The Stranger and Her Friend

by TheUrbanMoose

VI: A Poor Wayfaring Mare of Grief

There is a certain kind of freedom in disobeying even the most sensible of orders. Indeed, perhaps the greater the sensibility ignored, the greater the exhilaration achieved. Or so thought Celestia as she crept down the hallway, away from security, medical attention, and the promise of a warm bath.

There had really been no orders involved, anyways. Leastwise, not to her. The doctor had been instructed to treat her injuries, and treat her injuries he had. She saw no need to linger, though she knew she probably should have stayed. But was it really her fault if there was a slight misunderstanding?

The doctor had also, for some reason, been sworn to secrecy over a supposed ‘condition’ of hers. She aimed to find out what that reason was. Had it been her markless flank? Perhaps. She self-consciously fluttered and readjusted her wings, trying to hide as much of her flank as possible. She felt awkward without a cutie mark. It was like she was reliving her fillyhood, wanting very much to be like the adult ponies, but not quite fitting in, if only for the simple fact that she did not have a mark. This was many times worse than that, though, because she was an adult pony. She should have a mark.

She shook her head, amending her mental statement, realizing she could not actually remember her fillyhood.

It had been more than just the cutie mark, though. She uncomfortably recalled the way the doctor had eyed her. It had been more than just a scrutinizing medical examination, it was a complete observation. The way he surveyed her had been odd, unsettling even. She remembered his anxiety, his restlessness, and, though perhaps she imagined it, his fear. The professional mask he had worn was awkward and ill-fitting, and she had easily noticed when it started to slip.

It troubled her deeply. Doctor Cross had been old enough. He was a middle-aged stallion with plenty of experience in the practice of medicine. He had worked before the war had even begun, if his claim was to be believed. Surely his familiarity reached beyond the occasional oddity. Celestia did not consider herself to be very odd, but she may as well have had a second head for all of the doctor’s discomfort.

She appreciated his efforts, in both healing her leg and attempting to keep his composure, but she felt she had to investigate. She just had to. After all, she meant what she said to Clover. She had come seeking truth, and she rather doubted she would find it from the distressed doctor. So, why delay?

In begging the doctor’s confidence, Lucky Break had all but endorsed his reaction. No, Celestia shook her head. Lucky was impolite and ornery, but not even he was that cruel. Even still, he had at least expected the reaction, which meant he knew something she did not. She was seeking him out, and when she found him, she would make him explain. Even if he would not, then perhaps this so-called ‘Clover the Clever’ would. Lucky had told her she was a high ranking member of the Royal Magi. In Celestia’s brief interaction with her, Clover had seemed kind enough, and she supposed that being a member of the Magi made one privy to all sorts of information.

Celestia had no idea where she was going. The palace was huge and intimidating, and at this hour of the night, almost completely empty. The only indication of Lucky’s path was the direction in which the noise of his hoofsteps had faded. She did not know where he was, but she did know where he would be: at an audience with Master Clover. Finding him was a simple matter of discovering where such an audience was to take place, and then asking directions.

She turned right, then right, then right again, because after that last hallway there was no other way to turn. She rounded the corner.

Oh, look, the infirmary!

…Oh. Look. The infirmary.

Realizing she had just walked in gigantic circle, she cursed her stupidity, and tried again, turning back the way she came. She thought to retrace her steps to the entrance and proceed from there, but began to second guess herself. The palace was like a maze, sprawling and massive, and yet in her brief exploration she had not seen a single soul. It was beginning to feel a bit ominous. It did not help that the only sources of light were the infrequent magical lanterns, and the moon’s illumination streaming in through the windows. Both were dim, and cast foreboding shadows. She flinched at the smallest and most inconsequential of sounds. The shapes in the darkness could have been illusive monsters, waiting to grab her. She was tense and restless. Of course, she knew it was foalish to jump at shadows, but that still did not completely dispel that primal fear in the back of her mind.

The empty hall echoed with Celestia’s lonely, cautious hoofsteps against stone. She reached the end of another hallway. Which direction? Left, she decided. No! Straight. Definitely straight. She noticed the palace’s infirmary was quite small, but she also remembered seeing a proper hospital in the city itself. This particular area must have been for emergencies, or important guests.

The thought struck her. Was she an important guest? The idea was not hard to imagine. She was, after all, supposedly a ‘guest’ of the Royal Magi, an organization that, in what little she could glean from her limited memory, was respected and distinguished. Logically, if she was in the company of such important ponies, then she too was important. Guilty by association, as it were.

