About a thousand years ago, there sat a house in the clouds high above the sky. These clouds in particular were cumulonimbus. Pegasi everywhere revered this particular type of cloud as the ideal cloud. Unlike stratus, they were soft and coagulant, but unlike stratocumulus, they were thick and pliable. Clouds of that nature and at that high an altitude made the perfect building material for such edifices as modest family homes. But this story is neither about clouds nor modest family homes.
In one particular home in the clouds, there lived a little alicorn family. This alicorn family, like many families at that time, consisted of a mother, a father, and children. The mother and father were powerful beings that created the world a very long time prior. However, after residing in this world for eons, they gradually became bored, so bored that even children were unable to entertain them. So, the two god-like ponies sat in their cloud house and waited the time away with hobbies, like crocheting and species-creating and such. But this story is not about the mother and father.
One of the children of these two omnipotent beings was a little blue alicorn. On one particular day, this particular alicorn was enjoying a fine snack of oats. She liked oats, for they perfectly straddled the line between tasting good and qualifying as a healthy snack. It was the simplest of snacks, only requiring a bowl with which to contain them and a muzzle with which to consume them. But this story is not about oats.
In fact, this story is not particularly about the little blue alicorn, although it is in part. No, this story is about the little blue alicorn’s bratty older sister. Her name was…
“Celestia?” called the mother from her rocking chair.
The puff-puff of hooves going down cloud stairs accompanied the voice of a little pink alicorn. “Yes, mother dearest?”
The little blue alicorn, named Luna, groaned as she finished her oats. It was one thing when Tia called Mom “mother”, but the “dearest” bit was going way too far.
Mom seemed not to notice. Her mane, luminescent and blue as the ocean, flowed elegantly behind her as her grass-green hooves knitted. “Have you finished moving the clouds today?”
“Yes We have, mother.” Celestia nodded in triumph. “We have also finished all of our afternoon chores, including but not limited to moving around the southwestern air masses, trimming the cloud hedges, and dispelling any and all tornadoes in the midwestern plains. In addition, We have helped some of the water along the east rivers flow, just in case.”
“In case what?” Luna asked as she set her empty cloud bowl on the cloud kitchen counter. “Water forgot how to be water?”
Celestia scoffed. “You shouldn’t be eating so many oats, sister. It’ll all go to your thighs when you’re older.” In defiance, Luna stuck her tongue out.
“Luna, don’t be so hard on your sister,” their mother said.
Celestia smiled at an indignant Luna, then walked over to the family room. She sat on one of the cloud couches, straightened up tall like a princess, and faced her mother. “We’ve been thinking, mother.” She puffed up her chest and shifted to perfect her posture. “We believe that we have matured quite a lot.”
“You don’t have to use the Royal Voice to speak to your mother, Celestia,” their father said. His red mane glowed and flickered as his earthy brown hooves turned a page of his newspaper.
“Yes, well, I have matured quite a lot and have become so very responsible.”
The mother worked carefully, knitting the threads of space and time into a delicate fabric. “Yes, dear. You certainly have.”
Celestia beamed. “If it is all right with both you and father, I would very much like my own kingdom.”
“All right,” the mother said.
Celestia could barely contain her excitement. She tried to form words, but all that could come out was a high, squeaky “Eeeee” that forced Luna to cover her ears.
The mother ignored this. “Which kingdom shall we give her, dear? Equestria, perhaps?”
“Sure,” the father said. He lifted up his newspaper to conceal a yawn.
“Equestria it is. You can also raise the sun if you like; your father is rather tired of doing it himself.” After she said this, her husband uttered an “Mhm” of agreement as he turned a page of his newspaper.
“I can raise the sun, too? Oh, this is wonderful! Thank you mother, thank you so much!” Celestia assumed a more regal stance and swept her hoof in grand motions. “Our thanks for thee are deeper and more vast than the great Equestrian seas. Our thanks for thee reach higher than the skies and as far as the ends of the earth. Our thanks for thee are like the sweet morning meadowlark, because… it has wings. Our thanks—”
“Yes, yes, that’s enough, sweetheart.” The mother didn’t look up from her knitting. “Now remember, you must raise and lower the sun every day. This is a big responsibility for a pony your age. Do you understand?”
