitting a mutual rough patch.” “I see,” she said. “It happens, dear. I’m sure you will pull through.” “Obliged,” he said, and smiled sheepishly. “Sorry to drop that on you. In other news, I’ve actually got something you might like in the living room. Wanted to give it to you last night, but honestly I forgot.” Celestia said nothing. She rinsed her hooves clean and returned Rarity’s supplies to the vanity, and followed Blueblood to the living room, where she could hear the stallion shuffling through some manner of encoignure. “I had it specially made as soon as I heard you were… y’know…” “Still kickin'?” Blueblood laughed. “Yep. It took them awhile, but I think it’s worth it.” He turned, a small box hovering in his magic—it looked quite like an engagement ring box, Celestia thought. Taking the box in her magic, Celestia gave Blueblood a sly smile before opening it. She nearly dropped it in surprise when she did. “Goodness!” she cried out. “Yeah, sorry. Guess I shoulda warned you.” “It’s an eye!” “It’s a prosthetic eye. It’s acrylic.” “An eye! In a box!” “Well, technically, it’s supposed to be an eye in there,” Blueblood pointed to Celestia’s left eye-socket. “It’s artificial. It won’t really help much beyond aesthetic, but…” “It looks real!” Blueblood laughed again at Celestia’s obvious excitement. “Well, yeah. That’s the point.” “I… don’t know what to say,” Celestia admitted. “This is by far the oddest gift I’ve ever received.” “Yeah, I was a little nervous about giving it to you.” “Well, you had no reason to be!” Celestia said, smiling widely. “I am immensely grateful. Now I don’t have to go about looking like some horror-show monster!” “Heh, I’m glad you like it,” Blueblood said. “The optometrist said that your old eye was removed entirely right down to your ocular cavity, which basically means you could'a had one of these put in ages ago. You know how to put it in?” “Like a contact lens, I presume,” Celestia shrugged. “Truth be told, I know I could have had one of these a while ago.” Blueblood frowned. “And you… didn’t?” “No,” Celestia said. “Fear, I suppose.” Celestia prayed Blueblood would not press further, for ‘fear’ was a rather vague lie. In truth, her missing eye had always carried a cathartic purpose to her—a sort of penance wound, one she felt she deserved to have to flaunt to all who gazed upon her. The broken gaze of a mare who had murdered her closest family. Let every Equestrian see what became of a mare as sinful as her, that cynical sliver in her mind cried. Whether or not its cathartic purpose was successful, Celestia was skeptical. A reminder of how horrid a creature she was may have helped her remember the events of the Second Longest Night, but she would still have the nightmares and longing to fulfill that goal anyways. It wasn't as though she would ever forget. The Second Longest Night was the past. It meant everything to her, but it had already taken place and there was nothing she could do against its tides. But Blueblood? His gift, and what it represented? That was her future. And so, with a confident smile, Celestia returned to the suite’s bathroom and gave the one-eyed monster in the mirror one final smile, before breaking ties with it once again. Back in the living room, Blueblood had given her an approving whistle. “Now that’s the Princess Celestia that Equestria remembers!” “I’m sure the eye won’t be enough to bring her back, but thank you.” “Well, I’m sure the ponies of New Canterlot will see a difference, that’s for sure.” Celestia gave a sheepish chuckle. “That reminds me. I was thinking we could meet Twilight for dinner tonight.” “I was thinking the same,” Blueblood said. “It’d be good to get on the same page before tomorrow night, when we return to the radio-waves along with our friends at Flim Flam Industry.” “Goodness me, it’s that soon, hrm?” Celestia mused. “Yeah. Sorry. I had to act quickly, while the burner is hot, y’know?” “Of course. I’m quite nervous, if I’m being fully sincere.” “Don’t be. I’ll be there, and besides… these are the ponies who have been avoiding you for twelve years. They’re quite earnestly more afraid of you than you ever will be of them.” Blueblood spoke of Flim Flam Industry as though they were young children frightened of a harmless spider, and it was an image surprisingly humorous enough to seep away some of her nervousness. “Anyways,” Blueblood said. “I know plenty of restaurants, and plenty of ponies at them. I might even be able to let them allow a pony like Twilight Sparkle in.” It was obviously meant as a joke, but Celestia frowned instead. “I get the impression you see her as competition, nephew.” “No,” Blueblood said. “I just see her as pathetic.” xiii The Thestral, it was called. Celestia could see the neon sign as the airship vented gas and crept alarmingly close to the New Canterlot restaurant and the telegraph wires stretching like spiderwebs all over the streets below. By some miracle, it struck none of them and instead came to a calm and organized stop beside the restaurant, and Blueblood and Celestia were soon on their way down the gangplank. Blueblood hesitated a moment to bark something to the flight crew, and then followed Celestia towards the modern-looking restaurant. They were seated without hesitation—clearly, Blueblood’s assertion that he ‘knew ponies’ was by no measure an exaggeration, although then again, Celestia reasoned her own presence was enough to drive the hostess with vicious determination. Regardless, Celestia was now nibbling idly at a piece of complimentary bread, as Blueblood finished some placid anecdote. “... and that was just the mares!” he said, sipping his wine