> Sun and Hearth
>  by bookplayer
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

> 1 - Power and Strength
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Canterlot’s restaurants and nightclubs were emptying their ponies onto the already crowded street in the dim light just before dawn. The throngs all headed in the same direction, towards Grand Square in front of the palace. Most of the ponies were already late for getting a spot with a good view of the Summer Sun Celebration.

A beige, brown-maned earth pony known as Chocolate Chip walked through the crowds with a purpose. He wasn’t a young stallion, somewhere in middle age by appearance, but he had an energy about him that fueled a swift, sure pace. A yard behind him stumbled his friend Wrightwood, a short, stocky pony to begin with and currently bleary-eyed and well in his cups.

“What I’ll never get about raising the sun is why Celestia’s gotta do it so early,” Wrightwood muttered loudly over the sound of hooves and voices around them. 

“Perhaps she’s a morning pony,” Chocolate Chip said with a smile, not bothering to glance back.  

“She oughta have a little mercy on the rest of us then. Especially at the Summer Sun Celebration.”

“She might be more inclined to mercy if you’d had less to drink.” Chocolate Chip chuckled and took a turn down an alley with no outlet. “As is, I think she’d find it as amusing as I do.”

“Thanks, Chip. Glad somepony is laughing.” Wrightwood frowned. “Where are we going? We’re never gonna be able to see from over here.”

Chocolate Chip was already standing in front of a door well off the street between two trashcans. “Trust me, I know where I’m going.” 

Wrightwood raised an eyebrow. Both ponies had traveled there from Rainbow Falls. Wrightwood had been born in the small town, and Chocolate Chip had lived there since before that, even. But Chocolate Chip had assured his young friend that he could show him around Canterlot, and he wasn’t lying; he knew the town like the back of his hoof.

He opened the door into a stairwell in an office building, and started up the stairs. Chocolate Chip knew the building was about a hundred years old, dating back to the construction after the rockslide that led to the closing of the Canterlot mines. At the time, the captain of the guards had proposed several buildings around Grand Square be built with balconies so that he could keep an eye on crowds. More recent guards had other methods, but the balconies remained and were open to the public if one knew how to access them.

When they reached the third floor, Chocolate Chip opened a door onto one of those balconies. There were a few other ponies there. A father and two foals stood towards one side of the balcony, one of the foals perched on his back for a better view, and on the other side was a group of three mares dressed to the nines. Still, there was plenty of room for Chocolate Chip and Wrightwood to take a spot against the rail of the balcony between the groups. 

From there the view to the stage in front of the palace was clear, well over the heads of the shadowy sea of ponies filling the square below. The royal heralds were already taking their places at their instruments.

“Wow.” Wrightwood blinked and leaned his head over the rail. “How’d you know about this?”

Chocolate Chip smiled. “I know a pony who lives around here.” 

A few moments went by as the heralds tuned their instruments. Chocolate Chip watched the crowd below, occasionally glancing at the other ponies sharing the balcony. 

He tilted his head to one side and asked Wrightwood, “What is the meaning of the Summer Sun Celebration, to you?”

Wrightwood cast a sideways glance at him. “What do you mean? You party all night and then watch the sun come up.”

Chocolate Chip shook his head. “I mean the true meaning. If you had to state it.”

“Like the true meaning of Hearth’s Warming? What ponies would learn in stories?” Wrightwood turned to him, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes.” Chocolate Chip smiled. “I’m well aware of the true meaning of Hearth’s Warming, so what is the true meaning of the Summer Sun Celebration?”

One of the mares to their right spoke up, “It celebrates when Princess Celestia defeated Nightmare Moon, right? She said that last year, or something. But now it’s also when Princess Luna turned good again.”

“And what does that mean to you?” Chocolate Chip asked her, glancing over with a smile. 

The mare, a unicorn in an orange party dress, squinted in thought. “That Equestria is safe?”

Chocolate Chip raised an eyebrow. “Are you aware how many monsters have nearly destroyed it in the past several years?”

She shrugged. “Well, yeah, but they didn’t destroy it.”

“‘We aren’t dead yet.’” Chocolate Chip chuckled. “I suppose that’s a valid reason for a holiday.” 

“What’s it mean to you?” another of the mares asked, this one in a purple dress.

Chocolate Chip looked over at the palace. “I’ve always thought it celebrates Celestia herself, whatever she means to you as a princess.” 

“I could see that,” the mare agreed. “I’ve always liked Princess Celestia. She seems really nice.”

On the other side of the balcony, the filly grinned from her father’s back. “She’s beautiful.”

“I’m sure nopony could argue with that.” Chocolate Chip grinned back.

“I wanna be a princess when I grow up,” the foal announced to the gathered ponies.

“I suggest becoming an actor instead.” Chocolate Chip smirked at her. “It’s roughly the same thing, but far less stressful and fewer monsters kidnap you.” 

The purple-dress mare looked at the palace, then back at Chocolate Chip. “What does she mean to you as a princess?” 

Chocolate Chip raised his eyebrows. “As a princess? Power and strength. The power to defeat Nightmare Moon, to judge and command the finest ponies in Equestria, to take action when action must be taken. The strength to bear the world, or at least the sun on her shoulders, to forgive her foes and move forward, and to overcome any number of disappointments without flinching. Whatever happened the day before, and whatever might lay ahead, the sun rises each day in all of its glory, and today we see the princess who makes that so.”

“Yeah, that’s what I was gonna say.” Wrightwood nodded solemnly. 

“That’s remarkable, considering you couldn’t repeat a word of it in your current state.” Chocolate Chip gave him a sideways glance. 

“I woulda said it anyway.” Wrightwood said with another nod. 

Chocolate Chip smirked. “I have no doubt about that.”

The fanfare began, and the ponies on the balcony all focused on the ceremony. Towards the back of the stage Celestia, Luna, and Twilight Sparkle entered. Chocolate Chip had never seen Twilight Sparkle in the flesh before, though he’d heard enough about her, so he watched her as the three made their way to the front of the stage. He had to smile; she made a common contrast to the regal older alicorns with their flowing manes, but in his personal opinion it was just what such a scene needed. 

Then Celestia stepped forward, and Chocolate Chip gave her his attention. His smile grew soft, and he could easily imagine the warm breeze of her mane floating around him and the scent of lilacs that clung to her coat.

She offered the crowd a warm smile, and spoke clearly enough to be heard at the back and probably down the side streets as well. 

“Citizens of Equestria. The past year has brought many challenges to our great nation, but it brought opportunities in equal number. As I raise the summer sun this year, it warms my heart to know that it shines its light on not only the ponies of Equestria, but on so many friends, old and new, all across the world.”

Stepping back, Celestia gave a small nod to Luna. Luna rose into the air, her horn glowing, and the moon lowered in the sky behind her, framing her in its dim light. It had been a very long time since the last time Chocolate Chip had seen this magic, and he studied Luna with distant curiosity. 

On the stage, Celestia’s wings gave a strong beat and she soared up next to her sister. For a moment, he forgot he was Chocolate Chip, and smiled for her alone.   

As her horn glowed, and the sun lit the horizon and traveled up the sky behind her, an awe swept over him. It was a crown larger and grander than any gold a pony could place on their heads, and it fit her so naturally and gracefully that the pony seemed to disappear into the princess. It was a bittersweet moment for him, this Celestia wasn’t his Celestia, but she deserved all of the admiration it inspired in him and every pony present.

Even with Luna in control of the moon, and Twilight Sparkle making a quick flythrough to shine the six-pointed star in the sky like a firework, this was Celestia’s day; the day she demonstrated the power and glory she held, so that ponies could celebrate it as the strength of Equestria itself. 

All three alicorns landed on the stage in the fresh sunlight, and the crowd gave a loud cheer as they nodded to everypony. Chocolate Chip joined in, stomping his hooves and grinning. 

He caught sight of Wrightwood next to him, wincing at the noise, and gave a chuckle. “Well, now that you’ve seen it, let’s get you back to the hotel so you can sleep it off.”

“That sounds great,” Wrightwood said earnestly. 

As they traced their path back the streets weren’t empty, but they had beat the mass of ponies that would be along any moment. Chocolate Chip slowed his pace to walk beside Wrightwood. 

Wrightwood appeared to be thinking very hard, but eventually he spoke, “What do you think it’s like, raising the sun?”

Chocolate Chip raised an eyebrow. “Impossible.”

“Well yeah, for us.” Wrightwood rolled his eyes. “I meant for her.”

With a sigh, Chocolate Chip looked into the distance ahead. “I think it’s difficult, especially doing it every day, for thousands of years. I’m certain there are mornings she’d rather be sleeping in her warm bed. But she does it to care for her subjects, and I think she enjoys that.”

Wrightwood shrugged. “Looks easy when she does it here.”

“Everything she does looks easy.” Chocolate Chip smiled. “But if it was easy, we wouldn’t need her.”

“I thought you always said we didn’t need a princess?” Wrightwood smirked and gave him a shove. 

Chocolate Chip raised his eyebrows with a smirk. “I’ve never thought that we do. But we undoubtedly need Celestia.”





The fine tapestries inside the tent were dusty. Everything was dusty in Everfree, as refugees from the three great cities trotted dirt paths, sawed wood, and laid stones. On those common occasions when different ponies tried to do all three in the same place, they wound up at the tent in question to work it out. Technically the large, magical tent belonged to Platinum of Monoceros, but since it already had a table for six it was now serving as the council chamber for the new city. 

At that moment, the council was supposed to be having a meeting, pending the arrival of Puddinghead. 

Smart Cookie stood towards the head of the table, by the entrance to the tent, examining the much-edited official map of Everfree. He was a young stallion with a coat the color of a chocolate chip cookie and a deep brown mane, and the intensity with which he studied the paper on the table bespoke a nervous excitement he’d felt since he stepped out of the cave and into the new world of Equestria. 

On a stool next to him sat Pansy, pale blue with a neatly cropped white mane. A scroll was laid out flat in front of her and a quill at the ready. She habitually wore the flat expression and military posture her career demanded, but she caught Cookie’s eyes and nodded towards Clover with a smirk. 

At the foot of the table scrolls were shoved haphazardly in front of Clover, her purple-maned head bowed over one as her magic floated three more from the large pockets of the mage robes that covered her green body. 

Cookie chuckled. “By the stars, Clover. Did you bring your whole library?”

“Just enough to turn a nosy earth pony into a teapot,” she said absently, scanning another scroll. “Here it is!”

“I think you ought to reconsider,” Cookie said, raising an eyebrow. “We’ve got quite enough teapots, but we’re still short an earth pony.” 

Puddinghead shoved her way through the tent flaps. She was a small red pony with her mane in a huge bun which perched precariously on top of her head. The bun seemed to wobble with each brisk step she took, but Cookie had never once seen it come undone. 

She took the seat at the head of the table with a huff. “Alright, you lot, I’m here. What’s boring today?” 

The other ponies present all blinked or arched an eyebrow at her, but Cookie was far too used to Puddinghead to be even slightly surprised. “Clover’s got a load of scrolls over there, I’m sure she could pull together some paperwork for you.” He smirked. “I know how you miss it.”

Puddinghead chuckled, her bun wobbling. “I miss that I didn’t get a chance to burn the blasted archives to the ground before we bugged out of Girthshire, if that’s what you mean.”

Cookie just shook his head with the same smirk. 

“Can we finally begin?” Hurricane asked, standing on the other side of the table from Cookie, his gray form hard and unmoving as if he’d been carved from granite. 

“I have new business.” Clover stood from her spot at the foot of the table, the scroll she’d apparently been looking for floating in front of her in her magic. “I’ve had a letter from that stars-damned bastard who wandered off and didn’t so much as write when we were all freezing to death, though I know for a fact he’s got scrying magic and is probably watching right now, and if he is he can shove his blasted bells—”

Cookie cleared his throat. “Clover?”

“Sorry.  So, I’ve had a letter from Star Swirl, and he might have a solution to our head of state issue. He’s been teaching two princesses—”

“That explains why Clover’s concerned about where his bells have been,” Puddinghead muttered, loud enough to be heard by all. 

Clover frowned and pulled herself up to her full height. “I’ve no idea what you’re talking about, Puddinghead. Star Swirl is a grown stallion and he can do as he pleases. I got by just fine without him, despite nearly dying, and just because that son of a dog was spending that time in a cushy castle surrounded by beautiful young mares—”

“Clover.” Cookie tried not to chuckle. 

“No, go on. This is much more interesting than government,” Platinum said with a wave of a hoof. She had forgone the table entirely for sprawling her white body across a cushioned bench against one wall, her long blonde mane and tail brushing the floor.

Hurricane frowned. “Princesses, Clover.”

“Right.” Clover nodded. “He heard about Equestria, and thought it might be a good idea for us to consider them as rulers. They’re sisters with a small kingdom to the east, which they’d be pleased to join with the land we’re claiming. The eldest has been ruling since her mother died, and is well regarded there.” 

Platinum furrowed her brow. “I don’t recall any kingdoms to the east… what noble houses are they related to?”

Clover turned to Platinum. “Here’s where it gets interesting. They’re not unicorns, they’re alicorns.” She turned back to the council members at the table. “They’ve got a horn and wings and more magic than a whole city block in Monoceros. The younger one only just got her cutie mark and can move the moon herself. The eldest can raise the blessed sun.” 

Platinum sat up, her eyes wide. “That’s impossible.”

“Not for alicorns, apparently,” Clover said with a shrug.  

Cookie rolled his eyes. “So not only are we discussing handing Equestria over to two unknown ponies and giving them royal positions, but they’re powerful mages as well? It should be fascinating to witness the magical destruction of yet another nation.” 

Hurricane glared at him. “You can’t still think we ought to try democracy.”

“As a matter of fact, I do.” Cookie met the glare with a stubborn frown. “I mean, having recently displayed our stunning lack of foresight, I question the wisdom of putting two ponies in charge for a lifetime, right from the start.”

“It wouldn’t be a lifetime, Cookie.” Clover shook her head. “Alicorns are immortal, so it’d be more or less permanent.”

Cookie stared at her, then looked around the tent at the others. “Are you all out of your blessed minds!?”

Clover gave him a sympathetic look. “I wouldn’t even consider it, but Star Swirl speaks so highly of them.”

“And you speak so highly of Star Swirl,” Cookie said dryly. 

She frowned. “I’ve got some personal things to work out with him, but I trust his judgement above anypony.”

“But his is the only judgement we have.” Cookie shook his head and paced across the back of the tent. “Every other pony we’ve discussed has a sterling reputation throughout at least one of the old nations, and in those cases we were talking about their rule for only a lifetime.”

“Yes, but one of the problems with that is we can’t know the nature of their heirs. That isn’t a problem here,” Pansy pointed out, her flat, relaxed expression unchanging. 

Cookie raised his eyebrows as he paced. “The problem here is that we don’t even know the nature of the ponies.” 

“Star Swirl says the eldest is well regarded by her subjects; she’s known to be intelligent, just, kind, and honorable,” Clover said, glancing at the scroll. 

Pausing for just a second, Cookie waved a dismissive hoof. “They hail from some backwater kingdom, who knows what the ponies there expect of a leader.”

“Cookie, our ‘nation’ is currently a tent city.” Platinum rolled her eyes. 

Cookie shot her a disapproving look. “Not for long…”

Puddinghead smirked at him. “Yes, in another few weeks we may move up to being a shantytown if it rains.”

Cookie returned to the table and tapped the map of Everfree with a hoof. “I’m pointing out that while we might not have much in the way of settlement, we have quite a lot of ponies. Ponies who, until very recently, were more than willing to spit on a pony of another tribe unless he happened to be on fire. Maintaining our ideals is going to require a pony with a fine mind for diplomacy, and the respect and support of the ponies who live here.” 

Clover nodded. “Which is Star Swirl’s point. Alicorns are ponies, but not of the tribes.”

“Then perhaps she could run for office,” Cookie said with a shrug. 

Puddinghead gave a laugh. “This is why I was Chancellor and you got all of a hundred votes. You have to be wearing your tail for a hat to be this blind to an electorate.”  

Cookie shot her a dark frown, but Puddinghead went on, oblivious, “The tribes are each going to run a pony. Say she did run, she’s going to pull a number of the unicorns, they like princesses—”

“With good reason.” Platinum ran a hoof through her mane. 

“—and a hoofful of bloody-minded earth ponies. The sort who actually voted for you. All the while, the pegasi are going to vote how they’re told, every blasted feather—”

“Watch your tongue, Puddinghead,” Pansy said with a dry stare.

Puddinghead didn’t miss a beat, “Every blasted pony. Apologies. Anyhow, we might as well put Hurricane in charge right now.”

Hurricane snorted. “Who said I want to run this mad house?”

“Well you’re not going to have a choice if Cookie gets his way.” Puddinghead gestured to Cookie. 

Cookie shot Puddinghead a glare. “He doesn’t have to run for office if he doesn’t want to. And besides, there are other methods. Perhaps we could have each tribe select the leader for, say, two years. Then the next tribe gets a go.”

Puddinghead raised her eyebrows, but her face softened. “Cookie, every blessed pony in charge would be facing two thirds of the population who don’t want him there, and that’s assuming the whole tribe wanted him there in the first place.”

Frowning, Cookie looked around the tent and gestured with a hoof. “We could rule. As a council.”

Clover offered a sympathetic smirk. “We’re so good at coming to conclusions.”

“We came to one last week,” Puddinghead pointed out. “We voted that Cookie needed to shut up about democracy."

Hurricane raised an eyebrow. “Effective government there.”

Cookie shook his head. “I’m sorry you lot are tired of this—”

“Apology accepted.” Platinum smiled. “Next business?

“—but answer me this.” He rested both forehooves on the table and leaned towards the other ponies. “How are we to promote a nation based around respecting all ponies equally, when we begin by raising two ponies above all others? How are we to say that neither wings nor horns nor their lacking mark a pony as superior, yet a crown and a castle do just that? How can we say that ponies are free to live their destiny however they like, except for one position, the highest in the land, that we’ve selected for them indefinitely?”

“Use your words to tell ponies that, Cookie,” Clover said gently. “You’re never short of them. Explain why we’re doing it this way, but that the foundation of Equestria is that unity.”

“Why we’re doing it this way?” Cookie raised an eyebrow. “Because Star Swirl had a couple of spare princesses lying about?”

Pansy looked at him with her even expression and said plainly, “Because we need leadership that ponies can look up to. This is new for all of us, and a lot of ponies are going to be nervous. We need a pony who’s not going to try to remake Monoceros or Girthshire or Hippocampus, who’s not going to be accused of playing favorites among the tribes. And we need that pony to be stable and powerful and intelligent, to make sure that ponies feel secure, and noble and honorable and good so that ponies can have a sense of pride in her, and in Equestria.”

She looked around the table and motioned to Clover. “Star Swirl offers us two young, powerful princesses, one of them already experienced in rule. She’s not of any tribe, not of the three nations, and he vouches that she’s honorable and intelligent and true. If we meet her and find that’s the case, she and her sister may be just what we need, and anypony ought to be able to understand that.”

“They are ponies, Pansy.” Cookie rolled his eyes and gestured with a hoof. “What you describe is a commander and mother and statespony and statue all in one. What pony can live up to that?”    

Clover frowned and looked down at her scroll. “Well, she’s right that it’s what we need at the moment, stars help us, so let’s hope Princess Celestia can.” 

Cookie hung his head with a sigh. Then he felt a friendly pat on his shoulder.

“Now Cookie, there’s going to be a charter,” Puddinghead said. “You can write it up, if you want, and we’ll see if we can keep negotiations under a decade. And we can set up an advisory council with all of us on it. Even if we can’t agree on anything, she’ll at least hear what we have to say about it.”

“Does everypony agree that I write the charter?” Cookie looked up, raising his eyebrows at the other ponies. 

Clover smiled. “Just keep it under four feet of scroll.”

“Well in that case, by all means!” Platinum nodded with a smile. 

Cookie chuckled, and after a long pause he gave a nod. “Very well. Have Star Swirl bring them. Let’s see what this Celestia pony can do for our beautiful mess of a nation.”
> 2 - A Bitter Taste
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was a warm summer day, about a week past the Summer Sun Celebration, and Chocolate Chip didn’t look up from his garden as he heard the gate open. He would know the nature of his visitor soon enough by the name they used for him, so he continued weeding the crab grass from his carrot patch. It left an awful taste in his mouth, but left unchecked it would do worse than that to the carrots.  

His small house sat an inconvenient walk from Rainbow Falls, surrounded by the garden, then a little white fence, then several miles of woods. Anypony who might venture from the village knew him as Chocolate Chip. It fit both his cutie mark of a cookie with wheat stalks crossed behind it, and the delicious baked goods he offered to guests or traded to the ponies in town.

But Chocolate Chip was not his name, and the few ponies who knew that would make for an entirely different kind of visit.

“So, Smart Cookie, you walk Equestria to this day.” Her cold voice was instantly familiar. 

A calm, deep breath readied his wits. He didn’t fear her, he made it a point not to, but neither had made any attempt at contact since her return. Whatever her business was today, he would not be caught unprepared.

“So do you. It’s been a long time, Luna.” Smart Cookie looked up at her and smiled at her stony expression. “Not a flinch. I see a vacation has served you well.”

Luna frowned. “I do prefer Princess Luna.”

He wiped his mouth with a foreleg, the taste of dirt dulling the aftertaste of crab grass. “Yes, well I voted to style you two Maids of Equestria. It’s always seemed more fitting to me, as your job is to put the place in order, clean up the messes, and turn the lights on and off. But I never could sell anypony on it.”

Luna snorted and rolled her eyes. “Someday you will learn respect.”

“Someday you’ll understand it.” He smiled and walked to the door of the cottage. “But obviously we’re both out of luck today, so if that what’s you came to check on, I’m afraid you wasted your time. However, I can offer you some tea, if you’ll come inside.”

He held the door open while she hesitated for a moment before striding past him. Her floating mane brushing against him felt like a cool draft, an unsettling contrast to the warm breeze he was used to when Celestia visited. It had been over two thousand years, but Cookie’s coat still stood on end at a chill.

Cookie’s small house seemed spacious; a trick of the eye due to slightly raised ceilings and bright pale yellow walls. The house only had three rooms: his bedroom, the kitchen, and the sitting room they entered. They were all uncluttered, with no more than a few antique pieces of furniture, and low bookcases lining the walls. 

Luna moved easily through the room to a large couch. She planted herself on it, straight and proud as a statue. Though she was very like her sister in face and form, Cookie always found the dark colors of her coat and mane to be stark and unnerving. Something did seem softer about her face, however, and he had to wonder if there might be a pony under the shell after all. 

Cookie left her there as he went into the kitchen and put together a tea tray. He smiled as he added a few samples of the day’s baking; he hadn’t expected her, but the simple corn muffins were exactly what he would have made if he had. Balancing the tray on his back, he carried it out and laid it on the low table in the center of the room. 

“Help yourself.” He motioned with a hoof. “So what brings you to see me?”

Luna paused for a moment, and Cookie waited for comment on his manners. But with a subtle quirk of her eyebrow, Luna’s magic poured her tea and brought her tea cup to balance perfectly on one hoof. 

“I came because no books in the Royal Library make any mention of having learned the nature of your longevity.”

“That’s because nopony has discovered it,” Cookie said, pouring his own tea and adding milk and a lump of sugar. He took a seat on a floor pillow across from her. 

Pausing, Luna took a small sip of her tea. “The books make no mention of you at all, save the ancient texts and history books.”

“Well, the stars know there’s enough about me in those.” Cookie rolled his eyes. “I’ve been enjoying the most recent ones, though. It seems I may have been a mare, or married to Platinum, or I didn’t even exist and was invented as some sort of propaganda to unite Equestria. Probably not all at once, though.”

“Why do you hide yourself?” Luna asked, raising an eyebrow.

Cookie took a long sip of tea. The milk washed away the last of the crab grass taste, but his expression was sour as he swallowed and shook his head at the question. “Living two thousand years in the public eye? I pity you and Celestia, expected to show infinite wisdom, patience, kindness, and the rest of it… ponies would be crazy to believe that of another pony, no matter how long they’ve lived. So, of course, they all do.”

Luna regarded him coolly, so he smirked at her as he went on, “I know I’m a fool. I was born a fool, and when I might die, I’ll die a fool. When Celestia needs my foolishness, she knows where I am. Everypony else has all the foolishness they’ll ever need without my presence.” 

“You are anything but a fool,” Luna muttered. Cookie thought he could detect a flash of amusement in her eyes. Then she said to him, “So it’s true then, nopony understands how you’ve lived this long?”

He shrugged. “Every few hundred years Celestia brings by some genius she’s found. They poke and prod and glow, but none of them have worked it out yet. Honestly, when Clover couldn’t crack it, I gave up, myself.”

“Has she brought Princess Twilight Sparkle to see you?” Luna cocked her head. The ice appeared to be melting, she seemed more curious than aloof. 

“No, I’ve not had the pleasure of meeting Twilight yet, though I expect it one of these days. Celestia speaks more highly of her than anypony other than me.” Cookie chuckled. 

Luna finally broke a small smile. “Jealous?”

“Never tried jealousy. Maybe I’ll give it a chance someday.”

“Well, it needn’t be today.” Luna’s smile warmed, a curious occurrence to her host. “I see my sister’s dreams; when they are of love, it is for you, as ever.”

Cookie smiled back with equal warmth. “See what I mean about infinite wisdom being a lie?”

“You could be a prince if you wished,” Luna pointed out, taking a sip of her tea.

He raised an eyebrow with a smirk.

Luna nodded. “Perhaps it is for the best.”

Cookie relaxed into his cushion. “We still haven’t established why you’re here. You can’t think that I know the secret of immortality and I’m keeping from everypony in Equestria, including your sister.”

She shrugged. “I had hoped that perhaps some progress had been made.”

“I’m guessing you have somepony in mind as the beneficiary?” Cookie teased.

Luna snorted. “No. Not myself.” She paused and finished her tea, floating the cup to the table. “Have you met Princess Cadance?”

Smart Cookie leaned over and helped himself to a corn muffin. As he ate, he shook his head no, then said once he finished, “Should I keep a guest book, to make it easier for you to keep track of my acquaintances?”

“She’s the alicorn of love, and has been for some time. And she has a husband.” 

“I know the name. I understand it was quite a wedding.”

“I wonder why you’ve not met her yet.” Luna’s brow furrowed.

He raised an eyebrow. “Does she normally go wandering around remote cottages looking for recluses?”

“My sister didn’t bring her to see you.”

“Have you considered that I’m not the pony you need to be speaking to?” Smart Cookie set down his teacup with a gentle clink. “Perhaps you should be asking your sister these questions.”

Luna’s expression didn’t change, but she cast her eyes down. After a long pause she said softly, “She may think I was meddling.”

He smiled. “I see. And you don’t care what I think.”

“That is not what I meant!” Luna said, glancing up so quickly that her tea sloshed in her cup.

“Isn’t it?” His smile turned grim. “Of course you wouldn’t want to offend your sister, you love her. But there’s no love to be lost between us, is there? Had I ordered you away you could have stomped off and soothed your ego that I was nothing but… how did you put it all those years ago? Celestia’s filthy mud pony plaything?”

“I would never—” Luna started to protest, then a slight cringe crossed her face. “I am sorry. I remember now, that was while the Nightmare courted me. It was wrong of me to speak that way.”