Tempted to discount how big that responsibility would be, Celestia nodded gracefully. “I most certainly do. I will not let you down.” She stepped off of the couch to go and pack her things. As she ascended the cloud stairs, she smirked at Luna.
Luna almost responded with sticking out her tongue again, but at the moment, she couldn’t let her parents catch her misbehaving again. She had waited patiently for a lull in the conversation, and when Celestia was out of the room, she took her chance to speak. It was now or never. “Mom, may I—”
“Remember, Luna, you have to practice the Royal ‘We’.”
“Oh, but Mom—”
“No buts! You’re going to be a princess one day, you know, and using the Royal Voice is the proper way to address subjects.”
The little blue filly sat down and crossed her arms. “Celestia doesn’t have to use the Royal ‘We’.”
“Ah, but she’s older. She’s already practiced much more than you.”
Well, there was no way around it. “Mother…” Luna took a deep breath in before she continued. “May We accompany Our sister in the ruling of her kingdom?”
“You may accompany your sister, yes. But remember that she is in charge, and she has the final say over what happens in her kingdom. Do you understand?”
Luna could only see her sister bossing her around all of the time, but she had nothing better to do at home. She reluctantly agreed. “Yes, mother.” It wouldn’t be all that bad, though. Even though her sister would be in charge of ruling the kingdom, this would still be the first kingdom she ever helped rule. Luna took that as a victory and headed toward the cloud stairs.
“You may also raise the moon,” Mom said.
Luna gasped. “Can I really? I mean, may We truly?”
“You may, as long as Celestia agrees. You’re a big girl now and you need to learn how to be responsible, too,” the co-creator of the universe said.
The moon! She would get to raise the moon, every single day! “Thank you thank you thank you!” Luna said, hugging her mother. She ran upstairs to pack her things, until her mother reminded her to walk, for princesses must exert as little effort and physical energy wherever possible. She threw everything she figured she would need into a pair of suitcases and carried them downstairs.
Celestia was already there, waiting with her own mound of luggage. Luna looked up to the top of the pile in awe. “You’re taking all that?”
Celestia shrugged. “The essentials, mostly. Dresses, shoes, all that.” She rubbed her chin, re-examined the pile, and pointed to a light pink case near the top. “Except that one. That one has, like, books and stuff.”
Luna pursed her lips. It would be fine, as long as Tia carried her own things. She had the magic for it, certainly. Tia was always more than happy to remind everyone of her magical talent. She levitated everything, from clothes to quills to clouds to herself to utensils to food to both food and utensils at the same time to air. Luna could never figure out how her sister could do that last one, but somehow she did.
Celestia picked up all of her bags with her telekinesis and started to file them out the door. “We’re heading out, mother! We bid thee farewell!”
Just before Celestia was out the door, her mother said, “Discord will meet you there.”
Both daughters spun their heads in a unanimous “Huh?!” Celestia dropped all of her bags, and Luna had to jump back to avoid being flattened by one.
Celestia started. “Mother, I don’t need a babysitter. I’m not a filly anymore! I’m one hundred and sixteen.”
“You may be, but your sister needs somepony to look after her.”
Luna said nothing. Discord was the best babysitter ever, but she didn’t want to risk saying anything out of turn—this would only hurt her case, if anything. She remained quiet, but silently rooted for Mom.
“I can look after her, mother! I don’t like Discord,” Celestia said.
Mom raised her eyebrows. “Discord used to be your favourite, you know.”
Celestia pouted. “His little kiddie magic tricks were only entertaining when we were kids. We’re—I’m practically a mare now. I can take care of myself.”
“Discord will supervise you, Celestia, and that’s final,” Mom said.
Celestia hung her head in defeat, but since that was poor posture, she snapped her head back up and gave a graceful nod. “Yes, mother.”
“All right,” said Mom. “You can go summon the guards for a chariot. Stay safe. We love you both.”
“We love you too,” the sisters said in unison. They picked up their own bags, Luna with her hooves and Celestia with her magic, and they walked out the door, down to the cloud kingdom transportation centre to fetch a cloud chariot.
Having finished the piece of space and time fabric, the mother carefully set it down and said, “Dear, I’ve been thinking.”
“Me too,” said the father. “Now that the kids are out of the house, let’s make a new planet.”
