XI: Hammer and Nail
“I like this ‘Cotton,’” Twilight said offhandedly, finishing a section of notes before her mentor continued. “It sounds like she was a great pony.”
“Oh yes,” Princess Celestia gently assented, “She certainly was.”
The princess leisurely exhaled, and leaned back in her chair, the ghost of a reminiscent smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. She lightly nodded, less in acknowledgement of her student, and more in the recollection of some distant, fond memory.
“She certainly was,” the princess softly repeated. Her cup, enveloped in a swathe of golden magic, floated towards her. She took a sip.
Twilight’s gaze rose from her papers, but her eyes did not find Celestia or her nostalgic repose. Instead, they seemed to be locked onto a faraway point, as if captivated by some distant event. Suddenly, they brightened, lit by the embers of an idea. The corners of her mouth turned upwards, ever so slightly. She straightened in her chair.
“She was your very first friend, wasn’t she?” she asked. Her voice rang with the pride of a child that had just realized the hidden moral of a bedside story. “It must have been an honor, making the acquaintance of the future princess of Equestria.”
Behind her teacup, Celestia’s eyebrows raised at her student, who failed to notice the motion. Ever the perfectionist, Twilight’s attention had already been diverted as she noticed an error in her notes. Squinting harshly at it, she immediately set about to correcting it, scratching it out with a squiggle of quill strokes.
Celestia finished her drink, dabbed at her lips with a handkerchief, and sat forward to address her student.
“It was not,” the princess said. The seriousness of her tone immediately ripped Twilight’s focus from her writing, and her gaze quickly swiveled from her desk to Celestia.
A lightning bolt of panic struck her heart. Had she done something to offend the princess? Of course she had! Stupid, Twilight, stupid!
“W-what do you mean, Princess?” Twilight hurriedly recovered, half in explanation, half in apology. “Your subjects love you! Everypony is always happy to meet you!”
“Remember, Twilight Sparkle,” Celestia began, “that all of this, everything I have said, and everything I have yet to say, happened a very long time ago. Cotton was my friend in a time when it was not very popular to be my friend. In everypony’s eyes, and perhaps even in the eyes of Cotton herself, to befriend me was not to befriend a future princess of Equestria.” She glanced away, the smallest hint of bitterness sharpening the edge of her features. “It was to befriend an outcast.”
Princess Celestia shook her head, as if to rid herself of the memory. She looked back to her student, who returned her gaze with one of anxiety. It was not truly fearful, but rather, it resembled the panic of a foal about to be scolded by her mother. Celestia realized she might have corrected her student a bit too harshly.
“To answer your question, though,” Celestia continued, softening her voice to a tone that was calming, and almost apologetic, “No, Cotton was not my first friend.”
“She wasn’t?” Twilight cautiously responded, her fear being tentatively replaced with curiosity.
“No,” Celestia said informatively. “I thought so at the time, too, that she was my first and, for a while, my only friend. I don’t think there is anything else I could have thought. I was wrong, and I had no idea I was wrong, nor how wrong I was. There were others, many brave ponies who sacrificed so much for me.” She blinked away a wayward emotion. She had a very specific pony in mind. “They sacrificed, and I didn’t even know. They were my friends, and I didn’t even know.”
“Who were they?” Twilight asked. The anxiety seemed to melt from her features. She leaned forward, ears perked, eyes wide and shining with that familiar, intellectual sparkle that Celestia knew and loved.
Such an innocent look pulled Celestia away from herself, and almost made her laugh with relief. It had been many years since the expression of fear, true fear, had been directed her way. Something to the tune of a millennium, she realized. She was still intimidating, she always had been, but now, she intimidated ponies in a much different way. Once, they had feared and shunned an alicorn monster. Now, they adored and worshipped their Princess of the Sun.
More than that, it had been countless years since she had seen Equestria itself in that state of true terror. Her little ponies thought they knew pain; they thought they knew anguish; they thought they knew what it was like to be caught in dire straits. They had no idea.
For most of her ponies, the terror of Nightmare Moon had been fleeting and paltry. She had been defeated in the space of a single night, the only effects of her startling arrival having been a little extra nighttime, and the appearance of a friendly new alicorn princess. Discord had, in the grand scheme of things, been little more than an inconvenience. Centuries of imprisonment had left him a weakened shadow of his former self; he would have recovered, but his banishment had been renewed long before that could happen. Her subjects, though honestly distressed, remained blissfully unaware of the kind of danger they truly faced. Even afterwards, the Elements of Harmony had closed the scars of chaos that, without outside action, could remain open for years, or centuries. Perhaps the closest they had ever come to true fear was the changeling invasion, and even then, they had been defeated within hours of their first appearance.
In the end, upon the knowledge of these threats, Celestia had been the most frightened of them all. At the resurgence of that familiar black swarm, boasting strange new abilities, she saw horrible flashbacks, visions of war and death. When her sister had returned, shrouded in the dark and corrupted by the Nightmare, Celestia had, despite all she thought she had prepared for, been horrified and heartbroken.
At the reappearance of that demon, the worst thing that had ever happened to Equestria and beyond...
“Princess?”
Centuries of practice were all that kept her together in front of Twilight when tasking her and her friends with Discord’s defeat. She had worn the mask quite well. In that powerful, serene, immortal being, inspirational bravery was all that Twilight saw. It was all she ever saw; it was all anypony ever saw. In reality, terror, real true terror, had trembled just below the surface, stirring up emotions she thought would never haunt her again.
The visages of anguish, despair, and absolute terror were not easily forgotten, but it had been a very long time since she had seen anything that even came close to those vivid memories. In her peaceful little Equestria, it simply was not an occurrence. They were protected by a grand legacy, born of the bravery of those past. Bad things could happen. Bad things did happen. But in the end, as if encompassed by a shield of fate, Equestria had always just been…
“Who sacrificed, princess? Who was your friend?”
Lucky.
It had always been lucky.
Celestia’s eyes came back into focus. She had been staring absently at a corner of the room. Shifting her gaze back to her student, she saw Twilight still leaning towards her, still anxiously awaiting a reply, as if it were the resolution to a frustrating cliffhanger.
Celestia exhaled, letting out a breath she had not realized she was holding. “It doesn’t matter.”
Twilight lowered her head in disappointment, and muttered a nearly inaudible “oh.”
The princess smiled apologetically. “What does matter is that I had friends at all.”
Twilight, sensing her teacher was ready to resume the story, snapped back to attention. She dipped her quill in a fresh pot of ink, tapped it twice against the rim to shake off loose drops, and pushed her chair in an extra inch.
“I don’t mean to undermine Cotton’s importance to me. She was one of the greatest, truest friends a pony could ever have,” Celestia declared, a gentle pride in her voice. “She stayed with me till the end.”
She paused, hesitantly adding to her statement. “…even if I wasn’t the most princess-like pony all the time.”
**********
“Hey.”
Celestia drowsily rolled in her bed. Her muscles were sore, and her head throbbed. She was so tired, and it was so easy to ignore the whispering voice.
“Hey.”
She gave an annoyed snort. What time was it? She did not know, nor did she care.
“Heyyyyyy.”
Her eye twitched. She pulled herself farther underneath her covers, sinking deeper into the warm embrace of morning drowsiness.
“Come on, silly,” Cotton whispered. “It’s time to get up.”