The hypothetical revelation did not quite rid her of distress, but it did raise her spirits, if only a little. Her fears eased by a small degree, and she stood taller, striding with greater purpose. She tried to imagine that she owned the place. She playfully smiled, and took on a fanciful trot, though nopony was around to see it in the darkness. It was hers, and she was simply out for a midnight stroll. Her subjects would not dare to cross her. Upon life and limb, her guards would dutifully protect her. Oh yes, as a royal, they would call her…

“Ow!” a tiny voice cried.

Celestia let loose a startled, high pitched yelp, and jumped back a full body length as she was forcefully shocked out of her daydream. Something had hit her, had rammed her right in the chest! In the darkness before her was another pony, laying on its side. A thief, perhaps? An assassin? A monster? Her mind reeled with endless possibilities, each more horrible than the last.

Celestia meekly called out, her voice trembling and afraid. “H-hello?”

“Mommy?” the voice returned.

‘Mommy’? Celestia wondered. “Uh, no…” she said cautiously.

The figure stood up on all fours, and advanced. Slowly stepping into the moonlight, she saw it with clarity.

“You’re not mommy!” the childish voice accused. Standing before her was a little pegasus filly that could have been no more than three or four years old.

“Oh,” she sighed, relieved. “Um, no, I’m not.” She laughed, still working the nervous shake out of her mind and body. The peals of her short laughter echoed through the corridor, and quickly faded, almost seeming to be absorbed by the gloom. The hall fell quiet, and the two of them stood still in the natural light streaming in through the window. The silence, to Celestia, was awkward, as the filly just stared at her, not with fear or nervousness, but innocent curiosity. She shifted uncomfortably, and spoke.

“Are you lost?” Celestia’s voice had subconsciously lowered to what was almost a whisper, not wanting to disturb the already silent castle.

“No,” the filly said confidently. The pegasus then shifted her eyes, stooped her head, and kicked at an unseen pebble on the floor. “Maybe,” she mumbled, almost inaudibly.

Celestia smiled. The filly’s helplessness, though hardly different from her own, was almost cute.

“I'm lost as well,” she replied. The filly looked up in surprise.

“You’re lost?” she whispered incredulously. Her expression was one only a child could make. It was the expression seen on the faces of fillies and colts when they learned a new truth about the world, no matter how simple. In this case, it was: grown-ups can get lost, too?

“Mm hmm,” Celestia nodded, “Maybe we can help each other?” Her tone was kind and matronly. The filly stared at her in awe.

“You’ll help me find mommy?” she asked.

“Sure,” Celestia said, smiling. She felt much braver in the presence of the little one. At least one of them had to be confident, and Celestia knew it was not going to be the filly. “What is your name?”

“My name is Cream Sky,” she said automatically, “I live at Radiant Gardens, just east of Canterlot Palace, number two-two-three-one, Floral Way, my mommy is a reh…” she paused, sounding out the word. “Reh-par-ree-zentative on the Council, and my daddy is a soldier in the twenty-first mixed unit division.” She finished with a verbal flourish and a satisfied smile on her face. It was obvious that she had rehearsed this exact response in case she ever needed somepony to help her home. Celestia wondered if it happened often.

“Pleased to meet you, Cream,” she responded. “My name is Celestia.”

“Suh-les-tee-uh,” Cream whispered, experimentally repeating her name. “Ma’am, would you help me find my mommy?” She said it with child-like politeness. The parents of this filly had obviously taught her manners. Celestia would have expected no less from the daughter of a politician.

“I would love to help you find your mother, except I'm lost too,” Celestia said gently. “Do you remember which way you came?”

“This way,” Cream pointed a hoof one way, and then spun around in completely different direction. “No, this way!” She sped away galloping, infrequently jumping and using her tiny wings to glide small distances.

“Wait! Slow down, my little pony!” Celestia called after her. The filly looked back in the spring of a jump, faltered mid-arc, and crashed to the ground with a tumble. Celestia gave a concerned gasp and quickly hobbled up to the wreckage.

“Are you okay?” Celestia asked, reaching out with one hoof to help her up. Cream accepted it, but rose mostly on her own power regardless.

“Yeah,” she said modestly, “Mommy says I go too fast. But I don’t think so. One day, I’m going to be an ace flier, just like dad!”

Celestia laughed. “I have no doubt. You should keep your hooves on the ground for now, though.”

Cream contemplated. “Well… okay,” she conceded, disappointed.

“You can show me your speed after we find your mother,” Celestia said.

“Do I have your oath?” the filly asked solemnly. Celestia blinked. What formal language for such a young foal.

“You have my oath,” she said, mirroring her sincerity. “I will see you fly after this. Though, it may have to wait a day or two,” she added, thinking of the things she and Lucky would no doubt have to do.

“Yes,” Cream said, slowly. “Yes, okay.”

They began walking at a leisurely pace.

“I can’t actually fly,” the filly said suddenly.

“What?” Celestia asked.

