//------------------------------//
// Prologue 
// Story: Not-Yet-Princess Twilight Sparkle and the Tale of the Dark Empress of Teatime 
// by kudzuhaiku 
//------------------------------//

After a long, trying day, it felt good to sit down and drink a cup of brown joy. It had been one of those days and the filly responsible for making it one of those days was settling in across the table. She was a bit short, this filly, and her head just barely peeked over the edge of the low table spread with the trappings of teatime. 

“Twilight, a few mistakes do not mean the end of the world.” 

Ooh-hoo, the sullenness to be found in those eyes. Little Twilight was the purplelecent colour of a frustrated, thunder-charged stormcloud and at the moment, had the disposition to match. Beside Twilight, Spike murmured, a wordless sound, and he banged his tiny clawed hands against the highchair tray table. Poor little Spike almost looked as miserable as Twilight did. He was hungry, perhaps, or just in need of some attention. 

As for Twilight’s constant companion, Smarty Pants, the doll was resting against a stack of books placed on the table, a source of annoyance to Princess Celestia. Nothing was said—Twilight was far too bent out of shape for constructive criticism right now—but at some point there would be a lesson about how only tea-related things belonged upon the tea table. 

“I’m not mad about the mistake,” Twilight muttered as her tiny nostrils flared. 

“Well then, what is the source of all this anger?” 

“I’m mad that Moondancer was better than me. It’s not fair. I studied harder than she did. She barely studied at all.” 

Sighing, Princess Celestia was reminded of another student, during another time, and she worried about this anger, this resentment. Twilight was a good filly, but sometimes showed troubling signs. Twilight’s anger was not always unfounded though, and she had strong feelings when her sense of fairness was tweaked. Still, these moments of anger were something to be concerned about. 

“Have you thought about how Moondancer feels?” 

The question caused Twilight’s face to darken. Her mouth opened, she licked her upper front teeth, and then her mouth closed, with faint, muted click of her teeth. Her ears reddened, and Princess Celestia was almost certain that her student neared the boiling point. Yes—with another student on her mind, Celestia knew that this anger would have to be dealt with—but for now, a lesson in empathy was in order. 

“Feels about what?” Twilight demanded. 

“Moondancer, like you, has a talent for magic. She is gifted, just like you. A genius of rare order, just like you. She is capable of extraordinary feats of magic at a young age… just like you. And yet, for all of her apparent greatness, for all of her talent, for all of her ambition and drive”—Celestia paused to give Twilight a moment to take everything in—“Moondancer is not my apprentice. My student. Imagine the frustration she feels. Think about how angry she might be. To be as gifted as she is… to be as gifted as you are. It is no wonder that she delights in showing you up, Twilight. Rivalry is expected.” 

So frustrated and upset by this revelation, speech failed poor little Twilight, who whinnied out her distress. Celestia withheld further remarks and waited, hoping that the clouds would part and that some serenity would return to Twilight’s face. Across the table, the flustered filly folded one foreleg over the other, slumped, and sulked. Yet, there were hopeful signs. Twilight was thinking. Hopefully she was thinking about Moondancer’s feelings. 

Celestia plated up a few sandwiches, a teacake, a cookie, and then put the plate down in front of Twilight, who failed to say ‘thank you.’ The barest hint of a smile could be seen on Celestia’s face as she prepared her own plate, which held considerably more food. It had been a long day, a trying day, and thinking of another dear student left Celestia in need of comfort. 

“Why can’t it be teatime all the time?” Twilight asked. 

Taken aback, Celestia struggled to process the sudden subject change. It brought up memories—unwanted, unpleasant memories—and once more, she found herself thinking of her beloved student. Twilight had redirected her frustration, channeled it into something else, and she now eyeballed her cookie with a petulant, hungry, lip-curled glare. 

