“Luna, do you ever think we'll see Mummy and Daddy again?” Celestia asked as she stared at the ceiling of the princesses' shared room, lit only by the starlight of the window. She had no idea what time it was, but when the moon comes up you should be in bed, right? “They said Queen Mummy had gone away and Daddy was busy, but that was so long ago...”
“Brrebthh!”
“Yeah, I guess all we can do is wait.” She turned over, her sheets wrapped around her snugly, though not a suitable replacement for a parent's embrace. “Just gotta wait...”
A moment of silence passed, punctuated only by the sounds of Baby Luna rummaging her sheets and the distant clop of hooves on stone, down some far hallway.
“Do you think they're dead?” Celestia spoke up again. “Do you think that Mummy, and Daddy, and Uncle all died, and we're the only ones left, and the servants?”
Another moment of silence passed, this time heavy with the welling of tears.
“Do you- Do you think that- That we're all alone for good now?”
“Bleh-bbbthhh,” Luna replied, before filling her mouth with a mixture of hoof and blanket.
Luna might not be able to speak Ponish, but she was just as well informed about what was going on as Celestia was. The rest of the night remained silent, save for the lonely sobs of one very young, very scared princess.
Morning came late today, according to Starswirl's time-tracking spell. The palace's sundials were all but useless without the consistent and accurate raising of the sun, prompting him to design a magical equivalent of sorts, based upon the previously agreed twenty-four-hour pattern. But it's not like any of that mattered anymore. He had failed his task to formulate a spell to bring back the King's dead wife, and now he was almost certainly going to be executed for treason, be it officially or 'unofficially'. He might be seeing that stool sooner again than expected. Wouldn't Stargazer be tickled by that?
Sluggishly dragging his hooves, Starswirl left his sleeping quarters, ignoring the hat and cape which lay sprawled across the floor. He made his way down the spiral staircase robeless, which is something he rarely—if ever—did. But today was not a day for caring; what would be the point? His name would be written with disgrace in the history books, branded a traitor and a blunthorn.
The servants tittered amongst themselves as he prepared his morning porridge in the staff kitchen, probably about his state of undress or the new hair-colour. Yes, this newly white hair was a monument to his failure: a shining beacon for all to ridicule, marking the moment he lost the king's favour and wasted his lifetime of study.
“Be quick to mock me, though, you won't have long to do it!” he thought to himself, sneering as he stirred his food.
After a long and melancholic meal, Starswirl began to head back to his study when a errant memory returned to his mind: the girls! It had been nearly a month since he last tutored them—last seen them—and at the very least they deserved to know it wasn't their fault he wouldn't be around much longer. How he had failed them...
With a heavy heart, the mage turned towards his new destination: the nursery. His concerns for the vulnerable children began to dissipate the mental fog of self-pity that had blinded him all morning, bringing with it the aching self-consciousness of being undressed around the castle, particularly in front of the little ones. Celestia looked up to him, and seeing him without his official garb on would be so... disillusive. Perhaps she would not notice?
Standing outside the nursery door, Starswirl took a breath, trying to calm himself. What would he say? He wasn't good around children. Tutoring Celestia was one thing, he was in charge there and knew what he was doing, but this... this was a social situation. Can one even socialise with a foal? No, no, he was still in charge. He was still their tutor, and he was still the court wizard, but most importantly right now, he was their primary carer. He needed to be a pillar of strength for them, without saying or doing anything to scare them. His moment over, Starswirl steadied himself and pushed on the heavy iron knocker before him, breaching the gap.
“Uncle Starswirl!” Celestia shouted, mere seconds after he entered, his ears barely past the thick, wooden door. “Where's your hat? And your cape?”
Typical, though he should have expected such observation from the ever-attentive Celestia. She was a sponge of knowledge, both eager to learn and willing to listen. If only he could have taught her more in their time together. Starswirl smiled weakly and with the slightest of blushes as he fully entered the room.
“Care not, little-one. Such trappings are not necessary for my visitation today. I am here as your carer, not your teacher.”
“Uncle Starswirl, where have you been? And where are Mummy and Daddy?” She looked up at him with large, expectant eyes. “Have they come back too?”
He had expected questions like these, but nothing could have prepared him well enough to answer them.
“I am afraid that all you see is all that has come, for now. Your father is a very busy pony. Such is the life of a monarch, as you shall one day know well.”
“And mother?”
How could he possibly explain the concept of mortality to a foal? Death alone was one thing, but should by some miracle the King's ambition succeed and their mother be restored, what would one say then? It was better to say nothing and let those wizened by the future bare the burden instead.
He knelt in front of the filly and put his hoof to her cheek, her wide eyes filled with anticipation and a hint of sorrow.
“Your mother has been away for some time now, and shall continue to be away for the foreseeable future. In fact, I have come to see you today in case I too am... called away without notice.”
“Is she dead?”
The question hit like a mace. As expected of Celestia; sharp as a needle, and right now just as painful. He had no answer for her, just a pained expression that likely said enough, even to her young mind.
“How fairs your sister?” he asked, knowingly changing the subject as he stood up and walked to the crib. The tiny princess was splayed out on her back, part of her blanket quite damp and hanging from her mouth.