“I don’t know how to fly yet,” she said, a tone of deep admission in her voice, as if she were confessing a sin. “My daddy is always away on deployment, and my mommy is always busy, so they can’t teach me.”

“But I saw you fly only a moment ago,” Celestia pointed out.

She shook her head. “No, that wasn’t real. That’s what they call ‘fluttering’. I’m a flutterer,” she murmured, hanging her head in shame.

A flutterer, Celestia thought. At least she can do that.

“Can I tell you a secret?” Celestia whispered. The filly looked up with cautious curiosity.

“What is it?” she quietly asked.

“Can you keep it for me?” Celestia spoke softly, but intensely.

“Yes,” the filly returned with the same tone.

“Will you not tell anypony?”

“I won’t tell anypony.”

“I'm not sure,” Celestia said mock hesitation, the playfulness of it completely lost on the filly. A hidden half smile was on her lips. “Do I have your oath?”

This seemed to make it real for the little pegasus, promising a secret that was both gravely serious and wonderfully exciting. “You have my oath!” she proudly exclaimed. Her shout echoed through the hall.

“Shh!” Celestia put one hoof to her lips. “Nopony must know.”

Cream quickly brought up a hoof to cover her mouth. She nodded. Her eyes were wide.

“Okay, here it is,” Celestia said. Her voice dropped once again to a conspiratorial whisper. Cream listened in with rapt attention. “I don’t know how to fly, either.”

She let out a quick gasp, and covered her mouth again. She eyed Celestia with the same look of childish wonder as before. Some grown-ups can’t fly, too? She slowly lowered her hoof.

“You don’t? Truly?” she asked in quiet astonishment.

“Truly,” Celestia said. “I earned this injury crashing just the same way you did.” She lowered her head to show Cream the bruising abrasion she had earned earlier that day. It was right next to her horn. “In all honesty, my fall was a bit more severe.”

“Wow.” The simple word was slow and drawn out. “Maybe, maybe when we see each other again, we can both practice flying!” she said excitedly.

Celestia smiled. “Maybe.”

They walked on through the moonlit palace. For all her youthful ignorance, Cream held more purpose in her stride than Celestia. She knew without a doubt what her end goal was. This kind stranger would help her find her mother, and then everything would be alright. There was no question. Celestia’s goal, on the other hoof, was much more vague. Find Lucky and Clover, and then what? Talk to them. About what, a doctor with a mild case of anxiety? Nevertheless, they continued on.

Whenever they reached a crossroads, Celestia always went in the direction that Cream chose. They were as lost as ever, but in the spirit of companionship, neither one was uneasy. If they ever were, it was a playful fright, one that never lasted. They talked about each other. The conversation was not very intellectual with one of the participants being a four year old filly, but it was a conversation Celestia enjoyed nonetheless. They talked about their mutual lack of cutie marks. They talked about her mother, who she discovered was actually the representative of the weatherponies, and managed affairs from cities like Cloudsdale and Windsoar. She, and by extension, her daughter, was here at some sort of garden party full of important ponies. A midnight gala, Cream had called it. She had gotten bored, so she wandered off and became lost.

Her father was a sky captain in the Maiden’s Battalion. When Celestia mentioned she had mentioned she knew Lucky Break, Cream’s eyes widened.

“You know the Breaker?” she asked.

“The Breaker? Who’s that?”

“That’s him! That’s his name!” Cream said excitedly. “He’s only the second best soldier ever!”

“Why is he called that?” she questioned. “And why is he the second best?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. He breaks things, I guess. And don’t you know?” she continued, “He’s the second best because the best is obviously the Maiden!” Her voice lowered, losing some of its foalish enthusiasm. “Or, she was the best.”

She went silent for a small, contemplative moment before returning to her excitement. “But you know him!”

“Yes, he’s a…” Celestia trailed off, thinking of the proper word. “He is an acquaintance of mine.”

Cream sighed in a dreamy approval.

They continued to walk and talk, not noticing the halls around them get brighter as the hanging lanterns became more frequent. At one point, the two walked past a pair of unicorn sentinels. Celestia gave them a passing but friendly nod, forgetting to ask directions. The two responded to her courtesy with a blatantly awestruck stare. One of them cursed under their breath. The other shuffled away a step, and then another, until he lost all subtlety and galloped away at top speed. His partner followed suit, leaving their post completely abandoned. By the time Celestia remembered to ask for their aid, they had already rounded the corner and were out of sight.

“Wait!” she called after them, much too late. “What is the matter?” she muttered.

“Aw, don’t mind them. They’re just scared of you,” Cream said, waving a dismissive hoof in their direction.

“Scared of me?” Celestia asked disconcertedly. “Why would I frighten them?”

“I don’t know!” Cream said, just as bewildered. “They’re just being big dummies. You seem fine to me. You know, for a monster, you’re really nice.”