Smart Cookie shook his head. “Even then you didn’t care, Luna. I lived before Hearth’s Warming, I’ve been called a mud pony with more hatred than you could ever spare for me. You never cared to hurt me, you were trying to hurt Celestia by giving voice to what you’ve always thought: I am unworthy of her. Low born, ill-mannered, common. Not even a unicorn, but a mud pony.”

Luna closed her eyes and drew a breath. When she opened them, she looked Smart Cookie in the eye and said firmly. “You are one of the founders of Equestria, and one of the ponies who gave us our crowns. And you are special to my sister, which is more than enough to make you worthy of her. I realize now things I didn’t then, and I am sorry.” 

He held her gaze, studying her face. There was something deep in her eyes of the nervous young mare he’d seen crowned so long ago, and the rest seemed modeled on the sincere formality Celestia used on state occasions. He could find nothing of the cold superiority he held as her flaw. 

Finally he nodded. “I accept your apology.”

She nodded in return. “But, you should know that, worthy or not, my words came not from contempt, but from jealousy, as all my words and actions did in that dark time. Love was yet another thing my sister was granted which I was not.” 

Biting her lip, she glanced down again. “That’s why I come to you. My sister might leap to the conclusion that I’m asking out of jealousy, and she would have every right to believe that of me. But I am not. I’m asking because I see the dreams of the others, I know their fears. They fear loss, and loneliness, and heartache. And you may have a cure for these things, even if you don’t know what it is.”

“What do you want from me?” Smart Cookie asked, regarding her with a curious suspicion. 

“I want you to allow Princess Cadance and Princess Twilight to examine you,” she said, studying his reaction. “They are masters of magic that was barely known until recently. Indeed, Princess Cadance may be able to tell quite easily if Celestia’s love for you keeps you alive.” 

Cookie considered for only an instant. “No.”

Her brow furrowed. “What do you mean, no?”

“You feared being perceived as meddling, so let me advise you: This is the point at which you are meddling,” he said plainly. 

Luna’s head tilted, her eyes searching Cookie’s face. “But you’ve been examined before.”

“By ponies who thought understanding me might lead to medical breakthroughs.” He frowned. “For the good of other ponies, not to sate the curiosity of a few immature immortals who fear the natural order of the world.”

“This may still be for the good of other ponies,” Luna pointed out. “And it’s odd that you mock ponies for fearing the natural order, while refusing to look more closely at your own nature.”

Cookie raised his eyebrows. “I have fears, but death is not among them. I am nothing more than a very, very old mortal, and I have no reason to believe my end won’t come someday.”

“Yet you fear knowing when or how it may come,” Luna challenged. 

“That is not among them either. If a pony could tell me the second I will die, I’d happily note the information. And it’s a fool who doesn’t take precautions to prevent his own end.” He shook his head. “That’s why I refuse, and if Cadance’s husband lives to be my age, it will be because he did the same.”

Luna raised an eyebrow. “If Celestia’s love keeps you alive, you fear that knowing would break the spell?”

“I’m certain of it.”

Her eyes narrowed. “So you know more than you let on.”

Cookie shrugged. “I understand ponies, and I understand respect. You’ve always been blind to both of those.”

“I am learning.” Luna considered for a moment. “I know my sister, and her affection for Princess Cadance and Princess Twilight. So I shall have to bring my concerns to her, and see if she cares for them more than you do. And I know that, even if you have respect for no other pony, you have respect for her, so we shall see if she can talk sense into you.”

Cookie smirked. “That you think that will work shows how much you have yet to learn.”

“We shall see.” Luna stood and nodded to Cookie. “Farewell, and thank you for your hospitality.”

“You’re quite welcome,” he said from his cushion as she walked to the door. “Stop by anytime.”
> 3 - The Best Kind of Friend
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The large house still smelled odd to Celestia, more used to living in stone castles than the wooden building that was her temporary home. Looking out the window, she could see across the bustling young town of Everfree, where her future castle was being built of heavy, comforting stone. Laid out before her were all manner of houses and businesses of stone or wood, freshly finished or under construction. 

Work should have continued even now, but instead ponies milled in front of her home. Unicorns, pegasi, and earth ponies together gathered in small groups, nervously glancing at the building. At times fights broke out, and with each one her heart fell. She wanted to step outside and calm the ponies, but for that she would need a solution to offer them.

The window she stood before was in her temporary council chamber, where she was supposed to be focused on repairing the situation at hoof. Her mind only wandered the city to escape what surrounded her in the room. Luna looked to her, as did the founders of Equestria, and Star Swirl, with some mix of worry and discontent. 

All but one of the founders, at least. While most of them leaned forward or shifted anxiously, Smart Cookie leaned back and studied her, the hint of a smile on his face. 

That had been his way since they asked the sisters to rule. She could feel his contempt. It was well known that monarchy wasn’t his prefered form of government, and that he’d only agreed to the sisters' rule after being convinced of the strain elections might put on the newly united tribes. Even with the matter decided, when he spoke to her he called her Celestia; never Princess Celestia or Your Highness. There was no way to disrespect him in kind, he asked no honorific; he was simply Smart Cookie to everypony, high and low. 

And he watched her now, smiling at her discomfort.  

“Sister, what shall we do?” Luna whispered, her face barely concealing her panic.

Celestia didn’t know how to answer. She bit her lip, fighting the urge to look to Star Swirl and ask the same. She closed her eyes and tried to clear her mind. Magic couldn’t untangle this knot. 

The pegasi had dropped too much rain on the reservoir. They had to, Commander Hurricane claimed, or it would have run too far abroad for them to gather it back with their tornado. The surplus was unneeded now, but in a year’s time it would save countless hours of water gathering. 

But the dam had burst, and flooded the earth ponies’ fields, ruining their crops. There would be a shortage of food, and the earth ponies lay the blame at the hooves of the pegasi, while the pegasi lay the blame at the hooves of the earth ponies and unicorns who had built the dam and located their farms in the flood zone down river. 

The fields could be drained and the dam repaired. Some food could be saved, and she could send ponies around the countryside to gather wild food, though nopony would be happy with that. It would be hard work, and take ponies away from their families, and they would still end up carefully rationing all winter. Tensions were already growing between the tribes, and there seemed to be no answer that would ease that.

“Your Majesties? What is your plan?” Commander Hurricane asked, his face dark. His straight, proud military bearing reminded Celestia that even in united Equestria, the pegasi would stand as a tribe to defend their honor. 

Celestia hesitated. “We… we shall drain the fields, and send ponies to gather wild food for the winter.” She glanced at her judges. Their frowns deepened except for Smart Cookie, who nodded. She wondered how low his opinion of her must be, that this pitiful display was what he expected. 

“The earth ponies aren’t going to like that,” Chancellor Puddinghead warned. She carefully eyed Hurricane. “We want an apology and aid from the pegasi in draining and rebuilding our farms.”

“If this brings to mind the vision of a foal stomping his hoof and pouting, you’re not incorrect,” Smart Cookie said as an aside to Clover the Clever, though he was loud enough for everypony to hear. Clover cracked a smile, but Puddinghead just glared at him. 

“Unification was supposed to mean that we work together, not ‘dump everything on the earth ponies’,” she added.

“We don’t know how to build farms, and we’re still dealing with the weather surplus,” Captain Pansy pointed out. Her voice held sympathy that seemed to give Puddinghead pause, until Commander Hurricane’s harsh voice cut in:

“And as for an apology—” 

“You will issue one,” Celestia interrupted. “It was a mistake, no harm was intended, but the pegasi can still apologize for the suffering they accidentally caused the earth ponies. However, the earth ponies will rebuild their own farms, while the unicorns tend to repairs on the dam. And all three tribes will assist in gathering food, we shall need every set of hooves we can get.”

Smart Cookie raised his eyebrows. “The pegasi’s apology should help with that. By the time they’re done swallowing their pride, they shouldn’t need to eat until spring.”

Hurricane frowned and ruffled his feathers, pulling himself up to his full height. “A pegasus would never neglect an apology when they’re at fault!”

“A pegasus wouldn’t, you’re absolutely right.” Smart Cookie nodded. “That pegasus is Pansy. The rest of you…”

“If you were a pony of honor, I’d ask you to step outside,” Hurricane grumbled, shaking his head as he returned to his normal posture.  

Smart Cookie smiled. “If you held me to your code of honor, you would have done me in ages ago.”

Princess Platinum spoke up with a frown, “Princess Celestia, with all due respect, this is merely transferring the sour feelings from the earth ponies to the pegasi, while putting the weight of repairs on the shoulders of the earth ponies and the unicorns. It doesn’t actually solve anything.”

“Yes, and we’ll all still have to clean our own chamber pots, as well.” Smart Cookie idly waved a hoof. “Celestia has failed to solve all of our problems. She’s offered a partial solution which is logical and unbiased, so naturally everypony will hate it.” He paused and nodded to Celestia. “Well done.”

Star Swirl gave a snorting chuckle, while the rest of the founders reluctantly nodded. 

“Cookie is right,” Clover said, smiling at Celestia. “It’s an unfortunate situation, and there’s more than enough extra work to go around. Nopony is going to like that, and there’s nothing you can do to make them like it, but you’ve distributed it fairly.”

“Thank you, I’ll make the announcement now, before tensions escalate any further,” Celestia said, walking toward the door. While she felt no more certain of her plan, she was glad to know that it hadn’t cost her the respect of her council. Though far more important was whether it would cost her the respect of her ponies. 

At least if they hated it, they might direct that at her rather than the other tribes. 

“Celestia,” Smart Cookie’s voice cut through her thoughts. She looked up, and he smiled gently at her. “Would you mind if I said a few words first? That crowd out there is a bit rowdy.”

She frowned. “I’m sure I can explain my decision myself. It’s not complicated.” 

Smart Cookie nodded. “I’m sure you can explain your decision as well. I’d like to explain why they should listen to that. I’ve found, at times like this, ponies need to be reminded how to go about thinking before they try it themselves.”

Celestia tilted her head and considered what he might mean. Of course they would listen to her, they had been waiting all day for this news. And she knew not all ponies were capable of thinking rationally, she wasn’t sure what Cookie might say in a short speech to change that. She looked to Star Swirl.

Star Swirl stroked his beard. “Well I admit I’m curious. Cookie is well liked by working ponies, at least judging by the amount of time he spends loitering in tea shops and salt bars.” He raised an eyebrow at Smart Cookie, who just smirked in response. Star Swirl looked back to Celestia. “I doubt it could harm anything.”

“Very well,” Celestia nodded. “If you please, Smart Cookie?”

“Nothing would please me more.”

Celestia beckoned Luna to her side. Luna was barely out of foalhood, an awkward, gangly age for an alicorn, and Celestia tried to spare her the difficulties of rule. But she was also a princess and needed to take a share of responsibility for proclamations like this, so that ponies would respect her royal position as she assumed more duties.  

The two sisters led the council to the porch in front of the house, which served as a makeshift stage. The small groups of ponies gathered into a crowd in front of them, their faces and manes forming a sea of bright colors. Towards the back pegasi hovered above the crowd and earth ponies and unicorns stood on crates and carts for a better view. Hundreds of eyes watched, and those ponies would be the ones to report to the rest of the town what was said here today.

Taking a deep breath to calm her nerves, Celestia nodded to Smart Cookie as she stood to the back of the platform.

He stepped forward and the crowd hushed, save for a few voices calling out “Cookie, what’s the word?” “What’re we going to do?” 

One loud voice rose above them, “The pegasi will be made to fix this mess, right Cookie?”

A murmur of dissatisfaction followed, and several pegasi rose into the air, searching for the speaker.

Smart Cookie just grinned and answered, “If by ‘this mess’ you mean your mane, Barley, I understand there’s a fine pegasus barber you can see on Dressage Street.”

The crowd tittered and relaxed, and even Commander Hurricane gave an amused snort.

The grin on Smart Cookie’s face changed slightly, and he raised his eyebrows as he went on, “On the other hoof, if you mean this ridiculous display you ponies have been putting on all morning, I’m afraid we wouldn’t let the pegasi build a brig large enough to lock up the lot of you. Much to Commander Hurricane’s dismay.”

Muttered excuses and the shifting and pawing of hooves were the only sounds as the ponies otherwise grew quiet. 

“If, by some chance, you’re referring to the current situation facing all of the ponies in Everfree... Celestia is going to explain the plan going forward for this year.” He paused and looked out at the expectant faces, adding plainly, “It’s not a very good one.”

Celestia’s eyes went wide, and she felt a stab in her heart as a nervous laugh ran through the crowd. Was this his plan, to make her look a fool? 

“But it is the best one a ruler could offer. No proclamation can heal divides we choose to build and defend between tribes,” Smart Cookie said, glancing pointedly at the pony who had called to him before. Then he turned back to the rest of the crowd. “And no path forward will undo all of the damage done to our farms and crops. Those are not within the reach of the powers we granted these sisters, and they’re not within the power of anypony who might suggest they could do the job.”

Ponies nodded thoughtfully and glanced at each other and at Celestia. Many of them still looked nervous, but the tension had faded to worry. It mirrored what she felt in her heart though she managed to keep her demeanor calm and controlled. 

Smart Cookie seemed to see it in the audience as well, and answered them with a softer, serious expression. “We selected Celestia and Luna not because they are above all ponies, but because they can represent all ponies equally. Yes, they are young and untested, but they are intelligent and fair. Youth grows old and tests can be mastered, but character shines through it all.” 

He glanced back, and Celestia felt he intended that for her as much as the ponies in front of him. Then his attention returned to the crowd. 

“So with that in mind, I ask that we all do our best in the coming seasons. And I ask that we remember that what should be expected of our rulers, our fellow ponies, and ourselves is honor, integrity, and compassion… but never perfection.”

Amidst shouts of agreement and the stomping of hooves, Smart Cookie turned from the crowd and smiled at Celestia, offering her a wink as he trotted to a spot at the back of the platform.

Celestia felt the muscles in her back relax, and she breathed deeply for the first time that day; maybe the first time in months. She stepped forward and explained her plan with confidence, answering questions and making assignments to organize the various efforts. 

But through it all, her gaze continued to wander to the stallion in the doorway; no longer seeking approval or dreading reproach, but offering thanks. In return she felt no contempt from him, simply honest appraisal that she had no reason to fear. The things he valued in her were the things she valued in herself, she could look in a mirror and see if she was living up to them. Knowing that, she felt her heart open to him. She had found the best kind of friend. 

...and one with a rather attractive way of smiling at her, she had to admit. 


***


As the crowd of ponies started to disperse and Celestia and Luna went back inside their house, Smart Cookie stepped off the porch and into the bustling crowd of ponies in the muddy street. He started in the direction of the farms, to see if he could lend a hoof there and to make sure his part of the message made its way to those ponies along with the assignments for extra work.

He’d only gone a short distance when Clover trotted up beside him, slowing to walk in step. Ponies around them gave them a respectful berth; they were royal advisers after all, and probably going to be conferring about something terribly important like how badly the rationing would affect prices at the pub they went to after council meetings. He looked over and smiled at her as they stepped through a puddle; she didn’t even bother to magically lift her robes.

“Back to the library?” he asked her. 

She nodded, glancing over at him. “We’ve all got work to do. I take it you approve of Princess Celestia’s relief efforts?”

Cookie shrugged. “Get the place cleaned up and try to scrape some food together for winter? It sounds reasonable to me.”

“It was kind of you to give that speech,” Clover smiled.

“Ponies were going to mistake it for politics, rather than something that actually matters,” Cookie said with a chuckle. 

Clover rolled her eyes, the smile still on her face. “Still, you could have let her discover that on her own.”

Cookie gave a nod to a stallion who tipped his hat to them as they passed, then smirked at Clover. “I know it might seem otherwise to at times, but I don’t actually make a game of making things harder for other ponies.”

“Shall we put that to a vote?” She smirked back and gave a friendly nudge. “I’m just happy the princesses are overcoming your trepidations.”

“It was never the ponies themselves I took issue with,” he pointed out. “I see the wisdom in putting an alicorn in charge, and Celestia is undisputably an admirable pony, though I haven’t seen enough of the younger one to judge. It’s the trappings… the title, the castle.”

Clover shrugged. “They’re just trappings. They must be called something, and live somewhere.”

“And what’s wrong with calling them Celestia and Luna, and housing them in that rather well-appointed house they’re in now?” Cookie motioned back towards it with his head. 

“It’s the look of things, Cookie,” she explained patiently. “Ponies expect them to have a castle.”

“Well, I don’t.” Cookie frowned, looking around at the shops and houses and ponies going about their business, waving to those who waved to him. “You’re more used to it, so answer me, how can ponies help but expect more from a princess than a pony? How can they help seeing themselves as tools for her to use in the running of a kingdom, and being disappointed when she is not at all times a master statespony? It seems to me a recipe for disappointment and discontent on the one side and an iron cage ill-suited to any pony of flesh and blood on the other.”

Clover nodded, but her face turned to a sly smile. “I suppose that’s a fair assessment, but please, tell me again about the results of earth pony democracy?”  

Cookie smiled and snorted. “Everypony expects our politicians to be idiots, and nopony would trust them farther than we could throw them. If there’s an order of the world that can be observed from watching ponies, surely this is nature’s design for us.”

She chuckled. “Not everypony shares your pessimism.”

“Pessimism?” Cookie exclaimed with mock indignation. “To the contrary, it requires unabashed optimism or hopeless foolishness to believe we can work together and build a society in spite of that. You may take your pick as to which I display.” 

Clover shook her head, then glanced over at the windows of a hat shop. “Do you find Princess Celestia attractive?”

Cookie blinked. “I thought we were talking about government?”

“You’re always thinking about government, so you always think ponies are talking about it.” Clover smiled at him. “I was talking about the princesses. Do you find Princess Celestia attractive?” 

“Doesn’t everypony?” He shrugged. “I’ve heard five odes to her beauty this morning.”

Clover nodded, studying him with a sideways glance. “I suppose, but not everypony is bold enough to ask to court her.”

Cookie stopped short, his mouth falling open. He took a few steps at a trot to catch up to where Clover still casually walked on. “Clover, I believe that one of those potions of Star Swirl’s has finally driven you mad.”

“It’s mad to feel that you might need a special somepony in your life?” Clover smirked.

“It’s mad to feel that pony might be Celestia.” His brain was a jumble, trying to understand how the conversation had taken this turn, but that was the one thought he was certain of.

“Why is that mad?” Clover asked, tilting her head.

Cookie grappled with his other thoughts. “Because she’s a princess.”

“You don’t care a spark about that,” Clover pointed out, smiling.

“It would give the wrong appearance, politically.” He waved a hoof. “What’s the point of selecting an alicorn leader if she takes an earth pony husband?” 

“I don’t see a good number of alicorn stallions running about. The common ponies of all tribes love you.” Clover raised her eyebrows. “Of course, it would get under the skin of the nobles to see you so favored.”

Cookie gave her a grim smirk. “Clever.”

Clover chuckled. “That’s what they call me.” She looked over at him. “But, of course, I don’t propose this as a political alliance, I was merely answering your concern. You could keep the affair secret, if you liked.”

“Then why do you propose this?” Cookie furrowed his brow. “If it’s concern for my lovelife, there are more available mares than Celestia that you could throw at me.”

"Are there?” She grinned at him. “I pity the shopkeeper or farmer you try to court; one can only hope she has an unending patience for philosophical debate and a wit sharp enough to keep you at bay.” She shook her head at the thought. “Princess Celestia keeps counsel with Star Swirl, I know she’s your equal. There are few mares I could say that of.”

Cookie raised an eyebrow. “Is it perhaps that counsel she’s keeping with Star Swirl that’s behind all of this? Worried it might be getting closer than the counsel you keep?”

“I’d tell you that things between me and Star Swirl aren’t your business, but that would be rather rich of me right now.” Clover smirked. “Let’s just say that the experiments are coming along nicely, and I’m not at all worried that Princess Celestia might attempt to reproduce them. But I am worried about her. You spoke before of an iron cage ill suited to anypony of flesh and blood… from her conversations with Star Swirl, I fear she knows that’s her fate. He tries to help her become strong enough to bear it, but I can’t help but wonder if there’s a pony who could free her from that…”

“She’s the one building the castle, and the one who puts on the crown every day,” Cookie pointed out, frowning. As he said it, the same sympathies that made him speak on her behalf to the other founders and the crowd of ponies snuck back into his mind. 

Clover rolled her eyes. “Because it’s expected of her. Just… talk to her? See if she’d like the chance to take the crown off?”

Cookie looked down at his muddy hooves and gave a snort of laughter. It was utterly ridiculous, but he’d never get Clover off his back any other way. “Okay. Very well, I’ll ask if she’d like to join me for tea.” He smiled at Clover. “Happy?”

She shook her head. “No. I’ve still got to pore over maps all night to figure out the most likely places to find food outside the kingdom.” Then she gave him a gentle smile. “But I’m hopeful for the two of you, at least.”
> 4 - By the Stars
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The moon rose at its appointed time over Canterlot, and the stars formed their timeless patterns across the sky. Celestia watched from her balcony, treating herself to a raspberry chocolate eclair the kitchen sent up. The pastries the palace made were rich and unfilling; if they’d sent up six she would have eaten them all and probably given herself a stomach ache.

She took this time every night after lowering the sun to appreciate the stars for a few moments. They’d done so much for ponies, acting as a way to navigate and time the turning of the year, as illustrations for any number of stories, as something to wish upon, and as a reminder of just how little all of them, even alicorns, were, compared to the universe. When she was young, the stars had been called as witness to oaths, both important and frivolous, just as her name was used by ponies today. She wondered if the stars found it as amusing as she did; if what seemed constant and eternal to her was simply the course of a star’s life. They winked at her, and she smiled and went inside.

In her sitting room she found a new book and a tea tray. The book was one she’d been looking forward to reading, humorous essays by a unicorn chef in Manehattan. She’d come to prize this kind of book above all others; windows into the lives of ponies felt both familiar and yet unique, with interesting details nopony would have thought to explain to her. She soon found herself idly sipping a Zebrician brew and lost in the goings on of a busy Manehattan kitchen.

She was interrupted by a knock on the door to her sitting room, and reluctantly laid aside her book as she called, “Enter, please.”

Luna stuck her head through the doorway. “I don’t disturb you, I hope?”

“Not at all,” Celestia smiled with barely a glance at her book. “Would you like some tea?”

“Thank you,” Luna said with a nod, sitting across the tray from Celestia, while Celestia’s magic poured her tea and floated it to her. Luna regarded the cup with a satisfied smirk as she took it and took a sip.

Celestia raised an eyebrow. “I take it the tea meets your approval?”

Luna looked confused, then blushed. “Oh, yes, of course… I was thinking about somepony.”

“Somepony with lesser tea?” Celestia asked, taking a sip.

“Somepony with lesser manners,” Luna answered, rolling her eyes. “I’ve been to see Smart Cookie.”

Celestia's eyes darted to Luna, the only hint of her surprise. “And how was Cookie?”

“As infuriating as ever,” Luna grumbled. She glanced down at her tea, biting her lip, before she looked up and said, “Sister, there’s an important matter you must discuss with him. I tried, but even after accepting an apology for my previous behavior, he remained obstinate.”

Taking a sip of tea to suppress her smile, Celestia nodded. “He certainly can be. What’s so important that you’d bother trying to sway him?”

“I’ve seen the dreams of Cadance and Twilight Sparkle.” Luna paused, taking a sip of her tea.

A frown crossed Celestia’s face, and she felt a tension come over her. “There’s something there troubling enough to reveal?”

Luna nodded and continued, “There are fears there… Cadance fears losing Shining Armor one day. She loves him, he gives her strength, yet she knows an end will come. And Twilight fears to even open her heart. She can already imagine the pain of losing her friends, so she guards herself from losing love by hiding romantic feelings in the dark corners of her mind. It is my job to protect them, and assure that their dreams bring them comfort, but there’s no comfort I can offer.”

Celestia relaxed and nodded. “These are fears they’ll have to face, someday.”

“You haven’t had to face them,” Luna pointed out. Her face was steady, there was no accusation in her voice, but Celestia averted her eyes, regardless.

“I have lost ponies, Luna. Mentors, dear friends—”

“But not Smart Cookie,” Luna pressed. “Celestia, he lives through some magic, and if we can find it, Cadance and Twilight can know the comfort you’ve known.”

“I have tried,” Celestia answered. “I’ve taken a number of scholars, at the height of their powers, to try to find the answer. The magic or spell isn’t related to any school of magic they’d experienced.”

“You’ve not taken Cadance, nor Twilight.” Luna raised her eyebrows. “Sister, you know that given a puzzle like this, Twilight Sparkle will find the answer. She has the sharpest mind I’ve seen since Star Swirl passed away. And Cadance… Cadance is the master of love magic.”

“It’s true.” Celestia took a sip of her tea, once again avoiding Luna’s eyes.

“This is no accident. You keep this from them for a reason.”

“Yes,” Celestia said, daring a glance at her sister’s disapproving face. “For the reasons you just said. If you discussed the matter with Cookie, you know there are certain answers he doesn’t want to hear.” Celestia frowned and shook her head. “There’s no doubt in my mind that they could get to the bottom of this, but it’s becoming more likely that the bottom is a place we’d rather not get to.”

Luna took a sip of tea, considering. “Do you agree with whatever reason he has for not wanting to know? He wouldn’t explain the matter to me.”

Celestia sighed. “I… understand it. Maybe I don’t think it’s as dire as he does, but I respect him enough to make his own decisions about the issue.”

Once again, Luna’s eyebrows raised in mild surprise. “Even as it harms Twilight and Cadance?”

“It doesn’t really harm them…” Celestia said slowly, fighting her natural sympathy and desire to protect her beloved students from all pain. “They have fears, but what pony doesn’t? They’ll face them someday, and both of them are strong enough to conquer them.”

Luna nodded. “While you shall never have to.”

Whether Luna intended it or not, Celestia felt the cut in her words. She subtly drew herself up, strengthening her pose to lend weight to her next words. “I loved Cookie well before we realized we’d be together forever, and if he was going to die tomorrow, I’d still love him. I hope nopony who knows me thinks I would hide from those fears.”

“Of course not, Tia,” Luna protested.

Celestia nodded and relaxed, “And if it’s true that my love caused this, then someday Cadance will realize the same about Shining Armor, and we won’t need to concern ourselves with exactly why.”

“And if there’s some simple spell you enacted with Smart Cookie? One that Cadance could easily enact with Shining Armor, if only she knew?” Luna asked.

Celestia pressed a weary hoof to her temple. “Luna. I don’t make this decision alone. You said yourself, Cookie is obstinate on this point.”

Luna set aside her tea, leaning forward slightly. “He is when I speak to him. He’d do anything for you, Tia. You know that.”

“I don’t know that,” Celestia said firmly. “He may, but I’ve never asked him to do more than he pleased for me.”

“Then after so long, I would think he owes you, especially if your love has preserved him for all this time,” Luna pointed out.

Celestia shook her head, frowning. “Cookie owes me nothing. There is no balance sheet to our relationship.”

“One does not need a balance sheet to owe a debt of gratitude, or of honor.” Luna raised an eyebrow. “And it is not for yourself that you ask, Tia. It’s for Twilight and Cadance. I know that you love them, would you not do anything for them?”

“Don’t dare suggest that I need to choose between them and Cookie,” Celestia snapped with more force than she intended.

“Then I will not.” Luna shrank back slightly, taking up her tea again and taking a sip. “But what about Smart Cookie and Equestria?”