“I agree. But don’t tell Discord when you beckon him,” said the mother. She got up to wash the cloud dishes.
The father nodded. “Which species would you like to make dominant this time?”
“Rabbits,” said the mother as she turned on the cloud tap, her nebulous blue mane rippling behind her. “Sentient rabbits. Should be interesting.”
The father nodded, turning a page of his newspaper.
~ ~ ~
Celestia sighed in delight as her castle came into view. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” She skipped happily across the robust stone bridge.
Luna stopped hauling the luggage cart to look. “Beats looking at clouds all day,” she panted.
The kingdom their parents had given them was magnificent. They had a great view of everything from the chariot. It had rolling plains, rivers, borders, named cities, a castle—everything a kingdom should have. Before anything else, though, Celestia had wanted to see the castle. No proper kingdom was complete without a castle, and even then, it had to be beautiful. Luckily, this one was.
Their castle overlooked a grand forest across a ravine. The ravine stretched down for a long ways, the beautiful rock face expanding a long way down. The castle itself stood tall at the top of it all, sloping up from thin plots of luscious green meadow. Its walls were high and proud, complementing the commanding presence of the castle with thick, professional stonework. Celestia could barely contain herself. Luna could barely continue walking.
The doors were positively regal—massive and wooden and intricate—and the mark of a true castle. Celestia couldn’t hold back a squeal as she pushed them open.
The main hall was even regaler. The windows allowed plenty of natural light into the room. Sturdy-looking stone pillars ran all the way up to the vaulted ceiling. A plinth was the focus of the room, and would be perfect for any statue of the princess’s choosing. It was a truly invaluable piece of real estate.
Celestia breathed a contented sigh as she surveyed her castle. “This is absolutely perfect. I think I’ll call this place the Royal Hall.”
Struggling to pull both her and her sister’s luggage, Luna dropped everything upon entering the room and gasped for air. “It’s nice,” she managed to say.
“Oh, we get Royal Guards, too! This is so exciting!” Celestia did a pirouette in the middle of the room.
Luna stopped to catch her breath. So much for princesses exerting as little physical energy as possible—she had been doing all the work. Tia had magic, too, which Luna had pointed out multiple times. Tia made up some dumb excuse that her clothes would get wrinkled if they levitated for too long. However, all that mattered was that they were finally here, unwrinkled clothes and all.
She took a look at one of what her sister claimed were Royal Guards. It was made up of a hundred pieces of solid iron that stacked all the way up to the dark helmet, the eye and mouth holes cloaked in darkness. Luna poked one of its arms with her hoof. The links clinked a little, but nothing else moved. It was hard to tell there was a pony behind all that metal—not an inch of fur was showing.
Then, one of the hooves reached up and lifted the helmet’s visor. A white pony’s face appeared and gave her a smile. A little shy, Luna retreated, but then smiled back. It was good to know that these hunks of metal weren’t creepy statues or ghosts. As the guard lowered his visor and reassumed his rigid stance, Luna turned around and brought her suitcases further into the foyer.
“Remember to wipe your hooves on the Royal Mat,” Celestia said.
“What? Tia!” Luna said. “You didn’t even wipe your hooves!”
Pausing for only one graceful moment, Celestia trotted over to the Royal Mat with her head held high, slid each hoof across the mat one at a time, then trotted back to the centre of the hall. Now that Tia had followed her own stupid rule, Luna wiped her hooves and said, “Making up rules already, huh.”
“In every kingdom, there are rules,” Celestia stated. She lightly flipped her puffy pink hair. “Since I am this land’s new sovereign ruler, it is naturally my duty to make the rules.”
“We are,” Luna corrected. “We are this land’s new sovereign rulers.”
Celestia rolled her eyes. “Sister, please. The Royal ‘We’ is for addressing subjects.”
Ignoring Luna’s groan, she skipped over to the luggage pile, opened one of the many pink suitcases, and pulled out a long scroll. She brought it to the center of the room. “This is the Royal Map of Equestria,” she said, unfurling the map on the plinth. “It is mother’s and father’s, and now under my care. I am the only one who may touch it.”
Luna took a turn at rolling her eyes. She was getting annoyed at all these “Royal” things that Celestia felt like she had the right to name.