as he chuckled. Celestia had an additional joking remark on her tongue, but it evaporated when she looked up, straight into the nervous eyes of Twilight Sparkle. The purple unicorn was dressed in what looked to be a prom dress, her mane styled to the best of Twilight’s pathetic ability. Standing in what she must have convinced herself were ‘fancy’ clothes, she stood out amusingly against the other ponies wearing thousand-bit dresses and suits. Still, with Rarity’s speech on her mind, Celestia decided that Twilight looked more gorgeous for what she was, compared to so many ponies trying to be more than they were. “Twilight! You made it! Goodness, what a lovely dress you’re wearing!” Twilight’s ear dropped shyly at the compliment coupled with Blueblood’s more critical glare. He evidently did not agree and she was no such fool as to miss it, but he said nothing. “You look nice, too,” Twilight said awkwardly, scratching her drooped ear. Celestia smiled. The dress had been chosen as last minute as possible—Rarity had offered her apologies at the affair, verbally razing the poor dress as she passed it to Celestia, assuring her she had none others that would fit Celestia’s ‘proud stature.’ It was—contrary to Rarity’s claims—a gorgeous dress. It was a coral affair, made from several overlapping layers of silky cloth. “So…” Blueblood was saying. “You’re the infamous Twilight Sparkle.” “I… suppose I am. Pleased to meet you, Prince Blueblood,” Twilight said, sitting down. As she did, Celestia felt a wave of something so foreign and so familiar sweep over her. It was no paranormal feeling, no taunting voice of Nightmare Moon whispering in the back of her mind. It was instead a feeling of complete and utter fear of a mare she loved dearly, but knew was caught up in something she did not know the severity of. She'd felt it with Luna before—the same fear that her sister was meddling with powers she had no comprehension of, but no intention to ignore. Now, looking at Twilight, and recalling the brush of the unicorn's magic when she had raised the Moon, Celestia knew by some unnatural niggling in her gut that there was more to the mare before her than one could simply see. “Celestia?” Twilight was saying. “Do you agree with that? Am I a… a hindrance to you?” Celestia blinked, trying to gain footing and bring herself back to reality. Twilight, a hindarance? Hardly. And yet, Celestia still sunk her head in shame as she spoke, feeling like absolute rubbish as she prepared herself to actively insult her own friend. “I would not say it like that, but…” she broke off, long enough to loathe her own ruthlessness. “I just want to try this one without you, Twilight. Just this once. I promise.” “Uh, is that such a great idea though?” Twilight cocked her head. “I mean, public doubt or not, it seems to me like—” “We have already discussed this,” Blueblood interrupted. “Me and Celestia.” “That’s… well I mean, yeah, I know that.” Twilight scratched an ear. “But, I mean… I am technically her Crown Minister, right? So, it seems to me…” “It seems to me, you’re a common vagrant, Twilight Sparkle,” Blueblood retorted, his temper flaring. “You’re technically not anything until Celestia is in power.” “I know that,” Twilight said again. “I just feel like I should have some sort of… y’know, say on this.” Pity swelling within her, Celestia broke in before Blueblood could continue his argument. “Twilight is quite right, Blueblood. I chose her for a reason, after all.” “Forgive me Auntie, but I can’t begin to imagine what reason that is. She has no experience here.” “Oh dear, not this again. I didn’t bring you two together so I could listen to you bicker. Please, Blueblood—” “I do have experience, by the way,” Twilight interrupted. “I’m a journalist.” Celestia blinked. Being interrupted by Blueblood was something she would have expected, but certainly not from Twilight. Clearly, Twilight was bothered by the thought of being brushed aside. Celestia wanted nothing more than to blurt out that she had no desire whatsoever to forego her faith in Twilight in favour of Blueblood, for it seemed clear to her that the mare was considerably afraid of such being the case. Still, poor Twilight must have lived her whole life thinking she was lesser, and now she was assuming that Celestia, too, thought the same of her. Even her family seemed to be disappointed by her, leaving Celestia as the only pony to treat her with nothing but respect and reliance. And now, even she had to tell Twilight she was inadequate. “...Goddesses above, you’re a petty mare,” Blueblood was saying. “I’ve created charities and founded shelters. Hell, I even funded orphanages in Fillydelphia and Trottawa! Compared to that, what have you done to help anypony? Or do you seriously think your silly little articles are helping?” “That is enough!” Celestia barked. “From both of you! My goodness, what has gotten into you two?” Silence fell. “I’m sorry,” Blueblood was the first to break it. “Auntie, I really am.” “Okay,” Celestia sighed. “But I don’t ever wish to see that again. You two are acting like children.” Twilight echoed Blueblood’s shy, regretful demeanor. “I'm sorry, too. It’s just… I guess whatever you want to do is your choice, Celestia. But I think it’s a mistake.” In direct contradiction to his apology, Blueblood shot back violently, before Celestia could reply. “We appreciate your input, Sparkle, but—” “You don’t get to speak for her,” Twilight barked, rising to her hooves, the swift movement causing the silverware to jangle loudly. “And definitely not for her cause. I’m done here. I’ll see you back at the library, Celestia. Unless you’ve decided