“No-ooooo,” Celestia moaned, her voice muffled beneath a mountain of ruffled blankets and pillows.
“The sun only comes out once a day!” Cotton happily announced. Celestia’s annoyance flared with the sudden rise in volume. She opened a narrow hole in her covers and allowed the tiniest sliver of light to reach a single squinting eye. She frowned.
“Cotton,” Celestia whispered huskily, “the sun isn’t even out yet.”
“Oh?” Cotton looked towards a nearby window. With a twister of magic, the curtains flew back, and she peered through the glass.
The sun indeed had yet to rise. The moon was already set behind the tall western cliff, and though morning was approaching, the sky, still in the early stages of twilight, was a dark blue, with only a dull streak of orange on the horizon to signal the sun’s approach.
“Oh,” Cotton muttered. She sent forth another swirl of magic, intended to close the curtains. They fluttered chaotically before coming to rest, actually opened a bit wider than they had been before. “Well, that’s okay. It’ll come out soon, and after it does, it will only be in the sky for so long!”
Celestia sighed and closed the hole in her covers. She turned again in her bed, wrapping herself with an extra layer of blanketing. The comfortable pressure was simply too powerful to resist. The blankets could have been iron sheets, and the pillows could have been thousand pound weights, holding her down against her will. And honestly, she would not have minded.
“Celly, ple-eeease?” Cotton grasped Celestia’s shoulders and rocked her back and forth. “The Royal Guard will be here in an hour to take you to your first day of training. You want to be ready!”
Celestia did not react, remaining as motionless and silent as a corpse. After yesterday’s stressful events, it was certainly what she felt like. Cotton’s gentle shaking elicited no response. In fact, it was almost like being rocked to sleep. Celestia’s mind became blurry, and her breathing slower.
“Don’t you want to look your best? Give a good first impression?” Cotton asked, the appeal in her tone making it sound like something Celestia should have cared about. Regardless of whether she should have, Celestia remained unresponsive. Cotton stopped shaking her.
“Don’t you even want to be awake when they get here?” It was less of a plea, and more of a genuine question.
Celestia answered with a soft snore. Cotton rolled her eyes, and jumped off the bed. At this, Celestia contentedly sighed, a sleepy smile spreading across her lips.
“Don’t make me angry,” Cotton warned, “I can get pretty angry when I’m angry.”
To a pony who did not know Cotton, the warning would have been comical. Her tone of voice lacked true threat, and even if it did, her small size lacked the intimidation to back it up. A pony who did not know Cotton would have laughed it off.
Celestia knew better.
“I’m up!” she cried, bolting straight upwards, flinging the thousand pound mountain of pillows and blankets to the ground. She frantically looked over to see Cotton in a crouching position, ready to sprint across the room and jump into action. On her face was a menacing scowl.
“I’m up!” Celestia repeated. “I’m awake!”
Cotton slid a menacing hoof across the ground, readying for a charge. She huffed intently through her nostrils, and sprang into motion.
“No, no!” Celestia panicked. “I’m awake! I’m awa-aaaaake!”
Cotton continued regardless. She leapt into the air and descended upon a helpless Celestia, hooves flying furiously, jabbing with fierce intent and perfect precision. Celestia fell backwards, an insane smile practically forcing itself to her face. Hilarious, pleading laughter pierced the early morning air.
**********
This morning, the sunrise was pink. Stretched across the grand vista of distant mountains were the first signs of morning. Jagged white peaks let slip streams of red-golden light. They came to rest on the very top of the Canterlot cliff, and gradually flowed downward, banishing the cold shadow of night. A sliver of the sun could be seen in the distance, barely peeking over the mountains. The clouds above and the sky beyond were painted with the lightest shade of pink, one that could strike any observer with bold inspiration and delicate appreciation.
It was interesting, Clover thought, that no matter how often one connected with the sun, the mornings never became tiresome. Was the raising strenuous? Perhaps. Was waking early every single morning to prepare for the raising a chore? Certainly. She would be lying if she said there were not some mornings when she would have much rather allowed her old bones to lie in bed for an extra hour of sleep. Regardless, no matter how many times she helped perform that most ancient and noble of rituals, she never wished it to end. Until her dying day, Clover would help raise the sun.
An onlooker might think it routine. They would be right, Clover thought. It was routine, in every sense of the word. Raising the sun was a task that had to be performed every day of every month of every year, enacted at very precise times. So it was for millennia past, and so it would be for millennia to come, going on for endless years until the earth itself gave way. And yet, for its supposed mundaneness in being endlessly predictable, there was a pleasing, indescribable joy in raising the sun. Even after the initial excitement of discovery had worn off, the ritual held a deep peace. In the light of the early sun there was truth, and in its gentle warmth, a covenant, given to all of Equestria and beyond. The Daybringers were only fortunate enough to hear that covenant first: that the eternal sun, for eternal it was, would always freely give light and life to the creatures below, and that so long as the creatures stood in need, the sun would indeed come up tomorrow, and the next day, and the next.
Most unicorns would never feel the joy of raising the sun every morning. Only those of the Royal Magi participated. There were some exceptions, though the chances were that if a pony was magically adept enough to connect with the sun, they would eventually join the Royal Magi anyways.
Clover, sensing the completion of the ritual, released her hold on the sun, as did countless other unicorns in countless other places. The glow around her horn faded, and she looked up to properly observe the results. Sure enough, the sun had risen and was in full view, glorious and resplendent. It painted the eastern horizon with a magnificent mural, one she was proud to have had a part in creating. To the trained eye of a Daybringer, every sunrise was different, and this morning was no exception.
This morning, the sunrise was boldly, delicately pink.
She sighed contentedly, admiring the view for another moment. Eventually, she exited her balcony, walked across the observatory room, and began the descent down the long spiral staircase, eager to meet her newest student.
**********
“So, yeh’ve got a plan, then?”
“Yes.”
“The schedule’s been made?”
“Yes.”
“’Er trainers decided? Informed?”
“Yes, and yes.”
Apple Crumble gave a throaty rumble and stroked his wiry beard in contemplation, mentally searching for a hole in Lucky’s plans. The streets around them were quiet, save for the distant activity of the city guard, stationed atop the gate. He heard one of them shout, which was returned by an equally loud order. Presumably, they had spotted Celestia’s carriage, for they began to raise the gate. The grinding of the thick iron bars, in conjunction with the creaking of the lowering wooden bridge, made for a cacophony of noise that was impossible to ignore, especially in the early hours of the morning, when Canterlot had yet to fully awake.
“Stroking your beard isn’t going to make it any less ugly, Crumble,” Lucky casually remarked.
“Hah!” Crumble guffawed, his deep voice nearly shaking the stone. “Yeh only wish yeh could achieve this kind of perfection,” he boasted, turning his head and proudly framing his thick blonde-grey beard.
“Perfection?” Lucky playfully countered. “You call those grey hairs of yours perfection? Perhaps in the same way my scars are beauty marks.” He flicked his left ear, calling to attention the jagged tear that essentially left it halved. “As in, they’re not.”
Crumble frowned. “Oh, now wait jus’ one minute,” he objected. “Yeh may have a good twenty years on me-”
“Twenty-four.”
“-but it takes time to sculpt such beauty. Grey hairs are a given! Required, even! They give yeh a look of… of…” Crumble trailed off, squinting into the distance, searching for the right word.
“Feebleness?” Lucky offered.
