High Noon, Twilight thought sourly.
Of course, in real life, high noon does not involve dueling gunslingers on the frontier, nor are there unicorn sheriffs fresh in town, just come south from the city eager to bring justice to Dusty Shades or whatever town it was. Twilight almost wished for that one cowgirl, Lonesome Dove, from the novel Applejack had loaned her years ago. First month in town. It had been alright. Way too long. But Dove had been a hardy girl in her own way, out of touch with time and the world but somehow still worth rooting for as she pushed back against the inevitable.
But mostly, Twilight was trying to distract herself.
She didn’t know why. She could guess why, of course, but being able to guess wasn’t knowing. Wasn’t even close.
The appeal of Lonesome Dove and her faded world of gunslinging duels and swift and brutal justice was illusory but also powerful. It was, if nothing else, quick. Also final. They decided the course of conflict in less than five minutes, and that was if the battle was prolonged by running or some strange accident. In Twilight’s world, the gunslinging was no less tense, no less fraught with deadly pitfalls and endless danger, but instead of seconds the ordeal drug on for days. Days without rest or respite.
Diplomacy in any given situation was the hardest path. On some level, she’d always known that--it was easier, practically, to just fight things out. Those old westerns again--spark and smoke and all was accomplished. A disagreement exploded into an argument between Twilight and one of her friends? The easy option was always just to get angry and shut down, or to get angry and drown out other ponies. Both were more or less the same.
But she hadn’t really grasped just how difficult not doing those things was until she had presided over the negotiations before the negotiations.
The table between the two sides was wide, and she was glad of this because only that quality was no doubt keeping the flunkies on either side from murdering one another. Papers were strewn about. Maps, proposed itineraries and arrangements, counterproposals, everything. The President of the Prench Republic and the Emperor would meet in private to try and cool tensions before they boiled over into a war that would ruin both nations. She’d begun today hopeful that they might all be on the downslope towards peace.
“Can you… please,” Twilight said, trying not to rub her temples to dispel the growing headache, “Minister Galba, can you let your counterpart finish his point?”
“If it pleases you, but it will be a futile use of his breath,” said the griffon, sitting down quickly.
Twilight didn’t respond to that. She spent a moment, just a moment, hesitating. How do you describe a griffon passionate with anger? The only words she could think of were bestial. But he was reasoning and cultured. She did not think of the light in an angry pony’s eyes as bestial or savage or bloodthirsty.
The middle of the trio of Prench ambassadors, still standing on his hindlegs, shifted his weight slightly. His forehooves rested on the table, where they had been as soon as the yelling had begun.
He swayed. “I will be brief then. The President will not go to Griffonstone and that is final. Even if we expected you to keep your oaths, which I will add that until very recently we fully expected, it is a security risk that the Republic will not abide.”
Galba clicked, shaking his dark plumage. “The Emperor will take this as an insult.”
“I’m aware.”
Galba’s companion to his right bristled, beginning to rise. “You’re aware and you would petulantly insist on insulting the integrity of his m--”
But his protest was cut short. Galba had thrown one clawed hand in front of the rising ambassador, and now they locked eyes. Whatever the other saw, he sat back down heavily, and looked away after only a few beats.
“I’m afraid I must take up my companion’s protest, if a bit more tactfully,” Galba said, and then glanced back to Twilight. “Your Highness, as you are our appointed mediator, I must ask you to aid us now. We are at something of a… minor impasse. To refuse the Emperor’s oaths of safe passage and asylum within the boundaries of the Empire is tantamount to war--it will be taken as something akin to sacrilege, almost as if a pony were to impugn the goodness of Princess Celestia.”
“Ponies do that more than you’d expect,” Twilight said flatly.
Galba blinked, and then resumed. “Be that as it may, it will be taken poorly in all quarters, and the Emperor will need to pursue a more aggressive means of putting this whole territorial matter to rest.”
The Prench Minister, a unicorn named Pastel, spoke. “And while we are eager to put the affair behind us, to come to the negotiating table… Princess, we cannot accept this. It is too dangerous, and I am told I cannot accept.”
Twilight sighed. “I understand. Galba, is there a way to maintain the Emperor’s face in light of this limitation? The leadership of Prance is less free to act on their volition.”
Galba clicked his beak, and Twilight managed not to flinch. She also managed to repress the shame at wanting to flinch long enough to listen to his answer.
“It is possible, but will be complicated.”
“How complicated?”
“It depends. How far into the Empire can he come?”