Celestia’s brow furrowed. “I don’t understand.”

“Fear drives ponies to make poor choices,” Luna pointed out. “Perhaps Twilight and Cadance are strong enough to conquer that, as you say. But what of Discord? What shall happen when he realizes that Fluttershy may die?”

Celestia hesitated. “Discord knows friendship. He will make new friends.”

Luna tilted her head. “You consider him that strong? That predictable?”

“I…” Celestia couldn’t find an honest answer to the question. She didn’t, of course, and knew he might be a danger at that point. She had accounted for that, and considered it worth the risk in hopes of his true reformation. But she hadn’t considered there might be another option, and it wasn’t an idea to be explored in the time it took to drink a cup of tea.

“Celestia, please understand me.” Luna’s voice turned gentle, but she remained firm in bearing. “I have no lover, and don’t believe I will wish for one for some time, if ever. I don’t fear losing love, I fear that no mortal could understand my experiences. I’m speaking only from concern for my friends, and for Equestria. But I am content to leave it to your wisdom, I’ve said all I have to say.”

Celestia swallowed, but offered Luna a nod. “I understand. I will consider it.”

Rising to her hooves, Luna offered a nod in return. “Thank you, Tia. I must go, my ponies are dreaming.”

Celestia smiled. “Pleasent dreams, then.”

“I do my best,” Luna said, walking to the door with the hint of a smile on her face.

As the door closed behind Luna, Celestia looked to her book and cold tea, but they no longer offered any hope of escape. When faced with a weight like this there was one pony who could remove it, even if only for a few hours, but now even seeing Cookie couldn’t comfort her. She rose to her hooves and walked out to the balcony.

The stars still shone above, now shifted by time but always in their course. She wished that she could navigate by them like the ponies of old. But they offered no path through these waters; they’d watched love and trust and ponies die, they’d watched nations fall. They had never revealed a way to stay safe from that, at least not that ponies had ever found. If they had hearts that were troubled by this, they didn’t show Celestia. They just twinkled in stately grace.







At exactly three o’clock on a late summer day, Celestia stepped into the dim, narrow stairwell wedged between a haberdashery and a store selling dry goods. Her wings brushed against the wooden walls, and when she got to the top it was difficult for her to turn to knock on the door to her right. She was glad she left her guards below at the street entrance.

Her knock was answered quickly by Smart Cookie. He seemed as he always did, save for having brushed his floppy brown mane. She was under the impression, or perhaps it was her hope, that his invitation to tea might have been an attempt to court her. She was a young mare, and not unattractive, or so the bards said; though she had to admit they’d hardly have said anything else of a princess. And the awkward way Smart Cookie had issued the invitation, specifically for her and not her sister, and insisting that he be allowed to host, gave her the feeling she was being asked as more than a formality. Her heart fell slightly, wondering if she’d been mistaken, but she fixed a polite smile on her face.

“Hello…” he said with a smile, stepping back to give her room to enter.

“Good afternoon, Smart Cookie.” She nodded as she stepped into a small sitting room.

She noticed an inexpensive and well used writing desk, and bookshelves messily stuffed with worn books and scrolls. There was a couch with shabby upholstery, partly covered by a bright, well made quilt. On the floor was a colorful braided rug and a few mismatched cotton floor pillows. The effect was that the room felt small and crowded, but it was clean, and it seemed some attempt had been made to present it as well as possible.

Celestia took a seat on one of the floor pillows, curling her tail around herself, while Smart Cookie stepped into another room. He returned balancing a tea tray on his back, which he expertly slid onto a low table. Celestia eyed the large, sugary looking rolls on the tray, but Smart Cookie sat on the couch, making no move to serve.

“Thank you for having me,” Celestia said, trying to ignore the sweets in favor of her host. “I rarely get the chance to visit ponies at their homes.”

“Thank you for coming. I’m sure it’s not as comfortable as your private sitting room...” he trailed off, glancing around nervously.

“Oh, no. It’s lovely.” She smiled gently. “Cozy, I’d call it.”

Smart Cookie gave a laugh, relaxing. “You’d be generous.” He motioned to the tray. “Please, help yourself to some tea and rolls.”

Celestia blinked, though she managed to keep the smile on her face. She’d never served herself tea in another pony’s home. But of course, there was no reason not to, since he offered, and those rolls did look delicious.

With her magic she poured herself some tea, and placed a roll on a small plate, floating them next to her. “Thank you. Are you having some as well? Would you like me to pour?”

“I can get it myself.” He smiled and got up, fixing his roll and tea then returning to his seat. He held his tea in hoof, but set his plate next to him on the seat of the couch. Celestia smirked to keep from giggling at the pony who so clearly didn’t care about the appearance of propriety in the face of practicality.

“So…” Smart Cookie started, before taking a sip of tea as though it had just appeared in his hoof.

Celestia smiled and took a sip of her own tea. “Smart Cookie, may I ask you a question?”

He grinned, relief washing over his face. “Of course.”

She tilted her head and asked as gently as she could, “Why do you not call my sister or myself by our titles?”

He opened his mouth, then closed it and gave a chuckle. “I’m not sure I can answer that. I promised somepony I’d avoid giving you a lecture on my political philosophy.”

“Well now I’m even more curious,” Celestia said, raising an eyebrow. “I promise I won’t tell Clover.”

Smart Cookie raised an eyebrow in return. “Did she speak with you as well?”

She took a sip of tea, letting him wonder for a moment. “No. But if a mare is offering you advice on conversation, it would most likely be Clover. I can’t imagine Captain Pansy being that forward.”

He gave an approving nod that brought a small smile to Celestia’s face. “Well, if you’re willing to offer me confidentiality…”

“I won’t get you in trouble.” Celestia relaxed and took a bite of her roll. It was sweetened with honey, and despite a hearty texture it seemed to melt in her mouth. At the first taste she knew it wasn’t long for this world, and the other rolls on the tray were in mortal danger as well. But she was distracted from the sweets by Smart Cookie.

Smart Cookie leaned forward, relaxed and eager. “In that case... I feel that noble titles exist to divide ponies. They aren’t simply a job title, like Chancellor, or a descriptor, they’re a class. The word ‘princess’ assumes I should offer you respect aside from your worth as a pony or a ruler. To me, this is the same thinking that says I should offer earth ponies respect above the other tribes simply for being earth ponies, and I’m sure we can agree that thinking has caused more than enough trouble. So to me, you shall always be Celestia and Luna, rulers of Equestria, and I offer you my respect as a fellow pony, and based on any accomplishments you both may add through your rule.”

Celestia smiled as he finished, even though she realized that her roll seemed to have vanished. “And you hold me only to the standards you might hold any pony doing their job, you said as much in your speech.”

He nodded. “I do. You are a pony, after all. I’ve not met one yet who’s achieved perfection, though I’ve met many who wished me to believe it.”

“I appreciated your speech,” she said earnestly. “Are these opinions commonly held by earth ponies?”

He gave a sorry smile. “No, for all that we’ve combined politics and entertainment into the brilliant farce we call democracy, most still hold that a princess is a princess, and to be treated as such.”

“You were a politician yourself, I understand?” she asked.

He took a sip of tea, then nodded. “An appointee, Secretary to the Chancellor, though since the founding my job is more that of a co-representative of the tribe. Making sure you have their interests at heart and all that.”

Celestia smiled and raised an eyebrow. “And do you feel that I do?”

“I hope not. Ruling a country is not a game where you should judge earth ponies winners at the expense of the other tribes. But it turns out that most earth ponies are ponies, and as long as you have the interests of all ponies at heart, they’re unlikely to see the difference.” He leaned back with a smile on his face. “And that, I think, you do.”

“I hope that I do have everypony’s interests at heart.” She chuckled softly. “You’re a strange pony, Smart Cookie.”

“Yes, well…” A blush crept to his cheeks and he looked down. “Clover did warn me not to talk politics.”

“I admit that I hardly talk of anything else. Maybe a bit of magic with Star Swirl.” She considered a moment, still smiling, then said, “But, I like talking about politics with you. It’s refreshing to hear somepony speak with your passion.”

Smart Cookie looked up at her with what seemed to be a genuine smile. “It’s rare that I have somepony so charming who cares to hear it.”

“Thank you,” Celestia lowered her eyes demurely, but she felt a flush of pride, hoping that he really had found such a simple and natural conversation charming.

“So, you’re having a castle built?” Cookie asked, taking a bite of his roll.

Celestia nodded. “We are. It’s mostly for show, there are ponies who would be impressed by nothing less. Though I admit that Luna and I are adding a few touches for our own amusement…” The thought occurred to her that he might think such things were frivolous, especially for a pony of her station, so she hurried to add, “Nothing wasteful. In fact, in a few cases we’re cutting some corners.” She grinned, then noticed the confused look on his face. She shook her head. “It’s… foolishness.”

Smart Cookie just smiled. “Everypony needs some foolishness. Though I find it hard to imagine you getting up to foolishness.”

She smirked. “That’s because I am a princess.”

He laughed. “You’re right, I shall need to try harder.”

“Perhaps you can assist me,” she wondered, considering the pony in front of her. He certainly had a sense of humor, and ‘stuffy’ was the last word she would use to describe him.

“I think I would enjoy that.” He nodded, taking a sip of tea.

“I’ll have to think of something fun.” Celestia grinned. “It would be unfair to bring another pony into my contests with Luna, but perhaps we could prepare some trickery for Star Swirl and Clover.”

He nearly spit out his tea, then laughed. “Star Swirl and Clover? Are you sure that tricking masters of magic is wise?”

She raised her eyebrows. “I thought we already agreed it’s quite foolish.”

“Well there’s foolish, and then there’s having a lark at somepony who can cast you to the bottom of the ocean,” he pointed out.

“They’d never cast a pony that deep. It would be simple to teleport back,” Celestia noted with a smile.

Smart Cookie raised an eyebrow. “Speak for yourself.”

Celestia blinked. “Oh, I’m sorry, I forgot you don’t cast spells.”

“I get by, I’m just wary of the other two forgetting that as well.” He laughed. “It would be inconvenient if the cost of enjoying your company was never getting to see you again.”

“Well I’m going to assure that doesn’t happen,” she said quickly, then paused to consider. “We’ll have to arrange it so that I take the retribution for both of us. You shall be my silent partner.”

He hesitated. “That would be less than gallant of me…”

Celestia smiled and raised her head in mock regality. “Then you shall have to be all the more gentlecolt next time you have me to tea. And get more of these delicious rolls.”

“These?” He blinked and looked to the plate on the tea try. “Please, have another. If it weren’t for the shortage, I’d have made something much finer.”

“You made these yourself?” Celestia raised her eyebrows, her magic bringing another to her plate.

“I’m an earth pony, and a baker’s son at that.” He placed a hoof over his heart with a smirk. “I may have saved the pony race and founded a country, but if I couldn’t bake I’m not sure I’d be able to live with my family’s shame.”

She laughed. “That worry should never cross your mind. You did those things, and bake well besides.” She took a bite of her roll, just as delicious as the last.

“I’m very pleased you think so.” Smart Cookie grinned. “So, what do alicorns do? What was their place? I’m afraid you’re the first one I met.”

“There are only three— well, now two, Luna and myself.” She saw the question in his eyes and explained, “My mother was an alicorn, but she fell not long ago. I don’t know if you know of Lord Tirek, but she and my father tried to defend her kingdom by might… and…”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” Smart Cookie looked down at his tea.

Celestia nodded. “She was born a pegasus—a rather strange story—and my father still was one. They died with honor. But thank the stars Star Swirl arrived, or the whole kingdom, perhaps the whole world might have fallen.” Celestia cringed at the thought. Then she caught Smart Cookie’s look of concern and gave a weak smile. “But Tirek is in Tartarus now, and we’ve joined our kingdom to Equestria. Most of the ponies there hailed from the tribes, but had left for any number of reasons. Being an alicorn, Mother was seen as even and fair to all ponies. Star Swirl felt this was a job Luna and I should do as well.”

She took a breath and let it out with a nervous smile. “I’ll bring shame to more than my family if I can’t live up to it.”

Smart Cookie frowned. “It must be strange, being raised to rule. I was utterly hopeless at running a bakery, I hope you fare better running a kingdom.”

Celestia lowered her eyes and nodded. “Yes… I hope so as well…”

“But, of course, you don’t stand alone,” he hurried to add. “You have your sister beside you, and Star Swirl, and the six of us to turn to for whatever we’re worth. We all want to see Equestria thrive. You need never fear to ask our thoughts, though by the time you think to ask us we’ll probably have offered them to you, and one another, at the top of our lungs.”

She laughed softly. “I do appreciate it. I like to be surrounded by intelligent ponies. If somepony has an idea better than what I can offer, I hope they’ll never hesitate to make it known.” Considering her experiences, she frowned. “However, I fear many ponies have different ideas of how Equestria can thrive.”

Smart Cookie raised his eyebrows. “That’s what’s wonderful about Equestria.”

“How do you mean?” Celestia asked.

“This land is so large and rich, so full of possibility.” Smart Cookie grinned, his voice becoming more excited as he went on, “Every day the scouts and explorers come back with some new discovery; mountains rich with gems, fertile land and new foods to cultivate, dangerous forests to be conquered with wonders in their midst… ponies could live their dreams here for a thousand years or more, building castles and farms as suited them, cities and small towns, or forging wilderness… and without the lines of tribes to fence us in, there’s room for all to see Equestria thrive however we imagine it!”

Celestia couldn’t help but smile, his enthusiasm was infectious, and it cast his face in a very pleasant light. His eyes seemed to be seeing a dream realm of living ideals, which his physical form itched to enter. In that moment, Celestia wanted to join him.

He noticed her staring and relaxed, shaking his head. “I’m sorry, it’s just an idle dream. I can’t imagine that sounds easy to rule.”

She took a sip of her tea. “Easy or not, I intend to do all in my power to make it a reality. It’s a dream I happen to share. And… I believe it will be easier to rule than it might seem.”

Smart Cookie gave a snort. “Celestia, I’m afraid if you think ponies will be easy to rule—”

“Not ponies, Smart Cookie. Equestria,” she corrected, then paused to put into words her own dreams. “Equestria is more than ponies or land. It’s an idea that lives in the heart, that all tribes are not just equal, but united as one. The ponies here are learning to believe this, and they will teach it to their foals. Wherever those foals spread, and whatever they build, as long as they believe it, we shall all stand beneath the same banner.”

She looked over at Smart Cookie, who was staring at her strangely. She bit her lip, and tried to bring her idea back to the present. “If that belief is the aim of our rule, it’s my hope that ponies will follow Luna and myself, no matter how differently we might all live.”

The strange look on his face melted into a warm grin. “I’ve never heard a pony utter words so true. That’s what was born in that cave, we all felt it. If you can spread that feeling across the land, Equestria’s banner will fly over it forever.”

Celestia smiled. “That is my hope.”

Smart Cookie shook his head, still smiling at her. “You are a remarkable pony, Celestia.”

“Thank you,” she said, casting her eyes down, though she wasn’t sure the smile she wore would ever leave her face. “I must admit I’m pleased to hear that coming from you.”

“Because I refused to grant it based only on your crown?” he asked.

“No.” She looked into his eyes and hesitated. “Because… I enjoy your company quite a lot, Smart Cookie.”

“And I yours,” he said softly, not looking away from her eyes. “Please, call me Cookie.”

“It would be an honor, Cookie.”

They talked for hours longer in the tiny room, and only parted when the pretense of tea had been stretched to breaking. But they parted with promises of all manner of future meetings, and as Celestia walked home, flanked by her guards, it was all she could do to keep from flapping into the air to try to keep her soaring heart within her. She didn’t even attempt to keep the smile from her face.
> 5 - The Twinkle in Her Eyes
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The sun had gone down for the day, and Smart Cookie stood in his kitchen, preparing dough for the next morning. A bit of earth pony magic meant the rosemary bread dough would have time to rise overnight, and the next day he’d have a fresh loaf by lunch and extra to take into town to trade for supplies and gossip.

He heard the front door to the cottage open and hooves cross the floor. Then Celestia’s voice called out, “Cookie?”

“In the kitchen!” he called back, covering the bowl with a cloth. He wiped his hooves on a dishtowel as Celestia appeared in the doorway like a vision, surrounded by the halo of her flowing mane.

“I hope you’re making something delicious,” she said, smiling.

Cookie grinned. “I hope so too. But it’s for tomorrow. I do have a poppyseed cake I made this morning, if you’ll have some.”

“That would be wonderful.” She walked over to where the kettle sat on the stove and fixed herself a cup of tea while Cookie washed his hooves and cleaned the counters.

“And how is life in Canterlot?” Cookie asked, glancing over to read her expression.

Her mouth barely twitched to a frown; then she shrugged, and the calm smile returned to her face. “As it always is, though the school year starts soon. It’s nice to see foals around the grounds again.”

“Did you take a personal student this year?”

“No… these past few years have been too dangerous. The world is changing, and it always seems to take time to adjust. It wouldn’t be fair to a student for my focus to be on everything but their education.”

“Well, you should consider it. You’re always happiest when you have a protégé.” He offered a playful smile. “I think it’s your maternal side.”

Celestia returned a smirk of her own. “Perhaps I should have a foal, then?”

Cookie chuckled. “Of course. That’s just what you need, to be worried about croup and changing diapers while ruling a kingdom.”

“Cadance has Shining Armor taking care of that, I understand.” Celestia calmly sipped her tea.

Cookie raised an eyebrow at her as he rung out the washrag in the sink. “I’m not entirely sure I like where this is going.”

Celestia smirked at him a few seconds longer until it dissolved into a laugh. “I’ve always thought I had a rather clever system, letting a family of ponies handle all of that and getting the joys of guiding the foal through magical studies.” She smiled and shook her head, then sighed. “And I do miss having Twilight around. She was always so eager for her lessons.”

Sticking his head in the pantry, Cookie found the simple pound cake. He carried the wooden tray with the cake to the counter and set it before Celestia with a bit of a flourish. “Well, who wouldn’t be eager for lessons, with a teacher like you?”

“You’re trying to flatter me,” she said, smiling, as her magic cut a slice and floated it to her plate.

“Maybe I am, but only with truth.” Cookie turned to pour himself some tea.

“Then I’ll do the same. This cake is delicious. I wish the castle chefs would make more desserts like this.”

“I’ve given you the recipe, didn’t you pass it along to them?” he said as he carefully balanced his teacup on his hoof. He carried it over to the counter where Celestia stood and slid the cup onto the countertop with a gentle clatter.

“Oh, I did, but they’re cooking for a princess.” She offered a grim smile. “They do like to show off their finest creations. They’re very good, but not as good as your baking.” The last bite of cake and several crumbs floated to her mouth.

“I’m sure these old recipes are hopelessly out of style. But then, I don’t have the burden of cooking for a princess, do I?” he said as he cut a slice for himself and a second one for Celestia.

“They’re exactly in my style. I’m glad I can come here to enjoy them.” She floated the slice onto her plate. Then she leaned forward and caught Cookie’s lips in a warm, tender kiss. “And the company is nice, too.”

As they parted, he looked into those rose-colored eyes; his heart skipped a beat in awe as it did every time. He grinned and leaned against the counter in contentment. “I provide what I can. So nothing has come of that petition from the griffons?”

Celestia smiled and nodded. “I’m holding firm; we’ll send ponies to aid them, but not money. The very last thing they need is more bits to squabble over. I think some of them may be starting to come around.”

“Maybe they’ll make their way out of this slump yet.” He frowned and took a sip of tea. “It’s depressing, to hear of a kingdom like that fallen so low.”

“It is,” Celestia agreed. “I can’t imagine what it would take for that to happen to Equestria…”

“It couldn’t. Not while we live.” Cookie offered a knowing smile, and Celestia returned it. No more needed to be said, so he went on. “Besides, griffon culture always has been difficult to manage.”

“Apparently it’s been anarchy there since Guto,” Celestia noted between sips of tea. “They’ve formed a council though, so that’s a start.”

Cookie shook his head. “It won’t do a bit of good until they get over their obsession with hoarding gold. Money is potential, not an end to itself. And like any potential, it’s worthless if you hide it away, let alone if a whole culture does that. They need ideas, investments, innovations—”

“Thinking of moving to Griffinstone?” Celestia smirked. “I’m sure the griffons are on the edge of their perches, waiting to hear what a pony thinks they should do.”

“I know.” Cookie offered a sheepish smile. “And for that reason, I’ll keep my hooves where they belong, in Equestria. Though I might be writing another book…”

“Of course you are.” Celestia smiled and took a sip of her tea. “You’ll be happy to know one of Twilight’s friends introduced their bakers to baking powder. Griffon scones are becoming very well regarded in culinary circles.”

“Now that’s a step in the right direction. Well done.” Cookie gave an approving nod and took a bite of cake.

Celestia paused for a moment to have some more cake herself, followed by more tea. She only barely glanced at him as she said, “How would you feel about meeting Twilight Sparkle and Cadance?”

Cookie looked at her and raised an eyebrow with a slight frown, remembering Luna’s words. “In what capacity?”

“Social,” she said, meeting his eyes with a casual, even expression. She added, “I did speak with Luna, but I told her that your decision on the matter is your own.”

“...but that you don’t agree with me,” Cookie suggested.

“That I think you’re worrying too much.” Celestia offered a smile and took a sip of tea.

Cookie frowned and studied her. “And she pressed on your affection for your students, and now you ask me to have them to tea, in hopes that eventually the same affection will grow and wear down my resistance.”

She took a bite of cake and glanced down.

“It’s been nearly two thousand years, Celestia. I know how you work,” he said, watching as she ruffled her wings and pulled herself up slightly.

“There’s another perspective you could take,” she said with the hint of a shrug. “It’s not just you and me anymore, Cookie. Luna has returned, and there are three new princesses, not to mention Discord—”

Cookie snorted and rolled his eyes. “Please, don’t.”

Celestia pressed on, “You’re going to meet them, eventually. And I hope you’ll grow fond of them, perhaps even Discord. And if that happens, I would rather it be now, when it’s still in your power to save them from some heartbreak and you from regrets.”

Cookie shook his head and took his plate and teacup to the sink. “I’m not likely to regret failing to cast a curse on myself and anypony they choose to love.”

“It’s hardly a curse, Cookie,” Celestia said. He could hear the hint of exasperation in her voice, but also tenderness as she went on, “I’ve loved you for a very long time. I don’t think I could stop now if I wanted to.”

He turned back to her to see her smiling warmly. He still frowned. “It would be a curse to me, not knowing if anything I felt was sincere or out of self-interest, or if anything you felt was passion or duty. Thoughts like that will drive a pony mad.”

Her smile only deepened. “Only a pony who thinks too much.”

“Centuries leave a lot of time to think.” He sighed, but he could feel the tension lifting under the twinkle in her eyes.

She shook her head and ate the last bite of cake, floating the plate and her teacup to the sink in a golden glow. Then she tilted her head and regarded him with curiosity.

“Are you saying that in the back of your mind, you don’t assume this is the case now?”

Cookie felt a smile crack his lips. “Of course not! I’m just coming to terms with the idea that you’re genuinely fond of me, so it’s quite a leap to your love being strong enough to keep me alive for centuries.”

“Cookie,” she admonished, but her smile had returned.

“Celestia.” He walked over to her and nuzzled her tenderly. “My life is comfortable only if I dismiss assumptions about this. I don’t assume that I’ll live another day, I don’t assume that you’ll love me another day, and I don’t assume I know why those things continue. I hope they will, because I can’t imagine anything better, and I won’t allow myself to waste my time on my fears when I have it to spend with you.”

She leaned her head down to rest next to his. “As I said, it’s entirely up to you.”

“And I choose bliss and ignorance,” he answered, enjoying the warmth of her body and the warm breeze of her mane floating around him.

Then she went on. “But you should still allow me to bring Cadance and Twilight Sparkle for a visit. What I said is true: you’re going to have to meet them sometime, and I hope you’ll grow fond of them. I think that will be a good thing for all involved, whether it influences you or not.”

Cookie pulled away and looked at her, pursing his lips.

Her face was the picture of innocence, with a gentle smile and those twinkling rose eyes. “Friendship is powerful, Cookie. It’s saved Equestria many times.”

“Very well.” Cookie grumbled. Then he smiled. “You win this round.”

Celestia grinned. “It’s an honor. I’ve never met a more stubborn pony.”

Cookie raised an eyebrow. “You must enjoy it, if you’ve put up with me for this long.”

“I love it. And I love you,” she said, and she gently nudged him towards the door.

Cookie felt her feathered wing drape over his back, and he couldn’t help grinning. “May the stars help me, I love you too.”







The snow fell. Cookie stood and looked up. In the light from the castle windows it looked like stars falling from the sky, swirling and scattering around him. The cold was cutting, and he hated it, but he wanted to feel it tonight.

Inside, ponies danced and laughed at the ball thrown for the fifth Hearth’s Warming. But while his friends enjoyed their well-deserved position as guests of honor in the newly finished castle, he had wandered off quietly. He wanted to remember what had come before those honors, before the miracle that bestowed them. The sharp pain and utter hopelessness, the feeling of despair, not only at the situation but at his life, worthless then wasted. He would always be as much the pony who went into that cave as he was the pony who emerged to help found a nation; it may not make a pretty chapbook for the foals, but there was wisdom to be gathered from the ice as much as there was from the glowing hearth in the feast hall.

Only two other ponies knew what had really happened, how they’d come together. They’d hoped the heat of their bodies might buy a few moments, but they’d needed the warmth of each other’s spirits more than even that. They were unlauded, unloved, and soon to be forgotten, and on that darkest of nights, all they’d had to offer was themselves, raw and stripped of all pretenses.

When Pansy had, in her gentle way, called Clover by the honorific “lady,” the bitter scoff rang through the cave. Clover’s correction unleashed a torrent through chattering teeth: how, despite being an apprentice of Star Swirl and the finest magician of her generation, she had fallen hopelessly at court; how she’d been regulated to a basement workshop, barely better than a dungeon, called upon like a magic wand to fix problems then expected to disappear back to her hole so as not to embarrass the courtiers. Even the maids and guards at the castle were treated with more respect, and more likely to rise in position.

That was what prompted Pansy to observe that they weren’t so different after all. She was one misstep away from being discharged, a fate far worse than death for a pegasus, and she’d been assigned to Hurricane specifically so that she would make that mistake. Her family could barely stand to look at her, and if they were somehow alive out in the icy wastes they’d consider her freezing to death a stroke of good fortune.

Smart Cookie had tried to fight back his thoughts with a sardonic smile and the observation that at least in their inevitable demise she could please somepony. The collective shrug at his own would last as long as it might take ponies to recall that good joke they’d heard.

The mares just looked at him. He could see the question in their eyes, but the sympathy as well. He drew a breath, but through his shivering he released it as a sob. He confessed the utter failure of his own life; a failed baker’s apprentice, failed pamphleteer, and the election he’d lost by the largest landslide in the tribe’s recorded history. His blunt honesty and joking defense amused the ponies, but ruined him in business and rendered him so unelectable that his opponent had offered him a position in her cabinet, like a Saddle Arabian eunuch entrusted with a harem. He could see so much to be fixed or improved, but the only thing that rivaled his vision was his political impotence.

He’d never felt so broken as he did then, awaiting death and finally admitting that it honestly wouldn’t matter.