Blueblood’s penthouse is more your speed now.” With that, Twilight turned tail and stormed in the direction of the exit, several other patrons rising from their seats to inspect the scene of her outburst. “Twilight, wait!” Celestia called after her. “Oh, leave her to sulk,” Blueblood said. “See what I mean? This is exactly why she isn’t coming.” “Don’t play the part of an adult here, nephew,” Celestia replied. “I’m not stupid. I see what is happening between you two, and I’m going to repeat it no matter how harshly I must. Twilight Sparkle is my Crown Minister. Not. You.” “But Auntie—!” “No,” Celestia shook her head. “No buts. My decision has been made for a long, long time, and this was never a competition between you two. I don’t appreciate you turning it into such behind my back.” “Then why do you even need me? If that chubby, asocial freak is so perfect, why do you even need my help?” “Because you’re a smart stallion who I trust,” Celestia said. “Is that not enough?” Blueblood sighed and finished his wine swiftly. “I guess it is. But my stance remains the same. Now, with our, ahem, ‘heavy distraction’ gone to suck her hoof in sorrow, can we actually get to planning?” Celestia growled at his jab at Twilight, but made no comment on it. “Yes, I suppose we may.” “Right. Well, I pulled a few strings and wrote a few cheques, and the end result was the NCPR again, for two hours, uninterrupted broadcast. And in case you’re wondering, the New Canterlot Public have had the highest listener count every week following your return speech. They’ve already made announcements that we’re to be addressing Flim Flam Industry there, which means we’re gonna have one hell of a listener count tomorrow night.” “Hrm. That’s… good.” “You’re gods damned right it’s good,” Blueblood said. “Those ponies Flim Flam Industry are sending have no idea how royally we’re gonna fuck them over.” Celestia exhaled, resisting the urge to scold Blueblood’s language. “And who might ‘those ponies’ be? It’s rather difficult to actually get a straight answer regarding their damned names. Shall it be Flim and Flam themselves?" Blueblood frowned. "No. Honestly, Auntie, they're nothing. I'm at least seventy-five percent sure Flam is dead, and its been, like, three years since his brother has made any public appearance." "That... is odd." "To say the least," Blueblood agreed. "I don't pretend to understand. Either way, they're gonna be in some mansion far away. They haven't had control over Equestria since your imprisonment." "I want answers there." "You’re not gonna get them tonight. Don't waste your breath. Besides, we don't want ponies seeing your intentions as revenge driven, do we?" Celestia sighed. "No we do not. So, this board of directors? I haven’t heard much about them." “Yeah, well, that’s cause they switch out their main board of directors every couple years.” Celestia blinked—the false eye closing slower than her good one. “They… do? Why?” “Best way to avoid conspiracy. It gets difficult to critique a government that doesn’t have a clearly defined face. Keep switching the ponies in charge, and as long as they’re all corrupt, greedy, profit-headed zombies, nothing changes.” “How smart,” Celestia growled. “So the ponies we’re meeting tomorrow..?” “The current standing board of directors. As of a couple months prior to your return, I believe.” “And the ponies who organized my imprisonment…” “...Were deposed from power the moment it took place,” Blueblood replied. “Or so the stories go. That’s all speculation; obviously there’s no record of your imprisonment considering it was all done in the shadows. Anyways, speaking to the board of directors employed at the time of your imprisonment would be pointless.” “Oh?” “Yeah. We’re trying to move forwards. If we focus too much on them, it’s gonna look like you’re fishing for sympathy. We don’t want that. We want to highlight what happened and then move on. This meeting is a lucky opportunity for us. It’d be a waste to blow it on them when we could use it on paving our future.” “Indeed. You’ve thought this through.” “I’ve been planning it long before your return.” Blueblood waved a hoof. “So anyways. Do you have any other questions about tomorrow night?” “The ponies I am meeting,” Celestia said. “I have a general idea, but could you explain to me how exactly they fit into Flim Flam Industry as a whole?” “O’course,” Blueblood said. “Basically, Flim Flam Industry is helmed by a board of directors of about fifteen to twenty ponies who make decisions about the corporation and by extension Equestria. Like I said, they switch these ponies out periodically to keep their snouts out of shit, so the ponies you’re gonna be speaking with are gonna play dumb if you ask them anything about your imprisonment.” “Wait, wait.” Celestia closed her eyes. “One thing at a time. You said fifteen to twenty ponies?” “...represent the entire board of directors, yeah,” Blueblood said. “That said, some have more voting power than others. Most of that fifteen are just heavy shareholders; ponies who have a significant impact on the financing of the corporation. We’re only meeting with three ponies from the board of directors, so you don’t have to worry about the others.” “And those three?” “The current managing director… uh,” Blueblood consulted a faux-leather dayplanner. “Name’s Spoiled Rich. She’d be the head chair in a typical board meeting.” “Name is familiar,” Celestia mused. “Last I knew her, she was the wife of Filthy Rich. He had a minor real-estate empire in South-Eastern Equestria.” “Right you are. They’re divorced now, and it looks like she’s better from it." "And yet she keeps his surname?" Blueblood shrugged. "Why not, when it's a well respected surname? Plus, she kept custody over their daughter and she likes to show it. Anyways, the other two are Bold Ballot and Fine Line.” “Former mayor of Baltimare,” Celestia recounted. “And a former courtier during my Day Court. Is that right?” “You got it, auntie.” Blueblood smiled. “The former is just a shareholder. No direct link to the company beyond buying into their stocks. Although, he's been a pretty active voice against your rule. He's quoted as proclaiming your suicide 'amongst the more fortunate events of the past two hundred years.'" “Sounds like a nice stallion.