Bitter-Sweetie

Countless motes of dust sparkled in the thick shaft of morning light. They drifted lazily, without a breeze to stir the stale air in the tower’s topmost bedroom. Up here, the purest rays of the sun warmed the thick marble walls so iconic to Canterlot, and each morning they swept across the huge bed and its single occupant.

She slept, as she had done for most of the last few days; the time for ponies to come and deliver their final words had passed. She enjoyed the mornings most, when the sun fell upon her silver-streaked face and kissed her gently awake. That, and it was the time she was most likely to find a pristine white pony slumped against the bed, snoring. Such an unladylike quality was one secret she was content, even happy, to take with her to oblivion.

Sweetie Belle. Just looking at the coils of purple and pink hair spilling across the sheets was a soothing balm against the growing chills of her failing health. The time and affection of that wonderful mare came as easily as returning it in kind, and Twilight Sparkle knew that she had it easy. Soon, her adventure-ravaged body would give up and she would be at peace—she didn’t have to face the prospect of being alone again.

She imagined stroking those coils of hair as she had so many times; she didn’t want to risk waking Sweetie Belle. Letting her get some much-needed sleep was the least Twilight could do in the face of the hardship yet to come. She snuggled down into her pillow, letting it soak up the dampness in her eyes as she closed them. After a deep breath she sighed, only to burst out in a wracking, hacking cough.

Twilight’s hooves darted up from under the covers to contain the spittle and phlegm launched from her mouth. She kept convulsing, even after the air in her lungs had been expelled, until a moment’s reprise let her suck down a huge breath that started her coughing again.

The bed shook, and Sweetie Belle’s head shot up. She leaned forward and rested a hoof gently on Twilight’s heaving chest while she levitated a bronzed pan from the bedside table. The coughing fit eased, then stopped in a long-held breath.

Twilight’s face wrinkled as she ground her teeth. A moment later, she inhaled slowly, only relaxing when Sweetie Belle’s leg lifted her head so that she could spit into the pan. A long, haggard groan escaped her throat as she sank back into her pillows.

“Good morning, Sweetie,” she said, her voice creaking like an old door hinge.

Sweetie Belle, face still skewed from sleeping on the bedspread, wiped her mouth and smiled. “Hey, you.” At first, that smile was as bright as the sun itself, but moment by moment, the light dimmed.

“Are you scared, Sweetie? It can’t be long now.”

“A little,” she replied quietly, her eyes falling to where she idly stroked the bed. “I know we talked... I thought it would be okay, but...”

Twilight withdrew a hoof from the covers and stroked her friend’s face. “Did I ever tell you how much you mean to me?”

“Almost every day.” Sweetie Belle’s mouth twitched, a flash of light peeking through a gloomy cloud.

“Almost? I must be getting forgetful; I’ll have to do it twice today.”

With a chuckle, Sweetie Belle pressed her cheek against Twilight’s patchy coat.

“When I lost my husband, I just wanted the ground to swallow me up and make all the pain go away. But you were there for me, even though you were still mourning Rarity more than any of us. You gave me something to believe in again.”

Sweetie Belle gently kissed Twilight’s leg. “I love you,” she whispered.

“You showed me that you were something special, Sweetie, and I feel so blessed to have been there for you in return—my soul-sister.”

In the wake of the time-honoured testimonial, she felt Sweetie Belle’s hot sigh against her skin and a gentle hoof stroking her leg.

Suddenly, the room’s doors lurched open and Princess Celestia strode in, her regal posture and warm smile unfettered by her unusually brisk pace. Sweetie Belle sprang to attention and bowed stiffly.

“Stop that, Sweetie,” Twilight said with a hard edge. “She’s being a naughty Princess—don’t encourage her.” Sweetie Belle’s head snapped upright and she stared point-blank at her princess.

“She’s quite right,” Celestia replied, eyes tight shut and smile widening. “I am being a naughty princess. Still, I must ask for some time to speak with Twilight alone.”

If you don’t mind. Twilight levelled a stare at Celestia. “Sweetie,” she said, as softly as her gravelly voice would allow. The younger mare flinched, but it took a moment for her attention to shift. “Celestia and I need to talk privately. Could you wait outside, please?”

Sweetie Belle nodded, but her head drooped.

“Come here.” Twilight reached out a hoof once more, and Sweetie Belle leaned all the way in, nuzzling Twilight’s cheek. “I’ll still be here when I’ve finished with Celestia. I promise.” She pulled her other leg free and hugged with as much strength as she had left. “I love you, and I always will. Now go on.”