Their bodies were shaking as the magical ice crept up their hooves, so he didn’t notice Clover chuckling until it turned to a laugh. He and Pansy looked at her oddly.

Clover just shook her head, still grinning, and said, “Well, the world may be better off without us, but I can’t help feeling that I’m better off spending my last with the two of you, tribes be damned.”

“It’s true,” Cookie agreed. “Imagine how awkward it would be to die here with somepony who’d had a rich and fulfilling life. I’d feel a hundred times worse than this.”

“I’m not sure… begging your pardon, you’re wonderful ponies and this has been a lovely death bed, but I think I would have liked the opportunity to buck Commander Hurricane in the face. Just the once.”

Clover and Cookie had agreed that was a very good point, and the three laughed at the irony of finding the ponies who understood them best among their sworn enemies, until the ice froze the smiles on their faces.

And then, the light. An unimaginable reversal of fortune that echoed for all the years since.

Clover’s library was the largest building in Everfree, and when Star Swirl returned from his journeys even he considered it a respectable place to take up residence. Pansy had been promoted immediately, and regularly afterwards, her diplomacy carrying more weight these days than the Commander’s title and position.

And Cookie…

The crunch of snow under hooves pulled him from his thoughts. He looked over and saw her framed in the light of the castle doorway.

“I thought you hated the cold?” Celestia said, a soft smile playing at her lips as she approached him.

“Sometimes one has to feel cold to know warmth.” He closed his eyes as her floating mane washed around him. Even on a winter’s night, it felt like a warm spring breeze as she nuzzled him.

“Have you felt enough cold to come back into the ball? Other stallions keep asking me to dance without you there to claim my hoof.” Celestia raised her hoof gracefully, and Cookie offered his foreleg for it to rest upon.

“I can’t say that I blame them. It’s a beautiful hoof. It must seem ridiculous that I should have any claim to it,” he said with a smiling glance at her.

“Yet you hold it now,” she pointed out. She hesitated a moment, her smile turning to a demure, nervous expression. “Cookie… It’s been over a year. You know that if you wished to claim my hoof for more than just dancing, you need only ask.”

Cookie bit his lip, looking down at the thin layer of snow on the flagstones. The thought had crossed his mind at least once a week since they began their courtship, and he’d pushed it and pulled it every way it would go. To be married to the brilliant, beautiful mare who raised the very sun and shared his passions and dreams… it was more than he would have dared hope for, even at his most wildly optimistic. And yet, there was more to consider than that, such as a role he was both wholly unsuited for and never desired, and which might bring harm to the mare he loved.

He gave his head a shake. “I—I shouldn’t.”

“Why not? I thought we were—” Celestia cut herself off, and went on with a studied calm. “Have your feelings changed?”

His attention snapped towards her, his eyes wide. “No! Stars above, no. I simply—we shouldn’t be married. I can’t marry you, Celestia.”

“Oh.” She looked away, but not before he saw the blush on her cheeks. “So this is a dalliance.”

“It isn’t,” he insisted. She looked at him, confused, and he took a deep breath, feeling the sharp chill in his lungs, then went on, “I love you. I love you so… I have been blessed to love you, and to have you love me in return... But beyond that, I’ve been blessed with a unique place in the world. One where I’ve earned respect without the pomp and mask normally required for it. From this place alone can I speak with honesty and without currying favor.”

Celestia blinked, staring at him. “Are you blind, Cookie? You have my favor, the entire court can see that. Both as a trusted advisor and as the pony I chose to court me. If we were wed, nothing would change.”

Cookie frowned. “I hope I don’t have your favor. I hope you hear my words with the same worth as any of your other advisors, and only value them as they seem true to you.”

“And you think I would do less if we were married?” She narrowed her eyes and pulled her hoof away sharply.

“No, Celestia.” He looked in her eyes, and reached up to stroke her cheek. “Your wisdom exceeds even your beauty. It’s not your favor I concern myself with. But if I were your husband, when I spoke it would be in the shadow of your rule. Either my tongue would be nothing but a political burden on your back, or I would have to hold it for your sake. One of us would be diminished, either way.”

Her face softened, and she looked down. They were silent a moment.

Cookie swallowed and sighed. “If you wish to take a husband, you must find one better suited to your position. I’m sorry.”

“Very well,” she said, giving a nod. Then she looked him in the eye, taking a deep breath to steel herself. But something deep in those rose eyes twinkled like candlelight in the snow, and she smiled as she went on, “Then I amend my offer. I shall not take a husband as long as you live, and in return I ask that you take my hoof in my chambers tonight.” Her smile grew, and took on a pleasantly wicked cast. “And as often as you see fit.”

Cookie gaped at her. “Have you gone mad? How will that be less a burden to your rule, to have a lover too rude to wed you?”

Celestia smirked. “This castle has more passages than it has candlesticks. Only Luna and I know all of their secrets. My door will remain barred, and my guards at their posts. Ponies may talk, and those close to us will guess; I don’t expect Clover will be fooled more than a few months more, but then we both know her bed is rarely cold since Star Swirl returned. So long as my rule remains even and fair, which I know we both desire, nopony shall have reason to investigate deeply.”

“But—if you want to take a husband later…” he trailed off as her face fell to a grim line.

“I know the husband I want now. I care about very little in life for my own sake, and I will not sacrifice it easily.” She looked into the distance at the falling snow. “Anypony who can’t understand my feelings on this matter doesn’t understand me, and is therefore unworthy of taking your place.”

Cookie hated to see her looking so melancholy. And he saw that just as he was looking out for what he needed to play his part in this world, so was she. He reached up a hoof and laid it gently on her cheek, turning her to meet his eyes.

“You are a wonder, Celestia.” He smiled. “Give me directions, and promise you won’t let me rot in the dungeons if the guards catch me.”

A light sparked in her eyes, and she grinned. "I'll show you the way, and then we can make an appearance at the ball before I take my leave. If the guards catch you, I shall tell them I asked you to hunt the manticore Luna lost in the passages."

"Manticore?" Cookie raised his eyebrows.

"There's no need to fear; we believe it must have escaped by now," she said with a chuckle, leading the way back to the warm lights of the castle.
> 6 - A Fine Kingdom
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Cookie surveyed his tea service on the low table between the seats in the front room of his cottage.

The teapot was silver, about a hundred years old, and a bit tarnished around the filigree. He’d picked it up the first year of the Trader’s Exchange as a spare and broken his porcelain one the next day, so he considered it lucky. He’d never liked that porcelain set, anyway. The teakettle was recent and unassuming and very well made, both quick to heat and well-insulated. It was a Hearth’s Warming gift from Celestia, though obviously selected with the help of somepony who knew their way around the making of tea.

He had two matching teacups left from the old porcelain set, white with blue flowers, which allowed him to look moderately formal when a pony stopped by to visit. Unfortunately for Cookie, there would be four ponies this afternoon, which meant he had to pull out the best of his other cups—an old piece of pottery from a set he remembered using when visited by Hay Carts and a crystal cup he was fairly sure he got in the Crystal Empire before it fell to Sombra.

The cream pitcher was a small gray one he’d bought from a potter in Manehattan when it was just a small village. He didn’t have any particular affection for it, but it looked fine next to the sugar bowl, which was among his prized possessions. It was gray stone, worn polished, and had once served as a mortar in Clover’s laboratory. He was always a bit nervous about using it, but in nearly two thousand years nopony had been turned into a toad, though he knew Clover would have found it hilarious if they had.

Together, the collection looked a mess. But it would hold tea and fixings, which was the important thing; that, and the trays of food he had spent the past two days preparing. His grandmother always said that nopony ever left an earth pony home hungry, and he’d never disappointed the old mare in two thousand years.

A soft knock at the door announced that his guests had arrived, and he walked over and opened the door.

Celestia stood there, and in front of her were two smaller alicorns. Cookie recognized them from photographs and brief glimpses at public events, but he could have just as easily told them apart based on Celestia’s stories; Cadance stood with a relaxed grace that resembled Celestia herself, while Twilight Sparkle’s eyes darted about with an eager curiosity, taking in every detail of her surroundings.

“Hello and welcome, please come in.” He stepped back and offered a gesture with his foreleg.

The mares entered the large front room and Cadance glanced around, her face relaxing into a warm smile. Twilight Sparkle smiled as well, but hers remained energetic, and she looked around as if she was searching for something.

Celestia smirked at him. They’d agreed not to reveal his nature to the girls until later; both so they’d have a proper chance to explain and answer questions, and—Cookie suspected primarily in Celestia’s case—because it would be funny. If Celestia had been honest in her assessment of Twilight Sparkle it must have been driving the young alicorn mad wondering why Celestia requested that she make time to have tea with a baker in the middle of nowhere.

“Princess Twilight, Princess Cadance, this is Chocolate Chip,” Celestia announced.

“It’s very nice to meet you!” Twilight said, her focus landing on Cookie with that same darting curiosity. Cadance nodded her agreement and smiled fondly at Twilight.

Cookie smiled and ushered them over to the couch and sitting cushions. “It’s nice to meet you as well. Both of you.” He gestured to the tea and treats on the table. “Please, help yourself to some tea.”

“Thank you,” Cadance said with a smile, not missing a beat in pouring herself some tea and selecting a tea sandwich. Celestia did the same, giving Twilight a gentle nudge to distract her from examining the teacup she held in her magic for clues. Cookie smiled as he noticed that Twilight had selected the crystal one and wondered if she knew enough about marks of trade to begin to guess its age.

Twilight looked up with a slight start, then offered an embarrassed smile and set her tea cup gently on the table in front of her. “So, Chocolate Chip, Princess Celestia tells us you’re a baker?”

Cookie raised his eyebrows as he fixed his own tea. “I hope so, or you’re likely to have an unpleasant time with this food.”

Twilight eyed the trays. After a moment, she smiled at Cookie. “It looks very good.”

He nodded as he sat down. “Please, help yourself.”

“Oh.” She blinked, finally looking at the ponies around her with their full plates and teacups. With a grin and a blush on her cheeks, she used her magic to gather her food and drink. “Thank you.”

Cookie chuckled, and he could see the amusement in Celestia’s eyes. Cadance glanced at Twilight, then smiled pleasantly at Cookie. “You have a very nice house. It’s more open than I would have expected from a little cottage like this.”

“Thank you.” Cookie settled back on a sitting cushion. “I’ve found that open spaces are useful when you have alicorn guests to tea.”

“Do you have a lot of alicorn guests?” Twilight asked. She took a sip of tea but stared at Cookie, waiting for his response.

Cookie calmly took a bite of his sandwich and finished before answering, “Just Celestia, but I see her frequently.”

Twilight raised her eyebrows. “You mean Princess Celestia?”

Cookie returned the expression. “No, I mean Celestia. But I understand she does some princessing in her spare time.”

It appeared to Cookie that whatever power was required for the movement of Twilight’s body had been diverted; she sat frozen except for the blinking of her eyes, while the gears in her head were almost visibly turning.

Celestia nearly let out a laugh at Twilight’s expression and caught herself just in time with a sip of tea, though Cadance shot her a suspicious glance. Composing herself quickly, she offered Twilight a gentle smile.

“You seem shocked, Twilight. I know for a fact that you’ve asked your friends not to call you Princess.”

Twilight slowly turned to look at Celestia. “But that’s different. You’re the princess of all Equestria! I mean… who is he?”

Celestia’s smile didn’t change. “A very dear friend.”

Twilight considered Cookie again. “How long have you known Princess Celestia?”

“Nearly all of my life,” he answered, then took a sip of tea, offering an amused glance to Celestia over the rim of the cup.

“Are you from Canterlot?” she asked, her eyes never leaving his face.

Cookie smirked and shook his head. “No.”

“How did you meet her?”

He raised his eyebrows as he stood to gather more food and drink. “At an interview. Am I being interrogated?”

Twilight blushed and glanced at the other alicorns, then back to Cookie. “Sorry,” she said, shrinking back and taking a sip of the tea she held in her hoof.

Cookie chuckled, returning to his seat. Making up his mind to offer Twilight a new clue, he turned to Cadance. “So, Cadance, I understand you’re ruling the Crystal Empire?”

Cadance smiled and nodded. “I am. With my husband, Shining Armor. We’ve restored the Crystal Heart.”

“Wonderful.” Cookie offered a sad smile, making an effort to not glance at Twilight. “We were crushed when we heard that it fell—”

“When you heard it fell?” Twilight wasted no time speaking up, as Cookie expected. “The Crystal Empire fell a thousand years ago.”

“Yes, Twilight.” He regarded her out of the corner of his eye. “I admit I do sometimes lose track of time, but I try to keep up with the rise and fall of empires, at least.”

She looked back at him with eyes narrowed in suspicion, then glanced down at her teacup with the same expression. “So you’re saying you were alive when the Crystal Empire fell?”

“I was.” He nodded. “And as I was saying to Cadance before I was interrupted, that was a sad time.” He returned his attention to Cadance. “I’m not alone in wishing I’d seen the danger of Sombra before it was too late.”

“It’s always easy to see danger in hindsight. I know how easy it is to make a mistake, and I can only hope that I won’t make any that lead to a disaster like that.” Cadance gave a sad smile, but Cookie noticed the nervous fear behind her eyes. Anypony else might have missed it, but nopony else had spent millennia peeking through the cracks in Celestia’s stately facade.

He offered his warmest smile. “Celestia speaks highly of you, I know you’ll do everything a pony can do.”

Cadance nodded and opened her mouth to speak, but it was Twilight whose tongue was ready first.

“So you were alive when the Crystal Empire fell… but you’re an earth pony?”

Cookie had to chuckle again. “Yes, I’m an earth pony through and through. I understand neither of you were born alicorns?”

Cadance looked at Twilight with a fond smile, rolling her eyes, then turned to Cookie. “I was a pegasus, until I mastered love magic. And Twilight was a unicorn.”

“And you mastered friendship magic,” Cookie said, nodding to Twilight.

“Yes, I’m the Princess of Friendship,” Twilight said absently, looking lost in a puzzle in her own head.

“Friendship is a fine kingdom, if I do say so myself.” Cookie looked to Celestia and winked. “Lovely in the winter.”

Twilight’s eyes opened wide, and she stared at Cookie as if seeing him for the first time. “I know your cutie mark.”

He smirked. “Do you?”

“It was on the cover of a tome of Clover the Clever’s writings in the library of the Castle of the Two Sisters, along with…” She gaped at him, nearly dropping her teacup before catching it with her magic. “Your name isn’t Chocolate Chip!”

Cookie grinned. “She really is too clever, Celestia.”

“I forgot she’d been exploring that,” Celestia said with a smirk and no small amount of pride as she took a sip of tea.

“So, who are you?” Cadance asked, her head tilted in curiosity.

“He’s Smart Cookie!” Twilight smiled, her eyes lighting up. “The Hearth’s Warming Smart Cookie.”

“The same,” Cookie said with a deep nod.

Cadance looked with wide eyes from Twilight to Cookie. “It’s an honor to meet you.”

“This is amazing!” Twilight squealed. “You were there when the Hearth’s Warming spell was cast! What was it like?”

Cookie considered for a moment how much he wished to say. “Cold.”

Twilight leaned forward eagerly. “Can you elaborate?”

“Very cold.” Cookie raised his eyebrows. “I’m afraid it’s not something I like to talk about much. Perhaps some other day.”

“I would love that! It’s one of the first known instances of friendship magic, and even Clover the Clever’s writings on it aren’t very detailed.” Twilight’s eyes widened again as if presented with a Hearth’s Warming present. “You were friends with Clover the Clever!” She clapped her hooves together, nearly bouncing, before realizing that everypony present was staring at her. She shrank back with an embarrassed grin. “… um, excuse me. I’m kind of a history buff. This is exciting.”

Celestia chuckled and gave her young student one of the warmest smiles Cookie had ever seen from her. Just watching it made him smile himself, and he could feel Celestia’s affection for Twilight spreading to his own heart.

But he was pulled from those thoughts when Cadance cleared her throat and said plainly, “Smart Cookie, if you don’t mind me asking… how are you still alive?”

Cookie frowned slightly and took a sip of tea before answering. “We have no idea.”

Twilight looked at Celestia in shock. “You’ve never looked into it?”

“We’ve looked into it many times,” Celestia said, using her magic to refill her tea and replenish her plate. “Clover studied it, of course. I also brought Meadowbrook, Candlelight, Hay Carts, Moon Beam, Zellena the Wise, and Glow Worm to speak with him. Nopony has been able to figure it out.”

Twilight stared at Cookie again, and the probing curiosity seeped back into her countenance.

Cookie pursed his lips in a firm line and barely parted them to issue a warning grumble, “Celestia…”

Celestia paused with a honey cake halfway to her mouth. She sighed but said quickly, “Girls, I have to ask that you don’t pry into it. Cookie has his reasons for declining to pursue it further.”

“Of course,” Cadance said with a simple nod.

Cookie examined her face, but if it held any disappointment she had mastered it thoroughly. He nodded in return. “Thank you.”

Twilight was another matter. Her eyes shifted, and she fidgeted in her seat, and Cookie could imagine the clouds of ethical and philosophical protests forming in her mind.

“You as well, Twilight Sparkle,” he said, hoping to clear those quickly. “I would expect that as master of friendship magic, you would know better than to pry into a pony’s personal business, no matter how mysterious.”

She frowned at him and hesitated, biting her lip. “But what if it’s related to friendship magic?”

Cookie gave a dry glare. “My only dealings with that matter involved five other ponies. If that’s the case, friendship magic made a startlingly bad choice to offer this life to only me.”

Twilight’s ears drooped as she looked away with a cringe. When she looked back at Cookie she was in the process of composing her face, but hadn’t managed to conceal the shame and pleading in her eyes. He recognized it too well and remembered quickly that she had mastered the Elements of Harmony, but not alone.

Cookie met her eyes with all of the empathy he felt. “I spoke without thinking. It’s my habit, and I’m sorry. I simply meant that of the six of us, if one of us was to live, I had the least claim to it.”

Twilight looked down at her teacup. “I understand. I won’t try to find out, but… I think I’d really like to talk to you privately one day.”

“We can arrange it before you leave today, and I’ll be at your service,” Cookie said with a gentle nod.

An awkward quiet tried to settle between them, but Cadance gave it no room. "Smart Cookie, have you been an advisor to Princess Celestia all these years?"

Cookie took a breath. "Please, call me Cookie. Both of you. And I do advise Celestia, among other things.” He smiled as he went on, “I don't think she could keep me from advising her if she wanted to."

"He's my most trusted advisor, which is one reason I wanted to introduce you,” Celestia said to Cadance and Twilight. “Cookie has seen even more of Equestria's history than I have and from a very different perspective. He's a valuable acquaintance to have, and his opinion is always worth considering, even if you disagree."

"Why don't you live at court?" Twilight asked, using her magic to select a cinnamon roll and carry it to her plate.

Cookie relaxed, glad to engage her more pleasantly. "For the same reason I live under an alias. I prefer the company of common ponies, and I'd like to interact with them as equals. Celestia has plenty of ponies who can tell her what the ponies at court are thinking but very few who consider their opinion based on what's being said at Russet Red's potato stall."

Twilight smiled. "Having ponies you trust with different opinions is really valuable. Hard, sometimes, but valuable. I should have guessed that Princess Celestia must have good friends to talk to."

Cookie grinned as a blush rose to Celestia’s cheeks, a rare occurrence these days that sparked pleasant memories of times long ago when it was more common.

She composed herself and said casually, “I suppose I should mention that Cookie is a very special pony to me.”

Twilight swallowed a bite of roll. “He’s special to everypony in Equestria!”

“Twilight.” Cadance smirked and caught the younger alicorn’s eye to give her words the correct emphasis. “She means he’s a very special somepony.”

Her eyes wide, Twilight looked between Cookie and Celestia.

Cookie laughed. “If Twilight can answer the mystery of why a pony like Celestia would bother with an ill-mannered cart horse like me, that I would love to know.”

“You know it perfectly well,” Celestia said, smiling at Cookie. “You shared my dreams, and understood my fears, and always spoke to me from your heart. None of that has changed in all this time, and I cherish it.”

“How long have you been together?” Cadance asked with an eagerness that seemed borrowed from Twilight’s earlier expression.

“Since soon after she was crowned.”

Celestia smirked at him, then said to her students, “He hadn’t wanted princesses for Equestria, you know. He told Princess Platinum he would throw the crowns in the river at the ceremony.”

“That’s why I was positioned between Hurricane and Clover. It was lucky for me I didn’t sneeze, they had threatened my life and limb in some fabulously creative ways,” Cookie chuckled. He caught the worried question on Twilight’s face and explained, “I dislike noble titles on principle. If ponies of all tribes are to be equals, let us start from that and earn one another’s respect. That’s why I address neither you nor Celestia as ‘Princess.’”

He smiled at Celestia as he went on, “Of course, I came to see that Celestia needs neither crown nor title for her nobility to shine, and I found in her so many admirable qualities that I now know that Equestria is blessed to have her rule, and I am blessed to have her love.”

"That's beautiful. I—" Cadance began, then stopped herself abruptly. Cookie pulled his gaze from Celestia in time to catch the brief longing in her eyes before she focused on taking a sip of tea, then selecting another treat.

He took a sip of his own tea. All day he had seen in her Celestia’s grace and self control; whether she learned it from her mentor or was naturally gifted, he wasn’t sure. But where a slip like that from Twilight might have spoken of a small mental stumble, for ponies like Celestia or Cadance it was as near as they came to collapse outside of their private chambers.

Given the subject of conversation, it was easy to guess the cause. She had a husband, and a mastery of love magic, yet what Cookie and Celestia had seemed out of her reach. Cookie remembered Luna’s worries, but knew his own even better, and steeled himself against revealing his sympathy to Cadance, or worse, Celestia.

With a shake of her head, Cadance smiled and once again returned the conversation to a safer path. "So, Cookie... what do you do now? I mean, besides advising Celestia."

Cookie shrugged. "Garden, bake... I do a lot of reading, and I write books from time to time."

"You must write under a pen name! What have you written?" Twilight sat forward, her ears perked.

“Philosophy or political theory. Most eventually found their home on the dustiest shelves of the Canterlot library, and rightfully so. But I wrote Wherefore Cloudsdale? under the name Scriptus, and The Descent of Canterlot as Ink Blot, and With Cautious Hope as Rookwood. I understand ponies still discuss those from time to time.”

Twilight frowned in confusion. “But… The Descent of Canterlot is considered a refutation of Wherefore Cloudsdale?. It dismantles all of Scriptus’s arguments.”

Cookie smirked. “I changed my mind.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Ink Blot called Scriptus a blithering mad pony with a foal’s understanding of pony society.”

“I don’t like it when I have to change my mind,” Cookie said with a chuckle.

“I didn’t like it either,” Celestia said, taking a sip of tea and raising her eyebrows at him over the rim before she went on. “It set off that awful faction that wanted me to expel Cloudsdale from Equestria.”

Cookie nodded and went on to Twilight, “I apologized to Celestia for that long ago. I never had a problem with Cloudsdale, personally, but if I was arguing that it was harmful to consider Canterlot a unicorn city, I couldn’t very well ignore how that would apply to Cloudsdale.”

Celestia offered him a wry smile. “Common sense is no excuse for intellectual dishonesty.”

“And how many famous philosophers have you been?” Cookie asked her with a grin.

She chuckled. “I’m afraid I’ve been too busy governing ponies who acquired unfortunate philosophies to try my hoof at it.”

"Well you should.” He turned to Twilight and Cadance, the grin still on his face. “All of you should. I’ve found no better way to waste centuries than in philosophy—you spend ages working out the idea and a century watching ponies scoff and rip it apart only to see it spread like a plague and evolve into something horrifying and unrecognizable.” He chuckled and added, “And the only possible reaction to that is more philosophy.”

Twilight gave an uncomfortable smile and shifted in her seat. “That sounds… um…”

“Don’t worry, being frustrated and unproductive is my special talent.” His grin faded to a smile and he leaned in. “So, I understand you have an interesting position, spreading friendship across Equestria?”

She nodded, relaxing. “Yes… I have a magical map that shows me and my friends where there are friendship problems we can help solve.”

“That sounds fascinating. I’d love to hear about some of the ponies you’ve encountered.”








The fire had burned low in the council chamber of the Castle of the Two Sisters as the Princesses’ Council came to their last order of business for the night. A map of the current nation had been spread in the middle of the long table. A small crystal dragon figure sat in the middle of the map, representing a much larger and scalier dragon that had been discovered in the area near the Rock Hoof Settlement.

Celestia sat at the head of the table with Luna by her right hoof, but everypony else had abandoned the pretense of formality hours ago. Hurricane paced in front of the fireplace while Puddinghead and Pansy moved between the table and the chessboard where their game had been going since a particularly dull bit of budget talk. Clover’s spot at the foot of the table was covered with open scrolls, though Cookie could see over her shoulder that most of her scribbling was being done on a poem about the frustrations of trying to teach grown unicorns how to use a cup measure for potion components. To her credit, what Cookie was able to read of “The Damnable Measure of a Mage” was quite funny.

Platinum relaxed on a stool in front of the map, wrinkling her nose at the symbolic dragon. “He's got to leave.”

“Yes?” Cookie raised his eyebrows, leaning against the table. “Well, I suggest you go tell him that.”

“Perhaps I shall,” Platinum said with a toss of her blonde mane.

“Do you want us to sprinkle salt and pepper on you first?” suggested Puddinghead as she returned from putting Pansy into check. As she looked over the figure on the table, the enormous bun that held her mane on the top of her head wobbled.

Cookie smirked. “A nice maple glaze, I think. I'll send him a red wine to go with her.”

Platinum smirked right back. “There is no wine fine enough to compliment me, Smart Cookie.”

“I think she means ‘strong enough,’” Clover said, barely looking up from her scroll.

Luna spoke up from the end of the table. “The treaty with the dragons says he may not stay. We shall simply send a proclamation.”

“Perfect.” Cookie nodded. “He can use it as a napkin.”

Celestia’s sister had only recently begun attending council sessions in earnest, and she still hadn’t quite gotten the hang of things. Her face twitched into a frown, as it often did when her input was met with anything but studious consideration.

“I'm still confused why we're talking about this and not gathering troops.” Hurricane’s large gray form cast a shadow across the table, and he used a wing to give the dragon figure a stab.

“Stars above, Hurricane,” Clover groaned, setting down her quill. ”Between your troops and Star Swirl wanting to send everything to another dimension, it's a wonder there's a creature left in this realm.”

He smirked and raised an eyebrow. “Can we kill it after it eats Platinum?”

“It'll probably die of indigestion first.” Cookie chuckled. “We all know Platinum can be hard to swallow.

“We do have a treaty with the dragons,” Celestia said with a smile and a glance at Luna. “It promised safe migrations in exchange for not otherwise impeding ponies. Perhaps we can consider how we might enforce it in this case?”

Cookie got the impression that the rephrasing of Luna’s point was supposed to be educational, but from Luna’s stony expression he couldn’t tell if it had had the slightest effect.

“Maybe we can get another dragon to ask it to leave.” Pansy landed in the seat next to Celestia, opposite Luna, having conceded the chess game to Puddinghead.

Cookie turned his attention to her and raised an eyebrow. “So you're suggesting we find a pony to go to the Dragon Lands, which are not coincidentally full of dragons, to ask a second dragon to come to Equestria to ask the first dragon to leave?”

Pansy frowned at him. “It would be a diplomatic mission. They'd be under the flag of Equestria. Any attack would be an act of war.”