“No,” Crumble tersely replied.
“Filthiness?”
“No!”
“Antiquity?”
“Yes! Er, no…” Crumble shook his head, and growled. “Maturity! Yeh dog, I was gonna say maturity! And besides,” he continued, lowering his voice to a discreet murmur, “the missus loves it.” He bobbed his eyebrows and winked.
Lucky merely chuckled, and turned his gaze back towards the now open gate. In the distance, he saw a large carriage, drawn by none other than the Royal Guard. His expression shifted from playful camaraderie to his default of grim readiness. Even for Lucky, Crumble noticed the transition was a bit quick.
“Actually, lad,” he began slowly, “I was wondrin’ if Celestia’s group of trainers includes you yerself.”
Lucky was silent for a moment before responding. “No, of course not,” he said, not coldly, or harshly, but rather as if it were a simple fact. “Why would I be? I’m much too busy.”
Crumble knew he was not exaggerating. As the new Commander of the 21st division, he had duties and responsibilities that extended far beyond the actual leading of the battalion, especially considering they were not on the battlefield. Canterlot was far from snobbish and political, but even then, the civilians liked their order. He had a thousand and one papers to sign, diplomats to visit, and procedures to learn. However, regardless of his chores, Crumble had fully expected Lucky to participate at least partially in the training of Celestia, in part to oversee her progress personally, and in part as a way to excuse himself from some of his duller obligations.
“Well, in any case…” Crumble began, but trailed off as he noticed movement to his left, across the street. He nudged Lucky, and pointed.
Lucky let out a huge, frustrated sigh that was suddenly cut off with a violent elbow to the ribs.
“Good morrow, Master Clover!” Crumble said, politely waving across the street. “It’s lovely to see yeh!” Crumble nudged Lucky harshly, nodding his head towards Clover. “Isn’t it?” he whispered through gritted teeth.
Lucky rolled his eyes, shook his head, and grudgingly spoke. “Oh yes, just lovely!” he called, his tone halfway between sarcasm and frustration. “May I ask what brings thee?”
“Good morrow, Lieutenant-Commander Crumble,” she politely greeted, slowly making her way towards them. “Good morrow, Commander Break. I was just on my way to greet Celestia. And thee?”
Lucky’s eyes narrowed in cool suspicion. “We intended the very same,” he said.
“Oh, that is very kind,” Clover said sweetly, “Celestia will be appreciative, I’m sure.”
Lucky scowled and dropped his formal tone. “You know she is to train with us first,” he firmly stated. “We have the mornings and days, and you the evenings. We need her while she is fresh and able.”
“You have it wrong, I’m afraid,” Clover replied diplomatically. “I have the mornings, and you the days and evenings. Surely they told you?”
“What they told me,” Lucky growled, “is what I have said.”
“We shall see,” Clover sighed. She turned to watch the guard advance, as did Lucky, who took a single indignant step forward, placing himself closer to the gate than Clover. She merely adjusted her cloak and pretended not to notice, content to let him stay in front. There were a few minutes of uneasy silence. Apple Crumble attempted to strike up a friendly conversation with the Master-Adept, but it was to no avail. They had almost nothing in common, and he received friendly but brief one-word answers, serving only to make their wait that much more awkward.
Eventually, the Royal Guard crossed the bridge, armored carriage in tow.
“Hail!” the lead guard cried, slowing their momentum to a halt.
“Hail!” Clover and Lucky simultaneously barked. The pegasus guard, after a brief moment of confusion, cleared his throat and addressed them.
“Good morrow to thee, Master-Adept Clover,” he said. His voice was bold and declarative, and very official.
Lucky blinked. That was not how one pronounced “Commander Break.”
“Good morrow, Captain Cloudhammer,” Clover said, nodding her greeting.
“Art thou prepared?” the captain asked. Clover flashed a sly smile at Lucky, before answering.
“Indeed I am,” she said, the smile leaving as quickly as it came. “Let us away.”
She stepped inside the carriage, greeted Celestia, and announced her readiness. They departed, leaving Lucky slack-jawed at the gates. After a moment of disbelieving silence, Crumble spoke up.
“Well tha’ went well,” he gruffly spoke.
“Well?” Lucky cried turning to him. “My political responsibilities only last a half day, every day!”
Crumble raised an eyebrow. “So?”
“So!” Lucky said, “So I scheduled all my meetings for the next month in the morning! So that I could manage the affairs of the battalion in the evening!”
Crumble raised the other eyebrow. “So…?”
“So, now I have to oversee Celestia’s training!”
“And that’s a problem because...” Crumble put an indecisive hoof in the air, motioning for Lucky to complete the sentence.
“Because I don’t want to!” He threw his hooves into the air.
Crumble cast him a questioning glance.
“I mean...” he murmured, lowering his hooves back to the ground. He cleared his throat. “I mean because I don’t have time. The battalion does not run itself.”
“‘Ere’s a solution, lad,” Crumble said. “Don’t go.”
Lucky sighed and shook his head, massaging his temple with a hoof. “I can’t not go, Crumble.”
“An’ why’s that?”
“Because,” Lucky murmured, raising his gaze, “The nobility will expect me to be there. If I’m not, they’ll think I’m incompetent, or that I don’t care. I’ve been the Commander for little over a week. If they even suspect me of laziness...”
Crumble idly stroked his beard. “An’ yeh do care, righ’?”
Lucky took an indignant step back. “Of course I do! But the training of a single recruit? It’s a waste of time!”
“A waste of time?” Crumble asked. “I’d bet that one recruit is the most important the battalion ever did train.”
Lucky did not seem to hear. “Waste of time,” he mumbled. He stared distantly at the armored carriage, as it disappeared behind a turn in the street.
Crumble’s lips slowly spread into a wide grin, until he was on the brink of laughter. He put a friendly arm around Lucky’s shoulder.
“Ahh, don’ worry, lad,” Crumble teased, chuckling between words. “We’ll only be here with Clover fer another month or so. After that, we’re gonna deploy, and…oh, wait.” He stopped, taking a dramatic pause. “Oh, she’s comin’ with us, huh?”
Lucky groaned, pushed him away, and stormed off. Crumble followed, trying to keep his laughter to himself. He was not entirely successful.
**********
They climbed the stairs to the top of the tower, and entered Clover’s observatory. It was as neat and orderly as Celestia remembered, but everything had been rearranged, making the room look empty, and somehow larger. The bookshelves lining the walls had either been moved or removed. Clover’s desk was in a corner, neatly tucked away on its side. Loose papers, ink wells, books, and clutter of any kind had all been swept away, leaving a perfectly open, nearly empty room. The object that took up the most space was the Clover’s enormous stargazing telescope, which stood collapsed and folded in the center of the room. Beyond that, the only other thing she could see was a large, open storage chest, sitting near the far side of the wall.
“Celestia here is going to be practicing magic,” Clover informed the sentinels on their way in, “So if you hear any snaps, cracks, pops, chimes, pings, rings, screams, yells, shouts, and pleas for anything but help, don’t worry. We’re probably fine.”
The guard stoically nodded. “Explosions?” he questioned.
Clover shrugged. “If you feel like it." Enveloped in purple magic, the doors began to close.
“Silence?” the guard asked knowingly. Clover dryly chuckled.
Next to her, Celestia did the same, nervously laughing as she tried to divine the joke being shared between them. From the guard’s mask of unmoving stone, she found only sobriety.