“The border.” Pastel’s horn lit up as he pulled a map from the many documents spread across the table. “And not very far from it. There’s a town there called Gluckstadt at the foot of the mountains.”
“A town with a significant pony population.”
“Yes,” Pastel said. “But what we are concerned with is the proximity to our mutual border.”
Galba clicked his beak again. Twilight thought it was a sort of nauseating sound, so similar to the crack of her brother’s bones when he’d had that accident as a child. Falling down the long steps in High Canterlot. Bounce, bounce, crack. It was the crack from her childhood come back again.
She tried not to glance over at him.
“They are his majesty’s subjects,” he said. “As such,the Emperor would be furious were I to call their loyalty into question. This may in fact be acceptable, but there will be conditions attached.”
Pastel’s face was red still from the yelling. Twilight wondered if it would grow even more crimson, but she couldn’t wait to see. “What sort of conditions? Concessions or merely logistical concerns?”
“Logistics,” Galba said. Pastel relaxed.
“Then I think we can hash that out.” Twilight allowed herself a brief smile.
Luna laid on her lover’s old bed, looking up at her ceiling.
“You know, the stars in the corner are incorrect.”
Twilight groaned from within her closet. “Yes, I know. I had almost succeeded in forgetting about that and now it’s going to bother me again. Thanks, Luna.”
“You are most welcome, Twilight of Ponyville.”
Another little groan. Twilight poked her head out. “What are you doing, anyway?”
“Many things.”
“Like?”
Luna rolled over onto her stomach, legs still sprawled out. She smiled. “Such as security, young princess so freshly minted. I am keeping you safe while the delegations are here.”
“I can take care of myself, you know,” Twilight replied, smiling. “I appreciate your diligence, of course.”
Luna smiled back. What you think, dearest Twilight, and what is true are far apart. At least about this.
“Tell me about the mediation,” Luna said. “And, if I might ask it of you, what are you looking for in there?”
Twilight shrugged and vanished into the depths of her old closet. “I was looking for my old Griffonian grammar.”
“Your old one? You studied?” Luna flicked an ear, and then hummed. “How odd. But you would not have had a chance to use it when you were younger. Did a younger Twilight have inklings of her destiny?”
The shuffling inside the closet quieted for a moment. “No, not really.”
The noise resumed. “Then for pure academic enjoyment, then.” Luna smiled. “That sounds very like you. But you have still not told me of the mediation. I assume that the two, your book and it, are connected. Both involve our omnivorous friends.”
“It… went,” came the answer, strained. “It was a thing that happened. That’s as positive as I can get, really.”
“Ah, so they’re all dead.”
Twilight stopped. “What?”
“I assume, as you have no good news to report…” Luna waved a hoof in lazy circles before remembering that without a line of sight the gesture was worthless. She made to roll over again, enjoying the rare moment of laziness in the sunlight…
Only to find herself looking up at a recently teleported Twilight. She startled, but there was nowhereto go. Twilight’s legs were on either side of her.
“They were alive when I left them!”
“It was a jest. Twilight,” Luna pleaded, trying not to laugh, “it was but a jest. Calm yourself.”
Twilight slumped and Luna wrapped her up in a hug. “I know. I’m a bit high strung.”
“Aye, so I noticed. What I meant, earlier, is that simply leaving the room with everyone alive is a start. If you only count the final coup de grace as a victory, you shall never taste of it.”
“I guess. It just felt so… I don’t know. I was optimistic because they were going to talk, and then they just…”
“Refuse to talk to each other. Or, rather, they talk at each other.” Luna nuzzled her cheek. “Yes, yes I know this well.”
They lay there for a moment as the afternoon sun streamed in through the window, warming them on the neatly made bed. It was something of a tight fit--this bed had been Twilight’s as a filly, after all. When she’d been young, it had been a massive thing. Growing up, it had been big enough for exactly one pony. Which, Luna lazily realized, accurately summarized Twilight before she left for Ponyville, if Celestia was to be believed.
Her room was rather spartan by an ancient mare’s standards. No great paintings or art, which she resolved must be remedied posthaste. What was not bare was covered in books, of all sizes and types. Curiously, her preternatural eyes scanned the spines. Most didn’t have titles--older books, then. Some did. She recognized a few as textbooks. Poetry? Oh, she’d have to remember to snoop through that later. Twilight’s juvenile poetic tastes would be a delight to spy through.
“It could have been worse, I guess,” Twilight said. “I mean, yeah, they could have gone berserk. But it was rough sailing until the end, and then suddenly it wrapped up. All settled! I was dizzy, almost, from how sudden it was.”
“They’ve chosen a place?”