“She's fine, she doesn't know what's going on, like me,” Celestia replied, following her mentor and standing on her hindlegs to see into the cot. It was sometimes easy to forget that such intelligence was housed in such a young body.
“Then you may both be more lucky than you know.” He looked down for a moment before turning to the elder sister. “Celestia, if I had one final request of you, would you honour it, no matter what?”
“Of course.” Her deep, pink eyes were wide again, now with a mixture of confusion and excitement.
“Look after your sister, Celestia, no matter what. Whatever happens, I know you two will weather it as long as you remain by each others' side.” There was a stern urgency in his voice and eyes, feeling as though this lesson was far more important than any elementary-grade magic he had taught her so far.
“Yes, Uncle.” There was sincerity in her voice, but also fear—fear of the unknown. He had scared her enough for now.
With a weak smile, Starswirl reached down and hugged the little filly. It was the first time he had done such a thing, and to his surprise the grasp was returned was tightly, almost desperately. This poor foal was so starved for attention... If only he had more time. If only he had spent more time with them before now. But these were the woes of a pony without the power to change their fate, and he was no such pony. He sighed—that slight, yet genuine smile returning to his face—feeling as though a burden had been lifted from his shoulders. He had made his peace, it was time to go. Releasing the filly and returning to his hooves, Starswirl tousled Celestia's hair one last time before leaving the room.
Making his way down the candle-lit stone hallway towards his tower, the wizard's mind could not shake the thought of Celestia's eyes: a whirlpool of hope, fear, and confusion. What had been a moment's reprieve with the girls began to weigh heavily on his heart. He couldn't possibly leave the children alone any longer in this situation. Neither the King nor the palace servants could be the parental figures these girls required; it was up to him to make things right, one way or another. His conviction restored, the snowy-maned stallion hurried back to his arcane study with renewed purpose.
A short while later, Starswirl sat hunched over what remained of his desk, sat on a pile of book-husks he had gathered to replace his wayward stool.
“Incredible,” he mused, tapping his hoof to his chin.
With a clear mind, it had become obvious to cast a trace-magic spell over the mirror, to see if any non-visible alterations had occurred after last night's incantation. Indeed, the unusual magical field that threatened to distort his translocation spell earlier was stronger now, and more interesting still was the origin of this disruption. This mirror's glass was no simple craft from the Crystal Kingdom, nor basic Equestrian silver, oh no, this mirror's reflective properties were derived from a magically crystallised sheet of water; but that's not all. Based on the innate magical resonance of this water and its previously unheard of compound structure, Starswirl theorised that it may very well have been made from the mystical, lost Mirror Pool of lore. It made sense as a present to royalty; what would make a better reflection than a perfect copy of yourself, able to turn while you stand still? And with that origin in mind, it seemed the disruption of his magic came from the gems around the frame, enchanted to keep the user's reflection firmly behind its glass. Ingenious.
Starswirl poured over the data that had been gathered and scored onto parchment by the analysis spell. It was incredible to think that such a relic had been sitting under his nose this whole time... Not that he would have been allowed access to it even if he had known, of course. Alas, there was one fatal flaw in his theory: the reflection. The first thing he did after reading the parchment was to face the mirror once more, hoping to see some errant movement in the aged unicorn before him. To his disappointment, nothing seemed out of the ordinary, and he could only surmise that his spell had broken the magical properties of the glass. If only he had known...
With a sigh of frustration, Starswirl sat up and absently tied some ribbon around the scried scroll with his magic. As he went to place it in a pile with numerous others, a slight flickering in his magic intensified, and the paper dropped to the desk. He looked down at it with tired frustration before shoving it towards the stack with his hoof. He still hadn't recovered from the night before.
Rising from his stack of books, the wizard returned to the reflective glass that had become his nemesis, staring at his own reflection with intense scrutiny, wishing against his better judgement that he would spy the slightest inaccuracy this time. Still no luck. However, greater hope lay within the scanning spell's findings. Despite the Mirror Pool's inherent magic seeming inert, the slow but steadily growing magical resonance of the object meant that something was happening. 'Something'. He hated not having clear-cut, academic answers, but if he had to guess, he would pose that the spell had in fact worked, and the gateway required a charge to function. However, based on the predicted linear growth his scrying spell had charted, the length of time it would take to achieve a resonance capable of vibrating the mirror to the required frequency would be... by Tartarus' gates, thirty moons! The King would no sooner wait for sundown than he would thirty moons. There had to be something he could do—something to speed up the charging process. He certainly couldn't use his own magic, but what other options did he have? The collective magic of the palace's unicorn servants would be a mere drop in the bucket compared to his own, and he couldn't risk sourcing help from outside the palace walls. No, the single source of magic strong enough to make a difference was... the King himself.
Starswirl grit his teeth, only now realising that he had been locked in a futile staring contest with his own reflection this entire time. How was the King going to take this? The spell had been a half-success at best, and he had no idea if His Highness was stable enough to channel his magic in a non-destructive manner. Sure, he had translocated the mirror to his study, but clearly with no consideration as to what—or whom—may have been within its field of materialisation. That said, it was this or... well, it was this.
Swallowing the lump in his throat, the weary sorcerer changed out of his mossy-grey casual garb and into his ornate court wizard vestments. It was time to see the King.