“You have the highest marks in your schedules and organisation class, but you ask me this.” After a quick deep breath, Celestia was a bit more prepared to deal with her precocious student. “Teatime is just one of many times during a day. A cup of tea can be had at any hour of the day, such as breakfast, or lunch. There is nothing finer than a cuppa during an intense study session, is there not? But teatime is a break, Twilight. A time to catch our breath, to compose ourselves, and to slowly transition into the evening that is to come. Equestrian teatime celebrates that transition. Teatime is sometimes called the truce between day and night. A shift occurs as one gives way to the other.” 

There was anguish hidden behind the gentle schoolmarm smile. 

“Perhaps a story is in order,” Celestia said as she began to pour tea. 

“I’d like that.” 

“Spike, would you like to hear a story?” 

The baby dragon burbled a bit, smoked, and then clapped his tiny, clawed hands together. Twilight seemed a little calmer, and as Celestia prepared her student’s tea, she allowed her mind to slip back into the mists of the not-so-distant past. So much had happened, not that long ago, and the memory of her other student was still fresh in her mind.

So were the scars. 

“Once upon a time, in the magical land of Equestria—” 

“That’s a terrible way to start a story.” 

“Twilight.” Celestia kept her tone level, though her eyebrow rose a great deal. 

“Yeah?” But before anything could be said, the filly continued. “Well, it is. If I were to turn in a creative writing project, with that as the opening line, that would not get me good marks, and I’d be told that my opening was drab and uninspired.” 

Celestia’s sigh was such that it almost seemed as though she might deflate. Twilight was certainly… unique. For all of her worshipful adoration, she was quick to call things exactly as they were. Yes, little Twilight was most certainly unique in this behaviour, and perhaps this was for the best. With Twilight, nothing was hidden. No hidden resentments, no subterfuge, everything was right out on the table, come what may. 

If only another student had voiced her disappointments before they turned into an issue… 

"Once upon a time, in the magical land of Equestria, there was a unicorn who went mad with power, and she proclaimed herself the Empress of Teatime. By her decree, every hour, of every day, would be teatime. This is not as good as it might sound, and so another unicorn was tasked with putting an end to her nefarious ways. A brave little unicorn filly, though not a little filly. She would be a mare soon, this filly, and her name was Sunset—you know what, we'll call her Sunny, because she is best remembered for her sunny disposition. Sunny was the student of one Princess Celestia, a wise and benevolent ruler of great renown."

“That’s a little telly—” 

“Twilight Sparkle, this is opening exposition, it is supposed to be telly.” Brows now furrowed, Celestia put a teacup and saucer down in front of Twilight, and then took a moment to consider what to do with her student, all while thinking of another. She pondered the notion of telling Twilight that nopony likes a know-it-all, but she knew that her student would only probably counter with the fact that being a know-it-all was the reason she was chosen. 

The snarky little know-it-all was just that kind of filly. 

“You’d think that a wise and benevolent ruler of great renown would know how to properly start a story.” 

“Twilight Sparkle…” 

“Yes?” 

“Eat. Your. Cookie.” 

“Yes, Princess Celestia.” So commanded, she crammed the whole cookie into her mouth—and there was blessed silence, save for the sound of chewing. 

The lessons in empathy would make a difference. They had to. The memory of previous failure haunted Celestia, and trapped between the past and the present, she tried to make sure that her regrets did not taint her current efforts. Twilight was almost certainly The One. Failure was simply off the table. Yes, the situation with Moondancer was serendipitous. Twilight could be coaxed out of her own headspace and she would learn empathy. It would make a difference. 

Already, Twilight showed signs of remarkable empathy for Spike, and he wasn’t even a pony. Celestia’s optimism swelled, and though her mind was troubled, her hopefulness restored her calm. Lifting her teacup, she slurped her tea, and thought of a better way to start her story, one that would have Twilight’s tacit approval. The cookie was exceptionally chewy, and quite large, so it would keep her busy for a while. 

“A long time ago, there was a pony who loved to wear pyjamas to bed, and she was much beloved by her teacher, who had some pyjamas made so that they would have something in common, something to talk about and share…”