An electric jolt shocked Celestia from head to toe, and her blood turned to ice. A monster? “W-what?” she whispered, taking a step back.

“Yeah! You’re not scary at all!” she complimented.

Celestia did not know what to say. She stood and stuttered, trying to force words onto her lips. “Why would I be a, a mon-”

“Cream Sky!”

Celestia was abruptly cut off. The voice, full of both anger and relief, had come echoing from the opposite direction down the hall. They both turned to face it. Cream instantly knew who it was, even before looking.

“Mommy!” Cream Sky instantly launched off the ground, frantically “fluttering” the whole way to the figure that stood at the end of the hall. “Mommy, mommy!”

Her mother braced herself. With a free hoof, she caught her daughter in mid-air and cradled her to one side, slowing her momentum. It was a deft maneuver, one that had no doubt been developed and employed over many similar instances. The mare smiled, and set her daughter down.

“Where were you?” she asked, her smile quickly transforming into a motherly scold. “I told you to stay in the garden!”

“But I was bored!” the filly said exasperated, with breathy emphasis. “And so I left, and I… got lost…” She trailed off. “And then that kind lady helped me!” the filly exclaimed. She pointed an excited hoof towards Celestia, who had already begun to walk toward them.

“Cream, what have I told you about wandering off? And about talking to strangers?” her mother quietly disapproved.

“But mom, she’s not a stranger!” she complained, ignoring the first question. “She’s Celestia!”

By now, Celestia had nearly closed the distance. “Good greetings,” she said politely and formally, completely switching from a motherly tone to a diplomatic one. “You must be Amber Sky! Your little filly is so polite.”

“Oh, certainly, especially when she neglects to do as she is told,” she said, shooting one last glance at her daughter, who bashfully avoided her gaze. “My apologies for any inconvenience she caused. You have my thanks for helping return her.” Amber looked up from her daughter. “You must be Celesti- ah!”

Celestia blinked. “Um, yes,” she said uncertainly, almost phrasing it as a question. “As I said, thy daughter Cream, she is quite…” she trailed off. Amber Sky stood as rigidly as a statue, gazing at her with wide-eyed shock. Her expression gradually became one of true fear.

“Are you… well?” Celestia asked, concerned.

“You-!” she suddenly burst, “You’re-! You-!” Her tone was strange, loud but incoherent, as if she was trying to shout but could not find the words. “Y-yes, I am quite- I mean, we really must be- there was no need to-” Finally, she abandoned her attempt to form a complete sentence, electing instead to voice a short, frightened wail. She scooped up her confused daughter and galloped away at top speed, swiftly spreading her wings and taking to the air, the low clearance of the ceiling notwithstanding.

Celestia was stunned, her body frozen in place. A part of her felt the urge to give chase, to overtake the fleeing pegasus, pin her and angrily demand an explanation. Her injured leg even jerked forward, tugged on by the invisible string of instinct. And yet, the function of her waking mind rendered her completely immobile, still processing this most recent happening in the series of strange events that had been the past three days. There was a threshold, Celestia knew, a barrier that had not yet been breached. Before it, she was composed, rational, and dignified, if not a bit curious. Beyond it…

She shook her head, and the cogs of her mind unstuck themselves.

“Wait!” Celestia cried. She started forward with a half-hearted trot. “I beg of you, wait!”

It was too late, and she knew it. Cream, still firmly secure in her mother’s embrace, managed to crane her head over her shoulder. Looking back, she caught Celestia’s gaze. Their eyes locked for the briefest moment of time, but Celestia could still clearly see a youthful apology. Cream extended a single hoof as if to bid farewell, but before she could wave, the pair of them banked sharply around a corner and disappeared from sight. Nearly as quickly as they had vanished, so too did the frantic wing beats fade into silence.

Celestia limped to the corner, and peered cautiously around it. Of course, there was nothing.

She did not know what to think. The doctor’s reaction had not been unique. Literally the first person she had met had run away out of sheer terror, discounting Cream, who, Celestia supposed, was too young to understand why. She was not the only one. But even she, an innocent four year old filly, had told her she was friendly, but in doing so, proclaimed Celestia to be… what was the word she used again?

A… monster…

Celestia shook herself again. This had to be some kind of sick joke. Someone was setting her up. She was not a monster! If someone were to ask her, she would judge herself to be harmless! A poor, clueless mare in a strange and foreign place, with no friends or family to speak of! At least, that was the way she felt.

She swallowed her sadness, and turned her distress into motivation. She would figure this out. She would discover who was behind this and make them stop.

Lost in her anxious musings, Celestia had not noticed the halls were no longer silent. Now bringing herself back to reality, she heard a sound in the background, the pleasantly persistent din of noise that could only be a crowd of ponies conversing. It was just barely on the hanging edge of her hearing, but she thought she could pinpoint its general location. She strained her ears, and picked a direction.