Clover’s smile faded. Through the narrowing gap between the closing doors, she nodded, conveying the utmost seriousness.
“Definitely.”
The doors slammed closed with a resounding, echoing thud. Celestia swallowed.
“Well, make yourself at home, dear,” Clover said, slowly but eagerly walking forward. “I will be just a moment.” She went to the far side of the room and peered inside the storage chest, sifting through the contents.
Celestia remained frozen in place, unsure of how exactly she could do that, when there was nothing to make herself at home with. Awkwardly, she took a step towards the telescope, and then another. Her hoofsteps clopped against the stone and echoed powerfully in the nearly empty, dome-shaped room. She tried to leave the silence undisturbed, but the acoustics were far too strong; every tentative, creeping step produced a sound louder and more clamorous than if a carriage full of lit fireworks had crashed into a full-brass marching band.
Eventually, Celestia gave up her stealthy approach, and made her way to the telescope, awkwardly toying with an attached lever. It was a straight shaft of metal, about half the length of her forearm, with a small metal ball on the end. It swung vertically, smoothly returning to its down position as she nudged it back and forth, waiting for Clover to return.
“Just one moment, dear,” Clover called, her voice echoing. “I’ve almost found it.”
Celestia sighed. The seconds slowly rolled by, and anxiousness gave way to impatience. Sure, she was nervous, but in a way, she was also eager, ready to master the mysteries of magic. When would Clover be done? She stared at the lever with furrowed brows, her lips pressed into a thin line. Slowly, her expression relaxed a little, and she began to regard the contraption with a searching look. A smile, curious and playful, crept onto her face.
Celestia stealthily looked past the telescope at Clover, who was still digging through the chest, telekinetically throwing miscellaneous items out of the way. Eyes wide and ears perked, she spied on the old mage, waiting and watching to see if she would turn around. Clover blithely continued to search, showing no indication of having found what she was looking for. Cautiously, Celestia turned back to the telescope.
She looked at the lever. It had two directions, up and down. Earlier, she had been flicking it with her hoof, and found that it moved easily enough. She smiled. It was the perfect test; Celestia would move the lever with magic.
She stared at it, squinting in concentration. Alright, lever, Celestia thought. Move!
Nothing happened.
Move! she mentally repeated. Move up! Go, arise, ascend, move up! She craned her head towards the telescope, closing the distance between her horn and the lever. She shut her eyes as tight as could be. She gritted her teeth, baring them in strained focus. Her face was screwed up into an expression of the utmost concentration, pained but completely unyielding. Still, nothing was happening. Celestia was moments away from giving up.
And then, she felt it. There was a sensation in her horn, a surge of… something. She dared to open one eye, and saw tiny pink sparks, intermittently popping off the end of her horn, crackling and popping in the open air. The lever began to glow with the faint outline of a delicate pink. Celestia allowed herself a pained smile as the lever began to slowly, laboriously raise itself.
“Oh my goodness!”
Celestia jumped away in fright. She quickly turned to find Clover standing right beside her. Her hold on the lever immediately dispersed.
“Do not touch that lever!” Clover cried, extending a hoof of concern towards the telescope. Her old voice quaked with worry.
“O-oh!” Celestia said, perfectly mimicking Clover’s anxiety, though she had no idea why. She meekly, desperately tried to explain, ears flat and head low. “I’m sorry, I was just trying to do magic! I should have waited, I’m so sorr-”
She was cut off as she moved backwards and bumped into the telescope, moving the very same lever she was not supposed to touch, pushing it nearly all the way up. The telescope began to tremble, and Celestia scrambled away from it. Clover bit hard on her lip, as she watched its centerpiece shake. After a brief but horrible moment, it stopped quaking, and came to rest.
Clover wiped a bead of sweat off her brow, and turned to Celestia, who had tripped over and was lying on her back, clutching her chest and breathing heavily.
“Do not worry, child,” Clover said. “All is well.” Celestia was enveloped in a gentle swathe of lavender telekinesis, which slowly lifted her to her hooves.
“What…” Celestia breathed, still recovering from her panic. She inhaled, exhaled, and tried again. “What was that?”
“That is the release lever for the telescope,” Clover said factually. “If pushed up, it frees the device from its bonds and lets it extend towards the ceiling, which, as you can see, is currently sealed.” She motioned to the roof, where Celestia could clearly see the outline of a section of closed ceiling she presumed to be retractable.
“Oh…” Celestia breathed. She chuckled nervously. Looking at the minute distance that lay between the lever and the ‘up’ position, she allowed a tentative smile to her face. “That was a close one. Good thing it didn’t, huh? Otherwise, it would have-”
A loud metallic sound came from the telescope. Celestia whirled around, just in time to see the lever snap into place. A sudden tremor shook the ground.
There was a moment of complete silence. Clover’s neutral expression slowly shifted into a frown. She drew a deep breath, and sighed. Somehow, to Celestia, that sound was worse than everything that followed.
Without warning, the telescope flew into motion. In the space of less than a second, the device pointed itself towards the ceiling, and began to extend. Celestia saw the angle of its doomed trajectory, and could do nothing but cry out in alarm as the telescopic cylinder expanded towards the roof and punched violently through it, shattering the valuable lens and completely ejecting the curved piece of retractable roofing. Through the suddenly open ceiling, she could see the shaped metal fly further into the castle, and out of sight. A second later, there was a tremendous crash, followed by the alarmed screams of ponies below.
Celestia stood motionless, eyes wide and jaw slack, cringing at each new, horrendous development. After the final crash, her head swiveled madly from the telescope, to the roof, to Clover, who had not even bothered to turn and watch the event. Gradually, Clover turned to inspect the damage, her expression one of simple dismay. Again, she let out a deep, disappointed sigh.
Clover looked away from her telescope to see a certain alicorn mare, stealthily creeping away from the scene of destruction.
“Celestia.”
She flinched and froze, one hoof still in the air. She was fixed in a full-bodied cringe, her back arched and her neck craned forward. On her face was a wide grimace.
“Come here, please.”
Celestia spun in a slow circle to face Clover. Her head was down, and her eyes averted. She did not dare look at the Master-Adept, or the awful wreckage behind her. She took a few agonizing steps forward. Clover only responded with more silence, patiently tapping her hoof against the stone floor. She took a few more steps, and fell back onto her haunches.
“Celestia.” Clover’s tone resonated with disapproval.
“Yes?” Celestia murmured, her voice high, dry, and nervous. Her gaze remained firmly fixed on the floor in front of Clover’s hooves.
“Why did you deploy the telescope?”
Celestia weakly kicked at a shard of broken glass near her hooves. “Accident,” she mumbled.
Clover closed her eyes, and murmured something under her breath. Celestia thought she heard, “…a little too quickly…” She whimpered. Clover looked up.
“Celestia,” she repeated.
“Yes?” Celestia whispered to the ground.
“Look at me, please.”
Slowly, painfully, Celestia’s gaze rose from the floor, to Clover’s hooves, and finally, high enough to meet her eyes. Something in the back of Celestia’s mind registered that they were lavender. Celestia’s head was tilted as far down as it could be, her eyes looking up beneath pleadingly raised brows. She felt like a misbehaving child, meekly awaiting a punishment she knew she deserved.
“Yes?” It came out as a squeak. In the corners of her eyes, a thin film of tears began to form. Clover’s expression softened a little. She tilted her head, and spoke.