With one last nuzzle, Sweetie Belle withdrew, wiping the wetness from her eyes. She gave a muted bow as she passed Celestia and pulled the doors closed behind her.

“You seem playful this morning, my faithful student.”

“Faithful st—” Twilight sank back into her pillows and sighed. “I haven’t heard that in a while.”

Celestia drew close to the bed, wrapping the sheets in her golden aura and fitting them snugly around the old, cold mare. “A long while, but the time is right for the final lesson, I think.”

Twilight stared into Celestia’s soft, mauve eyes, but the princess offered neither explanation nor emotion. “You haven’t been this cryptic in forever, and I’m not so senile that I didn’t notice you’re in some kind of rush.”

“I know your magic has left you,” Celestia said, her voice flowing melodically. “The candle has burned down, and all that remains is the wick. Now, even that begins to splutter. Yet here you are, unafraid, trying to console your friend. It has been my experience that there are parts of a pony that never show themselves until the last moments. At the end, there is nothing left to hide behind; there’s just you and your memories. You have the look of a pony at ease—more worried for others than herself. That is why I believe you are ready for the final lesson.”

There was a time Twilight would have been overjoyed at a new lesson from her mentor, but today she wore an exaggerated scowl. “Hey! I’m the one on the clock here; quit stalling or I’ll ask Luna to tickle you again.”

Celestia’s smile twisted into a dark grin. “Do you think you have time to find her? Luna can be exceptionally hard to—”

“Horseapples!” Twilight shouted, immediately breaking into a throaty cough. She huddled back down and wheezed a few breaths before continuing. “Luna’s probably listening at the door right now.”

“I would do no such thing!” the muffled voice behind the door said.

“Ta-da,” Twilight said weakly, her victory neutered by the burning in her larynx.

Celestia craned her long neck over the bed and nuzzled Twilight gently. “Very well, Twilight Sparkle. You win.” With a slight stretch, she slid closer to her student’s ear. “Though I have my suspicions that Luna stands to miss you even more than I.” When she pulled back, Twilight frowned at her.

“Ahh, yes… stalling.” Celestia's face drew long, sagging under the weight of unspoken words. “I cannot teach you this lesson, only show you, and it cannot be undone. This is very important to me, Twilight.” There was a long pause and her face hardened. “Do you trust me? Utterly and completely?”

Twilight’s frown deepened to a scowl. “Of course I do. How can you even ask?”

“You don’t understand. I cannot explain what I want to show you. I cannot tell you...” Celestia took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “I cannot explain how dangerous it is. This is about more than your life, Twilight, or mine. I want to answer all the questions you’ve ever asked, and all the ones that never found a voice. I want to show you dreams that you have never dared to have, but only if you trust me and love me every bit as much as I have loved you.”

A long silence hung between them as Twilight’s eyes roamed across the face that loomed above her—Celestia’s pursed lips lacked the curl that usually expressed her feelings with such delicate nuance.

“This is the last thing I want from you, Twilight, but I need you to believe in me completely.”

Twilight’s scowl melted. She reached up and touched Celestia’s cheek. “Show me. I trust you; I would do anything for you. You know that.” The stiffness drained from Celestia’s face, returning to the peerless princess that Twilight cherished. That princess leaned forward and touched her, nose to nose.

“Thank you, Twilight. Now close your eyes. This will feel a little strange, at first.”

Twilight obeyed, despite the surge of tiny lightning bolts shooting up her spine. She did not flinch when their lips met, but when Celestia’s tongue pried her mouth apart, her eyes sprang open.

Her vision was short-lived. Celestia’s breath poured into her, a deluge of vitality, love, and warmth that consumed all in its path. The vitality was her wedding night, and the seemingly endless passion of her honeymoon with Trail Blazer. The love was curling up with an adolescent Spike, languishing in a decade of the maturing dragon’s unexpressed affection. The warmth was sunbathing with Rarity, relaxing in the noontime rays and unburdening her woes with an encouraging friend.