“ “Yeah, he's a dumbass. Don't worry too much about him. As for Fine Line... she is what is called a ‘secretary of finance.’ In charge of monitoring the fund-spending of Flim Flam Industry.“ “That makes sense. She was something similar in my Day Court. Monitored the treasury funding and spending on public ordinances.” “Uh huh. Anyways, those last two… they’re not gonna be speaking much,” Blueblood said. “They’re gonna leave that to Spoiled. So, while I’m not saying you can ignore them, we really should be going into this expecting her to be giving us the trouble.” “Indeed,” Celestia nodded firmly. “Are we in for any other surprises?” “Eh, we’re gonna be in control from the moment we begin,” Blueblood said. “They’re gonna be on the defensive and they know it. This is our time to ask questions.” “So…” Celestia said. “Let’s ask questions they cannot easily answer. Ones where any answer they provide will be a red flag to their intentions, and any hesitation will be noted by anypony listening.” Blueblood gave a mischievous smile. “You got it, auntie. Remind me never to get on your bad side.” xiv With a dull clicking sound, the room was cast into a dim red glow as the large ‘ON AIR’ sign was illuminated. To Celestia, it seemed like only yesterday when she and Twilight had been here. She could only hope that this time, preparation and Prince Blueblood would equate to a more successful experience. Beside Celestia, Blueblood was adjusting his bowtie and idly playing with the long wire connected to the studio microphone on the table before them. Before the two of them, a small group of three other ponies were seated on the opposite end of a square table. Two mares and one stallion, who Celestia had briefly conversed with before stepping into the studio. For all the chaos that had surrounded simply being able to speak with them, Celestia had been surprised when, upon finally meeting with them, she found them to be rather easy to speak to. Even Spoiled Rich, who she had been expecting to exhibit a behaviour rather similar to Florina's smug professionalism, instead told Celestia that she was “a very brave and strong mare,“ regardless of what she must soon say on behalf of Flim Flam Industry. While Spoiled Rich had proudly introduced herself to Celestia, Fine Line had been her inverse, instead keeping her gaze low and avoiding eye contact with the princess she used to serve. Celestia had tried her best to pretend not to notice, for the last thing she wanted was for Fine Line to assume that Celestia was mad at her, when truly she did not quite care. The two mares were in their fifties, but dressed in enough wealthy clothes and makeup that they had over them an odd aura of artificiality. Bold Ballot was Blueblood's age; a stallion of above-average girth, wearing a large grey tie that matched rather poorly with his dark blue coat. Blueblood and Celestia, by contrast, were dressed humbly; Blueblood in a simple blue bow-tie, and Celestia wearing the same dress she had worn to the Thestral, along with the cracked horn-rimmed glasses Twilight had purchased her. Nopony had bothered making note of Celestia's now-present right eye. With the red light still bearing down upon them and nopony having spoken yet, Blueblood finally cleared his throat and leaned closer to the microphone. “Well, like in chess, I guess the white players will move first,” Blueblood said, giving their opposition a charming smile. “Although before we do, can I inquire as to why you three chose not to bring any representative for your factory workers with you? Some sort of workers rights chairpony?” Spoiled Rich rose an eyebrow. “I assure you that was not a specific and premediated choice." Blueblood looked amused. "Oh, like fuck it wasn't." “You’re flinging into accusation rather swiftly,” Bold Ballot said, as though observing the weather. “And you are flinging into defensiveness just as swiftly,” Blueblood countered. “But oh, where are my manners? I haven’t even given us a chance to introduce ourselves! I’m Prince Blueblood the VI, along with my aunt Princess Celestia, on air at the great New Canterlot Public Radio. We’re here to have a nice and productive discussion with Flim Flam Industry, and the NCPR were kind enough to give us a public platform to do so, since Celestia and I agree that the future of Equestria is something Equestrians should have a right to hear about. On the other side of the table from me are three representatives from the aforementioned Flim Flam Industry, who may introduce themselves as they wish.” The three ponies indeed did so, but without the showy flare Blueblood had exhibited. They instead merely took turns stating their names in a bland monotone, as though deliberately subverting the lively tone Blueblood had exhibited. When they were finished, Blueblood once more leaned towards the mic, saying some placid expression of thanks for their showing. Celestia felt a stab of pride in that moment for her nephew—he had grown into such an assertive and confident