“My dear,” she began. “Be at ease. I am not angry. Just disappointed.”
At this, what little remained of Celestia’s composure broke. She sank to the floor, and covered her head with her hooves. “Clover, I’m so sorry!” she cried, a tear finally falling free from her eye.
“Celestia…”
“It was foalish of me! I was just curious, and… and…”
“Celestia.”
“You probably don’t even want to train me anymore!”
“Celestia!” Clover said with a sudden forcefulness, enough to make her look up. “Calm yourself. The telescope can be replaced, and the ceiling fixed.”
Celestia looked at Clover, who returned her gaze with serenity, and, unless Celestia was imagining it, a hint of pity. She looked away, laying her arms in front of her, her chin flat on the floor. She exhaled, simultaneously letting out a sigh and a whimper.
“First day of training, and I’ve already destroyed somepony’s roof,” she murmured, not daring to take a second glance at the damages she had caused.
“Two roofs, most likely.” Clover chuckled. “Lucky would be proud.”
It was a certainly a thought. Lucky would be proud, wouldn’t he? Celestia felt a strange mix of comfort and disdain, but did not reply or change her expression.
Seeing Celestia did not appreciate the joke, Clover stifled her laughter. She crouched as far as her old knees would allow, trying to catch Celestia’s evasive gaze.
“Now, dear,” she started. The gentle smile on her face promised that all was forgiven. “Your training has scarcely even begun. You cannot judge yourself based on what happens today. In fact, to study magic is to learn many lessons, and I daresay you’ve learned the very first.”
Celestia maintained her humble silence, but eventually, her curiosity got the better of her. “What lesson?” she asked hopefully.
Clover answered, adopting the lecturing tone of a teacher. “Lesson number one: that magic, when used improperly, irresponsibly, or foalishly, can lead to disastrous results, and that one should always be aware of the consequences of their actions.”
Seeing Celestia cringe, her tone softened. “But even before that, one must keep in mind that magic can be unpredictable. When accidents happen, and they will happen, do not panic. If there is a problem, it is proper to try and make it right, but one must never allow it to become blown out of proportion. For example, quitting training because of some…” Clover looked at the hole in her roof, and looked back, “…relatively minor property damage. Every unicorn foal learns this as an unwritten rule. If they did not, who would know magic at all? Certainly not I. You might call it lesson zero.”
Celestia was still, contemplating the message for a silent moment.
“Okay,” she murmured, stiffly nodding her head. “Okay.” She slowly rose to her hooves, and wiped the moisture out of her eyes, softly sniffling to clear her nose.
“Ready?” Clover asked patiently.
Celestia took a deep breath. “I think so.”
Clover nodded, and levitated a roll of fabric towards them, along with a small chest of supplies. In the middle of the floor, next to the broken telescope, she unrolled it. It was a wide practice mat, the quality a cross between the roughness of a knit rug and the cushion of a soft blanket. It was the same type of sparring mat used to train soldiers.
“Good,” Clover said, walking toward the mat and unclasping the container. “Because I’m going to teach you how to fix a roof.”
From out of the chest appeared a hammer, a nail, and a block of wood.
For the next several hours, Celestia learned, trained, and talked with Clover, who was, in her mind, the greatest teacher she could ever have asked for. Clover’s knowledge was unmatched. Celestia could have sworn she knew everything about everything. Even in non-magical matters, she was well versed, not perhaps to the point of mastery, but certainly enough to always have an educated opinion or thought. Her ability to teach was similarly admirable, stemming from a lifetime of teaching others, and, in turn, being taught. Everything Clover said was as comprehensible as it could have been; as a tool of teaching, she made common use of simple, familiar metaphors that were both intuitively understandable and perfectly analogous. If Celestia did not understand, she knew, it was her own fault. At one point, she made a point of saying this, to which Clover only responded, “I am not known as ‘Clover the Clever’ for nothing.”
However, it was not for her cleverness, but rather her remarkable patience, that Celestia considered her a great teacher. For all the failure Celestia was met with, Clover did not once berate her, instead offering helpful advice and words of encouragement whenever possible. Her tutoring had been an easy process at first, and both Celestia and Clover had been pleased with the progress she had been making. To her surprise and delight, and after surmounting a small hurdle of difficulty, Celestia found she was able to telekinetically grasp objects with ease. The real problem, however, came with control.
“Carefully.”
Because, that morning, Celestia discovered something about herself.
“Carefully.”
She was terrible at magic.
“Carefully!” Clover cried. It was too late. The hammer had slipped out of Celestia’s control mid-swing, and was flying towards the Master-Adept. Clover magically caught it. The cold, flat metal floated an inch away from her forehead.
“Sorry!” Celestia said, clamoring to retrieve the floating hammer from the air. “I’ll try again!”
“Of course, of course” Clover calmly said, pushing the hovering hammer towards her in offering. “Try one more time. And remember, concentrate. Do not allow me or anything else to distract you. Focus on what you want, picture it in your mind. See it happening, feel it happening. Then, let it happen.”
Celestia determinedly nodded, and took the hammer in her hoof. Focusing on it, she allowed it to slip into her telekinesis, and let it out of her grasp. Slowly, painstakingly shifting her gaze, she looked at the block of wood before her. In the center, there was a simple metal nail, driven in at the tip. It was standing straight up, practically begging to be pushed in. Staring intently at it, she pictured it in her mind, the swing of the hammer, and the driving of the nail. All she had to do was make it happen.
Focus, Celestia thought. Focus. Concentrate.
The hammer twitched impatiently.
See it happen, feel it happen.
Clover sat with patient examination, waiting for her student to act, and ready to protect herself if necessary.
See it happen, feel it happen, let it happen… I wonder what Lucky will think about the ceiling…
The hammer quivered in the air and was released, unceremoniously dropping to the floor, where it hit one of Celestia’s hooves.
“Ouch!” Celestia cried, bringing her hoof up and sucking on the bruise. “Ow…”
She snorted in frustration. Control was, as always, the hardest part.
Clover observed that, though Celestia was a grown mare, her magical control might have diminished in the same way her memory had. In other words, as far as magic was concerned, she was a filly in a mare’s body. Celestia had the physical capacity to perform, but lacked the knowledge, and more importantly, the fine-tuned precision that came only through repetition, the kind every unicorn foal would obtain through simple life experience. It was disappointing and disheartening, attempting and subsequently failing at tasks that even a cutie mark-less filly could do. Nevertheless, she kept trying. She would prove herself, one way or another.
“One more time,” Celestia said, shaking her injured hoof dry.
“Actually, dear,” Clover said, “The time has come to quit.”
Celestia was taken aback. “Quit?” she asked incredulously. “You would have me give up?”
With Clover’s intuitive teaching and patient understanding, she was sure she could obtain a mastery of magic. Or, if not a complete mastery, at least a degree of comprehension to where she was not a danger to herself or others.
She should have known it would come to this, though. The past few hours had been filled with frustration, failure, and bruised hooves. No matter how patient Clover was, her composure could not last forever. Were Celestia in her position, she knew, this lesson would have been over with before it had even begun.
But Celestia was not in her position, and she certainly was not ready to give up. A determined fire lit up in her eyes, and, for the first time, she rose up to her full height to look Clover in the eye. Head tilted down, Celestia realized she was slightly taller than her teacher.