Twilight hummed. “Mhm. Little border town. Lots of ponies live there, even though it’s Imperial territory. There’s some protocol involved with altering the invitation, but… the Summit will happen.”
“Good. You did well.” Luna smiled, and then noticed Twilight’s ear twitching as if listening for something. “I’m proud of you, junior princess.”
Twilight snorted. “Hey, I’ve been doing this for a few years no--oh, well then!”
Luna broke into her retort by nibbling on that rogue ear, and then enjoying the little shiver as Twilight tensed and then relaxed utterly. There weren’t words for awhile, just small contented noises as Luna moved to her neck.
“Saw someone...Mm. Saw someone I knew in the Griffon delegation,” Twilight managed.
Luna looked up from where she nibbled along Twilight’s chest. “Pray tell.”
“Gilda. She used to be friends with Rainbow… It was weird, because we hadn’t interacted that much but recognized each other, obviously. She called me the Princess of Dweebs, but she smiled when she said it. Changed a lot,” she said, her voice dissolving into murmurs as Luna went back to her work. “Guess she’s here ‘cause she lived in Equestria… a while. She’s just working as an aide.”
Luna stopped and kissed Twilight on the cheek. “I would ask what ‘dweeb’ signifies, but I have an inkling that your instruction will prove fruitless. I suspect it is similar to ‘cool’ in that it is a hopeless mystical sort of topic. You were hoping to be able to speak in Griffonian by the time we arrive at the Summit?”
“Kind of, yes.”
“I doubt you could learn to command much of it before then. Though… I do suppose if anypony could, it would be the Princess of Books.”
“You aren’t funny, you know.”
“On the contrary, I have centuries of experience being the funnier Princess. Tia’s playful streak was merely emulation of my own.”
“Of course.”
Twilight chuckled, and Luna felt her body shift as she stretched.
“Do you think it will turn out alright in the end?” Twilight asked. “I mean, everything, but the Summit in particular. You’ve dealt with this sort of thing before. I haven’t. Helping friends stop fighting? Lots of experience. Getting countries to step down from war?” She sighed. “It’s a tall order. I know we’re all in this together, but…”
“I have done something of this nature before,” Luna said slowly, her voice almost a drawl, as if each word had to be pulled from somewhere else. “Something like it, yes. It was different in my day.”
“How so?”
“Parlay? Certainly. But generally I was doing such things in a full suit or barding. Enchanted, forged by my own magic in the fires beneath Everfree…” Luna stared somewhere along Twilight’s wall, and then through it, somewhere else entirely. “Also, I tended to have my hammer nearby. It did more good than speeches.”
“I’ve never seen you in armor.” A beat. “I mean… I mean when you were, well, you.”
“She was me, Twilight.”
“You know what I mean. Anyway, it wasn’t full armor.”
“No, it was not.”
Twilight stirred again. “Do you still have any?”
Luna didn’t answer at first. She kept looking at the wall. Yet, in the sudden silence her mind worked feverishly.
Yes. Yes, she did have barding--many different variations, stored in the enchanted vault beneath the city. When Fort Canter had been just that, an outpost along a trade route, her sister had helped her dig a sanctuary for them both into the very rock. Within, her forge slept. The armory slept also, she was sure of it. Celestia had not walked there.
It hadn’t been something they’d discussed. The forge, the sanctum, Luna’s armory or her storehouses. Oh, the shared Vault of trinkets and souvenirs? They’d discussed that briefly. Celestia had maintained her every silly knicknack and keepsake. And she’d walked among them, stopping at each one to remember, had she not?
I remember looking away, trying not to… She wondered if it was the memory of tears or the actual feeling. She blinked. No, no it was just the memory. A vivid one, but so it was for their kind. The past just… kept happening.
“Luna?”
She blinked. “I’m sorry, dearest. I drifted. What were you saying?” Glancing down, she found herself muzzle to muzzle with Twilight, whose brow furrowed.
“I was wondering if you still had any of your old armor. I was curious about it.”
“Ah.”
“I… are you alright? You look--”
“I’m quite alright,” Luna said quickly, smiling widely. “Very alright. Would you like to see it?”
Twilight just blinked. “I… I guess?”
Luna’s grin went from wide to manic. “Good. Prepare thyself, then. Shall we go?”
“Go? Go whe--”
Twilight’s head hurt. A lot.
She also felt a little bit like vomiting, which was sort of a fitting end to a day that began with that sleep-deprived hangover feeling. But the floor beneath her was nice and cool, and it helped that the headache stopped operating at siege-weapon strength and started slowly migrating into dull ache territory.