Old age was gone. Fragility was gone. All was bliss, yet somehow, she knew that what was once Twilight Sparkle had died.

~~~

A thousand blades cut into her legs while an icy wind slashed at her skin and filled her ears with a howl that stung her brain like ten thousand angry wasps. Twilight couldn’t open her eyes, but the light was so strong that it burned into her mind and seared her flesh. She cradled her head in her hooves, helpless against the onslaught.

“Look at me.”

The voice was clear and welcoming, undistorted by the assault on her senses. It beckoned her, but there was no respite in which to reply.

“Please, Twilight, this is important. Open your eyes and look at me.”

It was more than soothing; it was familiar. The gentle melody of notes called to a hazy memory, a promise of solace from her torment. She focused on it to the exclusion of all else, and the image of that face came to her, lips touching, warmth flowing...

Her eyes sprang open as she cried out. “Celestia!”

The grass beneath her belly was warm, and a gentle breeze ruffled her coat as the murmur of swaying grass filled her ears. The sky above was clear, the sun caressing her skin as it bathed the meadow, and the mare that lay before her, in glorious daylight.

The pegasus smiled, her gaze darting across Twilight’s features until they settled on her eyes. The softness in those eyes, the way she smiled, the way she spoke… if she weren’t a cobalt-blue pegasus…

“Celestia?”

The pegasus shook her head.

“Then… Who are you? Where are we?” Twilight felt the sudden sting of old age, a creeping cold starting under her skin and spreading into her bones. And yet the forelegs that crossed in front of her were those of a Twilight in her prime: supple joints, soft skin, and vibrant purple coat. She let the sun and earth warm her while casting her mind back to those last moments in bed.

“What did she say, Twilight?”

“She said… that she wanted to show me something. She said she needed me to believe in her. Then… did she…? Oh my gosh! What happened?” Twilight’s breathing quickened. Icy claws grasped at her heart and she folded her legs against her chest, shivering. “Am I dead? Did she kill me?”

The pegasus shuffled forwards, face to face with Twilight. “Yes,” she said without deviation from that soft, comforting tone. “She did. Do you still believe in her?”

Twilight hugged herself tightly. “I-I don’t know. I th-think so, but…”

“I know it’s sudden. Picture her face, Twilight. Tell me how you feel.”

Her legs blistered and burned, distorting any image Twilight summoned. “I j-just w-want her t-t-to hold m-me,” she said, her whole body shaking. “So c-c-cold...”

Lips. She watched the pegasus lean towards her muzzle, just as Celestia had. Warmth. She didn’t wait, lunging forward to press her mouth against this other mare’s. The bloom of life, vitality, and warmth flowed into her through the kiss, and her image came sharply into focus: a small filly, fitting wholly under Celestia’s great wing, toasty as a baker’s oven. She felt their lips parting and leant further in, but the kiss was broken.

Twilight gasped. The pegasus eyed her with one raised brow, head pulled back tight above her shoulders. “I’m so sorry! I just… Celestia kissed me and—hmmrph!” The mare’s head shot forward and pressed their lips together. Twilight’s eyelids lowered as her eyes rolled skywards; with the cold already dispelled, waves of bliss filled her soaring heart until it felt like it might incinerate her at any moment. When the intoxicating, life-bringing lips abandoned her again, Twilight panted heavily.

“Wow… that was…”

The pegasus beamed, eyes tight shut. “You’re welcome. I suppose I ought to have expected that. Just so you know…” She launched herself with a beat of her wings and settled alongside Twilight. “You don’t have to kiss me.”

Twilight spasmed as a wing spread across her back, the touch of each feather weaving a tingling blanket of vitality against her skin. The sudden flush in her face was of a more mundane kind. “I’m sorry! I was just so cold and…” She stared into those soft, mauve eyes and followed the pink, windswept mane that framed them.

“I won’t tell a soul,” the pegasus replied. “I promise.”

With a deep sigh, Twilight sprawled across the grass. “It just feels so good.” Her slow breathing became a soft purr as she stretched. “I think I deserve some of this.”

“This is a place of thought and emotion, Twilight. All you need to know is that you are loved. She loves you. I am the conduit for that love, but you had to be ready to accept it.”

“She? You mean Celestia?”

“Yes. You hang on the precipice of annihilation, between your old life and oblivion. You have no life force left, but Celestia’s love—and mine—will sustain you while you are here. Don’t ask—just take what you need.”