Celestia levitated a quill out of her suitcase and dipped it in ink. “Now, I’ll draw a line between your domain and mine.” She looked over the whole map, from top to bottom, rubbing her chin to help her think. Then, carefully, she drew her quill across the scroll.
Luna walked up to the plinth and stood on her tiptoes to see what her sister had drawn. Her eyelids lowered. “That’s a circle.”
“Yes, I know. It’s a round kind of line.” Celestia tapped the quill on the outside of the circle. “All this is my domain, and…” She moved the quill to the inside of the circle. “…that’s yours.”
Luna squinted to see where she was pointing. The circle enclosed the forest surrounding their castle. It was unnamed, probably the only unnamed feature on the map. Luna was dismayed at first, thinking she had drawn the short straw with such a small piece of Equestria, but then realized the best part about it—it was the only unnamed feature. She would get to pioneer the land, explore it, perhaps even name it. “Cool!”
Celestia turned up her nose. “I don’t want it. It’s probably filthy with all those animals and stuff. Gross.” She shivered, pushing the thought of it away with her hoof. “It’s all yours.”
“I’ll take it,” Luna said, running to the windows to survey her new territory. The forest began at the opposite edge of the ravine and ran all around their castle. The tops of the trees seemed to stretch out a mile in every direction. All that forest was hers to explore. This was sure to be the best kingdom ever.
“You may go out into the forest, but only until evening,” Celestia said. “You have to be back in the castle by the time I lower the sun.”
This reminded Luna of what Mom had said. “Oh, and that’s when I get to raise the moon, right?”
Celestia wrinkled her nose. “You’re not raising the moon. I am.”
“But Mom said I could!”
“I heard nothing of the sort.” Celestia tipped up her nose. “Besides, you wouldn’t be able to raise it anyway.”
Luna fumbled. This was true, and both of them knew it. Luna had had trouble lifting anything lighter than a feather with her magic. “Can I at least try?”
“No, you may not,” said Celestia. “Maybe when you’re older, but not today.”
“But—”
“No buts! End of discussion.” Using her unicorn magic, Celestia pulled the luggage cart towards her, picking out and dropping the two midnight-blue suitcases on the ground. “As for sleeping arrangements, mother told me that there are many bedrooms in this castle. I shall lay claim to the largest one, which shall be henceforth known as the Royal Bed Chamber. You may have any other bedroom that you so desire.”
Luna picked up her suitcases and dusted off the dirt. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Yes, sister,” Celestia corrected. “Or princess, or my liege, or your highness, or whatever. No sarcastic titles allowed.”
“Yes, your highness,” Luna mumbled sarcastically.
Celestia smiled. “That’s better. Now shoo, I’ve got princessy things to do.” She turned around, finding the guard that seemed to have the thickest armour. “Subordinate guard!” Celestia beckoned in the Royal Voice. “We bid thee to fetch Us the Royal Crown!”
The guard knelt before her. “As you wish, your highness.” He turned to leave, his armour clinking and clanging as he trotted. His mission was first to joke to his guard friends about the bratty new princess, and then to find a stray piece of metal that could be cut, bent, and painted gold to look like a crown.
Luna turned to leave as well. She hated being told what to do by her sister, but she also didn’t like being around her anyway. She picked up her bags and trotted up the hall, into the main chambers of the castle.
The castle had a somewhat ugly interior, but it didn’t hurt to look at. The royal red carpets looked brand new. The rock walls were bare and a dull grey, but at the very least they were spotless, like they had recently been washed. Tia will love that, Luna thought. She’s always so fussy about keeping stuff clean.
The hall sloped even higher up into a great chamber, which was much too great. The ceiling seemed as far away as the sky. Some corners were so dark that lions or monsters or who knows what could be lurking in the shadows, waiting to pounce.
Instead, she ducked into a smaller hallway and explored from there. This was much better. The torches on the walls gave off plenty of light, leaving nowhere for monsters to hide.
She skipped through the hall, peeking into every other room. Most of the rooms were empty, barely even any furniture. After turning a few corners, she reached the end of a hallway, marked by a window and a door to the side. After knocking and receiving no answer, she nudged the door open and peeked in.