“That… That might have been a bit, ah, impetuous on my part,” she heard Luna say somewhere above her.
Twilight frowned. Luna seemed upset. No, not upset. Words were hard and her brain felt fuzzy. Sheepish. Yes, that was a word. That one. She blinked and strung together a few words. “What just happened?”
“Don’t talk just yet. I’ll explain in a moment.”
Twilight felt… something. Magic? Certainly, but it was hard to tell where and of what type. It seemed to be everywhere. But gradually, the confusion faded and she could feel Luna siphoning the energy that clung to her like static.
“Teleportation,” Twilight said, softly. “You took us somewhere, and it shocked my system. Which… I’m not sure what that means, actually. I should have a higher tolerance for overload now.”
“We are within the mountain,” Luna said. “This is the Sanctum. I had forgotten the strength of the wards. They open easily to me, but to you? Forgive me. I didn’t mean to cause you any harm.”
“It’s alright.” Twilight shivered and stood. There was a brief veritgo, and then clarity.
The room was, frankly, stunning. They stood on a raised platform with steps all around, enclosed by smooth rock no doubt cut with magic. She felt the magic in the air all around her, clinging to every surface, smothering the air. All around them, mosaics played out on the floors, and color dashed up towards the ceiling. The lamps changed color every few seconds, first blue and then green and then racing towards red.
And directly ahead, under enchantments so strong she could feel them like a dull presence, a large portrait. Luna and Celestia, smiling together in a city she didn’t recognize, walking in… was it dusk or dawn? She couldn’t tell, but the walk was foreign to her. Trees lined it, casting shade in the failing or growing light. Ponies flocked around them, smiling, laughing, some seeming but a step away from bursting into dance, yet the sisters had eyes only for one another. They looked only at each other, Celestia’s mouth hanging open as if caught forever midword. Twilight couldn’t help but want to strain to hear it. What captivated them so that even in the midst of a celebratory air they were in a world of only two ponies.
“It’s beautiful,” she said numbly.
“Thank you. I painted it long ago.” Luna shifted, her hooves clacking against the cool platform. Twilight glanced over and saw the way her face flushed. “I am sorry for my impetuousness. I am trying, but ever has it been this way.”
“Usually, I like it.” Twilight advanced and nuzzled her. “See? I’m fine. It’s a lovely picture. What is this place?”
“Welcome to the heart of the mountain, as I said. This is the Sanctum, which my sister and I cut deep beneath the surface when Canterlot was merely an outpost. When we lived in Everfree and the city grew, we found that we missed our less complicated lives. So, from time to time, one or both of us would retreat here for a few days. We kept many treasures here.”
Luna looked at the painting and smiled. “Perhaps it would sound petty or unbecoming now, but when Tia or I set hoof where you now stand, there was no more Equestria. No more Clover growing older or that old doddard Starswirl clinging to his unnatural lifespan. No ponies of Everfree or the valley. Merely myself and herself.”
“It sounds nice, after all this,” Twilight said.
“And it was.” Luna shook her head. “Come, I wish to show you the armory.”
It was about this time that Twilight noticed that there were no doors. Before she could ask, Luna’s horn glowed and the wall to her left opened up into a perfect opening. Luna strolled through, Twilight soon on her heels.
They passed decor that left the scholar in Twilight’s head giddy. The walls, the floor, the ceiling--vibrant with enchantment, altering shape and design fluidly. For a moment they walked in a painted meadow, and in the next she blinked and the walls showed her a seascape and a faroff ship. She swore the sails billowed and that she could almost taste the salt in the air, but this too changed.
The armory, however, was something else entirely.
It was like stepping through another magically-made door into the great night beyond the moon. Twilight almost cried out in alarm, thrown off by the seeming cliff before her as Luna calmly stepped through, only to walk gracefully in the void. Twilight watched her stride without hesitation, and only then did she step out among the stars.
Solid floor. She let out a soft, strained breath, and then finally surveyed her surroundings. Dozens of mountings for armor, and what armor it was--each piece looked like a museum could be built around it as the priceless centerpiece. Hanging before the stars she found weapons bigger than she was: hammers, mostly, but axes and greatswords that she thought might be taller than Celestia.
Luna hummed, and turned to look at Twilight with her manic grin returned. “Welcome, my heart, to my domain. This is the place most mine in all of creation. Do you like it?”
“The stars… It’s breathtaking,” Twilight said, and she meant it. She swore they twinkled. She swore they were there.