stallion in her absence, but here he was helping her with unwavering devotion, even after she had been so harsh and unforgiving towards his inquiries about taking a position at her side. She perhaps didn’t deserve his help, but she was certainly grateful for it. “...otherwise hectic lives,” Blueblood was finishing. “So we’re no doubt grateful you showed up to clear a few things up. So with that being said, I’ll pass the mic to Celestia and let her dive right in.” “Hrm, well, I always was a poor swimmer, so apologies in advance for any abruptness,” Celestia replied. “Anyways, hrm. Well, I’ll ‘dive in’ by asking Flim Flam Industry when they wish to stop beating around the bush and simply say to all of Equestria what the hell happened twelve years ago. No more lies or minced words, simply the truth.” “I am afraid I cannot answer that,” Spoiled Rich said immediately, with no hesitation. “Anything I would say would be in regards to the actions of individuals I have not met or seen. Flim Flam Industry’s current board of directors is not responsible for the actions of a decade old board of directors.” “That’s a blatant lie,” Blueblood sharply retorted. “Anypony back home with a political textbook is free to read along and correct me, but when you ponies introduced your ‘democratic organization,’ you framed it as individuals running for power. I remember the controversies very clearly." “I do, too,” Celestia added. “It was prior to my imprisonment, when Flim and Flam themselves began to speak about the concept. Some ponies were in favour, others were not. I remember passing laws to ensure that corporations had to be held accountable for the same responsibilities as an individual, if they were to be legally regarded as such. That way, they couldn't be exempt from doing things that a pony would be condemned for.” “Yeah,” Blueblood said. “So after she was deposed and your corporation took over, Flim Flam Industry had the burden of showing their system was still fair—since at the time they were still technically bound by Celestia’s laws. The result was having a corporation still treated as an individual; that way, they could still be applicable for the voting process. Do you know what that means, relative to what you just said, Miss Rich?” Spoiled Rich glared at Blueblood, saying nothing. “It means,” Blueblood continued, beginning to grin. “...that Flim Flam Industry need to be formally treated as a unit. Therefore, it means that you are responsible for the actions of every facet of the corporation.” “Like the captain of a ship,” Celestia offered. “This is fact, by the way. It’s written down in up-to-date law books. The laws there haven’t changed, and I know for a fact somepony would have noticed and would have objected if they had been. So, if Blueblood and I are invalid there, then your own written laws are also thusly invalid.” “So…” Blueblood smiled. “Try again. From the top. What happened to Princess Celestia, twelve years ago?” This time, it was clear Spoiled Rich had to give an answer. She looked waveringly at Fine Line and Bold Ballot—the latter staring directly at Celestia’s smug smile and the former looking down nervously. “She was kidnapped by a private group not sanctioned or endorsed in any way by Flim Flam Ind—” “Not only do I doubt anypony is going to believe that,” Blueblood cut in. “But it directly contradicts your previous answer. I’ll quote; ‘We are not responsible for the actions of a decade old board of directors.’ You ponies are unpracticed with telling the truth to Equestria, it seems. Celestia, anything to add?” “Yes, I’ll go ahead and answer what Miss Spoiled Rich has refused to. Twelve years ago, fraudulent documents were forged with my signature that claimed to be my last will and testament. I was kidnapped and brought to an expensive and obviously pre-built underground facility, where I was kept and tortured for twelve years. All peace negotiations I offered that ended with me going free were refused. Am I wrong there, Miss Spoiled Rich?” “I cannot deny nor confirm.” “I can,” Fine Line cut in. “You’re right, Princess Celestia.” Spoiled Rich gave Fine Line a filthy and terrifying glare, but the other mare did not flinch. “There’s no reason to deny it,” Fine Line said. “It happened, our precursive counterparts may or may not have been directly involved, and we have nothing to gain from denying the trauma Miss Celestia suffered. That seems, quite frankly, insulting. We will do everything in our power to move past it and offer any sort of reconciliation Miss Celestia desires.” “Thank you, Miss Fine Line,” Celestia said. “It is good to hear that. As it stands, I don’t wish to dwell too severely on the wounds of the past. I merely wish for Flim Flam Industry to acknowledge their presence.” “And we have,” Fine Line said. “We have actually discussed the prospect of a cash settlement that we would offer to you, to show our desire for reconciliation.” Celestia cocked her head. “Oh? This is news to me.” “It is a proposal,” Spoiled Rich said. “A sum of about three million bits, offered to you, in the hopes that it eases the wounds you have mentioned. One of multiple ideas we have been considering.” Blueblood and Celestia shared a glance. “A bribe?” Blueblood mouthed, and Celestia frowned grimly in agreement. “I shall consider it,” Celestia said simply, though internally she knew she’d be denying it later. “However, I must question your sudden change in attitude.” Spoiled Rich was silent, leaving Fine Line to once more take charge. “Please elaborate.” “You are offering reconciliation and trying to mend fences,” Celestia said. “After attempting to publically