She moved through the halls with a sort of motion that was only one step above wandering. The calm commotion grew louder and louder, until finally, looking out on of the windows, she saw it. One story below her, on the ground floor, there was a party. It was hosted in a lush garden, brightly lit and beautifully arranged. Rows of neatly planted flowers of all colors perfectly complimented the masterfully trimmed hedges and perfectly aligned trees. In the center was an enormous marble planter box, made into the shape of a sun. The flowers inside were, appropriately enough, sunflowers. The resulting image truly did remind Celestia of the sun, though she imagined the effect was somewhat dampened in the dead of night. Still, the pure aesthetics were enough to ease her distress, if only by a little.

The festivity being held in the garden was of equal quality. A crowd of ponies engaged in various activities, but most just ate, talked, and mingled. Not one of them was dressed in less than their finest. Magical lanterns were in no short supply, being strung to and fro through the open air, leaving every inch of the place bathed in light. Tables and pavilions were set up here and there, each holding some new delicacy or confection. Above it all hung a large banner which read “Midnight Gala”. This must have been the garden party Cream was talking about.

Celestia would have been averse to showing herself at a gathering of such fine ponies, especially since she was unwashed and without clothing, had a certain fine red officer’s jacket not caught her eye. On the edge of the crowd, a stallion moved with purpose, stopping only for brief greetings, politely conversing but obviously not wanting to linger. Could it be? The grey mess was completely absent, and the orange mane had been modestly styled, but the expression could only belong to one pony.

Lucky Break, only a floor below and relatively small distance away, walked towards the far end of the garden and disappeared behind a pair of grand double doors. All apprehension lost, Celestia frantically scrambled to find the staircase and door that would lead her to the garden. She rushed down a flight of stairs and burst through an exit, not even bothering to acknowledge the pair of guards that stood on either side of the door. If they had said anything to her, she did not hear it.

The clamor of the swinging doors drew the attention of some of the closer ponies. A silent murmur rippled through the crowd, echoing her clamor. She did not notice, keeping her eyes dutifully trained on the doors where Lucky had left. He was out of sight, the doors still swinging back and forth from recent use. She slowed her gallop to a brisk, purposeful trot.

She studied the building he had entered. It was the base of a lofty tower, perhaps the one of the tallest there was, which Celestia considered an impressive feat, considering the multitude of imposing towers constructed in the whole of Canterlot. Though it was technically connected to the palace, it seemed oddly isolated from the other structures. Peering through the low clouds, Celestia thought she saw a giant telescope protruding through an opening in the domed roof. So, not just a tower, then, but an observatory. A balcony protruded from one side. On it, a simple spyglass rested on a tripod.

In her haste and divided attention, she did not notice the crowd around her until she gently collided with another pony. It was only a harmless bump, but she returned her gaze to ground level and quickly apologized.

“Oh, forgive me, sir,” Celestia said.

The stallion, dressed in an exquisite blue tunic, gave her a swift, nonchalant glance and pardoned her. His tone was effortless and quick. “’Tis no problem at all, miss…” he stopped, looked back to Celestia, back to his friends, and back to Celestia again. The remainder of his forgiving phrase shriveled and dried in his mouth. Celestia had already moved on.

The crowd’s murmur grew from whispered queries to muttered acknowledgements.

Celestia was curious about the observatory. Perhaps one of the partygoers would not mind a polite question or two? She stopped and picked a pony at random, a solitary unicorn mare lounging at a table, daintily sipping from wine glass.

“Excuse me, milady,” Celestia politely inquired, trotting to the opposite side of the table.

“Yes, dear?” The mare’s voice echoed into her cup, her head tilted back mid-drink.

“Wouldst thou be kind enough to tell me of that tower?” Celestia motioned to the observatory.

“Oh, that?” the mare said, magically swirling her drink and taking another sip. She did not bother to look up. “That is the Canterlot Observatory, and Clover the Clever’s chamber. I suppose that is ‘Master-Adept Clover’ to you and I. A magnificent building in my humble opinion, but the old mare hardly ever comes out. She did not even attend our lovely festivity, though it takes place on her very doorstep! To be fair, she has seen many winters.”

Celestia looked back up at the tower with renewed hope. This was where she need to be. How fortunate!

The murmur of the crowd was growing into a persistent conversation, with a very particular topic. Celestia did not notice.

“For what purpose is the telescope?” she idly added, already half-knowing but not caring all the same.

“The smaller, or larger?” the mare asked. Celestia had not even thought about it.

“Both? Is the spyglass important?”