Twilight paused a moment before sitting back up. “And… yours? But I don’t even know you.”

The pegasus chuckled. “You’re right. I should start from the beginning. My name is East Wind, but more important is who I was: the personal protégé of Princess Celestia.”

“But…” Twilight scanned the clear blue sky. “Celestia said she hadn’t had another student for years before…” She frowned, her head bouncing slightly as she thought until her eyes suddenly went wide. “Oh! Then... how?”

“One thing at a time, Twilight. It is enough that you understand that I know all about you, and you understand that I am here for you, no matter what. Now, are you feeling well enough to travel?”

“Yeah, sure. I mean, I haven’t even stopped to wonder about being dead. It feels so weird—not thinking about it, that is, not being dead. Not that being dead isn’t weird and totally self-contradictory—” Twilight stopped mid-flow, her mouth hanging wide open for a moment. “I should be really freaking out about it right now, shouldn’t I?”

East Wind withdrew her wing and Twilight rolled onto her back, letting the sun warm her belly. The swell of energy inside her pushed all other concerns aside and lit her face with a broad grin. She snickered, then giggled, then thrashed her legs around like a certified mad-pony.

“Good enough.” East Wind jumped up from the ground. “Come on.”

Twilight flipped herself upright in a single motion but found solid rock beneath her hooves. “What in Equestria just happened?”

“We moved,” East Wind answered with a grin. “We need to add another piece of the big picture. You know who Celestia is, but now I’ll tell you what Celestia is.”

A crackling campfire illuminated clay-brown walls all around them, and a vertical shaft overhead glimpsed stars in a clear night sky. Three tent-like structures surrounded the campfire, but they lacked canvas or other camping equipment.

“I know this,” Twilight said. “Celestia asked us to do the Hearth’s Warming play one year. This is just like the description of—wait, did you say what Celestia is?”

“I did, and it began here, many years after that story is set.” East Wind’s voice was subdued, each word uttered with meticulous precision. “You already know that the reality was harsher than the story, but things were so bleak that unity was in danger of crumbling.”

The fire cast no heat, and the floor showed no signs of habitation. “Is this what Celestia wanted me to see? It seems incomplete, like a vague memory.”

“Yes. This is before Celestia’s time, but she knows this place, and she wants you to know this story…”

The three tribes worked together for a time, but old disagreements soon resurfaced. The unicorns moved first, holding the raising of the sun to ransom and demanding more control over the newly founded Equestria. The bickering that followed soon led to violence as pegasus warlords, set in their ways and idle too long, began taking hostages. They sought to raise the sun by subjugation, while the earth ponies stood by and did nothing. The balance was broken, and war seemed inevitable.

However, the roots of harmony were deep; many unicorns and pegasi sought the neutrality of the earth pony tribe rather than fight. With the unicorns’ might divided and rebellion amongst the pegasi, the earth ponies’ protection forced a lull in hostility.

Defenders of harmony from all three tribes met here to discuss a solution on this hallowed ground. Nopony alive remembers how, but a great spell was cast and, months later, three mares—a unicorn, a pegasus and an earth pony—foaled three fillies, born with the mark of the sun on their flanks. It is said that the fillies were part of a single spell, and when together, they would be able to raise and lower the sun with the strength of a hundred unicorns. The prospect of such a trinity was supposed to symbolise a better future for all ponies; it was supposed to symbolise unity.

It worked, but for all the wrong reasons.

“Cold,” Twilight said, shivering. “Can I p-please…?”

“I told you not to ask,” East Wind replied, barely lifting a wing before Twilight dashed in to huddle against her. “Please be careful, Twilight. You’re weaker than I expected; I wouldn’t want you to try kissing me again.”

Twilight pressed herself against the pegaus until her face ached with the size of the absurd smile stretching across it. “You’re not going to let that go, are you?”

East Wind chuckled. “Feeling better now?”

“Much. But I was thinking: you say that it’s Celestia’s love, and that you’re a conduit for it… so does that mean you can feel this too?”

“Oh yes, Twilight,” East Wind replied. She nuzzled Twilight briefly, remaining cheek-to-cheek when she settled. “All the time. Celestia’s love isn’t bottomless, but there is more than enough to go around. Now, where was I?”