Luna fluffed her wings and licked her lips. “Aye, so it is. But come, you were to see me in my finer array.”
Twilight watched as her horn glowed and summoned three sets of barding. One caught her eye, and she examined it more closely. It was brightest argent, silver as the moon in a child’s painting, designed to protect the whole form. The greaves were encrusted with precious stones and inlaid with gold like vines crisscrossing up old walls. Instead of a helmet it had a circlet with a great ruby--not just any ruby, Twilight noticed, but a fire ruby. Spikes jutted out from the legs, and the sharp angles of the armor itself lent the whole affair a savage kind of grace.
Luna eased herself into it, greaves first and then the main piece, and Twilight watched. Her tail twitched, as it often did when she was curious or excited. There was something oddly enticing about the spectacle, the care put into it, of Luna caught in a sort of ritualistic focus pitted against the stars.
When she was done, she paraded herself before her lover, glowing with pride. “Witness me as I was when the Griffons thought to annex Summervale on the coast! We met them in force of arms and they left with naught a drop spilled.” Her voice was almost a purr. “It fits well, does it not?”
Twilight nodded, smiling now herself. It did fit well. She could get used to this. “Took one look and couldn’t decide if they wanted to prostrate themselves or run?” she asked.
“Of course. You may grow complacent, but I assure you that of the two of Equestria’s first alicorns it was I who was the more desirable.”
Luna slipped out of the suit and returned them all to their places on the dummies before walking through them. She would name them, saying that such a one had been worn in such a place. Some of the names and events Twilight recognized: repulsing the Manticore migration, the Siege of Baltimare, the lichlord of Ghastly Gorge. But many she did not recognize at all.
And then, as Twilight followed lazily behind her, staring into her wavering reflection in a great serrated blade, she heard Luna begin to speak in a language she had never heard before. She turned, blinking, to find Luna humming as she held a fearsome helmet up to examine. Twilight couldn’t comprehend the words, but they were like honey on Luna’s lips, musical and soft between scattered half-whispered song.
The helm itself gave her pause. It was jagged, threatening. Luna slipped it on, and she saw how it curled around the horn, setting it off with what appeared like teeth of burnished iron. It was as if Luna herself had vanished and been replaced with something out of nightmares. Tusks sprouted now from her mouth--no, great fangs, sharp like knives--no, now teeth on teeth, rows and rows in an ever widening maw--her eyes shone with an unholy light, her coat glowed with swirling malignant energy.
She backed away, mouth agape in a silent sort of scream as the glamour took over more and more of Luna’s form, until suddenly it was all gone, and only a bewildered Luna remained. The helmet was still sinister, but it’s effects were only aesthetic now.
“I had forgotten about the enchantment on it,” Luna said, as if the horrors Twilight had seen were normal. She turned back to the rest of the set and began donning it.
Twilight swallowed. “That was… something else.”
The whole set did not morph, and she was grateful for that, but it still was unsettling. More than that, with the force of a charging horde, it hit her: this was a Luna she did not know. Even more than that, a Luna who was utterly alien to her.
She had seen the night’s shepherd angry. Passionate. Excited, focused, so many things. She had even seen her sneer with a cold and enduring hatred on that fateful night in the ruins of Everfree Castle. But even then, Twilight’s fear had been tempered with adrenaline and righteous anger, and been dampened by the presence of her newfound companions.
Never, until just that moment, had it occurred to her that Luna reformed and righteous should be a figure of genuine and well-earned fear.
If the emotions warring in her showed at all on her face, Luna seemed not to notice. She was lost somewhere in time, walking ensconced in the heavy armor. She spoke in that old language again, and though the words and the tone still sounded sweet to Twilight’s ears, they did not ease the weight in her gut.
“I wore this at Maldon,” Luna said, as she held a hoof up to stare into the plated armor that sheathed it. “On the beach, and then later on the bridge beneath the mountain.”
Twilight found her voice. “Maldon?”
“Aye,” Luna replied tonelessly. “Maldon, surely you reme--” she looked up then, color draining from her face. She blinked like a sleeper dragged from her rest. “Oh. It is an island. In the western sea, one you may not have heard of, I suspect.”
Her breathing had returned to normal. It wasn’t… it wasn’t that much more frightening than Nightmare Moon, really. More visceral, yes, but arrival of a shapeshifting mad goddess had been terrifying as well. She was just startled, that was all.
Her fear draining, she looked Luna over again. The armor intimidated, yes. But now it was the far-off look in her eye that bothered Twilight. Where was she? What did Luna see?
She thought to ask. But it wasn’t the time or place.