“We cannot resign! Not now, when we have made so much progress!” Celestia cringed, her voice a little more desperate than she would have liked. Not only that, but it felt like a lie. She changed her tone, and reached out to Clover with a hoof. “Let us continue!” It came out like a demand.
Clover stood, and peered into Celestia’s eyes, as if admiring the fire behind them. She closed the small distance between them, and gave her an encouraging pat on the shoulder.
“Calm yourself, dear,” Clover said quietly, bringing Celestia’s anxiety down with her volume. “I only meant your training with me is done for the day. We shall have lunch, and then Lieutenant-Commander Crumble will come by to take you to the barracks.”
Celestia felt her cheeks become hot. She lowered her stance a little. “Oh.”
The barracks. The way it rang in Celestia’s ears made it sound less like place of training, and more like a place of torture.
Clover began to set up a table, and as if on cue, a servant pony arrived, bearing platters of food. After presenting the meal, the servant pulled the lid off of a separate silver platter, revealing two sticks of cotton candy, courtesy of an anonymous donor. Clover thanked him, and he courteously bowed before taking his leave. They both began eating, Celestia taking huge mouthfuls of food, grateful for sustenance after the long training session.
Between Clover’s meditative bites and Celestia’s thankful indulgence, there was silence. Celestia idly thought about what the rest of her day would hold, who would train her, and what she would learn. In between mouthfuls, a sudden question occurred to her.
“Who is Arch-Mage Shimmer?” she asked.
Clover raised her eyebrows, and continued chewing her food. Eventually, she swallowed, and answered. “Well,” she began, dabbing a handkerchief at her lips, “the Arch-Mage is the head of the Royal Magi, and manager of all magical affairs in Equestria. In the royal hierarchy, her orders carry significant influence-”
“No,” Celestia said, politely cutting her off. “No, I mean… who is she? What is she like?”
Clover fell silent. At first, Celestia thought she had somehow offended the Master-Adept, and apologized. “Oh, that’s personal, I’m sorry.” She quickly busied herself with her plate of food.
“No,” Clover assured, “it’s quite alright. I’m just surprised you asked.”
“I was wondering…” Celestia trailed off, not exactly sure why she had. “She was my summoner, right? I suppose I was just… just curious.”
Clover leaned away from the table, and, with a distant expression, looked towards the midday sky through the rectangular opening in her roof. Celestia lost interest in her food and leaned in, ears perked forward.
“She is kind,” Clover began. “Very kind. Too much for her own good, sometimes. She has always wanted to make the world a better place. To help everypony, everywhere. But she’s only one pony, and sometimes, I think she forgets that. Often, she’ll overextend herself, going to lengths too great to aid others. Even then, she realizes that she cannot help absolutely everypony, and often times…” Clover paused, briefly considering some distant memory. “Most of the time, she allows herself to feel guilty about it.”
“Kind…” Celestia murmured. “Her instructions seemed very strict to me.”
Clover chuckled. “Her instructions. Yes, they would seem strict, wouldn’t they?” She sighed. “Oh, dear. Sometimes I wonder if Arch-Mage Shimmer even knows you exist.”
Celestia did a mental double-take, checking and rechecking the statement in her mind. How could her own summoner not know of her existence?
“What do you mean?” she asked.
“Remember, Celestia,” Clover began, “that for a long while, everypony thought you were dead. You and Lucky both. Arch-Mage Shimmer was, as far as we knew, the only survivor of the attack on Canterbury. She reported as such. Our pegasi scouts confirmed it; Canterbury is a smoldering ruin.
“Also remember that when you and Lucky arrived, the Arch-Mage was, and still is, absent. She stayed for Commander Daylight’s funeral, and left shortly thereafter. You missed her by a single day. After that attack on Canterbury, she has yet to see you, alive and in the flesh.
“We have sent couriers and scouts, but have been met with no contact, save for a single letter. She assured us she was alive, and that she was ‘anxiously engaged’ in an important task. She did not say how, or where. Not even the Farsight Telescope can find her. I suspect she is cloaking herself from it.”
“So,” Celestia slowly began, “she… thinks I’m dead?”
Clover chuckled. “Oh, I doubt that. I am told that rumors of a ‘real live alicorn’ have swept across the nation, from city to city. Rumors that ‘Equestria has its new hero.’ Any good news about the war is gladly welcome in this country, and it travels very quickly. She will have no doubt heard the whispers, no matter where she is.”
“But what about her instructions?” Celestia asked. “Why would she write them if she thought I was dead?”
Clover took a bite of her food and chewed it thoughtfully. There was a silence, broken up only by the birds that flew past the broken observatory ceiling. Celestia waited intently. It was full minute before Clover spoke.
“Her instructions…” she began. “Yes, well, she did not actually write those. I did.”
“You did?”
“Yes,” Clover simply said, nodding her affirmation.
“But why?” Celestia asked, part in question, part in accusation. “And if you wrote them, why would you not simply say that I was to train solely with you? I know that is what you wanted.”
“I did not falsify Midnight’s intention,” Clover said, her tone somewhat harsher than usual. “I am no liar, Celestia.”
Celestia let her gaze drop to the table. “I know you’re not a liar. My apologies, I was simply curious.”
“It is alright,” Clover said. “She may not have written it specifically, but those were indeed the orders of Midnight Shimmer, for she did indeed have plans for you. The note that they read at the meeting, the one they based their debate upon, was a transcription of that. She had a written plan, one that she had created in anticipation of your summoning. One that she revealed to me. I crafted that letter as evidence of her intention; otherwise, who knows what the council would have done?”
“But if she heard rumors, would she not come to see me?” Celestia asked. “The result of an effort that cost her dearly?”
“I wonder that as well…” Clover murmured. “I think she is ashamed of her escape, even if you also survived. As I have said, her guilt is often her undoing.”
Celestia frowned, unsure of how to feel about her apparent creator. “What exactly is she doing, then? Am I that unimportant? One would think...” she trailed off, looking away.
Clover smiled. “My dear, you are more important than me, the Arch-Mage, and the entire Royal Council combined.” She reached across the table, and gingerly put Celestia’s hoof in hers. “You are unique, child. Unique, and powerful. You are the first alicorn to set hoof in Equestria for over two and a half centuries. With the loss of the Adepts, you will likely be the only alicorn to live here for decades to come. Rest assured, you are not unimportant.”
Clover gave her hoof an encouraging pat before releasing it. “And wherever the Arch-Mage is, I know she is doing good in one way or another. I know her, and she is not someone who would so lightly abandon us.”
Celestia withdrew her hoof. “Well, I suppose-”
She was cut off as the doors suddenly opened. Through the doorway peered the head of a sentinel. Caught off guard, he took a moment to look at the hole in the ceiling before clearing his throat and speaking.
“Master Clover,” he said, formally addressing her, “Lieutenant-Commander Crumble is here for Celestia.” Clover looked to Celestia, looked back, and nodded. Seeing that she had no more to say, the guard nodded back. “That is all.” He retreated behind the doors.
“Well, my dear, it is time,” Clover said. “Let us away.” She rose from her seat, and Celestia did the same. They began to walk towards the exit.
“Do not fret. Perhaps you will have more success at the barracks,” Clover said as she telekinetically opened the large double doors.
Celestia frowned.
“Not,” Clover quickly added, “that you did poorly here. You have made excellent progress for our first day.”