Some ponies claimed they were abominations. Perhaps they had a point, but more pressing was that each tribe saw the fillies as a tool. Whoever got to raise them would have influence over them, and arguments about raising the sun today became the politics of who would control raising the sun in the future. It wasn’t peace; it was a stalemate.

Those three fillies were inseparable. They may have been three bodies, but they shared a single soul, and whenever they were apart, they would descend into bouts of depression and misery. Magic alone cannot fill a heart with love, and they were denied even the love of their mothers. Growing up, they knew only guards, nurses, and politicians—they learned no kinship for their tribes, or ponykind as a whole.

When they were old enough to raise the sun, ponies everywhere rejoiced. They were blind to the suffering that tainted the miracle, never imagining the three grown mares would flee their gilded cage. They came here, drawn to the magic that created them, and while I can’t say whether it was from the spell or the legendary events that predated it, the magic in this place was enough to bring peace to those poor, tortured fragments of a soul.

Three images appeared around the campfire: a mauve unicorn with wavy golden hair, a sky-blue pegasus with short-cropped white hair, and a golden earth pony with long, pink braids—all with Celestia’s cutie mark on their flanks. The unicorn stomped back and forth, sweat on her brow and horn glowing brightly. By the fire, the pegasus held the earth pony with hoof and wing as the golden mare shuddered and pressed against her soul-sister.

“She’s… cold?” Twilight said slowly. “Oh no. Please say she isn’t…”

“She is. Not as strong, but unrelenting. Celestia barely remembers this.” East Wind flexed her wing, stroking Twilight’s side with her feathers. “Now watch.”

The mauve unicorn silently cheered as light flared over the fire like a twinkling star—the same star Twilight had seen countless times on her flank. A white beam lanced out, touching the unicorn’s horn then splitting into smaller beams that enveloped her sisters. The cuddling mares spasmed, their gasps and huge smiles sending a tingle along Twilight’s spine. The unicorn barrelled into her siblings; they hugged and nuzzled and wept, as if seeing each other for the first time, until the light exploded into a blinding white flash.

“Three fragments become a whole,” East Wind said, finally withdrawing her head from Twilight’s cheek as the light faded. “Her first solid memory, indelibly burned into her mind.”

Before them sat Princess Celestia—exactly the size that Twilight remembered, with the long, pink mane shown in her oldest books. She lay on the floor, legs folded tightly against herself, bathing in a golden glow that retreated until only her horn remained lit. The firelight flickered across her coat as she wept openly—happily, if the smile on her face was any measure.

For several moments, Twilight simply stared. “We’re inside her, aren’t we?” she asked quietly. “Inside Celestia’s mind?” She felt the wing tighten against her again.

“Very astute, but no. We are not inside Celestia. Celestia is inside me.”

Three broken mares do not make a princess. She was whole, but not complete: a tool, bound into service by those who showed her no love. She did not suffer, but without purpose, she returned to her captors and the illusion of worth they brought her.

News of her transformation brought ponies from far and wide to see her. Belief in their leaders dwindled, and many believed it was a new dawn for Equestria. They looked to Celestia to lead them, but she would have none of it. She raised the sun, she lowered the sun, yet hid away in her castle all the while.

Such changes, however, cannot be undone. In the wake of the unicorns’ division, working ponies of all tribes mingled more freely than ever. Unicorn royalty chafed at the usurping of their power, but the rest focused their talents towards arts and crafts, bettering the realm for all and ingratiating themselves as they worked.

Prosperous times made for glad hearts—except for Celestia’s. For the second time, she fled her captors, continuing her duties in isolation. She knew not of love, but in her great sorrow, she unwittingly summoned the mares that loved her most: her mothers.

Tears rolled down East Wind’s face and her voice wavered. “They loved her, Twilight. They loved her so much, and Celestia loved them back, but... I told you before that you had to accept Celestia’s love. You were clouded by doubt and had to remember.”