“The larger is for gazing at the heavens, making maps of the stars, and doing whatever it is old wizards do in their idle time. The smaller,” her voice became the conspiratorial whisper of a gossip, “They say she can see for miles across the land, through wood and stone alike. That she may view scenes and scenery at her leisure. I believe it to be nonsense, but who knows with these mystic types.”

Celestia gave an intrigued hum, and stared back up at the tower.

“Art thou a recent arrival? Thy questions strike me as obvious. My name is-”

Celestia jumped and swiveled her head immediately back down as the sudden noise of shattering glass coincided with a terrified shriek. The table was covered in jagged shards and red wine. The mare wore a face Celestia was all too familiar with.

“You, you are… you are…!”

“An alicorn?” Celestia offered. The mare responded with a shy squeak, and fell backwards over her seat. Celestia rushed over to the other side of the table, and offered a hoof to help her up. She cowered from it, and when Celestia withdrew her help, she frantically crawled away.

The murmur of the crowd was no longer quiet, nor inconspicuous. The background noise had become a persistent dull roar of ponies talking, a few excitedly, some angrily, and most fearfully. There was no ignoring it. Celestia was acutely aware of the collective voice and the subject of its discourse. She just could not believe it. The doctor was one thing, and the mother of a lost child another, but this? She could hear not-so-subtle voices, all talking about her.

“What is that…?”

“This cannot be real…”

“Surely this is a jest…”

A curious crowd drew close, forming in a circle around her.

“…look at those wings.”

“…and that horn!”

“Her flank is markless…!”

They came closer, but still kept a cautious distance. Celestia briefly considered ignoring them, but knew it would not work. There were too many. She walked forward, toward the observatory doors, but the crowd did not part for her.

“…is she?”

“Could it be…?”

“An alicorn…”

“Pardon me,” Celestia insisted at the crowd, toward nopony in particular. Nopony pardoned her. “Please, excuse, me!” No one excused her. “Move!” she desperately shouted. Nopony moved. A foreboding sense of claustrophobia set in. A bead of sweat trickled across her brow. Her pupils dilated, her eyes shot back and forth. The crowd, though not necessarily violent, felt to her like a horde of manticores; not half as deadly, but just as intimidating.

“An alicorn!”

“A monster!”

The crowd seemed to echo this word. “Monster!”

“Get away! Get away, all of you!” Celestia shouted, railing against the multitude. She began to back up. She absentmindedly bumped into the table and knocked it over, spilling wine and breaking glass all over the ground. She fell with it. She thought she might have cut herself on some glass, but was not certain.

“Monster!”

“Somepony call the guards!”

“Monster!”

“Stay away from it!”

“Monster!”

“No!” she cried. “Leave me alone! Go away! Leave me be!” Still on the ground, Celestia curled into a tight ball and shut her eyes as tightly as possible. It was too much. She buried her face into her hooves, hiding it from the terrible collective stare of the crowd. “Leave me alone,” she whimpered. “Leave me alone.”

“Alicorn!”

“Monster!”

“Oi!”

A deep voice came booming across the garden, loud enough to shake the ground, and commanding enough to shock the riotous crowd into silence.

“Yeh bloody vermin, back off! All o’ yeh!” The voice was familiar, but Celestia did not dare open her eyes. The sound of marching hooves echoed in the night, the kind of heavy thud that only military horseshoes made.

“By order o’ the Guard, this courtyard is to be cleared at once! All nonmilitary personnel will depart hence with all haste! Those who do not cooperate will be handled with appropriate force! Leave now!” Celestia heard hooves shuffle awkwardly around her.

“Eh? They’re not bein’ very hasty, are they Captain?”

“No, sir.”

“Lemme be clear, then! The party’s over! If yeh ain’t wearin’ armor, make yerself scarce or I’ll boot yeh the whole merry way to the locker! And I have very firm boots, don’t I, Captain?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Aye, gilded in steel an’ set with diamond, they are! So unless yer achin’ fer a new bruise or two, scram!”

The slow shuffle instantly became a mad scramble of hoofsteps fading into every direction. Despite her closed eyes, Celestia could practically feel a pressure lifting as the crowd dispersed.

“Shall I create a perimeter, sir?”

“Aye, Captain, make it so. Nopony gets into this courtyard or the observatory tower without my personal say so. I don’t care if the damned unicorn Princess ‘erself shows up, you tell ‘er to take a hike.”

“Yes, sir.”

“There’s gonna be a mess o’ onlookers an’ eavesdroppers. Sweep the area, make sure nopony sticks their nose where it shouldn’t be. If yeh find anypony…”

The orders continued, and Celestia stopped listening. She could barely comprehend things as it was. What had just happened? The crowd, all those carefully dressed, perfectly groomed, utterly civilized ponies had just… had just turned on her. Like she was some kind of bizarre creature. Like she was some kind of monster.