humiliate me whilst condemning me as a sociopath and tyrant.” “I can see how you would interpret our actions as such,” Spoiled Rich said. “However, we were only erring on the side of caution. Your actions in the past are indeed questionable, and your mental state is confusing relative to your actions towards your loved ones—” “You’re mounting unprofessional personal attacks on her, after already asserting she needs mental help?” Blueblood cut her off. “Are you serious? Didn’t you realize when this didn’t work the first time that you wouldn’t get anywhere using it again?” “They are not ‘personal remarks,’” Spoiled Rich argued. “They are vital components of her character. This was found to be factual in a court of law, Mister Blueblood.” “An obviously corrupt one,” Blueblood growled. “Interesting how such a thing was proven in a trial that was only supposed to be about proving her leadership worth.” “How Celestia sees other ponies directly affects her leadership worth.” “‘How I see ponies,'" Celestia quoted. “Meaning what, exactly? Indulge me.” “I was under the impression we were steering clear from personal remarks.” “I was under the impression you ponies were hear to clear up any and all concerns I had,” Celestia responded. “Answer my damn question.” Spoiled Rich looked to Bold Ballot, who was now regarding Celestia with a curious cocked head. He'd been silent nearly the whole time, but it looked as though Spoiled Rich's cool glare was enough to force him to speak. “Anypony who has lived as long as you surely would view the lives of ponies differently. Given the fact that more Equestrians died in the Crystal War that you declared, than in any other major pony-induced conflict in the past hundred years, it’s safe to say you view their deaths differently, too, yes?” “First of all, the Crystal War was the first major pony-induced conflict in the past hundred years,” Celestia retorted. “Secondly, and I hope you’ll forgive me, but that statement about me ‘seeing ponies as mayflies’ makes just as little sense now as it did three weeks ago. It is an unfounded accusation that could not be further from the truth.” Spoiled Rich rolled her eyes. “So you have said.” “And how may I convince you?” Celestia retorted. “However you wish, Miss Celestia. We’re all ears.” “Okay then,” Celestia said. “I will delve into the dreadfully predictable old mare routine of telling you all a story about my youth.” Celestia paused, gauging the reactions of the ponies around her. Blueblood looked a little wary, and the board of directors looked unamused by her joke. Nonetheless, she began with confidence. “When I first ascended, I must admit I was concerned. In my mind, I saw two options… either I would be torn into insanity as everypony I knew died around me, or I would become some cynical chessmaster no longer bothered by death. “Neither were welcoming prospects, but I now know that neither came true. I remember when my parents died, so long ago. I remember being too prideful to pay whatever dwindling respect we gave the dead in Erisia. They had abandoned me and my sister out of fear of the wings on my back, and the fiery young mare I was at the time could not find it in me to forgive their righteous fear. I remember clearly my own regret the decades that followed, and how I would never quite forgive my pride for that decision. “As I aged, I figured things would become easier. It would hurt less when my friends passed, and I would be better for it. And yet this, too, was wrong. It never got easier for me. The pain never numbed. The odd thing about losing somepony is that the bulk of the pain does not stem from their passing—we know practically from fillyhood what loss feels like—it is that, in the weeks and years to follow, you must contend with the fact that they will never return. And that never gets easier, alicorn or not, and no matter how long you live. Why would it? “Do you know how many voices I would give anything simply to hear once more? How many friends I so desperately wish to laugh with one more time? How often I wish to talk with somepony that history has forgotten entirely but my memory has kept alight as clear as day? Have you any idea what it is like to pine for somepony whose own future ancestors now have no knowledge of? “So don’t you dare tell me I have no regard for the dead. Don’t you dare pretend you can understand what it is like to lose so much and then have some misinformed bureaucrat tell you that you don’t give a damn about those you love. Because you have no idea how much it hurts to keep on losing them over and over again every time my stupid old mare’s mind wanders upon their memories.” There was silence for several seconds after Celestia had finished her monologue. Blueblood was wearing a humorous, wide-eyed look of wonderment and respect. Fine Line had mirrored Blueblood’s look to a lesser and more sombre degree, her gaze on her hooves but her eyes still alight with barely visible amazement. "That sounded very... passionate," Bold Ballot said, sounding bored. "But it bears no change towards your rulership, and its obvious flaws. It is quite clear that this country has developed more in the twelve years you were absent than in a hundred under your rule." “I'm sorry, do you honestly think you've done better than me regarding these matters?” Celestia challenged. “Because in twelve years, you have hardly proven so. The environment has been destroyed, our relations with foreign powers seem to be in shambles, and there are hundreds of ponies on the streets, begging for food. All things I would never have tolerated in my Equestria.” “Well, yeah,” he replied, waving a hoof