“She told me that she could only show me if I loved her,” Twilight replied quietly, staring at the weeping image of Celestia before her. “I don’t understand what that means. I don’t understand why that node looked just like my cutie mark. Did Celestia always know I would end up here? Is this why she chose me? Is this what the friendship reports were all about?”

“Hush, Twilight.” East Wind gave her a gentle kiss behind her ear. “We promised to give you all the answers, so let us finish.”

The image around them changed to a huge plain, lit only by stars and campfires. At least a hundred tents and makeshift shelters dotted the land, but as before, the scene was devoid of life.

The three mothers were not without sway among the common ponies. One week after finding Celestia, they assembled the faithful to greet her in public. Unicorns, pegasi, and earth ponies alike bowed their heads in reverence, rejoicing as she raised the sun for all to witness.

The mothers wanted Celestia to feel cherished. They hoped that sheer weight of numbers would reach her, but it did not. She was scared. She didn’t understand, because love was a language unknown to her. But as she trembled before the throng of well-wishers, there was a glimmer of hope.

A single filly pushed her way through the crowd. Something about that filly made Celestia’s heart race—she did not fear her as she did the others. Her name was Twinkle, and she looked into Celestia’s eyes and said words more powerful than any magic: “My momma says you’re my big sister.”

The crowd watched in awe as Celestia clutched the filly between her forelegs and wept. They did not understand, but in the following weeks, Celestia met her other brothers and sisters and, for the first time since her transformation, she was happy.

“Why them?” Twilight asked. “And why me?”

“Celestia is as much magic as pony. Even those born after her shared traces of the great spell. Back then it was the only way Celestia could feel kinship for her kind, and the only way she could begin healing.” East Wind’s voice cracked, new tears rolling down her cheeks. “It was a miracle that she got to tell her mothers how dearly she… she loved them before... before they passed…”

Twilight turned, hugging the pegasus with both hooves and whispering softly to her. “You can feel her, too, can’t you? I’m sorry, I had no idea.”

“It’s all right,” East Wind replied shakily. She rocked gently in Twilight’s embrace. “It’s wonderful to have these memories—they’re just very strong. I am sure you have already guessed that Twinkle is your distant relative, and that your star is not of magic but of harmony.”

Before them, a night-blue unicorn appeared, and East Wind gently pushed Twilight away, facing the statuesque image.

Twinkle spent her life researching the creation spell. When that life came to a close, Celestia realised that she would see all those she cared for wither and die, and beseeched her to finish a spell that they had been working on. What no other ponies know to this day is that the pony that walked out of that room was part Celestia and part Twinkle.

Meanwhile, the families of the original mothers grew and began to wield ever greater prestige. The earth ponies had little use for it, preferring the bonds of family over wealth or power, while the pegasi mixed heritage with individual merit. The unicorns, as is their way, embraced the new bloodline as royalty, and soon the old aristocracy was all but cast out. Yet, as each tribe bowed before Celestia, they kept their political power for themselves.

They did not understand that Celestia had changed: Twinkle brought her an inner fire she had never known. Slowly, she learned to accept the love of those around her and acknowledged the title of Princess. She became bold, seeking out ways to promote unity between the tribes. She settled disputes, visited the sick, and supported the weak. But still the weight of Celestia’s past was too much to bear, and nopony is meant to live so long.

Calling upon her studies of the creation spell, Celestia gifted a part of herself unto an unborn foal. She wanted a sister that would not pass on as the others did, and in her rising melancholy, she was blind to how reprehensibly selfish it was. Luna grew quickly, but began to avoid her overbearing sister, seeking to escape the bonds of need that Celestia unknowingly placed on her. Without the wisdom to understand her own weaknesses, Celestia passed her shortcomings on to her sister.

“I understand,” Twilight said. “I had the best friends anypony could ask for, and it took me years to overcome my insecurities. Even then, they never really went away. I can’t imagine having to carry another pony’s troubles as well.”