“Oh yes, I’m sure the dragons tremble at the very thought of a war with ponies,” Platinum said, rolling her eyes.

“Do you know what else is under the flag of Equestria?” Hurricane slammed a hoof on the table. “Equestria! And we already have a dragon attacking us here!”

Celestia gave him a skeptical look. “‘Attacking’ is bit of a stretch…”

“I'm pretty sure he's specifically not attacking us, being asleep and all,” Puddinghead pointed out.

“Look, you can't run a nation with a dragon smack in the middle of it,” Hurricane said firmly.

Pansy cleared her throat. “Actually, Sir, the Dragon Lands—”

He pressed a hoof to his face. “You can't run a nation of ponies with a dragon in the middle of it.”

“Why not?” Puddinghead said with a shrug. “We could just tell ponies not to go near it.”

Clover raised her eyebrows at Puddinghead. “Have you met ponies? You might as well set up a stand nearby offering sticks to poke it.”

Cookie grinned and gave Clover a nudge. “Now that sounds like a problem that would take care of itself rather quickly.”

Platinum bit her lip in thought. “Did we ever establish if dragons actually eat ponies?

“Not regularly,” Clover said, rolling up several of her scrolls with her magic and placing them in a bag by her hooves.

Platinum shrugged. “Well in that case—”

Clover continued, “On the other hoof, they're perfectly willing to cook ponies. I'm not sure the ponies much care about the difference, though.”

“I would.” Puddinghead frowned, leaning an elbow on the table. “I'd hate to go to waste.”

Luna pretended to clear her throat, waiting for the attention of the council before speaking. “He must leave. The charter of Equestria says that no thinking being may stay in Equestria if it brings harm to other thinking beings.”

“Yes, Luna. It does,” Pansy said with a gentle nod.

Cookie frowned in thought, considering Luna’s words. “But has this dragon ever brought harm to another?”

“It’s the size of a small keep, and dragons aren’t the nicest sort.” Clover frowned. “I'm going to say it's probably brought some harm to some creatures.

“But thinking beings,” Cookie went on. “If you're banning anything that bothered any creature, we'll have to burn the treaty with the griffons too.”

“I'll get a candle,” Hurricane offered.

“We are not having the griffon argument again,” Clover said sternly.

“I have no interest in the griffon argument,” Hurricane said, to relieved sighs around the room, before going on forcefully, “I'm interested in the griffon solution!”

“Well, you’re in luck. We have a solution, which is that you don't get to fight the griffons anymore.” Cookie smirked at him. Nothing got the old war pony riled up faster than griffons.

Clover looked from Cookie to Hurricane. “Can we please not have the griffon argument again?”

Hurricane just glared at Cookie. “I don't see how that solves anything.”

“It solves everything, because the only problem we could find that needed solving was the pegasi and griffons looking for reasons to fight,” Cookie said with a wave of his hoof.

“But the treaty of Tartarus—”

Cookie stepped up to the table across from Hurricane and leveled a dry stare. The pegasi’s long history of complex treaties with the griffons, which seemed written specifically to be broken, happened to be a pet peeve of his.

Clover slumped back in her chair and rolled her eyes. “Oh blessed darkness, we're having the griffon argument again.”

“The griffons have never even landed at Tartarus,” Cookie said slowly. “They don't go within a mile of the gates. And if they did, there's Cerberus there to stop them.”

“But they won't stay out of the air space!” Hurricane pointed out, leaning over the table towards Cookie.

“Why do you care!?” Cookie shouted in exasperation, leaning towards Hurricane in turn.

Hurricane crossed his forelegs, using his wings to hold himself up. “It's the principle of the thing!”

“Exactly!” Cookie slammed a hoof on the table. “The principle in this case being that the pegasi and griffons are looking for reasons to fight!”

Celestia spoke firmly, “Gentlecolts, I think you were advising us on the dragon issue?”

Cookie looked over at her, a sheepish smile on his face. “Actually, I was advising Hurricane on where he can shove his spear. But, to the matter at hoof, it is not in the dragon. It may be fun to play soldier against the griffons, but the dragons are quite a different matter.”

“Cookie is lucky I don't find a home for my spear in his flank.” Hurricane frowned. “But I have to agree on that point. One dragon is not a problem, but a war would be a tactical nightmare.”

Clover nodded. “So we’re not going to attack the dragon. That leaves sending an envoy to the dragon, or the dragon lands, or leaving him be.”

“I have decided,” Luna said.

Cookie looked over with trepidation. Luna’s input thus far hadn’t exactly been authoritative, but the cool, regal look on her face indicated that she may have had a different impression of the tone of the room.

“What have you decided, Luna?” Celestia asked, her face showing a similar worry.

“We shall send an envoy to the Dragon Lands, under the banner of Equestria. We shall avoid war with the dragons by making it known that, if attacked, we shall refuse to move the sun or moon.” Her mouth twitch into a self-satisfied smile.

Platinum stared at Luna, then looked to the rest of the council with raised eyebrows. “She’s serious?”

“Luna…” Cookie said gently. “Leaving aside the fact that it’s an empty threat, as it would destroy all of ponykind and everything else in the world as well as the dragons—”

Luna glared at him. “War with the dragons may very well destroy ponykind.”

“It’s against the Treaty of Olympony,” he finished, frowning at her. “That one was accepted by representatives of all pony tribes, and most of the knowing beings in the world.”

Hurricane nodded. “The only threat that can be answered with cessation of celestial movement is an attempt to open the gates of Tartarus.”

Her expression remained serious, but nerves began to show behind Luna’s eyes as she seemed to realize her misstep. “In a war with the dragons they might—”

Clover shook her head. “The dragons aren’t bright, but they aren’t suicidal. They don’t want to try to face down Tirek and Meloveant and the rest all at once. They might burn every pony they can find to a pile of ash, but they wouldn’t go near Tartarus.”

Pansy gave Luna a sad smile. “It was a fine try, Princess Luna.”

“So what are we actually going to do?” Platinum said, looking to Celestia.

Celestia cast a worried glance at her sister, then looked at the map for a moment, considering. “I feel we should compromise. Allow the dragon to stay for a year, and if there’s no impact on ponies he may remain indefinitely. If we sense there may be a problem, if the settlement there grows too close, or he’s found to be moving about the countryside then we will send an envoy to the dragons. I’m sure Commander Hurricane has soldiers brave enough to make the journey, and I trust our treaties will hold well enough to allow a small diplomatic group free travel in the Dragon Lands.” She turned quickly to her sister. “What do you think, Luna?”

“It shall have to do,” Luna muttered, refusing to look at Celestia.

“I like it, myself,” Clover announced, her magic gathering the last of her scrolls into her bag.

“I do too!” Puddinghead said, slapping the table with a grin.

“I like any decision that means we can leave this blasted room and get something to eat,” Hurricane said with a smile. “Princess Celestia, will you join us?”

Cookie added quickly, “Luna, you’re welcome, too. We’re just going down to the kitchens.”

“I wonder if there’s any of that crusty bread left after dinner.” Platinum said to Pansy as they walked together out to the hall. “Governing always makes me crave something filling.”

Luna shook her head and rose to her hooves. “I must study.” She barely looked at Cookie or the rest of the council as she hurried out the door.

Watching her leave, Celestia frowned, deep in thought. After a moment she looked over at Cookie with an apology written on her face. “Enjoy yourselves. I have another counsel to attend.”

He nodded, and walked over to give her a tender nuzzle. “I understand. But do try to get some sleep, my love.”

Celestia smiled and relaxed as she nuzzled back. “I shall do my best.”

By the time they parted, Cookie found his friends had disappeared. He made his way down the stone halls and staircases to the kitchens on the lowest floor. Opening the large wooden door, he was greeted by a much happier version of the council chamber, with Hurricane relaxed by the large fireplace which had been coaxed back to life, and Pansy, Puddinghead, and Platinum all seated at the servants table, playing a game with cards and watching the pantry door.

“Nothing promising,” Clover said, emerging from the pantry with a frown. She grinned as she noticed Cookie. “Oh, there you are! We were worried Princess Celestia had stolen you. Can you make something delicious appear?”

Cookie smiled and trotted into the pantry, glancing at the shelves. “Give me a half of an hour and we’ll have fresh scones.”

“Perfect. I’ll stoke up the oven,” Clover called as Cookie loaded ingredients on his back.

He returned to the kitchen and laid them out on the large counter, adding dishes and measures to his workspace, and set about assembling the dough.

“I’m opening a cask of wine.” Platinum stood and headed into the pantry. “Dragons make me thirsty.”

Hurricane made no move to leave his spot by the fire, but nodded in agreement. “I’ll have some of that. Dragons I can deal with, but you ponies make me thirsty.”

“Pansy is disapproving again,” Clover said, as Platinum used her magic to set the cask at the other end of the counter and gather goblets.

“Now Pansy, I’ll replace anything the cooks need before lunch.” Platinum opened the cask and filled enough goblets for everypony. “And you know Cookie will be leaving scones for the princesses’ breakfast, so really, we’re helping them.”

“It’s not that.” Pansy shook her head. “It’s that you all should be more forgiving of Princess Luna. She’s trying very hard.”

Platinum returned to her seat with the rest of the mares, but not before leaving a goblet next to the spot where Cookie was working and floating one to Hurricane by the fire. “She’s trying too hard. She needs to learn to listen.”

“And not try to throw the sun and moon around,” Cookie added as he mixed the dough. “What in the seven gates of Tartarus was she thinking?”

Pansy took a small sip of her wine. “She’s young.”

Clover nodded. “Yes, and she has an awful lot on her plate with Star Swirl. Very advanced magic. Something to do with dreams.”

Hurricane turned to face the rest of the ponies, letting the fire warm his wings. “That’s a fine hobby for a princess, but hadn’t she ought to get better at ruling first?”

“Well, you must admit she isn’t that bad. She hasn’t even begun to drive us all into eternal winter yet,” Pansy said with a pointed look at Hurricane.

“Very funny, Captain,” Hurricane grumbled, then took a large drink of wine.

“Hurricane is right.” Cookie dumped the dough on the counter and began to pat it to shape. He glanced up and noticed the raised eyebrows from his friends. “What? It was bound to happen sooner or later. Magic is all well and good, but Luna doesn’t understand the complexities of government, and the stars know she doesn’t have Celestia’s way with ponies.”

Platinum nodded. “The stars may know, but does Princess Celestia?”

Cookie frowned as he sliced the dough into triangles. “She does, and it worries her. She hopes that whatever Luna and Star Swirl are cooking up might make up for it, but… personally, I think her time would be better spent attending a play or a festival, or conversing with us. She can’t learn all that she needs from books and spells; a mind must be tested against other ponies to be fit to rule.”

“Well at least we have one princess fit to rule, and it’s bound to rub off on Princess Luna someday, right?” Puddinghead shrugged.

“Of course.” Platinum gestured to Puddinghead with her goblet. “The danger is that she’s trying to rule now. If she loses the trust of ponies, it will be hard to earn back.”

Smirking, Cookie loaded the scones onto a baking dish and carried them to the oven. He called over his shoulder, “You know we wouldn’t be having this problem if we’d decided on—”

“Cookie, you awful pony, do not start!” Clover rolled her eyes and took a long gulp of wine.

“Very well. I won’t.” Cookie made his way to the table, stopping to grab his goblet. As he sat down he glanced to the fire. “Instead I’ll remind Hurricane of the many fine qualities of griffons.”

Hurricane gave a snort and downed the rest of his wine.

Clover glared at Cookie, trying not to laugh. “I hate you.”

He smiled sweetly at her. “But I’m making you scones.”

She rolled her eyes. “Fine, I love you, too. But I still hate you.”

“The pony knows the way to a mare’s heart.” Puddinghead chuckled. “I understand he even has the scones to court Princess Celestia herself... Get it?”

Pansy and Clover both groaned with smiles on their faces. Cookie laughed and shook his head.

“Let’s discuss democracy again,” Platinum raised an eyebrow at Cookie with a smirk. “You all elected Puddinghead.”

Cookie nodded with a straight face. “Many ponies are quite fond of puns. Don’t ask me rye.”

The groans were even louder this time, and Clover smacked him on the foreleg.

“You say you donut know, yet you rise to the occasion!” Puddinghead pounded a hoof on the table.

Cookie drew himself up straight. “I am well bread enough that I knead to defend my honor!”

By now the groans were mixed with chuckles, and even Hurricane had cracked a smile as he asked, “Clover, Pansy, are you really sure Cookie was necessary to stop the Windigos?”

“You wound me, Hurricane!” Cookie put a hoof to his heart with a grin. “Implying that I was the yeast necessary to our de-frosting? I may loaf about sometimes, and come across as tart, but when it came to dough or die I played a pivotal roll!”

Puddinghead clapped on the table. “Bravo! Well bun!”

Cookie stood and gave a bow, then headed to the oven.

“Are you two quite finished?” Platinum asked.

“I am,” Cookie called back as he peered into the big stone oven, “and so are the scones, so that should keep Puddinghead quiet.”

He returned to the table with a tray of warm scones to find that Hurricane had joined them, and Platinum had refilled everypony’s goblet. The smell of the baking and warmth of the fire, not to mention the wine and fine company, had a smile on everypony’s face as Cookie slid the treats onto the table and scooted into his seat next to Clover.

Hurricane raised his goblet. “Here’s to friends.” He paused and chuckled. “The ponies you choose to drive you mad.”

Agreement and knocked cups rang around the table, as well as laughter that echoed long into the night.






When Cadance and Twilight left the cottage, Celestia remained under the pretense of helping Cookie get cleaned up. Cookie was well aware, as they took the dishes to the kitchen, that she was much more interested in hearing his thoughts than doing the washing. Of course he intended to tell her anyway, and he wasn’t about to turn down magical assistance.

She stood next to him by the sink, the warm breeze of her mane drifting against him, using the golden glow of her magic to wash the dishes while he dried.

“They’re both lovely ponies,” Cookie said with a smile. “I can see why you care for them so much.”

“I knew that you’d feel that way.” She returned his smile with just a hint of self-satisfaction.

“Yes, yes. I know. You were right, my love.” He ran the dishtowel over a plate, considering his guests. “You know, Cadance reminds me more than a little of you, when you were young.”

“She’s far more confident.” Celestia chuckled. “I was just very good at hiding my insecurities.”

Cookie smiled as he dried a second plate and stacked it on top of the first. “I would argue that it never mattered, because your insecurities were baseless.”

Celestia raised an eyebrow. “Then Cadance is wiser than I was, since she’s been able to dismiss those at a fraction of my age.”

“Perhaps, but I think you’re stronger for having faced them.” He leaned over and nuzzled her shoulder as he moved for the next dish, and a warm smile crossed her face. He chuckled as he began to dry a teacup, and went on, “As for Twilight Sparkle… she’ll keep a pony on their hooves, no doubt about that.”

“I’m well aware,” she said, catching his eye so he could see the amused glint. “It will be good for you.”

Cookie nodded. “Oh, I think I’ll relish it, but I’m sure she’ll eventually grow weary of poking holes in my philosophies.”

Celestia laughed. “Knowing Twilight, I doubt that. I can foresee many years of the two of you being intolerable to everypony else as you determine the exact nature of ponies and the universe.” She seemed lost in that happy future as she added, “I do hope we can arrange more occasions like this.”

“As do I. Perhaps Luna can even join us.” Cookie smiled and raised his eyebrows.

“That would be wonderful.” A grin flashed across her face, but it faded to a perfectly neutral expression. “...and Cadance’s family as well.”

Cookie frowned and dried the tea kettle with more vigor than necessary. “I fear that may be awkward, for the time being.”

“I suppose it would.” Celestia sighed. She gave a slight shake of her head and seemed to focus on the cream pitcher she was washing. “So, what do you intend to tell Twilight on your next meeting?”

“I intend to be honest with her,” he answered plainly, taking the pitcher to dry.

“And what are your honest thoughts, these days?” Celestia quirked an eyebrow at him.

“I’m not sure. That will depend on what she asks me.” He frowned and shook his head. “Twilight and I have a lot of unpleasant ground to cover. You can’t ask me to sugarcoat matters to protect innocence that she’s smart enough to recognize she’s going to lose.”

“It’s not only Twilight I worry about,” she said quietly, as her magic floated him the next dish.

Cookie took Clover’s mortar and turned it around in his hoof. He took a deep breath as he began to dry it.

Celestia went on, “Twilight is looking for a map to guide her through unpleasant ground. You’ll be the one retreading it.”

He set the mortar to the side with another deep breath, then looked to Celestia with a sad smile. “We’ll both live.”
> 7 - A Light in a Dark Cave
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The winds had changed. A warm, spring wind blew through Everfree and the surrounding forest, though the pegasi made note that it was still a month until the Turn of the Seasons, and ponies shouldn’t expect it to last. It made the ponies Cookie spoke to in the streets and shops uneasy; they were glad for the warmth but guarded in their optimism. It was unnatural for the weather to be out of the trusted hooves of the pegasi.

Muddy snow sloshed under the hooves of the six founders as they made their way down into the ravine. They were silent as they walked. Only Clover wanted to be making this trek, and she refused to tell them why until they got there.

Everypony in Everfree knew where the cave was and what had occurred there, but most ponies avoided it out of respect. Smart Cookie and his friends avoided it for another reason: it had nearly been their tomb. It might have also been the site of a miracle, the birth of their friendship and the nation of Equestria, but they could all agree that there was something unsettling about being surrounded by those walls of rock they’d stared at as they contemplated their certain and imminent demise.

As they approached the entrance, Cookie knew they were all expecting something important and probably magical. He’d personally told Clover that if anything less than the fate of Equestria hung in the balance, he’d rather just hear her relay the information.

Clover told him to come.

As he walked out of the daylight and into the dim cave, he could see why. Though the rock walls of the cave looked the same as always, there was no shiver down Cookie’s spine. Instead, the cave radiated the feeling of the Hearth’s Warming fire and the joyful hours it had burned while they bonded and planted the seeds that would become Equestria.

The cause of this was almost certainly the large, crystalline tree that now stood in the cave. It bore five jewels as if they were fruit, and etched on the trunk was a six-pointed star and the cutie marks of the Princesses of Equestria.

“What is it?” Platinum whispered.

“A tree.” Puddinghead tilted her head.

Platinum rolled her eyes. “Of course, Puddinghead. Clearly this is a tree and nothing more, despite growing in a cave, being adorned with crystals, and emitting an eerie glow.”

“You’re right, Platinum. This is no mere tree,” Clover said, nodding. “It’s a magic tree.”

Arching an eyebrow, Platinum gave her a dry stare. “That’s your studied opinion, is it, Lady Mage?”

Clover smirked. “It is. Completely certain of it.”

Cookie chuckled. “I feel as if I’m getting the hang of this magic business.”

Hurricane looked at it and frowned. “Can you explain why you brought me to see a magic tree? Magic and agriculture are very nice in their places, but unless that tree grows weapons I fail to see how it has anything to do with me.”

Clover shrugged. “Well, I thought you might be interested, since it came from us.”

“From us?” Pansy looked at Clover, her eyes wide.

“It would be a rather large coincidence if a magic tree just happened to sprout in the exact spot a powerful spontaneous spell was cast two decades prior.” Clover pointed to the cave entrance and the walls, then to the tree. Sure enough, despite some changes the root of the tree had made to the cave floor, it seemed to be in the exact spot their fire had appeared.

“How about that.” Hurricane nodded and turned to leave. “Good job, ponies. I think the castle is having potato stew tonight, anypony else going?”

Clover rolled her eyes. “Of course, it’s also potentially the most powerful magical weapon in the world.”

Hurricane stopped in his tracks and pivoted, looking straight at Clover. “Explain.”

“Yes, this sound worth hearing about,” Cookie said, staring at Clover with renewed interest.

Nodding, Clover walked in front of them, then turned to face her friends with the glowing tree behind her. “You’re all sworn to secrecy. I’ve already spoken to the princesses, and they want nopony else to know about this, but Princess Celestia suggested we all have a right…”

She took a breath and went on, “The spell that saved us was brought on by the magic of Harmony, one of the most powerful magics we know of. As Cookie and Pansy and I saw beyond our tribes and came to love each other as ponies—”

Puddinghead smirked and wiggled her eyebrows.

“Not like that.” Clover rolled her eyes. “Not that Cookie isn’t a very attractive stallion, but I just can’t see myself with a stallion without a beard. And Pansy, well—”

Pansy’s face wore her even military expression as she intently studied the cave wall.

Cookie cleared his throat. “Clover.”

Clover shook her head. “Oh, yes, sorry. As we bonded, we brought some sorely needed Harmony to the world, and with no other outlet the magic came through us—Puddinghead, really!—and melted the ice, drove off the Windigos, and allowed us a future where we were alive and capable of giving bawdy looks while other ponies are trying to explain how the most powerful magic in the world ended up in our shrubbery.”

Clover’s glare at Puddinghead probably could have refrozen the cave, were it not for the magic of the tree. Puddinghead chuckled, and Clover’s face melted into a smile as she shook her head and went on.

“So, you see, this place became an entry point for Harmony in the physical world, and the jewels in this tree are solid Harmony magic. Now, that’s what we know. What I believe is that one could use those jewels to harness the same force we unleashed, the way you can use a lense to direct light. Rather than pushing the Windigos off, you could focus it at them like ants under a magnifying glass.”

“What would that do to them?” Pansy asked, her even expression tinged with caution and concern.

“I have no blasted clue, but nothing they’d like, I’m sure,” Clover said, raising her eyebrows.

Hurricane nodded. “We have to test this. We need to know the capabilities so we can form strategies, and train ponies—”

Clover fixed him with a stern look. “Not unless you can find an empty world we don’t mind accidentally destroying where we can test it. It would be a bad idea to find out the capabilities are that it can blow a magical hole in the world by blowing a magical hole in the world.”

Cookie raised his eyebrows, but Clover only paused a moment before pointing at Hurricane and adding, “And don’t even bother talking to Star Swirl about that, I’ve forbidden him from playing with interdimensional magic after the mirror incident.” She glared off to the side and muttered, “Developing a permanent portal to the realm where he’s been sending evil creatures… some days I think he’s saved the world enough times that he feels he has the right to end it.” She looked up at her friends. “You know what he’s working on now, the daft bugger? Cutie marks. Messing about with destiny.”

Pansy frowned. “That won’t end well.”

“No it will not, and I told him so. But will he listen?” Clover gestured broadly with a hoof, then seemed to notice her audience looking at her strangely. She gave an embarrassed smile. “I’m sorry, what were we talking about?”

“The magic tree weapon,” Cookie said, nodding towards the tree. “You can tell us about Star Swirl over dinner.”

“Oh, right.” She looked over her shoulder at it. “It would be a bad idea to try to use it unnecessarily, even if we did know exactly what will happen. Right now, it’s casting off a steady supply of Harmony magic, which is no doubt helping to guide Equestria and keep all sorts of minor nasty things at bay. If we take out the stones, that magic would eventually be dispersed, and who knows what might show up.”

Hurricane seemed to weigh the information. “But how will we know how to use them if we do need to?”

“That’s what I’m going to be working on.” Clover smiled. “There’s some good news on that front. I’ve been trying to piece out Harmony magic since the spell, and I think I’ve got it down to some elements based on fairly simple ideas like being kind to other ponies, enjoying life, giving to those in need, and being honest and true to your friends. Those are the bits we managed between us, and I have no doubt Princess Celestia is more than capable, though Princess Luna might need some work on it. I’d imagine controlling these might take some more focused magical power than we had, but we do have two alicorns close at hoof whose cutie marks happen to be on this tree, so we ought to be okay on that front.”

Cookie cast a suspicious glance at the tree. “I think the more important question is, how will we know when to use them if we need to?”

Hurricane tilted his head and stared at Cookie as if he wasn’t sure he was serious. “The same way we know when to use pegasi troops. When a situation logically demands such tactics.”

“But pegasi troops are a power that’s checked on many levels. Celestia must order you, you must agree, your officers and soldiers must spread their wings, and finally one pony must decide to thrust the spear. If a mistake is being made, each of those is a chance for a pony to realize it.” Cookie looked to the cave entrance in the direction of the castle. “If Clover is right, this power is entirely in Celestia’s hooves right now.”

Platinum arched an eyebrow. “You, of all ponies, can’t be saying you don’t trust Princess Celestia.”

Cookie frowned. “I trust Celestia as much as one can trust another pony. I don’t trust princesses.”

“I’m sure Princess Celestia will keep Princess Luna in check,” Puddinghead said, rolling her eyes.

“That’s not what I mean. I mean that Celestia is a pony, and ponies make mistakes. They have emotions and mistaken beliefs, and either of those things can lead ponies with even the best of intentions to do awful things. And we all know well that when magic is involved, it’s entirely possible to destroy the world by accident.” Cookie looked his friends in the eye in turn, and each had the shame to look away. Cookie went on, “But where we tried it with the full support of most of our tribes, now Celestia could potentially wipe out everything we’ve built by herself. I don’t like that.”

“She can already crash the sun into the ground if she wants to,” Clover pointed out.

“She can, of course, but we don’t pretend it’s something she’s supposed to decide. We have the charter and treaties that limit what she’s allowed to do with regards to the celestial bodies.”

Platinum pursed her lips. “And if we didn’t trust her, that would mean nothing.”

“And I trust her. She’s wise and good, a better pony than I am, and you’ll never hear me say otherwise.” He shook his head. “But if she was making a mistake, the charter would protect us from her might and her from being forced to live with the consequences.”

Clover nodded slowly. “I see what you’re saying, Cookie. But we can’t amend the charter without making it public knowledge, and I think we can agree that would be a very bad idea. As much as this magic might help Equestria out of a tight spot, it could also make us a target for powerful ponies or other beings for any number of reasons.”

Puddinghead nodded. “Besides, this is foolishness and Cookie worries too much. I vote that we leave things as they are and let the princesses decide when to use this power.”

“I second,” Hurricane added.

“All in favor?” Puddinghead raised her eyebrows. Her own hoof went up, along with Hurricane’s and Platinum’s. Clover gave Cookie a rueful look and then raised her hoof.

“Pansy?” Cookie asked, looking to the quiet pegasus.

She shook her head and raised a hoof. “I hope we never have to use it, but if we do, it should be up to Princess Celestia.”

“There we have it.” Puddinghead lowered her hoof and turned to the cave entrance. “The magic weapon tree is to be used as the princesses wish. Let’s go get dinner.”

The others followed her out of the cave, but Cookie couldn’t help stopping to look at the tree once more.

Clover hung back with him and offered a nuzzle. “There was nothing we could do anyway.”

“I know.” He swallowed. “But… it’s not only Equestria I worry about. This is yet another power that Celestia must weigh in the balance, and once again we’re leaving her to bear it herself.”

“Then don’t.” She gave him a gentle shove towards the castle. “Talk to her. You’re the pony she trusts most in the world. If you can make her see your points, perhaps she’ll arrange the matter herself.”

Cookie nodded reluctantly. “I suppose. I hope I can make her see reason.”

Clover smirked at him and raised an eyebrow. “You’ve got a better shot at it than I have with Star Swirl, at least.”


***


Celestia was confused and not a little apprehensive as she walked through her throne room to the door on the side. She had been looking forward to having half an hour before dinner to clear her head and perhaps visit with Cookie, but only one of those pursuits would be accomplished today.