dismissively. “It happens. Just a side effect of moving a country to industry quickly.” “Indeed." Celestia intensified her glare. “That is why you don’t move a country to industry quickly. These things take time.” “And what, exactly, has your leadership shown regarding the matters of progress? You’ve kept Equestria in the same archaic rut for centuries.” “What in the name of sanity are you talking about?” Celestia felt her temper flare. “Rut? A rut where everypony is employed, happy, and we are at peace with each other and everypony else? That rut? Yes indeed, forgive me for trying to keep us there.” Bold Ballot did not seem convinced. "That sounds an awful lot like oppression, Miss Celestia." "So, according to you, a state not dropping everything it values in order to arbitrarily 'change' is an oppressed state." "No, but a state ruled by one ruler for centuries is bound to gain flaws specific to that ruler's own personal flaws." "That... is a fair point," Celestia conceded. "I can agree to that. This is partly why I've felt the need to once more have a Crown Minister to monitor my own decisions. I have no objections to putting myself under check. Now, with that all said and done.” Celestia broke the argument with a calm smile. “I must ask. My ‘sociopathic tendencies’ aside, it was my belief—furthered bolstered by the testimony of one Florina Harshwhinny—that, after my leadership worth was legally sound, I would be closer to my throne.” Bold Ballot tapped a hoof on the table. “I think you may have misinterpreted that mare’s words. Besides, she should hardly be taken as a competent voice of authority.” “Misinterpreted?” Celestia cocked her head, looking to Blueblood, who smiled in return and flipped open his faux-leather notebook. Blueblood, still smiling, read in a mockingly professional voice. “‘...And the end result, assuming you disprove the allegations presented against you, will most likely be your eligibility for candidacy.’ Spoken by Florina Harshwhinny, right here on the NCPR, one month and two weeks ago.” “And, regarding her competence…” Celestia added, also smiling smugly. “It is as we established earlier. As a unit, Flim Flam Industry—you—are responsible for every single slip-up she’s made.” This time, Bold Ballot stayed his tongue. Spoiled Rich and Fine Line also seemed at a loss. “I’ll repeat,” Celestia said, still smiling. “Why am I no closer to my throne?” “Are you threatening us, Miss Celestia?” “No. Besides, I hardly think an old mare like me is capable of carrying out any threats she made regardless.” “You ponies are awfully jumpy,” Blueblood tutted. “That’s enough, nephew.” Celestia silenced Blueblood with a raise of her hoof. “The point is, we’re here to start a dialogue, yes? To figure out a way to move forwards? Well, I’ll make the suggestion of a vote. That is what you ponies flaunt as the superior way of doing things now, yes? If that is the case, you shouldn’t be in any way afraid of carrying such a thing out now.” Spoiled Rich shared a glance with her colleagues. “That is considerably unorthodox.” Celestia gave a short laugh. “Indeed! But, what element of this entire situation is orthodox?” “We will consider it,” Fine Line said. “But our cash offering still stands. If you choose to deny it in favour of some other proposal, we will not hesitate to withdraw this offer.” “Unless you are venting those bits directly into ending child labour in your factories,” Celestia retorted. “I don’t really care for it anyways. I can’t think of what I personally would need that would cost me three million bits, but I think the problems with your factories could use the extra assistance.” At the mere utterance of ‘child labour’, Celestia knew she had treaded onto an ant-hill. There was not going to be any returning to the calm exchange they had carried out, now. She’d just said something nopony in Equestria listening would have been expecting, and she had said it with the casual nature of somepony comparing tea flavours. “That is entirely baseless accusation,” Spoiled Rich growled. “Child labour exists in no capacity in any of our factories. Anypony who thinks such a thing could exist in this day and age would need to be rather out of touch with reality. You’ve launched these claims without any evidence at all.” “Oh, please!” Blueblood laughed. “Yes! Ask us to show evidence towards the shifty bullshit you ponies have got going! I’ve been waiting for this all night!” In a moment, all resolve had left Spoiled Rich’s face. “This is hardly the time. We’re attempting to have a productive dialogue here. Not fling blame about. Celestia herself has already said that. Besides, we’re approaching the two hour-mark anyways. This is all the time we’ve been allotted.” “Oh, I don’t blame you ponies for being so defensive,” Celestia said, resisting the urge to laugh as Blueblood had. They had hardly even crept over the sixty-five minute mark and Flim Flam Industry were already bailing in fear. And, while Celestia was a little disappointed their assault had ended so swiftly, she was rather pleased by the reason. If Equestria didn’t hear the fearful urgency in Flim Flam Industry’s lies, then they were surely deaf. “Anyways, anypony interested in these facts needs only read the articles my friend Miss Twilight Sparkle has written anyways. Now, if that’s truly all the time we’re allotted, I’ll use the remainder to address you, Equestria. “You’re not stupid, and you’re not blind. And therefore, you should be skeptical. Start looking at the skies and breathing the air, and you’ll see that things are not as they should be. Start listening to those lower-class 'untouchables' working