“Oh, but you already do!” East Wind's voice was suddenly loud and full of life as she placed a hoof on Twilight’s shoulder. “That is your greatest strength, Twilight. Over so many lifetimes, Celestia learned what it meant to love freely and unconditionally. Luna paid the price of the mistakes that brought us here, but we learned. Celestia can only move along the bloodlines of that first spell, but some ponies are more connected than others, and only a few of those ponies have enough heart to—”

“Become Celestia.” Twilight’s tone was flat and quiet. “I get it. Everything she said makes sense. She waited until the last possible moment. She gave me everything I needed to work things out for myself and watched at every step as I did it. I had to understand what it means to love, and be loved, without selfishness.”

She looked into East Wind’s eyes and creased her brow. “Tell me about Cadance. She aged normally, so what does this mean for my brother?”

“No need for that look, Twilight. Luna’s first life was a normal one: love, laughter, a mate, her own foals. Celestia couldn’t accept it, and it has taken her a thousand years of penance to learn what Luna did in just decades. Nonetheless, Luna has a direct bloodline, and once in a while it crosses the creation spell strongly enough to birth a mortal princess. What I can say is that you and your brother had something of an unfair advantage when it came to winning her heart. I have always been able to feel you in the same way, just as I could feel exactly how much time you had left at the end. You, Celestia, and I… we’re family, Twilight…” East Wind drew alongside Twilight and squeezed her with a wing. “Unorthodox, I admit, but still family.”

“Luna’s first life... so she does the same thing as Celest—as you?”

Twilight felt a deep hollow welling up inside herself. She looked into East Wind’s eyes and saw it reflected back at her, remembering the weighty look on Celestia’s face before she asked her questions. It was Celestia’s love they shared, without doubt, but it was also Celestia’s guilt.

“Luna is less choosy—more whimsical—than Celestia has been,” East Wind said, her eyes downcast. “It is not for me to speak for her, but I will say that it was my fault. Things I said and did provoked her—she used the creation spell, but she chose unwisely. The Elements, they... I envied her, Twilight, and I forgot to love her. The Elements of Harmony washed away that mistake, but she has been afraid to move on ever since, and it’s my fault. But you have loved her as much as I. So much so that sometimes I wondered if you already knew, deep down, that we were all—”

“Sisters,” Twilight whispered. The energy inside her swirled, wrapping around the hole and cradling it, warming it, caressing it. “Soul-sisters.”

“Always.”

“So what do I do now?”

East Wind raised her head. “Are you saying yes?”

“Of course I’m saying yes!” Twilight puffed her chest out. “You knew this is my every dream come true; that’s why you asked me to trust your judgement. You prepared me for this, but you said Celestia is in you, as if you’re separate. How does that work?”

“Look around you.”

Suddenly, Twilight was back in the sunny meadow. Dozens of ponies of all types and colours surrounded them, all staring blankly at her. Twinkle stood next to the three small fillies, the young Celestias, but the rest Twilight didn’t know. She trotted forward, balking for a moment when every pair of eyes followed her. “Can... you talk? What are your names?”

“We are Celestia…” the voices all said in perfect harmony.

Twilight’s hooves chewed up the soft grass and she backpedalled.

“…And we love you, Twilight.”

Her breaths came quickly, her wide eyes boring into East Wind’s. “You… you’ll become one of them?” The pegasus just smiled.

“Yes. Celestia is in me, and when we move on, I will fade into the choir. That choir will bestow you with boundless love, as it has me. No pony was meant to live forever, Twilight. It has been a hundred and twenty years, and it has been magnificent. But I know what comes next and I welcome it, as I welcome you. I will guide you for a little while, but after that, you’ll know what to do.”

Twilight’s gaze swept the assembled ponies. “Just tell me it will all be worth it,” she said, her voice trembling. “I’ll believe you.”

“You can already feel what it means to become her: the love, the confidence, the compassion. You already know the answer, and we trust that you can do what is being asked. But not everypony wants to, Twilight. Without choice—without freedom—love is meaningless.”

Twilight snorted. She covered her mouth with a hoof, but proceeded to giggle behind it.

East Wind cocked her head and frowned. “Something funny?” she asked, but Twilight’s giggles only worsened.

After a few moments, and a few deep breaths, Twilight stood up straight and cleared her throat. “Don’t worry, Princess. You’ll know soon enough.”

She leaned forward and kissed East Wind on the lips.