Almost involuntarily, Celestia glanced at the broken roof and telescope. Excellent progress, she bitterly thought. Hah! Just because I learned some child’s lesson does not change the fact that I punched a hole in the roof and broke a priceless telescope. I completely failed. Progress indeed.
She stopped, and looked down at the plank of wood she had been practicing with. The nail was still firmly stuck in by its tip.
But... perhaps one more try? Her eyes wandered to the ceiling, and then back to the wooden board, and eventually came to rest on the hammer next to it. That hammer, that godsforsaken hammer, had given her so much trouble. It had put dents into metal, chips into bookshelves, and bruises on her skin. She snorted. What a stupid idea. She continued walking.
“So, Celestia,” Clover asked conversationally, “Are you excited for combat training? I happen to know the sword master, Captain Garde. He is an agreeable stallion, if a bit withdrawn. I think you’ll like him.”
She walked past the doors, and one of the guards addressed her. “Master Clover,” he nodded, “the Lieutenant-Commander is just on the floor below. And where is...”
“And the combat tactics advisor,” she continued, “Lance Corporeal Allez. She is quite the eager one, shall we say. One time, she-”
“Master-Adept,” the guard said, cutting her off.
“Yes?” Clover said, stopping to glance back at him.
He bowed a quick apology, and motioned to the doors. “Where is the alicorn?”
She shot him a disapproving look. “Celestia is right...” Clover turned a full circle, and saw nopony. “...here.” She politely nodded to the guard. “One moment.”
Clover marched back into the observatory. “Celestia?” she called. “Celestia, we really must-”
She stopped. In the center of the room, standing next to the broken telescope, was her student. Her poise was firm, all four hooves planted squarely on the ground, pink mane brushed away from her eyes. Her teeth were bared, and her eyes closed. Her horn dimly glowed with the color of an early sunrise.
Clover watched with worry. She thought she heard something, a low, frustrated whisper, spoken through gritted teeth.
“...arise...”
A plank of wood shivered on the ground. The action resonated with the nail driven into it and, after some time, the hammer next to it. Clover’s worry turned to fascination.
“...arise, ascend, move up... stupid hammer... go...!”
All of the items took to the air, enveloped in a delicate pink field of telekinesis. Celestia dared to open her eyes to look at the objects in front of her. They hovered there, gently floating up and down, awaiting failure or further command. She closed her eyes again, squinting hard in concentration.
“...focus... concentrate...”
Clover’s ears perked up, and she took another few steps forward.
“See it happen... feel it happen...”
A small smile crept onto Clover’s face.
“...and then...”
Celestia opened her eyes, and looked up to the ceiling. “Let it happen,” she said aloud.
The wooden board hovered slowly to the roof, closely followed by the nail and hammer. It positioned itself on one side of the opening, the long side protruding into the hole. The nail was driven into one end. The hammer pulled back, ready to strike.
For a few moments, the objects stayed like that, as if held by an invisible carpenter whose arm had been frozen mid-swing. They trembled, and for a moment, looked as though they were about to fall. A bead of sweat dripped down Celestia’s neck.
With a sudden growl of effort, her telekinesis seemed to pulse brighter, and the hammer fell on the nail with a mighty swing. And then another, and another, and another. Eventually, the nail was completely driven into the board, and beyond that, into the ceiling. With a strained gasp, Celestia released her hold on the items. The hammer fell and clattered on the stone. The board did not.
Celestia stood there, heaving, panting, and sweaty. She looked up at her work, and gave a modest smile. She turned around to see Clover.
“That was excellent, Celestia!” Clover brought her hooves up and applauded her, who returned the praise with a sheepish grin.
“I’ve got a headache,” she murmured, still smiling. Clover did not seem to notice.
“Just wonderful!” she said jovially. This was probably the happiest Celestia had ever seen the old mare. ‘Probably’ became ‘definitely’ as Clover hurried towards Celestia and embraced her in a tight hug. “Oh, I knew you could do it!”
They both looked again at the hole. It was a pitiful sight. There was a single wooden board extending into a large empty space, clumsily hammered into the jagged edge and protruding slightly askew. It was not even the same material as the roof; the board was wooden, and it was metal. And yet, for the reactions of these two mares, who gazed upon it with an indescribable fondness, this first, sloppy step to a repair could have been a magnificent work of art.
“I dunno,” a voice said, coming from across the room. Clover and Celestia wheeled around to see Apple Crumble standing in the doorway, stroking his beard and critically regarding the patchwork.
“Doesn’t look like it’d keep the rain out to me.”
Clover merely rolled her eyes, but Celestia glared at him. He smiled back, chuckling at his own joke. His laughter turned to panic as he was chased from the room with a floating hammer, enveloped in a field of pink telekinesis.
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Young Celestia is so adorably awkward. I like the exposition of her character, both past and present. I'm sure Device Heretic would have a few words to say about masks and whatnot. Something very different lies behind the painted smile.
But if Twilight's behavior is any indication, Celestia's personal life hasn't changed much. She's gone from being seen as a monster to being worshipped as a God. Ponies that love her for being herself, nothing more and nothing less, are a rarity.
Also calling it now: The Arch Mage, thinking Celestia is dead, is working on summoning Luna.
Congratulations...
This is my 100th read later story!!
That description just makes me want to throw down what im doing and jump on this story.
959339
Your read-later list is long.
Let me know when you do read it!
959459
Yea I know, even with 100 read later stories I still have over 300 unread chapters for favorites.
But I will definitely comment when i start reading this.
445107
I hate to point this out, but As much as I enjoy this story.. I want you to break down and become a more dependable vehicle.. say a ford explorer. And if anyone says I'm biased because that was my first car then to bad!
Glad I finally got around to reading these two chapters!
Honestly, my favorite parts are the interactions between Celestia and Twilight. I like the idea of a story within a story.
Fantastic story, loved the end.
Crumble is going to get some 'hammer time'
960222 A FORD!!! dude I hope you have a good year because a lot of ford's suck big time. I'm with an auto-parts retailer so I know, same goes for kia's, hyundai's, and suzuki's
Hahaha!! I is excited to read! Okay I'ma read now!
As I suspected! A good read! I do like the store within a store. It's something that's not done that often and I like it!
Well I guess I'll make my predictions here: The Arch Mage, thinking Celestia is dead, is working on summoning Luna
...and what's with all the talks of trucks and whatnot? ...WHY ARE WE TALKING ABOUT CARS!!!!
961062
I like them too, ya' know? They're fun to write, and the interaction between them gives a nice gauge on just how much Celestia has grown since her early years.
960222
961083
Haha! You guys.
I just needed a sturdy vehicle for the metaphor, and a Dodge happens to be what my father drives. I have no opinion on cars, and quite honestly, I'm a pretty poor mechanic; the pedal to the right means go, and the pedal to the left means stop, and that's about all I know!
Awwwww yeah! My favorite fic just updated. If felt like forever.
961473
Oh you...
Actually, do you read these after the rough draft? I mean, the process of editing with Neighkodemus DID add an additional 2,500 words.
961501
no... (looks at doc) oh wow you did add a lot more
959035 And she'll use her own body as a focus.
Something about my habits...