The room was small, with almost a third of the space taken up by a modest bed, a bookshelf with only one filled shelf, and a few sitting pillows. It was quiet, except for the wind blowing through the trees outside and the occasional twittering of birds. She trotted up to the window and craned her neck up to spy the sun just beginning its descent to the west. This was perfect, away from everyone else. No distractions.
Now was the time to practice her magic. She had to get so good that she could prove to her sister that she could lift the moon all by herself. And, as Star Swirl always said, the best way to get good at magic is to practice, practice, practice. This was an excellent place for practicing.
She carried her suitcases in and set them on the ground. With a tap of her hoof, the latch of the first suitcase clicked open. This was one of several special suitcases made by her father, which he gave to them on the condition that they didn’t share them with any other ponies—it would probably be a long time before they invented something of the sort.
She rummaged through her things, tossing all the clothes and dresses out of the way and onto the bed. Amongst the dresses lay her crystal apple. With care, she picked it up in her mouth and laid it gently on a shelf. It was a reminder of her past mistakes, although Star Swirl had insisted she keep it. She didn’t need that now, though. Her target lay at the bottom of the case—the first thing she had packed.
She tossed the remaining two dresses out of the way and picked up her most prized possession. The shiny black cover of Star Swirl’s journal felt smooth and cool in her hooves. His journal described how to cast all the spells he knew how to do, from the basic to the complex, plus some other notes and observations on magic in general.
She opened up the book to the passage on telekinesis, one of the big words Star Swirl used that meant “picking things up with your magic”. She’d have to focus on this one for now if she wanted to be able to raise the moon. She went over the instructions, although she’d practically memorized them by now. Then, she reviewed Star Swirl’s notes for her, scrawled at the corner of the page. Feel the magic flow through you. Imagine a pair of invisible hooves reaching out and picking it up. Keep it steady, like you’re holding a heavy rock and you don’t want it to drop.
Her memory fully refreshed, Luna pulled out a single blue feather from her suitcase. She set it on the stone floor, and after making sure she was fully reinforced with each hoof planted on the ground, she concentrated.
Feeling the magic surge in her horn, she reached out to the feather with her invisible hooves. The feather stirred, glowing a faint light blue. Luna imagined those hooves lifting the feather slowly into the air, and it followed her command. It hovered in the air inside a soft blue aura.
She smiled for a passing moment, but stopped when her horn panged in complaint. She released her invisible hooves, letting the feather fall to the ground. This wasn’t anything new—she had done this before. Today, though, she would challenge herself.
She stretched out her wing. Wincing, she bit one of her longer feathers and yanked it out. If she could lift one feather, she could almost certainly lift two. She laid the feather on top of the other one and got into position.
She summoned all the magic she could find and put it all into her horn. With her invisible hooves, she reached out under the feathers. Big, strong invisible hooves, she thought. Powerful invisible hooves. She felt her knees shake, but she replanted her hooves and stomped them hard into the ground. She wasn’t going anywhere. She was going to lift these two feathers.
Her horn started to throb, and sweat trickled down her forehead, but she pressed on. She had to show her sister just how powerful she could be. The magic ran steadily through her horn, but she felt it wane and despaired. Just when she thought she didn’t have any more magic in her, she felt a second wind, an extra surge of magic pulsate through her horn and into the feathers. Her horn felt like fire as she heaved the feathers with the strongest invisible hooves she could muster.
The feathers drifted an inch to the left.
Letting out a gasp of air, she collapsed on the ground, releasing her magical hold on the feathers. Her horn was sending stinging pains into her brain. She lay there for a minute to cool down and catch her breath.
She hadn’t messed anything up, had she? No, the one feather did come off the ground. She reread Star Swirl’s journal to confirm she was using the correct technique, which she was, as always. Perhaps it was her horn. The dumb thing couldn’t lift more than one feather. Maybe it really was hollow, like her sister used to tease.
She pulled up one of her sitting pillows and plopped down. Her limbs felt dull and her horn throbbed in complaint. She stretched out and relaxed, staring at those two blue feathers.
They had moved, though. The feathers moved, even if it was only a little. And she could lift a single feather for sure. It was only a matter of time before she built up the magical strength required to raise the moon.
All it would take was practice, practice, practice. She stood up, ready to try again.