The throne room cabinet was Celestia’s least-favorite room in the castle. It was a small study without windows, which guaranteed her and the pony speaking to her the utmost privacy. In the time since the castle had been built, nothing good had ever happened there.

In that room she’d heard more false accusations by ponies against their neighbors than she could count; ones easily debunked, spoken only in hopes of inconveniencing the subject or setting whispers against them. On rare, but worse, occasions she’d heard true ones; the horrific sort that the accuser didn’t want heard on the open hall. She’d been openly offered any number of underhoofed dealings by foreign officials: bribes, secret treaties, and proposals to marry her sister off to some foreign prince or king “to be rid of her.” She usually left feeling in need of a bath, a small cake, and a troop of her finest guards to set somepony straight.

Cookie knew this, and knew how her feathers ruffled whenever she was requested there. Yet she opened the door to find him seated on one of the cushions, studying a painting of Star Swirl befriending Scorpan.

Celestia entered, closing the door behind her, and sat on the other cushion. She took a deep breath. “Cookie, please explain why we’re here.”

Cookie offered a sympathetic look, then drew himself up. “I need to speak to you about the Tree of Harmony. And I need to speak to you as your advisor, not your beloved; I don’t want Puddinghead accusing me of ruling from your bed chambers.”

Celestia smiled. At that moment, she’d have prefered if he tried to rule from her bed chambers; he certainly looked handsome when he was attempting to be stately. “Puddinghead is your friend, Cookie. She would never imply something like that.”

“She certainly would, though only because it wouldn’t matter to her if I was.” He frowned in thought and looked down. “But it would matter to Hurricane and Platinum, and besides that, I can see the argument that discussing these matters when you’ve taken off your crown might lend undue weight to my thoughts. If anything, I expect this meeting will influence you in the opposite direction, so if there’s wisdom in what I say, you’ll see only that.”

“Can’t we discuss it in council?” she asked, eyeing the door.

Cookie shook his head. “I’ve already discussed it with the others, and they disagree. I won’t waste their time. You’re welcome to talk to them yourself, but a fair summary is that they trust you without question and see that as the end of the matter.”

Celestia raised her eyebrows at the sting in the implication. “And you disagree with this.”

“You know that I trust you, Celestia,” Cookie said gently. “And you know just as well that I don’t trust your position.”

She understood what Cookie meant, though a frown still crossed her face. “Should I insist you call me Princess for this?”

He arched an eyebrow, his face otherwise steady. “If you wish to have me thrown in the dungeon, that’s your prerogative.”

They stared at each other for a moment before she looked down at the gold plates that covered her forelegs. “As time goes on, I find it hard to separate myself from my position. My love for Equestria is the focus of my life. I won’t ask that you use my title, but recognize that this love and the duty it gives me are more than a profession. I cannot set down my work when the sun is lowered, and I cannot be trusted as a pony if I’m not trusted as a princess.”

“All the more reason for me to insist.” Cookie frowned. “How many fine qualities do you have as a pony that you cannot display as a princess? How many practical, balanced decisions do you make as a princess that the pony inside fights against? To force that poor pony to endure the judgements and pressures of the crown would break her, and it’s my place to give her strength by directing those where they belong.”

Celestia sighed. “Very well. What is the matter at hoof?”

Cookie leaned forward. “I feel it’s in the best interests of Equestria for you to request an amendment to the charter, requiring the approval of some number of your advisors to remove the crystals from the tree and attempt to use them as a weapon.”

She blinked. “But I would already seek your approval. As I understand it, that’s why I have the council.”

“You aren’t required to.” He glanced at the door to the room. “If you felt strongly enough, you could march down to that cave and remove them right now.”

Searching his face for some piece of logic she was missing, she countered, “If I felt strongly enough, I could do that regardless of what a piece of paper says.”

“But you wouldn’t,” he said firmly. “You wouldn’t breach the charter based on personal feelings.”

“I wouldn’t, and I wouldn’t ignore the advice of ponies I trust. Cookie, this is foolishness.” She frowned as a thought crossed her mind. “Is this because you don’t trust Luna?”

He shook his head. “No, not at all. I trust her far less than I trust you, but I know she would never act against your wishes. This is because I don’t believe that much power should rest in the hooves of one pony, regardless of the many wonderful qualities that pony possesses. It’s not fair to ponies who lack that power, and it’s not good for the pony who holds it.”

Knowing Cookie as she did, it was no surprise that his philosophies sometimes outstripped practicality, but it was her place to rein him when it happened. “Ponies have different amounts of power. There’s only so much fairness that can be allotted on that matter.”

He smirked. “You might have guessed by my lack of both wings and horn that I know that well. But we can allow that it’s wrong to use that power to harm ponies or their world without extremely good reason.”

“And I would never do that!” Celestia protested with more stridency than she would have dared with any other pony.

Cookie calmly looked her in the eye. “How can you be sure? Celestia, would you go to the grocer or barber on the corner and trust his judgement on this matter?”

“Of course not.” She studied his face for a sign of where this led. “Explain to me how you are better than him,” he said, leaning back as though awaiting an answer.

Celestia drew herself up and regarded him with a serious expression. “I have experience. I’m not the young mare who took this crown, Cookie. I’ve ruled for fifteen years now.”

He arched an eyebrow. “And in fifteen years you’ve become infallible? Is ruling a kingdom the only profession that works this way?”

“I’m not infallible, and I know that well, which is why I listen to my advisors.”

“Then why is having that made law so offensive to you?”

“Because I must wield this power, no matter what you say,” she snapped.

Instantly she became aware that she had misspoken. Cookie’s eyes narrowed in a way she had never seen, and he moved to rise to his hooves.

“If that’s true, I have no more to say.”

“Cookie, wait. I meant…” She saw him pause, and he looked at her. She still saw anger in his eyes, and an accusation of betrayal, but behind that was guarded hope. She carefully considered her next words.

“This is an ethical consideration to you. I understand. Those concerns are vital to me as well, for I must consider them carefully for my rule to be good and just. And you know that I want nothing more than that, and to see Equestria thrive.” She kept her eyes locked on his, hoping he would take it as a sign of honesty.

He nodded and shifted to a more comfortable position.

Celestia swallowed, trying to give voice to her deepest fears, “But… I meant that I, Celestia, must wield this power. As a pony, with nothing but my own wisdom and my dream for Equestria to guide me. And if I use it, or fail to use it, and it brings another harm… no crown, nor council, nor law will protect my conscience.”

She frowned and looked down at her hooves. “Because of that, when it comes to this issue, those things are worthless to me. Perhaps even dangerous, if I allow another to prevent me from doing what’s right.”

Cookie reached his forehoof across and laid it on hers, and he answered in a strong, gentle voice,  “Celestia, that isn’t right either. We can’t ask you to do this to yourself. I know what you bear for Equestria, and I will be by your side to help you in any way I can, as long as I live… but you can allow this weight to rest in part on other ponies.”

She looked up into his eyes. “Could you do that? Could you put Equestria into the hooves of another at its darkest hours?”

He stared at her a moment. Then he took a deep breath and looked at where his hoof lay on top of hers. “I already do. No matter what I say, it is you who wields the power.”

Celestia looked at Cookie, remembering for the first time in many years who he was, that he had seen Equestria born out of despair and darkness. That she might fail at some crucial moment and watch Equestria destroyed... that would be devastating. But being forced to watch it happen, with no power but words that could fall on deaf ears…

“I’m sorry, Cookie,” she whispered.

“We share the same dream. I sleep more soundly for that.” Cookie looked up with a smirk. “If we had a ruler who didn’t, I might try to take the stones from the tree myself.”

Celestia smiled. “I sleep more soundly for that.”

He chuckled. “I don’t see why. I could perhaps throw them at a usurper, though not very hard I expect.”

With the same smile, she raised her eyebrows at him. “You’ve used their magic before.”

He blinked, and then stammered, “I… I had Clover there. I’m sure it was—”

“This is the magic of Harmony. It’s the magic that gave birth to our dream, and holds it together. To be honest, I’m not sure it could harm Equestria, though there are many poor choices that can be made without bringing down a nation.” She stood and crossed the short distance, leaning down to nuzzle him. “I think if something drove you back to that cave, you’d be surprised at the magic you possess.”

Cookie gave a snort, but his cheek remained pressed to hers. “I hope in the courses of the stars that we’re never that desperate.”

“But if we were?”

He was silent for a moment, but he finally whispered, “...I would grasp for the power to protect Equestria, until my last breath.”

Celestia felt her heart warm. Something between them relaxed, and her smile neared a grin as she said, “That’s the power I need to hold. I can’t grant your request.”

Cookie pulled away with a sigh, climbing to his hooves, but something in his eyes seemed brighter. “I understand. I don’t agree—”

“Cookie.” Celestia rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t keep the smile from her face.

Cookie smirked. “But I do understand, so I’ll leave it be.”

Celestia looked down into his eyes. “And I promise you, I will keep your council, and our dream, in my mind and heart as long as I rule Equestria.”

They stood for a moment, and Celestia felt she could see so much in his eyes. A desperate pony fighting biting snow and ice, looking for a new land to save his friends and neighbors. The warm glow of a magical hearth, and the laughter and song that nurtured a dream. All of his love and respect for her, and the pride he took in her achievements. The dream they shared, and the desire and drive to see it realized. She knew in that moment that she might live forever, but she would never love another pony as she loved him.

He smiled at her. “Thank you.” Then, after a short pause, he went on, “Could I also ask that we hurry along to dinner? They won’t start until you get there, and I think if we hold it up any longer Hurricane won’t be fit for the company of ponies.”

Celestia chuckled. “I think I may have the power to defend Equestria from Hurricane’s foul mood.”
> 8 - To Everypony's Advantage
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Celestia’s official appointment book listed Tuesday at 4 PM as “Advisory Meeting; Canterlot Gardens. Unconfirmed.” Her request hadn’t received a response, but she hadn’t expected one and didn’t consider it any indication of whether or not the being in question would attend. 

The spot she had selected was beautiful and colorful, far from prying eyes, and her guards were stationed a respectful distance away. As she leaned down to smell a rose, she hoped that perhaps her invitation had been lost and she would have an hour of peace and quiet instead of the opposite. 

Her hopes were dashed in a puff of smoke as Discord appeared next to her. 

“Hello Celestia. I’m glad you invited me. I do so like to help with matters of state when I can.” He grinned and a large map of Equestria unfurled in front of them, pressing against Celestia’s muzzle. “So, what are we talking about? Urban planning? Military tactics?”

Celestia straightened herself and smiled gently. “Actually, the matter I need to discuss is you.”

“I happen to be the world’s foremost expert on myself, no matter what Twilight Sparkle thinks.” The map disappeared and was replaced by a large portrait: Discord bathed in a halo of light and giving a thumbs up. “I was born a poor zebra foal—”

“It was your future I wanted to talk about,” Celestia said quickly, motioning towards the grassy spot among the gardens. 

As she walked towards it Discord appeared at her shoulder. “Am I getting a promotion?”

She raised an eyebrow. “You don’t have a job.”

Discord frowned. “This isn’t one of those conversations where you tell me I’m wasting my potential, lazing about in my dimension, rent free, and I really should be thinking about standing on my own two appendages and paying off my loans, is it?”

“No.” She shook her head as she chose a spot on the soft grass. Discord landed in front of her and she regarded him suspiciously. “Have you been borrowing money?”

“Of course not. I make it appear out of nowhere when I need it.” His eyes lit up. “Oh! I can advise you on the economy! You might want to take some measures to prevent inflation in the coming months…”

Celestia briefly considered whether more trouble would come of asking Discord to stop magically counterfeiting or asking the treasury to try to account for it. She reasoned that any pony who made a career of national finance must enjoy drawing predictions and plans from chaos, and so she would leave it to those who were qualified for the task. 

“I’ll keep that in mind.” She studied the draconequus and considered how to approach the reason for this meeting. She’d always hesitated to bring this up because it was almost impossible to tell how Discord might react. There was no good day to have a depressed spirit of chaos popping around Equestria, and even that was preferable to what might happen if he decided to take matters into his own appendages. 

But if there was some hint as to what he might feel when that sad day came, it would go a long way towards indicating how concerned she should actually be. 

In a serious, careful voice, she began, “Discord, have you ever considered what you might do if Fluttershy… wasn’t there?”

“Sometimes I rearrange the books in Twilight’s library, or read Rarity’s diary.” Two books appeared in his paw and talon, and he casually switched them. He grinned, and a straw hat appeared on his head as the books vanished. “Or I stand twenty feet away from Applejack and whistle… Do you know how many down-home similes there are for how annoying someone is? I’ve counted thirty-eight so far!” 

“That’s all… well and good.” Celestia furrowed her brow, not sure that those were the correct words. “But I meant in a more permanent way. Would you be content with your other friends, or find new ones?”

He shrugged. “I could always find her. Travel isn’t really an issue for me.”

Celestia shook her head. “What if she died, Discord?” She looked him in the eye, and caught the flash of fear before they hardened. She went on gently, “She’s mortal, you’re immortal, you must have considered this.”

He rolled his eyes and crossed his talon and paw across his chest as he floated into the air. “The future contains infinite possibilities for me. What might happen isn’t something I worry about.”

She casually looked to the side at a tree surrounded by a climbing flowered vine, keeping Discord in her peripheral vision. “Because you’re content to let it unfold, or because you’re leaving open the possibility of taking steps to direct it?” 

“I’m not sure you understand the meaning of ‘chaos.’”

“That’s why I’m talking to you.” She smiled at him.

“You could use a dictionary, you know.” An open copy of the Allword Equestrian Dictionary appeared in front of her face.

She laid a hoof on top of it and guided it to the ground. “An orderly book to use to try to understand chaos, isn’t it?”

Discord grinned. “I can fix that for you.”


“Please, don’t.” She gave him a quick look of disapproval. “Maybe you don’t worry about what might happen, but you do make plans. Usually very poor ones.”

“I mean, only if you think they’re meant to achieve some kind of goal. I prefer to look at them as works of art.” In a flash they appeared in the castle ballroom as the Smooze sloshed around the Grand Galloping Gala. Celestia smirked and raised an eyebrow, and the entire scene disappeared as Discord went on, “It’s very postmodern, you wouldn’t understand.”

Once again surrounded by the garden, she shook her head clear of the vision and looked at Discord. “Do you have any plans regarding Fluttershy?”

He grinned. “We’re having tea Thursday. And this Hearth’s Warming, I’m either getting her a set of dishtowels, or designing an entirely new species of bird in her honor.” A small, pink sparrow-like creature with rabbit ears appeared in his paw. “This is what I have so far, what do you think?”

Celestia pursed her lips, then gave him a sidelong look. “How likely is it to cause an environmental disaster?”

He thought for a moment, then threw the creature over his shoulder into the bushes. “Good point. Dishtowels it is!”

“Discord,” she said sternly, adding a mental note to warn the gardener to her list. “When Fluttershy dies, what do you plan to do?”

“You’re in a morbid mood today.” He frowned as he floated down to his spot in front of her.

Celestia sighed in frustration at several beings all at once. “I’m trying to make a decision.”

“I usually do whatever pops into my head at the moment,” he said in a suspiciously reasonable tone. 

“But you don’t, if it might hurt Fluttershy or your friends.” She considered that a moment and added, “Presumably.”

He raised an eyebrow at her. “Well, that’s the problem, isn’t it? You’re trying to understand a being of pure chaos who’s inexplicably fond of the most harmonious ponies in the world.” A map appeared in his paw, and he pointed to a spot with a talon. “That way lies madness.”

Celestia chuckled. “I’m beginning to wonder if all roads lead there, eventually.”

“Well, there is a fork in the road that you can take towards not giving a flying feather.” He pointed at another spot, now labeled in bright red letters “Who Cares?”

A silence fell as she considered that. Cookie didn’t want to reveal his secret, neither Cadance nor Twilight had approached her with concerns, and not only was Discord unconcerned and unhelpful in determining how concerned she should be, but she didn’t even know if the information might help him.

For the first time that afternoon, she truly looked at the being in front of her; his mismatched form and shaggy face, with those yellow eyes. He wasn’t an alicorn. He wasn’t a pony. She wasn’t even sure he technically qualified as a being, at least not in the same sense as a dragon or zebra. He was magic given physical form. And yet, he had enough of whatever made something a being to know friendship, in his own way. 

“Discord, are you capable of loving a pony? Actually loving them, not simply wanting them close because they make you happy?”

The question was mostly her musing out loud. She wasn’t sure he knew the answer, and didn’t expect him to tell her if he did.

Discord cocked his head at her, considering. “I’m not sure you understand the meaning of ‘chaos.’”

Celestia sighed in resignation.

He smiled, his eyes narrowing. Celestia’s body tensed on instinct. She remembered that smile; she had watched it three times as it tried to bring ruin to her kingdom. 

Discord didn’t move, and nothing appeared or changed. Instead, she heard his voice, though his mouth never formed the words. It came from all directions at once, even within Celestia’s head.

“Imagine that you can have and feel and be anything in the world. But you can only have it for a few moments before it changes. Then changes again. And again, and again, and…” The voice trailed off, with a weary sigh. “And one day, you find that if you try, constantly, you can hold on to something. A feeling. A pony. Perhaps, out of the corner of your eye, you can see something else, another feeling, and it’s tempting… very tempting.” 

Discord’s form finally moved, simply raising his eyebrows and speaking from his own mouth, “But can you reach it? Will you be able to hold it, if you do?”

Celestia hesitated, still on edge. “You might find it’s even more solid…”

“Or you might find it’s a very big potato.” He shrugged and turned his head with a disdainful sweep. “I have a difficult existence.”

She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “I understand. Thank you. I’m glad we had this talk.”

Celestia nodded at Discord and rose to her hooves. She made a few steps towards the rose bush she had been admiring before he arrived, then Discord spoke behind her. 

“We aren’t done yet.”

“Oh?” She paused and looked over her shoulder, but the grassy spot where they had been sitting was empty. She looked around as she turned back to the flowers but saw no sign of him.  

“I have a question for you.” He appeared sitting on top of the rosebush in front of her. “Where was Twilight Sparkle last Sunday?”

“She had tea with me, Princess Cadance, and a friend of mine.” Celestia was careful that her face gave nothing away. 

He went on, “Was it royal business?”

She took a few steps and pretended to examine a daylily to hide her hesitation. “No. It was personal. Why do you ask?”

“Because that’s what Twilight said and I didn’t believe her.” He rolled his eyes. “Since when do you have a personal life?”

“My job does keep me busy, but I spare a few moments for it.”

“Of course you sometimes take a break from ruling Equestria with an iron hoof.” He waved his talon dismissively. “But what sort of pony do you know personally?”

She looked back to the flowers but barely saw them. In her mind she was looking at Cookie, his eyes alight as they were when he’d developed some new fascination or line of reasoning and couldn’t wait for her to ask him about it. It calmed her in a way no garden could, however peaceful it might be.  

“One who likes his privacy,” she answered from the distance of her thoughts. 

“His?” Discord raised his eyebrows in mild surprise. He appeared laying in the dirt among the flowers. “So this is a stallion you have a secret personal relationship with?”

Celestia feared she had said too much. Still, her words couldn’t be unspoken, and avoiding reasons for Discord to investigate further was top priority, so she nodded. “Yes. It is a stallion.”

Discord disappeared and was suddenly next to her, regarding her suspiciously. “And exactly what sort of secret personal relationship do you have with this stallion?”

“A secret, personal one.” She leveled a stare at him.

“Oh, the extra secret, extra personal kind.” He smirked suggestively. “So, what kind of stallion? One of your guards? A noble from court? A rugged airship pirate with a tarnished soul and a heart of gold?” 

She raised a questioning eyebrow. 

“Rarity lent me a book.” A well-read paperback appeared in his talon, and he offered it to Celestia. He whispered in her ear, “The good stuff is in Chapter 17.”

Celestia shook her head and floated the book back to him, where it disappeared. “As you might have guessed from the words ‘secret’ and ‘personal,’ this is not a relationship I talk to other ponies about. And that includes spirits of chaos.”

He frowned at her. “But you introduced Cadance and Twilight.” 

“I did.” She nodded. Then she added, “For my own reasons.”

His smirk returned. “He’s that good?”

“Discord.” She frowned and glanced over to be sure that her guards were still at a proper distance.

“Somepony doesn’t want to share her toys.” He raised his eyebrows, and she found herself holding a large sticker reading “Property of Celestia. Hooves Off!”

Laying it on the ground, she narrowed her eyes and leveled a glare at him. “He is not my toy.”

Discord grinned. “Ah, so it’s serious. Should we be planning a royal wedding?” A veil suddenly obscured Celestia’s vision. “I’m guessing Chrysalis is off the guest list.” 

Celestia sighed and removed the veil. “We aren’t getting married.”

“Well it’s serious enough that he’s meeting the family. So when is my turn?” Discord tilted his head. 

Considering Cookie’s stubborn streak, and Discord’s sense of humor, she knew that was a battle she had no desire to fight. “No time soon.” 

A smirk crossed his face. “I can give you some very good reasons to introduce me.”

“And every one will display exactly why I can’t,” she said quickly.  

“Oh, come on. I need to make sure he’s good enough for our little Celestia.” Discord wore an awful sweater and smoked a pipe as he folded a newspaper he appeared to have been reading. “You know, stable job, good prospects, knows how to change a cart wheel...”

She rolled her eyes. “I’ll let you know when I need your judgement on that matter.”

He frowned, nearly pouting. “I don’t understand what’s so bad about me. I’m reformed. Ponies hardly ever run screaming from me anymore.”

“Discord,” Celestia said gently. “You probably don’t realize it, but some of your previous behavior has been… traumatic for some ponies.”

“For me, it was Tuesday.” He tilted his head and tapped a talon on his chin. “Or was it Wednesday? You know, that’s the problem with altering the course of the sun and moon, it’s so hard to keep track of when your reigns of chaos happened.”

She frowned and shook her head. “Well, my friend finds it hard to forget, and I’m content to give him time to adjust to your reformation.” She suspected a few centuries would do it. She added, “I’m sure you’ll meet him someday, but for now I’ll keep my relationships with the two of you separate.”

“Ah, I see. This way you can have your stallion, and a little draconequus on the side.” A six inch tall Discord appeared on her wing, smirking and waggling his eyebrows. He reclined against her feathers. “I don’t mind, there’s enough of you to go around.”

Celestia narrowed her eyes for just a moment, then composed herself and asked calmly, “How is Fluttershy? I haven’t seen her recently.”

Instantly, Discord was standing next to her again. “...I was joking.” 

Celestia smirked. 

Discord pretended to ignore her. “Fluttershy is fine. She’s caring for the absolutely cutest little baby bunnies!” His face lit up as he spoke, then he realized what he had said and turned his head to the side in disinterest. “I mean, rabbits. Small rabbits. With adorable pink noses.”

“That’s good. I’m glad she’s well, and you’re enjoying your time together.” She nodded and looked him in the eye. “Now, I hope you’ll allow me some privacy, before I feel the need to write to her. Just to catch up, of course.”

“Blackmail? Really, Celestia?” Discord raised his eyebrows and crossed his arms over his chest. “This is the problem with secret, personal relationships. They make things very messy indeed.”

Celestia smiled. “Goodbye, Discord.”

He frowned at her. “Fine, be that way. But I’m not lending you Rarity’s novel.” Then he disappeared with a pop. 

Celestia sighed so heavily that her head nearly touched the ground as she exhaled. There wasn’t much in Equestria more exhausting than trying to get Discord to leave somepony alone, and even now she half expected him to reappear as she glanced around the garden. 

She caught sight of the daisies in front of her and sighed again. Cookie would have to be told about this, and that would put him in a bad mood next time they were together. He trusted her word that Discord was reformed, but he had made it perfectly clear that Discord was to be kept far from him, and even the mention of his name earned a frown. Any hint of her reason for this meeting would end all hope of Cookie’s cooperation in discovering his secret. 

Turning from the flowers, she made her way to her guards with a thoughtful frown. If there was a way to change Cookie’s estimation of Discord, that would be the solution to the problem. Cookie would do all in his power for the good of Equestria, without doubt, but despite mounting evidence to the contrary he was certain that Discord had no place in it. 

The warning she had to give would make changing his mind impossible for now, but it might offer some hint as to whether he might be budged there. And Fluttershy was a young pony; there was some time, at least. Perhaps this could be turned to everypony’s advantage, eventually. 

Her guards saluted as she approached, and she fixed a smile on her face as she nodded. She pushed the puzzle from her mind for the time being. She had a meeting with the Maretonian Ambassador over dinner, and it wouldn’t do to be dwelling on this matter. 





The stone hallway of Clover’s library seemed dark and cold as Celestia paced at the bottom of the tower stairs. Cookie stood leaning against the wall and watching her. 

Luna was up there now. Celestia had no idea how she bore this alone, but she had declined Celestia’s offer to go up together. Once more Celestia looked at Cookie’s worried face, thanking the stars he was there. 

A few moments later, she heard hoofsteps on the tower stairs. As she came back to them in her pacing, she waited as Luna rounded the curve.

Her sister’s face was a stony mask, and Celestia walked over and offered a nuzzle as Luna stepped into the hallway. Luna closed her eyes and nuzzled back.

“Wait for me,” Celestia said softly. “We can walk back to the castle together.”

“No.” Luna pulled away, shaking her head. “I shall see myself back. I wish to be alone with my moon.”

Celestia frowned. It had been nearly forty years since they took their crowns, and Luna had grown more distant at a steady pace. The pranks they used to play had faded; time stretched between the talks they used to share. Luna rarely appeared at council or court, and Celestia wasn’t sure Luna spoke more than a sentence to anypony but Star Swirl for weeks on end. And now, Star Swirl lay dying, and Luna wanted only a cold rock for company...

“Whatever you wish.” Then she added, her heart pleading, “But don’t hesitate to come to me.” 

Luna cast a quick frown at Cookie.

He gave her a sad smile. “I can make myself scarce easily. I don’t mind.” 

“I’ll keep it in my thoughts.” She nodded, and looked to Celestia, adding earnestly, “Thank you.”

Celestia looked after her as she made her way down the hall, her worry nearly distracting her from the stairway to the tower. It was only after Luna left that the thoughts of what lay ahead drew her attention back to it. She quickly looked to Cookie, who leaned against the wall as steady as ever. 

He stood and walked over to her, offering a nuzzle, and said tenderly, “I can stay by your side as easily as I can make myself scarce. I only know Star Swirl as an acquaintance, you and Luna and Clover are my only concern right now.”

She smelled the warm scent of freshly baked bread that always clung to him and drew strength from that. Even so, she whispered, “If you need to attend to Clover…” 

“I was at her side all day, and Pansy and Platinum intend to stay the night, just in case.” He sighed. “But the poor girl will need her rest, if she can get it. She’s done nothing but fuss over him since sunrise. I expect Platinum’s wine cellar is more necessary than I am.”  

Celestia pursed her lips. “Perhaps we should give him a rest. He may have been tired by talking to Luna.”

“We can see if he feels he needs it. If not, I’m sure Clover will let us know when she feels he needs it.” He leaned against her and nuzzled her shoulder. “Waiting won’t make this easier, my dear.”

“You’re right.” She gave a firm nod and drew herself up, starting up the stairs with Cookie right behind her.  

At the top of the stairs was a wooden door. Celestia paused, not sure what to expect behind it. She’d last seen Star Swirl a month ago, or maybe two. He had looked old, but then Star Swirl had looked old since she first met him half a century ago. She prepared herself for the worst, gave a light knock, and opened the door.