I have a very specific habit when it comes to reading fiction online. Akin to how many people open multiple tabs of TVTropes to read later, I have a tendency to do the same with fiction. This in turn fuels even more stories that I wish to read, leading to exponential growth. My personal backlog of fiction is somewhere around 145 stories that I have resolved to read, with a further 200 or so pending. This backlog means two things; one, I really have to get used to using the 'read later' function, and two, I have a system that I use to organize what order I read stories. All of this exposition is merely to explain just what I mean when I say that I wish that I had moved this story about fifty places further up the queue. This story is well written, and I love the structure of the story within a story, all for the purpose of documentation. Write On!
Sleep? Who needs sleep, the best fic on this site was updated recently.
I only spent the last three days clicking the bookmark every 2 hours to see if it updated.
<.< I don't do much when on the internet.
Clover teaches Celestia.
Celestia teaches Twilight. dl.dropbox.com/u/31471793/FiMFiction/emoticons/lolface_Celestia.png
Twilight IS Clover.
Hence, we establish not only a possible time loop but we also see "The circle of life".
That last sentence had me in tears of laughter!! Well done
Can't wait for the next update, I love this fimfiction
961083
I have an 01 explorer and an 03 excursion. Only complaint is for the explorer and thats becuase of those damn wheel bearings. but both are wonderful. No complaints after that. though i do enjoy my explorer more, but thats more a prefernece of driving than of the turcks themselves
961914
You guys and your read-later lists! I have a total of five on mine, and it's enough to completely overwhelm me. You are a braver man than I, good sir (or madam).
962416
May I quote you on that?
Critics are raving about fantasy epic The Stranger and Her Friend. Said by some to be "...the best fic on the site..."
962842
I actually noticed that, too. In many ways, young Celestia acted just like Twilight does in the presence of her teacher. Old, magically adept mages must just have that effect on people!
964497
Well, it helps to be able to power through over 100,000 words in one day. In other news, after a long and exhausting period of research, it has been noted that I am, in fact a male of the homo sapiens species. Alas, all too many people are still unable to tell by my actions online alone.
959035 yep had the same thought.
I read this whole story in the span of a few hours. I am enjoying this story a lot. While I cant say that this is my favorite story (Mostly cause I've read a 10.66 million words at the time of posting this. Wait... Only cause I've read a lot of stories. There are a LOT to choose from...) I still love this story a lot. I look forward to more and can't wait to see reactions when the job of hundreds of ponies becomes just Celestia's, and their faces when he cutie mark reflects that action. Dem faces are going to be (To quote good ol' Discord, even if he's not so good in this here story) Priceless!
Though I have mixed opinions on Clover the Clever after reading Upheaval series. Once you get a solid impression of a vague character, it's hard to change...
964308 U know what, I think we need to cool down on the vehicular ideas, brohoof and wait for the next chapter, you down? /)
965021
./)(\. anytime bro! wasnt getting mad didnt know i came across that way~
965059 no worries spenc, just tired is all
*lets you take the bed.* I want the couch!
965536
Oh you and your Halo quotes...
964915
Thanks for reading, I'm glad you like it!
And I've never read the Upheaval series, though I've heard its very good (it is on my read-later list). How is Clover portrayed in that one?
970157 She's a traitor and nearly succeeds in letting loos Oceanus. The creator of pony kind in that story. He was the First Great Rebellion and when the King of the Eternal Herd (Celestia, Terranto, and Luna's father) He struck him down and cast him from the Eternal Herd. From his blood rose Pony Kind. He was an evil person with the power that could kill both the King and Queen. Clover, wanted to break the seals placed there by Lexarius (Discord's first name before he commited the another rebellion and was banished by the Queen) To free him and obtain untold power. Even if the cost would be most, if not ALL of Pony Kind as they know it. When Lexarius was tasked with wiping out Pony Kind, Celestia went to stop him. She, being the Oldest, was followed by Luna, and Terranto. Thus the three Alicorn rulers appeared. But there was war, death, and depair amungst Celestia's little ponies. So along with Luna, and Terranto, she created something called the Barrier which separated the front lines of battle and the core of Equestria. Which became known as the Heart Land. The Barrier Lands are doing all of teh fighting while the Heart Land in completely oblivious to the struggles and the lives sacrificed to protect them. Meanwhile, Spike and Rarity are out gem hunting when Rarity's horn homes in on a Mana Battery. A tool for war that can empower a unicorns spells. This Mana Battery was a very large one. So when Twilight picked it up, it reacted to her vast reserves of Mana of her own, and she Teleports through the Barrier. Thus her wild journey begins. Eventually the rest of the Mane Six join her, but those poor bastards had no clue what they were getting into.
That answer your question?
Edit: Oh! When Celestia and her siblings left the Eternal Herd to take care of the mortals, that was another Rebellion. The Fifth if I remember right.
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Wait wait wait. Okay. I started to read that comment, and then stopped. Let me ask you something before I decide if I want to finish reading it: does that comment contain any spoilers, or anything of a spoiling nature?
I might eventually read Upheaval, so I want stuff to be a surprise!
970978 Yes. Clover the Clever doesn't show up till the second story. But you asked about her so... xD nothing to major though.
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Actually, I'd guessed Shimmer is like Twilight. Perfectionist, guilt-ridden, probably overwhelmingly powerful? Can't deal with failure? Sounds about right.
A good thing too that Celestia tutored Twilight. I wouldn't be surprised if she ended up more powerful than either of the Royal Sisters.
Also, Twilight completely misunderstood the relationship between Cotton and Celestia. It wasn't an honour for Cotton, it was an honour for Celestia to have met somepony like her.
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No worries, man.
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I realize I'm writing in a crowded market; there's a lot of origin fics out there, and one can only tolerate so many before experiencing headcanon-fatigue. That's why I'm so glad when people read mine!
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Hmmm. I like that sentiment. It was an honor for Celestia, wasn't it? She probably should have expressed that... Oh well. We all know it's true.
Also, I like your name.
this popped into my head as soon as the roof got destroyed.
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Adequately called.
HAPPY! THANK YOU! MORE PLEASE!!!!
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I say, "Bellum gerant alii, facere leniter...
Absolutely one of my favorite fics ever! I love what you've done with young Celestia and the pre-classical period.. I am several chapters into writing a fic that covers the actual events behind the Hearth's Warming Eve, and how the duarchy was set up, so I can't wait to see how you evolve the story and especially how you will fit Luna into the equation.
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I guess they'll have to read the biography when it gets published! And it'll be a great way to hook them into reading, too! (First, Rainbow Dash, then, THE WORLD!!
Yeh're an alicorn Celestia! I really like this fic!!!!
So sinisteeds definitely didn't used to do that imitation thing?
Perhaps so, but I assure you that on that day, anyone not in awe of you could easily see that you were afraid. You're out of practice at having plans go awry, and trust me, you don't fully hide it when you don't think you're in control of a situation.
Woo magic
Ha. Nice.
How very poetic.
I suspect that shimmer has made a deal with the devil and is off doing something directly involving discord, and why shouldn't she? He is a colossal threat who cannot be dealt with via brute force or violence, but he has a clear motive (even if we can't see how his actions line up with said motive), a clear intense dislike of boredom, and a propensity for playing games and making deals that benefit him. Shimmer should be aware of all these facts. All she has to do is offer him a deal that gives him chaos while she keeps being interesting (which should be, at least initially, inherent in offering him chaos), and she'll have a decent shot of actually manipulating him out of the war.
Discord is, after all, a single note that breaks up the harmony. Which means it cannot exist without harmony being there to break.