She did not cry. She could not. It was not for any kind of inner strength or natural serenity. The shock was just too fresh. A warm front of anger met with a cold front of anguish, the collaboration resulting in a twister of completely muddled emotions. Celestia sat in the very center, but there was no eye in the storm. Her waking mind heard noises, voices, but she either did not notice or did not care.

Eventually, a bass, rumbling voice sounded right beside her ear, rousing her from her coma.

“You. C’mon, yer comin’ with me.”

Celestia opened her eyes to see the stern face of Apple Crumble, scowling down at her. The next half hour was hazy and unmemorable. She was helped up, led to the tower, checked by a doctor for cuts, and asked to remain put. That command, at least, was easy, the shock still immobilizing her. Her hooves could have been chained to the ground for all she knew, or cared. The next thing she knew, she was alone in a small room, reclined on a comfortable couch. In the back of her mind, she seemed to know that she was still in the tower.

“No tears. Count me impressed.” Crumble’s gruff voice came from a corner of the room. Celestia craned her head to see him. He walked toward her, eyeing her as he went. It was not the uncomfortable observation of her unique “condition” she was used to, but rather a kind examination, like a father trying to read his daughter’s emotions.

“So, I reckon you’re no basket weaver,” he rumbled. At this, Celestia actually laughed. It was a short, choking bark of a laugh, but a laugh nonetheless.

“No,” Celestia weakly mumbled, “I'm not.” She let her head fall back to the couch.

Crumble flashed a quick, concerned smile. “I also reckon yer wantin’ to see Master Clover?”

She nodded.

“Are yeh sure? Are yeh well enough?”

Again, she nodded.

“Why?”

It was the dreaded, unavoidable question. Why? Celestia pondered that as well. Why did she have no cutie mark? Why did she want to see Clover? Why did those ponies proclaim her a monster? Why, why, why, why, why?

“I don’t know,” Celestia quietly admitted.

Crumble gave a low, throaty growl. “Yeh make a fine argument.” He paused, and struck a contemplative pose. “Wait ‘ere,” he commanded after a moment of silence. He left the room. Eventually finding the willpower, Celestia rose and examined herself. She was more or less in the same condition she was before, dirty and bruised, plus a few new cuts. Another five minutes went by, and Crumble returned.

“I’ve convinced the guards to let yeh through,” he relayed, “but they also warned me. It would seem Lucky’s not in the best of moods at the moment. Yeh may want to wait.”

Celestia immediately shook her head. “No. Now. I want to see them now.”

“All right, then,” Crumble said, “Right this way.” He motioned toward the door with a hoof, and led the way. They climbed a set of long spiral stairs. With Celestia’s injured leg, it seemed to take an eternity. Finally, they reached the top. Crumble acknowledged the guards, and motioned through at the set of double doors that presumably led to the observatory proper.

“Right through there,” he directed. “Whenever yer ready. I’ll be downstairs if yeh need me.”

Celestia nodded, and watched him walk back down the stairs and out of sight. She looked back to the doors, and took a deep breath. The emotional whirlpool was still raging, but she managed to lock it in the back of her mind, at least for the time being. Now was not the time for doubt; now was the time for answers. Truth was the only thing she could take comfort in. She walked forward, motioning to the guards to open the doors. They did. She did not even have time to step through.

“I do, because it is. That creature, that alicorn that calls itself Celestia is a tool in the clothing of a mare! She may move to the music, but this is merely a marionette’s farce. Your hoof is steadier, but if you refuse to grasp the strings, then I will. When this war is done, and we are victorious, the kingdom’s gratitude shall not fall upon the sword, but rather the one wielding it.”

The voice of truth, the very same truth she had so desired, rang with the timbre of godly condemnation.

“That mare is a weapon, and naught else!”

**********

Celestia paused, listening to the final scratching of Twilight’s quill. She had no idea her student was such a quick writer. The times were few and far between when Celestia had to stop and give Twilight an opportunity to catch up. More often, her reason for stopping was to answer one of Twilight’s questions, which were both insightful and frequent.

Twilight finished, and looked expectantly at her mentor, who was idly gazing out of the east-facing window. It was another few seconds before Twilight broke the silence.

“What happened next?” she eagerly queried. The Princess turned to face her.

“That’s enough for now, I think,” she said serenely.

Twilight was struck with panic. “Princess, is everything alright? What’s the matter? D-did I do something wrong? You can trust me, I promise!”

“Of course I can trust you, Twilight,” Princess Celestia gently assured. “Look outside, would you?”

Twilight hesitantly looked at the window and back to the Princess, who motioned back to the window. Twilight slowly rose from her seat and shuffled towards it. Her legs and back, she noticed, were extremely stiff and sore from sitting in the same, rigid, hunched-over writer’s posture all night. They cracked and popped as she moved.