The room was warm, with a fire in the fireplace and rich tapestries on the walls. A red couch was set against one side of the room, and in the middle was a large, ornate wooden bed.

Lying in the bed was Star Swirl, mostly covered by a heavy blanket. His hat was nowhere to be seen, and that alone made a change in him. He seemed smaller to Celestia without it. His face looked gaunt, his horn more pronounced, and his white mane and beard seemed thinner.

As she stepped into the room he smiled, and his eyes twinkled as they always had. It made her smile, though to see it on his diminished form made tears sting her eyes. Cookie entered behind her and shut the door, hanging back next to it as Celestia approached the bed.

“Celestia, my shining filly. I’m so glad you made it,” Star Swirl said, in a voice that sounded more dry and hollow than she remembered.

“Did you think I wouldn’t make the time? After all you’ve done for me, and for Luna… how could I not… say…” A lump had grown in her throat, and the tears stinging her eyes threatened to overflow if she said what she meant to. So instead she finished, “Thank you.”

Star Swirl raised his bushy white eyebrows. “Please now, you didn’t come to say thank you. You came to say goodbye, which makes much more sense, since I’m dying.”

“I came to say both,” Celestia whispered. 

“Then I’ll accept both, if you will.” His eyes seemed to dart over her and the room, sharp and vibrant as ever. “Is that Smart Cookie hanging back there?”

“Yes, sir,” Cookie said.

Star Swirl nodded. “Come forward. Celestia doesn’t need to hide her tears from me, but she’ll need a shoulder to bear the weight.”

Cookie hesitated, then stepped up beside Celestia. Just feeling him next to her, strong and safe, loosed the tears she had been fighting. She leaned over and buried her face in his mane. 

“There now,” she heard Star Swirl say, “I’ll feel better leaving you, knowing you still know how to cry.”

Celestia looked up quickly. “How could I not cry?”

He raised his eyebrows again. “Are you going to cry at my funeral?”

Celestia stared at him and swallowed. She would be giving the eulogy; it would only be right for a pony as honored as Star Swirl. She would be standing in front of her subjects, comforting them in the loss of a great pony. They both knew she couldn’t cry there.

Star Swirl smiled. “Now, now, I wasn’t shaming you for it. I don’t expect you to. You’ll stand solemn and strong and regal, and you’ll be a fine testament to my accomplishments.” His smile grew, and he gave a contented sigh as he looked at her. “But you aren’t my accomplishment, Celestia. You’re your own pony, with your own love and joy and sorrow in your heart. That is your accomplishment, and I’m proud of you.”

She smiled back through her tears, remembering all the discussions they’d had as she prepared to take the throne and adjusted to her role. “I understand. I shall fight to keep that.”

With a snort, Star Swirl shook his head. “Don’t. You do enough, ruling this kingdom, guiding Luna. Let that stallion of yours hold your heart for you.” 

“I will… as long as he’s by my side,” she said, looking to Cookie. For a brief instant, she imagined him in Star Swirl’s place and fear started to grip her. Then Cookie gave her a small smile and leaned against her, not requiring her strength but offering his, and she drew a breath to steady herself. 

Star Swirl’s eyes darted to Cookie and looked him up and down. “He looks quite healthy for his age… quite healthy indeed. You’re the same age as Clover, Cookie?”

Cookie nodded. “Close to that. A year older.”

“Hmm.” Star Swirl pursed his lips, his horn lighting up. Then he gave a chuckle. “The old girl’s got her work cut out for her.” He smiled, the twinkle in his eye stronger than ever as he said to Cookie, “Do a favor for a dying pony. In, oh, about a month, go ask Clover to have a look at you. It’ll be good for all of you.”

“Certainly…” Cookie said, nodding. He gave Celestia an uncertain look, and Celestia just shrugged. 

Star Swirl turned his attention towards her. “And as for you, Celestia… tell me, what are your plans for Equestria these days?”

She dried the last of this round of tears with the back of her hoof as she answered, “As always, to rule it wisely and help my ponies to make it the place they dream of. “

“You have no plans to expand it, or enact treaties to enrich the kingdom?” He tilted his head.

Celestia drew a breath and let it out. “Only as my ponies might need. Some are exploring the northern plains, land that borders the Ice Kingdom. I’ve sent word to the King who rules there, that we might discuss where our borders lie. There are explorers to the south, in the jungles, who have met with chiefs and clans of ponies there, and I’m sending ambassadors to discuss whether they’d like to remain independent or be united with Equestria. None of these needs are my own, but I shall do all that I can as representative of the ponies who try to forge these paths.”

Star Swirl smirked. “So, in other words, you don’t know why some ponies seem to think it wise to inhabit some stars forsaken bit of ice, or try to export sand to Saddle Arabia, but you’ll help them do it.”

“Not words I might use, but yes,” Celestia said with a light chuckle. 

Cookie cleared his throat. “We know perfectly well why.”

“Do you now, Smart Cookie?” Star Swirl turned to him with the same smirk. “How about you enlighten an old pony.”

Cookie shrugged. “For exactly the same reason some ponies feel the need to muck about with the entrails of the universe, or put on a crown. We all have our destiny to follow, our dreams to pursue, and as foolish as they might sound to others with different paths we trot our own with pride.”

Star Swirl chuckled. “I suppose there are plenty of ponies who find me foolish.”

“Not at all!” Celestia frowned. “You’ve mastered magics that most can only dream of.”

“And tell me what that means to Smart Cookie here?” He nodded to the stallion at her side. 

“I beg your pardon, I didn’t mean that,” Cookie said quickly. “I know enough from Clover and Celestia to respect the things you’ve achieved—”

“Though they’re about as useful to you as a feather grooming kit.” The smirk returned to his face. “For now, at least. One can never know when the path of a fool might lead to much needed wisdom.”

“Of course,” Cookie said, nodding. 

The door to the room opened, and Clover stuck her head in. “Princess… I’m sorry to disturb you, but Star Swirl needs his rest.”

Star Swirl rolled his eyes. “I do not. I feel fine.”

“Well of course you do now. It’s tomorrow you’ll be sorry,” Clover said, frowning as she entered the room. She hadn’t aged as gracefully as Cookie. Well on her way to becoming a venerable old mare, her purple mane was greying at the roots and lines on her face accentuated her expression. 

“I may be dead tomorrow.” Star Swirl huffed, fussing with his blankets. 

Clover raised her eyebrows. “Which is what I’m trying to prevent.” Her magic smoothed the blankets as she approached him. 

He smiled at her. “Dear, you’ve spent most of your life trying to prevent that. You must be tired of it by now.”

Clover gave him a sad smile. “I’ll rest when I’ve failed.” Then the smile shifted to a firm smirk. “You, on the other hoof, are going to rest now.” She turned to Celestia and Cookie. “Sorry, you two. You’re welcome back tomorrow.”

Celestia nodded and started towards the door, Cookie at her side. “I understand. Clover is right, Star Swirl. You need your strength.”

Star Swirl nodded, smiling fondly after her. “And you need yours, and probably his as well.”

She managed to see Star Swirl twice more before his passing, though the last time hardly counted and she preferred not to remember it at all. That most difficult time she had Luna at her side instead of Cookie, and it had led to a long talk about the benefits of losing a pony swiftly and suddenly as they had their parents, versus the long goodbye they had made to Star Swirl. Luna preferred the former and Celestia the latter, even with the sad memory of the last visit fresh in mind. 


***


The funeral came and went, and Celestia cried in her chambers on Cookie's shoulder, or in quiet moments when nopony could see her. To her ponies she showed only a somber and steady face.

A month after Star Swirl’s death, Cookie kept his promise and went to see Clover. Shortly after that, Celestia found herself once again in the stone library with Cookie at her side, this time in a lower hallway headed towards the room Clover used as an office. 

They came to a wooden door and Cookie knocked lightly, then opened it without waiting for a response and led the way inside. 

The room was lined with shelves cluttered with scrolls and tomes, which seemed to have overflowed onto the desk in the center. Behind the desk, Clover stood looking down at the scroll directly in front of her and comparing it to another just to her left. A window behind her let in bright afternoon light and offered a view of the forest. 

She looked up as the ponies entered and stood before the desk, giving them a smile and nod.  

“Thank you for coming, Princess. I’m afraid I’ve got some interesting news for Cookie, and he might need some support.”

“It’s my pleasure,” Celestia said, returning the smile.

Cookie narrowed his eyes at Clover suspiciously. “What kind of interesting?”

Clover raised her eyebrows at him. “Well, that depends on who you ask. In my case it’s the kind of interesting where I’ve got magical research to do for the rest of my life, and sometime past that. In your case it’s the kind of interesting where you’re going to lock yourself in your room for three weeks as you reconsider your place in the universe. And in Princess Celestia’s case it’s the kind of interesting where she’s got to figure out how to stop you from doing that.” She smirked. “So we’ve all got our work cut out for us.”

His ears laid back against his head. “Clover… what did you find out?”

Clover ignored his expression and looked down at a scroll on her desk. “I took the test results and plugged in all the equations I know, and a few things I just figured out. The fact is… there’s magic in you, Cookie.”

“More than earth pony magic or a cutie mark, I take it?” he said slowly. 

“Imagine if you were approximately 986 earth ponies at once. Or about 690 pegasi, or 493 unicorns.” Clover looked up from the scroll and raised her eyebrows. “Well, you don’t really have to imagine. That’s how much magic you have.”

Celestia’s eyebrows raised. “That’s nearly as much as an alicorn…”

“This isn’t funny.” Cookie frowned, shifting on his hooves. “If this is a prank...”

“I don’t joke with equations.” Clover floated the scroll to show them, covered with numbers and magic symbols. “I know I’ll get the scrolls mixed up and spend half a day trying to figure out why they make no blessed sense.”

Cookie shook his head. “So, let’s say I do have all of this magic in me. Where did it come from?”

Clover shrugged. “Right now, your guess is as good as mine, but you can bet your cutie mark that I’ll do my best to find out.”

“Is… is it something I’ve done?” Celestia asked, glancing between Cookie and Clover. She knew her magic was powerful, but she hadn’t considered that just being around her often might affect somepony. 

“Could be,” Clover said to Celestia, though she was clearly keeping an eye on Cookie. “Could be the spell, or something Cookie stumbled on in the forest here, or some spirit that took an interest in him.”

“So what is it doing to me, then?” Cookie asked, leaning forward and tilting his head to try to read Clover’s notes.

Clover tugged her scroll back and raised her eyebrows at Cookie. “Well it’s making you immortal, for one thing.”

“Immortal.” Cookie slowly pulled back, then sat back on his haunches, a bewildered expression on his face.

Celestia sat stunned. It couldn’t be a joke. Clover would never be that cruel. A hope she’d never considered possible filled her heart. One by one, fears burst like clouds as the sky was cleared; Cookie’s body or mind failing as he neared the end; another funeral where she’d need to remain strong and sure while her heart broke; a long, uncertain future with nothing but a blank place where love had been. A bright smile spread over her face as she realized those things might never be.

Clover nodded, looking Cookie in the eye. “More or less. There might be some way you can die, if whatever source the magic is coming from were to run out, or you broke some geas you might be under. But if that magic remains stable, you’ll be exactly as you are now when the universe packs up and goes home.” 

Celestia steadied herself. Nothing was certain, she had to remember that. She tried to keep the urgency and determination from her voice as she asked, “If there is a geas, can you find out the terms?”

“What’s a geas?” Cookie asked, looking between the mares.

“A magical prohibition. If you break it, it breaks a spell,” Clover said to Cookie. “For example, you can’t eat rutabagas under a full moon, or you always have to eat oats on Wednesday. It could be anything, really, but it’s most likely something you’d almost always do anyway or almost never happen to do, because otherwise the spell would have been broken by now.”

“But—” Cookie started frantically, but Clover cut him off, turning to Celestia.

“And I don’t know, Your Highness. It’ll depend on the source. If it’s a spirit playing silly buggers with ponies, we might be able to find them and get the information out of them. If it’s Love magic, well… I’d guess it’ll last as long as there’s love between you.”

Celestia tried to keep a smile from her face. It would be beautiful to think that their love was so strong it might bind them forever. 

She looked over to see Cookie staring at her, his eyes wide. He didn’t seem at all charmed by the idea.

Clover went on, “Harmony, Chaos, or Dark magic might be more general things… Of course, any of the big ones and we’re in some trouble. We know about as much about them as a foal knows of geometry.” 

Cookie’s head snapped to Clover with the same wide eyes. “Chaos magic? Dark magic? How in the course of the stars…”

Clover smirked. “You’re the one stuffed full of magic like a cushion, you tell me.”

Cookie shook his head, and his eyes took on a wild cast as he spoke, gesturing broadly, “Clover, the entire extent of my knowledge of magic is how to make dough rise and not burn the baking, and that I’m meant to help ideas spread and flourish. Unless you happen to know any Dark magic recipes for tarts, I haven’t got the vaguest idea what’s going on!”

“Cookie, please calm down,” Celestia said firmly, frowning. She reached out a hoof to lay on his, but he jerked away from her.

“I will not!” He paced back to the door, then swiftly turned and headed to Clover’s desk, shouting, “This is madness!” 

“This is magic,” Celestia said gently. 

Clover gave a laugh. “Same thing, in my experience.”

He slammed a hoof on Clover's desk. “You have to get to the bottom of this, now!”

Clover shot him an unhappy look, then sighed. “I’m going to do my best, but it’s going to take time. I’m already working half blind without Star Swirl, and you’re coming at me with the largest magic anomaly I’ve ever heard of.” Her face shifted to sympathy. “All we’ve got to work with is what’s at hoof. The information you’ve got is all you’re going to know until I make some breakthrough.”

Cookie deflated. He looked down and shook his head. “This isn’t right. I’m a normal pony. Star Swirl was the greatest mage in history, and you’re saying he’s dead, and I’m immortal.”

All sympathy fell away from Clover’s face. She glared at Cookie and said crisply, “Then I suppose Princess Celestia won’t have to worry about losing you, will she?”

Celestia’s eyes went wide. She had been focused on her own joy and Cookie’s agitation and had completely forgotten that Clover was just getting over the death of her own lover. She blushed and shifted, trying to make herself smaller.

Cookie dragged a hoof over his face, cringing. “I’m so sorry, Clover. I spoke without thinking.”

“It’s the luck of the stars.” She sighed. Then she offered a sad smile. “Nothing we can do about it now, at any rate. Star Swirl promised that if I got any bright ideas about necromancy he’d open interdimensional portals on every street corner.” 

An awkward quiet settled over the room, Celestia still wishing she wasn’t quite so obvious. She could only imagine how it must feel to Clover to see her there. Clover may even think that Celestia knew some secret she didn’t reveal, something that might have saved Star Swirl. 

After a moment, Clover glanced directly at Celestia, then looked at Cookie and said gently, “I know you’re going to find a million deep, thoughtful reasons why this is the worst thing that’s happened to a pony in the history of the world. But you’d better remember you’ve got at least one reason it’s a blessing, and she’s sitting right there watching you carry on.”

Cookie stared at Clover for a moment, then nodded. “You’re right.” He turned and looked into Celestia eyes, still seeming utterly bewildered. “I’m sorry, Celestia. I must seem like I’m not grateful for…” He swallowed. “For what we might have. I am! Really. I just... stars above… I don’t even know what to think right now…”

Celestia offered him a pitying smile. At least Cookie was a pony she knew what to do with. “I can’t imagine how confused you must be by all of this. If we claimed you thought too seriously about matters before, this must seem to be a bottomless chasm of considerations.”

He nodded. “That’s an excellent way of putting it.”

She smiled more deeply. “I don’t ask that you put them out of mind. That would be impossible. But please, for your sake, try not to think of them all at once?”

He sighed and closed his eyes, turning his face to the ceiling as if asking the stars for strength. “Right now I’d be happy if I could keep one of them in mind for a moment before another shoves it out of the way.” He looked back at Celestia, his eyes pleading. “I feel as if I don’t know anything. Every thought I ever had was based in the certainty that I would die, that my time in this world was short in the grand scheme of things. I feel as if I have no thoughts right now, no ground beneath my hooves.”

She walked over to him and leaned down to nuzzle his face. “Let Equestria be the ground beneath your hooves. We’ll see our dream blossom together. Hold to that, even if you question all else.”

“Yes…” Cookie relaxed and took a long breath. When he spoke again, the panic in his voice had calmed. “Celestia, you are an unending wonder.”

“I hope I always give you reason to see me that way.” She smiled, her heart once again soaring as she realized that it might truly be always.

“That’s all I have for you right now,” Clover said. Celestia looked at her and realized she was staring at them. “You’ve got a whole evening to discuss things. Cookie, I’ll want you here first thing tomorrow to get started figuring out what in Tartarus got into you.”

“I’ve never been to Tartarus, though I’ve been told to go many times.” Cookie gave a shaky smirk that faded to a more sincere smile. “I’ll be here.”

Clover smiled at him. Then she turned to Celestia with a more even expression, saying, “Princess? May I speak to you alone for a moment?”

“Of course.” Celestia nodded, glancing at Cookie. He nodded as well, with a confused frown. But he left the room, closing the door behind him. 

Celestia bit her lip and looked down. “Clover, I know of nothing I did, I swear it by the stars. You know I would have—”

“Of course you would have told us,” Clover said plainly. “You’ve done nothing wrong, and neither has Cookie, and the sooner you stop feeling guilty about it, the better.”

“I shall try.” Celestia swallowed, drawing herself up.

“But that’s not what I needed to tell you,” Clover added. 

Celestia nodded. “Please, go on…”

Clover drew a breath and looked Celestia in the eye. “Begging your pardon… Celestia, take care of that pony. I know how hard it was for both of us, losing Star Swirl, and Cookie’s going to have to deal with it five times, plus enough guilt each time to drive him mad. I don’t envy him that. And it’s going to be up to you to keep him from falling into his own head.” Her face melted to a sad smile. “And I don’t envy you that, either, but it’s a small price to pay.”

She held Clover’s gaze for a moment, considering what she said. It would be awful when Cookie lost his friends, and his manner of thinking would turn it into a nightmare for him. Finally she nodded. “It is, and I shall do my best.” 

“Thank you, Princess.” Clover smiled. “I won’t keep you any longer.”

“Very well.” Celestia turned to leave. “If there’s any help I can offer you in your investigation, let me know.”

“Just a list of anything you’ve cast on or around Cookie would do to start with,” Clover called after her.

“Then farewell, and I shall have that for you by morning,” Celestia said as she walked out the door and joined Cookie in the hall. 

They returned to the castle for a very long evening of discussion as Cookie fought fate, justice, and an indefinite future for some kind of balance. But through it all, even as she seriously addressed dozens of rambling concerns, her joy nearly burst out with every heartbeat. Smart Cookie would never leave her.
> 9 - The Late Party
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The Equestrian Historical Society Museum was small compared to other museums in Canterlot, occupying a large house that used to belong to Admiral Fairy Flight. Most of the items on display were knick-knacks and oddities, with a few larger paintings of historical scenes that had been loaned by Princess Celestia.

Cookie knew that it was usually empty, and the custodian didn’t bother to leave the front desk unless there was some kind of disturbance. And since Celestia’s sense of humor meant that she had loaned them the most historically accurate and important paintings in her collections—which only she and Cookie would ever realize—Cookie went there fairly often.

He was standing in front of one of those paintings, an untitled work usually called “A Late Party,” when he was joined by Twilight Sparkle. She paused to look at it with him before turning to look at him and then back at the painting.

Cookie smirked at her, an expression not unlike that of one of the six ponies in the painting, the one who not coincidentally shared his coloring, though the unnamed pony’s cutie mark was blocked by the grinning green unicorn mare leaning against him.

Twilight’s eyes widened. She whispered, “They don’t know who those ponies are?”

“Nopony does. Celestia and I agree that the shroud of mystery allows more ponies to see themselves in the Hearth’s Warming story.” He smiled at the familiar faces in the painting. “But yes, this is a good likeness.”

She studied the painting a while longer, a smile growing on her face. “It looks like you all were having a good time.”

“We had many.” He turned to focus on his companion, offering her a smile. “It’s good to see you again, Twilight.”

“It’s good to see you, Cookie.” She smiled with an excited light in her eyes. “Thank you for agreeing to talk to me!”

It had been a week and a half since they met for tea. They had decided their next meeting should be in Canterlot, to avoid raised eyebrows and talk from ponies around them in their respective small towns.

“It’s my pleasure.” He looked around the room where they stood, a grand foyer with a few pedestals scattered about containing an ink pot that had belonged to Hay Carts and General Custard’s shaving kit, among other similar items. “I hope you don’t mind the location. Ponies almost never come here, so we should have all of the privacy we need.”

“I don’t mind at all. I used to love to come here.” She nodded to a door to the left. “The Star Swirl room is number 23 on my list of the best places to read in Canterlot.”

Cookie chuckled and turned toward the indicated door. “Well then, why don’t we start there?”

He led the way, and they entered what had once been a parlor. There were some sitting cushions in the middle of the floor for guests to relax on as they viewed the large paintings on the walls: Star Swirl befriending Scorpan, Star Swirl banishing the sirens, and Star Swirl teaching Celestia and Luna.

An entranced joy appeared on Twilight’s face as she slowly spun around to take in each painting. When she came back to the point where Cookie stood grinning, she gave an embarrassed smile. “Um, Star Swirl was an amazing pony.”

Cookie nodded. “He was. I was never close with him, but to hear Clover talk he was constantly doing something nearly impossible that was likely to end the world, and yet the world never ended.” Remembering his audience, he added, “She was his lover, you know.”

Twilight’s eyes went wide. “She… I didn’t know Star Swirl had…”

Cookie motioned to the cushions and walked over to sit down. “Not when she was young, but after Equestria was founded, when he returned. His talent and intellect drove her mad in every way.”

Sitting next to him, Twilight tilted her head in companionable curiosity. “What was she like?”

Cookie pictured Clover in his mind, and it brought a smile to his face. “Clover was a down to earth, no-nonsense mare with a weary, teasing sense of humor. She studied hard and had no time for fools, but she had a warmth to her like a favorite quilt—not fit for company and frayed around the edges, but exactly what you’d want to relax on a cold night.”

Twilight was smiling as he spoke, occasionally glancing at the pictures of Star Swirl as if in a daydream. It gave Cookie an idea.

He looked at a painting and watched her out of the corner of his eye. “You asked me before what the first Hearth’s Warming was like, so perhaps I could tell you about Clover in light of that…”

“Okay.” Twilight nodded, giving him her full attention and settling into the cushions.

He took a deep breath and leaned back, closing his eyes to focus on putting the correct information in the correct order. “Clover loved magic, and she was very bright. She became Star Swirl’s apprentice as a young mare, back in Monoceros. It was a prestigious position, but she never cared for that. She only cared that she would study with the greatest master of magic alive. Of course, I didn’t know Clover at that age, but when Celestia was telling me of a talented, dedicated student she had taken, and her high hopes for young Twilight, I admit I couldn’t help imagining Clover in the same light, entering her studies with Star Swirl.”

Opening one eye, he watched Twilight. She grinned at him, though he wasn’t sure if it was at the compliment or the thought of common ground.

Cookie went on, “Then, Star Swirl was called away, and he left Clover to her studies in the royal castle.” The smile faded from his face, replaced by a tense frown. “Remember, Clover was ill-equipped for a life in a royal court. She cared little for politics or connections, so those fell to the side. And not thinking to bite her tongue, her sense of humor probably earned her more enemies than friends.

“It wasn’t long before she arrived at her tower one morning to find it had been made into a parlor for one of Platinum’s Ladies in Waiting. Her effects had been tossed rather unceremoniously into a dark, dank room next to the dungeons. From then on, her announcements of breakthroughs and advancements were ignored, her requests for funds or materials were laughed at, and even the castle’s servants treated her as a pony to be avoided, lest her poor reputation rub off on them.”

He glanced at Twilight. An offended frown had settled on her face.

“But she was a student of Star Swirl the Bearded!” She motioned to the paintings.

Cookie nodded. “If Star Swirl had returned, he would have put things right. Though she admitted that she almost dreaded it, fearing he’d be ashamed of her failure and officially dismiss her.”

Twilight cringed in sympathy.

He looked down and drew a breath. “But before that could happen, the weather changed. It started growing colder, and word came that earth pony harvests had been too poor to pay their tribute. You know the Windigos had found us, but to the tribes at the time it just seemed as if the weather had gone mad. The pegasi swore they had nothing to do with it, and nopony believed them. The earth ponies swore they had no food to share past what would keep their own ponies alive, and nopony believed them.”

He shook his head slowly at the memories and continued, “Clover was called on by Platinum to tell them what was happening. If she’d had an answer, she might have been hailed as a great mage. That she had no idea where to start was considered proof of her uselessness at the castle, and of course the rest of us didn’t believe that the unicorns didn’t secretly have the answer to everything. Her position could hardly have sunk lower, and she took the failure hard, considering herself a waste of space, unworthy of being Star Swirl’s student.”

“Poor Clover.” Twilight whispered. He looked up to see her frowning in thought, ears drooping. She went on, “I—I don’t know what I would have done.”

He gave a sad shrug. “Probably very much what Clover did. Scrape by and study harder looking for some sliver of information. When the unicorns packed up and moved, she went with them rather than freeze in a castle alone. When the other tribes were discovered nearby, she was selected to accompany Platinum to meet the other leaders at a neutral location. She was to provide magical defense if Hurricane made it necessary, as it was thought her presence wouldn’t provoke him as a guard’s might…

“I first saw her plodding behind Platinum, her head down, as if she hoped to be forgotten as long as she made no eye contact. Platinum seemed happy to assist her in that endeavour; she was embarrassed to be seen with her. As our superiors argued us into oblivion, Clover buried her nose in a scroll under a tree.” He closed his eyes again and heaved a frustrated sigh, lost in the memory.

Twilight pursed her lips and shook her head sadly. “I… I knew the leaders of the tribes weren’t the nicest ponies, but I never thought a pony like Clover the Clever had been treated so badly.”

Cookie looked up at Twilight with a sad smile. “I came to love Platinum and Hurricane and Puddinghead too well to think they ever had any malice towards us or desire for our humiliation. They simply had no use for Clover or Pansy or me. Platinum supported ponies who were well-mannered and decorous, and Clover never in her life tried to be those things. Hurricane was a soldier through and through, and Pansy was about as useful in military life as her namesake. Puddinghead was a pony of base pleasures and simple plans, who led by telling ponies what to do and shouting at them if they asked her why, and I never was capable of keeping my mouth shut and doing as I was told…”

Twilight looked at him, biting her lip, as if there was a sensitive question she didn’t want to ask.

Cookie nodded, looking her in the eye. “Going into that cave, Pansy and I were no better off than Clover. Utter failures, scorned by most of our own tribes.” He paused, but didn’t look away.

He went on softly, “You asked what it was like, when the spell was cast. The cave was dark, nothing but bare stone and ice and freezing cold in a way I’ve never felt since. The end was at hoof, and the three ponies who huddled for warmth had no hope that we might survive, and the glaring corpses of our superiors reminded us that we had no reason to wish for it.”

He could see the true fear in Twilight’s eyes—probably the first time she had felt it when hearing the Hearth’s Warming story, if she was like most ponies.