at the factories, and you’ll see that things are not just. “We’re on the precipice of change here. Indeed, we’re standing on the dawn of a great, great new era. I am earnestly excited to see what a future of technology and magic shall bring us. And yet, depending on the decisions we make now, where we stand and how we act shall be looked upon by our children and our children’s children in the eras to come. This is where we make our stand as a culture once again, and where we decide if the future we want to provide is a good one. We will be judged by our children based on our actions now. “So stop pretending things are alright and will only get better. The further we slip into ignorance and complacency, the further we shall continue to fall. So stop seeing the lies Flim Flam Industry spew as fact. They are lies. I’m a living mare with a tombstone and obituary. If that isn’t ample proof, I do not know what is. Thank you and goodnight for now, Equestria.” With a final smile towards the three ponies before her, Celestia pushed the microphone away and rose to leave. xv Celestia did not know quite what had brought it about—perhaps it was the mere act of raising the Moon that had caused her optimism to evaporate to sorrow so swiftly. Or, perhaps she truly was so insane. She did not know. They had left the studio in a blaze of glory. Blueblood had talked in a chipper tone about their ‘victory’ the entire airship ride, and Celestia had listened with a sort of passive humour towards her nephew’s excited tone. And yet, the whole while, she couldn’t shake away her own words. She’d refuted Bold Ballot’s assertions that she saw ponies as mayflies. They had even implicitly mentioned that Luna was amongst them, and she had denied such. By time her hooves had left the airship deck and were once more on the deck of the suite, Celestia couldn’t help but wonder if she’d had any right to do so. Before she had even reached the guest bedroom that had already become her own, tears had begun to stream down her cheek. She’d nearly made it to the bedroom without Blueblood noticing, but unfortunately the luck that had kept her wings afloat through the trial seemed to have run out. “Fuck, auntie! What the hell?” he gasped. “Are you alright?” “Luna,” Celestia answered simply. It was a randomly spoken, context-less word, but Blueblood seemed to understand without any other explanation. “Oh come on. They’re idiots. We know that!” “No.” Celestia collapsed against the hallway wall, the impact shaking her glasses free from her snout. They clattered onto the pinewood floor, the lenses shattering into powder. “They’re right.” “Auntie… did you want a moment alone?” “No,” Celestia sobbed. “Please stay, Blueblood.” Without saying anything further, Blueblood obeyed—sitting awkwardly beside Celestia on the floor and looking as though he was considering the idea of hugging her but ultimately deciding against it. “Sometimes I don’t even remember her face, Blueblood,” Celestia whispered. “I can’t even close my eyes and see her anymore. All I see is that… that monster that took her. My own sister, and sometimes I cannot even remember what she looked like.” “It’s been over a thousand years, Auntie. That’s longer than anypony can even fathom.” “That’s an excuse,” Celestia replied. “Just an excuse. I’ve been telling myself the same bloody thing—to those ponies, to every other being in Equestria, everypony—but I don’t think I’ve ever believed it.” “It’s not out of a lack of love, Auntie. Nopony has ever said that.” “Those ponies did!” Celestia protested. “What if they’re right?!” “That’s ridiculous,” Blueblood said. “Of course they aren’t.” “For twelve years, the people of Equestria have thought otherwise,” Celestia reasoned. “Am I seriously supposed to defend the idea that the entirety of Equestria are mistaken and I am the only correct one?” “No, but you’re supposed to defend your own love for your sister. You shouldn’t be held as unloving because of something you were forced to do.” Celestia let out a long breath. “Blueblood… I’ve been thinking about the afterlife a lot lately. About Tartarus. This… this place where evildoers are damned to when they pass. If anypony deserves to be there… I think it really is me.” “That’s ridiculous,” Blueblood said. “You’re not even close to—” Whatever comforting remark Blueblood had been planning, it was lost by Rarity’s shrill call from someplace in the suite. “Blueblood, darling? Is that the princess I hear?” “Look, Rarity, we’re in the middle of something!” Blueblood returned in an irritated tone. “Well! My word!” Rarity gave an offended nicker. “I suppose I’ll tell this Sparkle mare on the phone that her affairs with the Princess are sadly not as urgent as she claims.” Even with her face still blushing with signs of her crying, Celestia was on her hooves and trotting towards Rarity’s voice in an instant. The white unicorn gave Celestia an amused, analyzing gaze as she passed her the funnel-like device. “Twilight Sparkle?!” Celestia gasped into the phone, her voice still warbling and dull. “Celestia! Is it a bad time?” “It... isn’t the best." “Well… look, I don’t know how to really say this. I've... I've made a horrible mistake...” Celestia heard the receiver shift, as though Twilight had dropped it, or had moved it to the other side of her face but had struck something in the process. “It’s… look, I’m really scared, Celestia. There's ponies in my library right now, and...” Twilight broke off into hyperventilating silence. “What happened?!” Celestia returned after awhile, nearly screaming into the receiver. “I’m… I…” Twilight stuttered. "Celestia, I think I'm being arrested."