Peering through the window, she saw nothing out of the ordinary. Below them, the mostly empty streets of Canterlot were beginning to fill with some early risers. In the far distance, the eastern mountains stood proudly over the edge of the Whitetail Woods. The horizon was painted with the magnificent orange of a sun not yet risen.

“Oh.” A sudden realization dawned on Twilight. They had been talking all night long.

“I must raise the sun. Afterwards, I must attend to my daily duties.” Celestia looked into the distance, contemplating the day ahead. “Don’t worry, Twilight,” she added after seeing her student’s dejected expression, “we will talk again, soon.”

Twilight eagerly nodded. “I can do more research until then.” She let out an involuntary, poorly concealed yawn.

Princess Celestia chuckled. “Yes, well, don’t push yourself too hard. You’ve been a very busy student.” She rose from her seat, and headed towards the door. “I’ll let you collect your things. You’ve been an excellent listener. I’ve never told anyone this story before, and I just… I just want to say…” she spoke with an uncharacteristic hesitance.

“Thank you, Twilight.” She took a deep breath, and looked back at her student. “Don’t forget to get some rest.”

Her words fell on deaf ears. Twilight was already fast asleep, head and body slumped unceremoniously on the writing desk. Celestia smiled. She returned to her student and gently levitated her onto one of the comfortable couches. She examined her student one final time with a mother’s vigil and a teacher’s pride. For all of Twilights personal accomplishments and professional accolades, Celestia still saw the little filly she had tutored not so many years ago. What a wonderful filly she had been. And here was the Princess of the Sun, a timeless immortal of magnificent grace and untold power, telling her dark, muddled fable of a history to a mare who was practically an infant in comparison to herself. The thought made her giggle.

The Princess of the Sun exited the room, eager to bring forth the warming light to both her kingdom and her beloved student.

Comments

[Feesh]

Another excellent chapter, although it did seem a bit like filler as it was all leading up to a previously shown point.
Regardless, I love the writing style you have, tons of detail, but it rarely gets boring, keep up the good work.

[That_one_guy]

The trauma train has no brakes!

[CuriousCurse]

It did feel like filler doesn't it?... still, very nice story and it does serve some purpose by showing everyone's reaction to her. It built her character and really made that last line hit home harder than the first time. I'm going to go ahead and thumb up/fav so don't take to long to get that next chapter done!

[lowercaseM]

I'll note that it doesn't feel like filler to me.Though I was a bit confused and didn't realize at first that this wasn't a direct continuation of the previous chapter.

[TheUrbanMoose]

639652
I also used google translate, and then had someone who actually knew latin double check to make sure it made sense. He did end up changing it. Then again, I know no latin myself, so who knows? He could be a dirty rotten liar, and it could be completely wrong. Let's hope not!

>On a different yet equally scholarly note, was "Joan of Arc" your inspiration for Daylight?

DING! You are correct, sir! They are by no means exact replicas, but yes, Joan of Arc was indeed the inspiration for Daylight. The religious fervor, humble origin, and military success are all traits I lifted off of the esteemed French hero. Going even deeper into the rabbit hole, you'll find Joan was nicknamed "The Maid of Orleans." Sound familiar? But really, what insight! I can't believe you figured that out!

Thank you all for your comments! Yes, the last chapter seemed a bit like filler, I'll admit, but it illustrated what I thought were some important points. Alicorns =/= good. At least not in the eyes of the public.

[tlive]

"...but not even he that cruel" seems to be missing a 'was'...

[TheUrbanMoose]

648544
Fixed. Thanks for pointing that out!

[miketheraven]

How many chapters are you planning on making??? great fic btw love it.

[TheUrbanMoose]

661929
I'm glad you're enjoying it!

I imagine it'll be somewhere in the twenties when it's done. Honestly, though, that's just a guess. I only WISH I had it planned with that kind of precision.

[varilla111]

648519 I rather jump off from the moon... into the sun

[tlive]

668263 I pity you and your megabibliophobia (new word ), you're really missing out.

[White Wolf]

Where's Luna? She and Celestia are sisters, after all.

[Borg]

Cream sighed in a dreamy approval.

Lucky's a little old for you, kid.

[FashionablyHospitable]

A Cliffie for Twily

[FancyFan]

Cream sighed in a dreamy approval.

Awwww. Somebody's got a crush.
694293
In name and depth of love perhaps, but not it seems, in blood.

[Mendenbarr]

Interesting that little cream viewed Celestia as a monster, yet never really seemed to treat her as one. This story continues to surprise and delight me.

[nibtip]

7292384
My guess is they viewed anything unnatural or out of the normal as a monster of Discord's creation. It isn't her fault you understand but she'd be a monster nonetheless.