~~~

Twilight Sparkle, how dare you! For that, you absolutely will inherit my ‘cheesy’ sense of humour…

~~~

The golden glow of morning penetrated eyelids too heavy to open. She lay there, a kaleidoscope of new thought and feeling coiling through her mind: decades of torture and centuries of pain held tenderly by a hundred lifetimes of love and compassion.

It was a scar that would never heal, a lost foal that would never grow up. But she smiled—she couldn’t resist. She loved that foal with a passion she’d never known, and that foal loved her in return. Every inch of her skin tingled as the wellspring of vitality bubbled up inside. Her face warmed, the temperature under the heavy sheets rising quickly. Her nose wrinkled and her face scrunched up tightly. It was time to be awake. Time to be alive. Truly, truly alive.

The sheets flew up and Celestia burst into motion, pouncing from the bed to the open floor beyond. She arched her back, stretched her wings and legs, and shook her head vigorously. Everything was new, yet utterly natural. Her mind flooded with images of a little purple filly, eyes impossibly wide with awe, and a princess, regal and majestic. Her eyes moistened and she let out a muted gasp. She remembered loving Twilight; she remembered loving Celestia.

Her heart soared… until it almost stopped.

Twilight Sparkle was no more. “Oh, no…” In the blink of an eye, the bed was made with a golden aura, and the pillows freshly fluffed. She looked at the sun streaming through the window; time didn’t seem to have passed, but she knew that. Of course she knew that! This wasn’t the first time... was it?

She took a deep breath and pulled doors to the bedroom open. Luna stared back at her, eyes flicking once towards the bed before she strode in.

“Sister…” Luna’s eyes narrowed. “Celestia?”

The things we did to you, Luna. I promise I will never stop telling you how much I love you.

“Sweetie …Belle,” Celestia called out.

Sweetie Belle’s head crept into view around the doorframe, and her jaw fell open in slow motion. “Twilight!” She bounded into the room, attention fixed on the empty bed. “Twilight! Where are you?”

“I’m sorry, Sweetie Belle. Twilight is gone.”

“No! She promised!” She spun in place, eyes searching feverishly, but there were no corners to this room, no dark places in which to hide. After a second twirl, she glared at Celestia. “Ponies don’t just disappear! Where is she?”

Celestia stepped closer, her soft features unblemished by the outburst. “Not where, Sweetie Belle,” she said, so quiet as to be barely heard. “Just... gone.”

The fire in Sweetie Belle’s eyes flickered and waned. “But... she promised! I’m not ready. I...” A moment later, she began to tremble.

“I’m sorry.” Celestia pressed forward again, sliding one leg around the smaller mare and pulling her into an embrace. She tucked her nose just under Sweetie Belle’s ear, as Twilight had done so many times. “Everything about Twilight Sparkle was magical. This is no different. A star that burned so brightly could not burn forever.”

Sweetie Belle tensed. Suddenly, she wriggled and pulled herself from Celestia’s embrace. “I’m sorry,” she said between sniffles. “I just... I mean, you don’t have to...”

“Look at me.” Sweetie Belle shrunk back, but obeyed. “You, among all ponies, know how close Twilight and I were. She told me so much about you that I feel like I already know you. You made her very, very happy, and that makes you very special to me, too. She told me how much you have suffered, but that you always returned love to those who gave first. I see how much it comforted you to care for her, but now, please allow me to give what I can, and do not doubt that you deserve it.”

Sweetie Belle shrank further, and behind her, Luna settled to her haunches.

“I don’t know what to do,” Sweetie Belle said weakly. She offered no resistance when Celestia stepped towards her, being slowly swept up in the princess’s gentle embrace.

“Grieve, my little pony. Let your feelings go. Do not be afraid of how much you will miss her.” She stroked Sweetie Belle’s shoulder lightly until the mare began to squeeze back. “I will be here for you, always. This I promise.”

“Be careful, sister.” Luna’s voice was hard and even. “We have all lost a dear friend today, but rash promises are unwise, even if I know them to be of pure intent.”

Celestia squeezed a little tighter. Sweetie Belle squeezed back. Both were silent.

“Sweetie Belle,” Luna continued, spreading her wings. “I believe Celestia needs her time to grieve, too. I am deeply sorry that I have not paid enough attention to the friend of my friend, but I would welcome some company while my sister takes some alone time.”

Lifting her head, Celestia faced down a stare every bit as hardened as that stressed word. “I…” She released her embrace slowly, letting teary-eyed and sniffling Sweetie Belle steady herself. “You’re right, Luna. Perhaps I need some time to… find myself. But I meant every word, Sweetie Belle; I—we—will be here for you. Will you allow me to leave you in Luna’s capable hooves?”

Sweetie Belle nodded. Despite standing between both princesses, she straightened up and looked Luna in the eyes. “I don’t want to go home,” she said quietly.

“On the contrary, little one. This room has been your home for many days now; it is where your heart remains.” Luna stepped closer and slid a wing around her new ward. “Twilight was one of few ponies who could get me to speak of my feelings, but when the time is right, perhaps we might share our memories of her together? In the meantime I… I could use the company, also.”

When Sweetie Belle sank into Luna’s care, cloaked in a night-blue wreath of feathers, Celestia finally paced towards the door with a smile. Warmer, more cherished company you will not—

She stopped. By the time she looked over her shoulder, Luna was already fixing her with a pointed stare. “Luna, you are both such wonderful little sisters. It is a terrible thing for soul-sisters to be parted. Don’t you think?”

For a moment, there was nothing, then Luna’s eyes sprang wide and she looked down at the demure unicorn snuggled against her. With a faint sneer on her lips, she turned her nose up and huffed, gripping Sweetie Belle tighter with one wing and waving Celestia off with the other.

Celestia crept slowly away and the doors slammed shut on her rump before she was through. She stared out across Canterlot from the open balcony, closed her eyes, and soaked in the sounds and smells of the busy capital.

Luna, forgive me, but I just know that you will find her as wonderful and loving as I have. Open you heart to her, and perhaps we sisters can be together… forever.

THE END

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