“But we had reason to wish for ponies who would respect us, and feel compassion for us, and share in our miseries and offer a bit of joy before the end. That desire was stronger than tribes, and what we found was stronger than all of our failures put together. Out of the cold emptiness of what was most assuredly death, there was a flash of white light, and a warm, magical fire, and all of the joy we’d ever known simply because we were not only alive, but together.”

Cookie smiled, and the smile returned to Twilight’s face as well as they moved towards more familiar ground.

He relaxed and finished the story. “When the others were thawed, we told them in no uncertain terms the cause of their good fortune and the path we would forge together. The three of us stood united, and Platinum, Puddinghead, and Hurricane could see by our insistence, by the magic in the cave, and by their own living flesh that we were driven by something that would be foolish to reckon with. So they embraced it, and us, and from then on the six of us were fast friends for all of our differences.”

Twilight shook her head slowly. “Wow. I wish everypony knew this version of the story.”

“Clover and Pansy and I never liked to talk about it.” Cookie shifted and looked down. “Even during our lifetimes, Hearth’s Warming was a happy time to celebrate friendships, our good fortune, and the nation we’d founded. Asking ponies to dwell on the more unfortunate parts seemed… not in the spirit of the day.”

“I can see that, but I know next year I’m going to remember it.” She glanced at the doorway. “And I think I might look around myself more carefully, to make sure there aren’t ponies who feel that way now.”

“Then I’m glad I told you.” Cookie smiled. “Would you like to look at the rest of the museum? I have a feeling you’re far less familiar with the other rooms.”

Twilight grinned and got to her hooves. “It has been a long time since I looked around. Something about three glorious paintings of Star Swirl doing amazing things always seems to distract me.”

They made their way through a set of double doors beneath the painting of Star Swirl, Celestia, and Luna, and into a larger room with a glass case against one wall. It held pieces of pottery from throughout pony history, none especially rare or interesting and there being no attempt at pretending they were.

Cookie stopped by the first piece in the display anyway. It was a brown jug, and the small note next to it read “Earth Pony Stoneware — circa 100 B.E.”

Twilight walked up next to him, and he nodded to it. “Probably from Girthshire. That’s where I was born. It was the central trade city of the earth ponies, before the Windigos chased us to Equestria.”

“Do you know where it was?” Twilight glanced at him with an eager amusement in her eyes.  “Nopony has ever been able to locate the remains of those cities.”

Cookie nodded. “There’s a good reason for that. Not many ponies go digging around in the Badlands.”

Twilight looked at the case, deep in thought. “How bad were things between the tribes before that? I know they were separate, and the tensions between them attracted the Windigos, but… I just can’t imagine ponies waking up every morning thinking, ‘boy, I hate those pegasi’ when they knew they were thousands of different ponies.”

Cookie frowned. “I’ll answer you in all honesty...but understand I offer no excuses, simply explanation so that you might understand how so many supposedly reasonable ponies got their heads planted so firmly under their own tails.”

“Okay…”

“Speaking for myself, I never hated pegasi or unicorns.” He raised his eyebrows at Twilight. “I simply knew that feather brains were stupid brutes who blindly followed their orders without reason or sense and that stick heads were pompous, lazy snobs who’d stab other ponies in the back without a stray thought. I never hated them any more than I hated a wolf or a wasp.” He frowned and looked at the pottery in the case. “In turn, I have it on good authority that mud ponies were simple minded, stubborn louts with an awful smell and worse manners.”

“Stick heads?” Twilight raised an eyebrow. “That doesn’t sound as mean as the other two.”

“It was from an old joke: Why do unicorns have horns on their heads? Because the stick up their rear end goes all the way through.” He gave her a grim smile.

Twilight rolled her eyes.

“You aren’t laughing.” Cookie shook his head. “Just like a stick head, can’t take a joke.”

“Not jokes like that,” she said with a disapproving look.

“Ah, perhaps this one is more your style: what’s the best way to pick a fight with a feather brain?” He paused, then answered himself, “Find one.”

Twilight frowned.

Cookie raised his eyebrows. “What’s the first thing a mud pony wife says when her husband comes in from the rain? ‘Who are you?’”

She shook her head sadly. “Didn’t that hurt, knowing ponies were thinking about you like that?”

The grim smile returned to Cookie’s face. “There’s the choice, you see. You can be hurt that somepony you might respect, somepony who might be a friend, would call you a stick head.” He arched an eyebrow. “Or you can brush it off, knowing that it’s just the opinion of a mud pony.”

Understanding flashed in Twilight’s eyes. “And if it’s just a…” She hesitated, looking at Cookie.

He smiled. “Go on…”

After a barely noticeable drawing of strength, she said the word, “a mud pony, joking about how bad they are might make me feel better.”

Cookie nodded. “That was the dark magic of it. With each joke, each slur, each act of casual disdain the subject was degraded and the speaker was distrusted. By the time a pony was grown, you knew the only ponies who could be trusted, the only ponies who saw you as a pony, were your own tribe. And in turn, they were the only ponies worthy of your respect.”

“And of course, from there it was natural to want to warn and protect your own tribe.” He frowned, glancing at Twilight. “A pony on my street growing up used to deliver produce to the unicorns, and one of the maids from the castle came by to bring her some cast off clothes. The young stallions all came out and stared down the unicorn until she left without seeing the girl.”

Twilight stared at him, her mouth in a firm, serious line. “Were you one of the stallions who did that?”

Cookie looked her in the eye and nodded slowly. “Awful, isn’t it? We thought we were protecting one of our own.”

“From clothes,” Twilight said, her voice dripping with contempt. “From generosity.”

“From a stick head who could never respect her. Who must be planning to do something magic to her that she wouldn’t dare attempt on one of her own, or using her to get better a better deal for produce. There was no reason we could imagine for a unicorn to simply be nice to an earth pony.” He raised his eyebrows. “We couldn’t imagine a friendship between tribes.”

Twilight considered that and nodded. “Until you had nothing else to lose, and nothing to offer except friendship, and a unicorn and a pegasus came through for you. And you came through for them, in the end.”

“Exactly.” Cookie smiled, glancing at the jug in the case one last time. “I’m very glad you couldn’t imagine it. It’s a testament to Equestria.”

“And you.” Twilight smiled and started out of the room. “You helped found Equestria.”

“I must credit Celestia more than myself. I had a dream, but she’s the one who’s made sure it was realized.” He smiled as they left the pottery behind for a hallway lined with windows on one side, overlooking a garden.

“Well, of course.” Twilight nodded. “But she’s Princess Celestia. You were just normal ponies, then.”

Cookie chuckled. “You know, when I met her she was no older than you are now, with no more idea how to rule a nation than you have.” He tilted his head and studied Twilight. “What would you do, I wonder?”

“What do you mean?”

Cookie noticed a door to the museum’s garden and opened it, gesturing outside. Twilight walked out into the garden and he followed, taking a breath of fresh air after the confines of the museum.

“If you were given the crown of Equestria tomorrow. What would be the philosophy of your rule?”

The garden was well tended in the Canterlot style, stiff and formal with pruned hedges and neat beds of flowers. He knew from past visits that each flower was an heirloom variety, with a plaque noting the pony whose family had tended it into the present.

Twilight shook her head, selecting a sunny patch of grass next to a hedgerow for a place to sit. “I don’t know. I’ve been involved in some diplomacy, and organized a friendship summit, and defended Equestria from threats, but… I wouldn’t know when to direct guards, or what to do about taxes, or appointing judges…”

“Well, let’s begin with this. What is Equestria?” Cookie asked as he joined her on the soft, even grass.

Twilight thought for a moment with a frown, then rattled off, “A nation of about a hundred million ponies. The largest nation in the world. The place where I live. Home to a hundred and nineteen varieties of apples.”

Cookie tilted his head at the last one.

She smiled and shrugged. “One of my best friends is an apple farmer. I know a lot of facts about apples.”

Cookie chuckled. “A fascinating subject, I’m sure. But are those things what Equestria is? If you began another nation someplace else, the largest nation in the world, settled by ponies, with exactly the same kinds of apples, would that alone make it Equestria?”

She shook her head. “No. I see what you’re asking me.” She considered for longer this time, then answered slowly, “Equestria is… all of the different things in it. Ponyville and Manehattan and Canterlot and the Everfree forest. And the ponies who live in those places, or go there, or stay away.”

“Then I can’t take credit for founding Equestria.” Cookie raised his eyebrows. “Manehattan and Canterlot were founded hundreds of years later, and Ponyville is so new that I’ve actually never been.”

Twilight gave him a gentle smile. “Well, the Equestria you founded isn’t exactly the same as the one I was born in, is it? In the Equestria you founded, ponies would have still thought of me as a stick head, even if you all rejected it and moved past that. But to ponies today, the fact that I was born in Canterlot means more than that I was born a unicorn.”

Cookie nodded. “Quite true. Of course, Canterlot is known as a unicorn city.”

“I reread Descent of Canterlot before I came here.” Twilight pursed her lips. “I do see your point… I mean, knowing it was you, it made perfect sense. There’s a danger in that way of thinking. But I don’t think that’s the biggest danger of that kind in Equestria today…”

He tilted his head. “Then what is? Other species?”

She gestured to the well tended, orderly garden. “The places themselves. Like I said, ponies would care more that I was born in Canterlot than that I was born a unicorn. I’ll never be called a stick head, but I have been accused of being a snob because of where I’m from. And at the same time, some ponies in Canterlot look down on Ponyville ponies as backwards and having bad manners, whether they’re earth ponies or unicorns. The same is true across Equestria, from Manehattan to Appleloosa. Ponies do things differently in each city and town, and they think the things other ponies do are weird, so they call them names and try to exclude them, even ponies who would never say anything about the type of pony somepony is.”

“Interesting observation…” Cookie raised his eyebrows, considering that. The gardens did make a fine example; Cookie would guess they were tended by an earth pony gardener, as most gardens were, yet they were quite different from his own practical little patch in Rainbow Falls. And, he had to admit, it was easy for him to judge these sculpted hedges and manicured lawns as flawed.

Twilight nodded. “That’s it, I think. That would be my philosophy as Princess of Equestria, with Princess Celestia’s job. That whatever differences exist between ponies, or other beings who live here, we’re all Equestrian. It’s all of those differences that make this Equestria, and we should celebrate them, not use them to divide ponies.”

Cookie grinned and gave a firm nod. “Well done. I would support you wholeheartedly.”

“Thank you.” Twilight smiled, a blush coloring her cheeks.

“I might even try to travel more, to see how often I observe it myself.” He looked into the distance in thought, and added, “I’m certainly going to mention it to Celestia, if I do.”

“If you’re traveling, you should stop by Ponyville.” Twilight grinned. “I’d love to show you around and introduce you to my friends… however you want to be introduced.”

Cookie looked at her and smiled. “Perhaps I will. If they’re all ponies of your caliber, I’d love to meet them.”

Twilight hesitated, her brow furrowing. “I’m… not sure what you mean by that. We’re very different ponies…”

“Of course you are. I don’t expect them all to be princesses, or as learned as you. What I mean is that there’s a spirit to some ponies, an openness that ensures you’re going to have an interesting conversation about some subject, whatever it might be.” Cookie gave a wistful sigh, the smile still on his face. “Ponies one could talk to late into the night are rare, and to be treasured for that.”

Grinning, Twilight nodded. “Now I think I know what you mean. And I think you’ll like my friends. That’s actually how I met them. I wasn’t the best at making friends, but they all opened up to me and helped me even when I didn’t know I needed it.”

“Luna’s return, yes,” he said with a thoughtful frown. “May I ask you, what did you think of using the Elements of Harmony? Were you afraid of holding something that powerful?”

Twilight shrugged. “Honestly, I didn’t know much about them before I used them. I just found out they were the thing that would stop Nightmare Moon, and since she returned I had to get them.”

Cookie raised an eyebrow. “You didn’t consider that they were an immensely powerful weapon?”

She thought about that. “Well, I did, but I was facing a pony who had defeated Princess Celestia. I needed a powerful weapon, I was just a pony.”

He nodded and studied her. “And afterwards you gave them back to Celestia.”

“Of course.” Twilight smiled. “I thought I wasn’t going to be facing anything like that again… it didn’t quite work out that way.” Her smile softened, and she furrowed her brow. “You know, it’s funny, now that I think about it…”

“Hmm?” Cookie raised an eyebrow.

She stared off into the distance as she went on, “Well, we returned the Elements to the Tree of Harmony a while ago. We had to, to get Princess Celestia and Princess Luna back from the vines that were taking over Equestria. But, we were barely worried that we were giving up a weapon, even though that was the whole reason we went to get them in the first place. We were more worried that we were giving up a symbol of our friendship. That was silly, of course, but it’s strange that we didn’t think more about the weapon thing.” She finished with a shrug. “There were just more important things going on.”

Cookie smiled at her. “I find that admirable.”

“Well, they might have come in handy after that, but we didn’t really need them. The magic comes from our friendships, not from the stones.” She laughed and motioned to him. “You, of all ponies, should know that.”

“I suppose that’s true, though to be honest I never thought about it much.” He smiled sheepishly. “Magic has always been a bit of a blind spot for me.”

“You should learn more about it. Even if you can’t cast spells yourself, it might help you to advise Princess Celestia.”

“That’s a very good point.” Cookie laughed. “I suppose I could find some books for unicorn foals that might be about my speed.”

“I’d be happy to explain some basic things to you. I could even see if Applejack and Rainbow Dash and Fluttershy want to come!” A grin grew on her face, then quickly shifted as she rolled her eyes. “And Pinkie, but… it’s hard explaining things like that around her.”

“She has difficulty keeping up?” Cookie asked.

Twilight gave a dry smile. “No, she keeps breaking the laws of magic. I’m sure I’d be explaining how it’s not possible to use a spell to predict the future and her Pinkie Sense would go off, and Applejack would raise an eyebrow at me and I’d have to explain about magical anomalies and unexplained phenomena. Then I’d have to explain what ‘anomalies’ and ‘phenomena’ mean for AJ and Rainbow Dash, and by then…” Twilight sighed, smiling fondly. “Some ponies just make life complicated, you know?”

Cookie laughed. “I do know. I’m afraid I’m often one of those ponies myself. And I’m sure it would be fascinating, whether Pinkie is there or not.”

Her smile faded to a thoughtful expression, and her head tilted. “Can I ask you something?”

Cookie’s smile faded as well, and he looked away at a neat garden lined with white rocks. “How serious is it going to be? I know you have some very serious questions to ask, and I’d like to be prepared.”

“Not that serious, I think...” Twilight said gently.

He nodded and smiled at her. “Go right ahead.”

“Why did you have me and Cadance to tea the other day? Cadance has been a princess for a long time, and I’ve been one for a few years now.” She gave a slight shrug. “I can’t figure out why we didn’t get to meet you before, but we do now.”

Cookie looked back to the garden, at the evenly spaced red petunias. “That question is far more serious than you know.”

“I’m sorry.”

He sighed. “I never introduced myself before because I didn’t want you or Cadance investigating my immortality.” Glancing back to Twilight, he added, “You might recall that I got a little testy when you probed me about that at tea, and I apologize for that again.”

She nodded. “That’s okay.”

“I’ll explain why…” He swallowed, looking her in the eye. “But you may hate me for it.”

Twilight smiled and shook her head. “I’m sure—”

“It would be your right,” Cookie said firmly. He shook his head and looked down at the grass. “There’s a chance—a likely chance, I’m told—that my longevity is because Celestia and I love each other. It may be simply that, or something we did or spoke once that enacted a love spell. We don’t know, and I don’t want to find out. And, of course, these days it could be detected fairly easily.”

“Cadance might be able to tell in a few seconds.” Twilight nodded, and added, “I would need to do some research…”

Cookie smirked. “So it might take you a full ten minutes.”

“A few days, at least.” Twilight giggled. Then her expression slowly changed to confusion, followed by a nervous worry, before settling in a somber, questioning face directed at Cookie.

He nodded and drew a breath. “And, now you’re realizing the implications as it affects you. If it is some kind of spell, it could easily preserve your brother’s life, along with whomever you choose to love one day. I’m sure it seems monstrously selfish. Perhaps it is, perhaps I’m the only pony who might worry about this…”

“About what?” Her voice was gentle, without accusation.

Cookie bit his lip. “I fear that knowing would destroy my relationship with Celestia, and me in the process. That it would turn our love into a trap; that she couldn’t help but wonder if I only loved her because it continued my life, and I would never know if her love was simply kindness and mercy, being unwilling to take the life of an innocent pony because her passion had faded. I would torture myself with these thoughts, until I killed the very love that kept me alive. It’s an existence I wouldn’t wish on the beings in Tartarus.”

Twilight frowned deeply, examining a painful decision. “I think I understand. I—I would be worried about doing that to a pony I loved, if I was responsible for them. I would want to, but I know I can get a little… obsessive.”

Cookie raised his eyebrows. “Would you watch them wither and die, instead, knowing you could save them?”

“I don’t know,” she said, the frown barely shifting. “If you can act to save a pony and don’t, aren’t you... basically killing that pony?”

“I don’t know. I may be doing that now.” Cookie sighed. “Yet, if I were to know the truth, it might be that other ponies would wish to avoid it entirely, and my sacrifice would lead only to my destruction and death and a loveless future for all of you.”

Twilight nodded. “But by not knowing, you’re making that decision for ponies who might not worry about it like we would. That’s not right either.”

“Of course not,” Cookie agreed. “But we must have some point at which we exclude others from our considerations, to some extent. Ponies have a right to preserve their own life and happiness before extending generosity to others.”

“But does that apply when another pony's life is at stake?” Twilight raised an eyebrow at him.

“Is immortality to be thought of as a life or death decision?” Cookie raised both eyebrows back. “Nearly every pony in the world would still be denied it, and while on the whole it’s a blessing, it’s not without its serious consequences.”

Twilight opened her mouth to answer, then closed it in a frown. She looked down and shook her head. “I’d have to think about this.”

Cookie looked at the poor pony, under the weight he knew too well. He chuckled to himself. “We make an awful pair of ponies, don’t we?” With a wan smile, he added, “So you see why I don’t want to know the answer.”

Looking up, Twilight tilted her head. “What does Princess Celestia think?”

“She thinks I worry too much. That I should have faith in our love, and that when she comes to sit with me in the evening I would easily recognize the truth of our feelings, and over time I would find other occupations for my more annoying impulses.” He sighed. “And she may be right, she’s calmed my fears many times in the past.”

Twilight nodded and smiled. “She’s good at that. When I’m worried, she always seems to know how to make me feel better.”

Cookie raised an eyebrow at her. “It’s the most capricious weapon in her arsenal.”

“What do you mean?” she asked, furrowing her brow.

“It’s a bandage.” Cookie pursed his lips. “Sometimes, that’s all a worry needs—”

“And sometimes the bride really is a changeling,” Twilight finished, nodding knowingly.

“Or their jealousy is truly a danger to Equestria,” Cookie added. “Some problems require more than a cup of tea and a calming smile to truly fix, and it’s bitten her in the tail more than once. But it does work more often than not, and she bears so much weight that it’s hard to fault her missteps.”

Twilight frowned. “But if your life depends on her, a mistake like that could…” she trailed off, unwilling to finish.

“Yes.” Cookie glanced at Twilight with raised eyebrows. “And more than that, she would pay for it dearly. I can accept that I may die, if that was the only price, but it would torture her to think she caused it.”

They were quiet for a long time. Finally, Cookie sighed. “I fear there’s no answer here.”

“There’s always an answer,” Twilight said automatically.

Cookie smiled and shook his head. “You show your youth.”

Twilight raised her eyebrows and smiled back. “My youth has figured out some pretty sticky situations.”

“Touché.” Cookie chuckled. “Well, if you can find a solution to this puzzle, you’ll have my undying gratitude. Literally.”

She nodded. “Let me think about it.”

“Do me a favor and try not to think too much about it.” Cookie smiled. “Clover used to accuse me of getting inside my own head, thinking about things endlessly until I can hardly keep track of the thoughts, let alone the world around me. I’m well inside my own head on this, and were she alive, she’d be furious at me if I started passing it along to other ponies.”

Twilight just looked at him, studying his face. She smiled, but after a moment it grew tense and she looked down at the grass, smoothing it with a hoof. “Can I ask you… a very serious question now?”

“You’re already familiar with the inside of your own head, aren’t you?” Cookie’s smile turned sad. “You hardly need ask. I understood you perfectly when I misspoke at tea. Had somepony said the same to me I would have had the same reaction.”

She glanced at him with a small, grateful smile.

He took a deep breath. “It hurts. In the months around when they died… on a scale of misery where one is breaking a favorite tea pot, and ten is facing death in an icy wasteland and knowing that your entire life has been futile, there were days when it neared a nine. The guilt was the worst of it. There was simply no convincing me that my continued existence wasn’t a grave injustice to the ponies I loved most.”

She gave a somber nod, and asked quietly, “Was it worse for some of them? Was it better when more of them were around?”

“They were each their own private form of Tartarus.” Cookie closed his eyes. “Platinum was the first of us to go. She was bright and lively up to her last day, and then she simply… wasn’t there. And with that my position became all too real, and I truly understood what I had to fear. Clover and I were always close, and losing her was like losing half of my mind. Hurricane was a pony of stone —he hardly changed in his whole life—so it was impossible to think he was gone. Pansy died, and the last of those who’d formed the spell with me was gone… without her came the nightmare of being alone in that cave. It terrified me for months. And then Puddinghead died, and I lost a part of who I was. She had been next to me thought all of it, from Girthshire to Equestria, and she was the last to go. I had never felt so alone.”

“But you weren’t really alone.” Twilight looked to him hopefully.

“Of course not,” he agreed. “I knew many ponies, and I had Celestia at my side. And you’ll always have Celestia and Cadance and Luna and myself.”

Twilight nodded. “And I’ll have Spike for a long time. He’s a dragon. And…” She rolled her eyes. “I guess I’ll have Discord. I’m not sure that counts.”

Cookie frowned and said sharply, “I can’t imagine it does.”

Twilight raised her eyebrows in mild surprise. “It… sounds like you and Discord don’t get along?”

“I had a bit of an experience during his first attempt to overthrow Celestia.” His face grew dark. “I saw his true nature, and even if he’s no longer a threat, he’s not a being I would willingly associate with.”

Twilight nodded. “I can understand that. I wasn’t crazy about the idea of reforming him at first, either. But even Discord deserves friendship, if we can show him how to give it to other ponies.”

Cookie gave a grim smile. “I look forward to debating you on that point some other time.” His face softened. “But yes, there will be other ponies and beings there for you. And sometimes you’ll remember that and take comfort. Other times you will feel even more alone around them, as if they can’t possibly understand the guilt and loss you feel. And some of them, like Celestia, probably won’t.”

“Why not?” Twilight asked, confused. “I know Princess Celestia has lost ponies over the years.”

“Yes, but she knew she would. Since she was born, every pony she’s ever befriended was assumed to be temporary. Oh, she treasures the ponies she loves—I know first hoof—but she’s always prepared... I’d imagine you’re like me: you made friends assuming that you’d all have more or less the same, give or take a decade. To have suddenly found that you won the prize in a game that nopony knew you were playing, and that the rest of your friends must pay for their loss with their lives…” Cookie swallowed a lump in his throat.

Twilight’s ears drooped, and she nodded, looking at the grass.

Cookie leaned over and patted her hoof. “The only comfort I can offer is that it never hurts as much as the first time around. You’ll have more wonderful friends in your life, but you’ll be prepared the second time and all the times thereafter.”

She looked to him with a sad smile. “At least… at least I’ll know you understand.”

He nodded. “I will, though I’m not sure I have any answers for it.”

They sat in silence for a moment, save for the occasional tweets of a bird or rumble of a carriage passing on the other side of the hedge.

He drew a breath and smiled at her. “Now, for the slightly less depressing news. It does fade. You realize that if you’re going to continue living, you might as well get on with it. Fond memories win out, and if there’s sometimes an ache you remember what a small price that is for the memories.”

With a sigh, he added, “And believe me, those memories are the most valuable thing you’ll ever possess.”





Cookie couldn’t look down, and he couldn’t move.

He’d seen her there as he approached the bier in the center of the throne room, surrounded by flowers. He knew the flag of Equestria was draped over her. He knew what Clover looked like. But if he looked down, she’d be dead. And he’d still be alive, always, remembering that she was dead.

An eternity where Clover was dead. An eternity without feeling her shove him at a joke, or frown at him as he started rambling. An eternity without her smirk, or her sigh. He started to feel like there wasn’t enough left in the world without her, like the world was a pantry with most of the food missing. Certainly there were still some things in the world, Celestia, his remaining friends, other ponies... but if he was looking for Clover, she would never be there.

He could see Celestia across the room, standing by her throne, speaking to some mages from foreign lands who had come to pay their respects. Tonight his thoughts would be hers to bear, but for now he had to carry the weight himself. And he could, just about, as long as he didn’t move and didn’t look down.

The feeling of feathers draped across his back startled him. A rough, strong wing half led and half shoved him away from the bier.

“That’s enough of that.” Hurricane didn’t look at him, but didn’t remove his wing as he took Cookie out of the throne room and down a hall to the council chamber. He gave Cookie a gentle push inside and shut the door.

Cookie walked to the council table of his own accord and sat at the foot with heavy sigh. This was Clover’s spot. It gave her room for her scrolls. But she wouldn’t be there, there’d be some new unicorn, and who knew if she’d have any scrolls. He decided it was his spot now.

Hurricane sat down at his left and pulled a small glass bottle from under his wing. The top pulled apart into two small cups, and he opened the bottle and filled them with a clear liquid.

“Raindew.” He slid one cup to Cookie, barely glancing at him. “It’s distilled rainbow. Earth ponies might be master brewers, but if you don’t care about taste this is the strongest stuff in Equestria.”

Cookie looked at it, then downed the drink. His throat burned like he’d swallowed coals, and coughing did nothing as the liquid was in his stomach already. He decided it needed to remain there, since the alternative was the only conceivable thing worse than the taste in his mouth.

Hurricane downed his and looked at the empty cup. “Pegasi soldiers used to be issued a flask of raindew when they left for their first deployment. Some ponies drank it before battle, so they could face the enemy without flinching. Some ponies drank it when they were injured, to take the pain away. But the best of ponies never drank theirs, so their comrades could drink a toast to them if they fell. They knew there’s no pain in life like losing a friend.”

“That’s beautiful,” Cookie said with a nod. He could feel a warmth spreading through his body.

“Of course, Clover would’ve been another kind, who took a nip every now and again and told the quartermaster their flask leaked to get a top off.” He chuckled and filled their cups again. “Maybe not the best of ponies, but the wisest. And no doubt there’d be something left for her friends.”

Cookie looked down at the cup and then raised it, which seemed like less of a bad idea than all logic told him it should be. He gave Hurricane a sad smile. “I’ll drink to that.”

Hurricane raised his glass, and the downed them together. Everything about it was ever-so-slightly better this time, and he managed to hide his cough with a grunt.

Looking at the bottle, Hurricane sighed. “I know you and I didn’t always see eye to eye, but someday you’ll have my flask. Drink to me.”

The thought of Hurricane gone as well crashed down on Cookie, and he ran a hoof over his face to keep from crying. “Blessed darkness, Hurricane. Please…” With his eyes covered with a hoof, he sighed. “You know I will. You’re a brother to me.”

“And you’re a brother to me, Smart Cookie. More than any comrade I ever fought with.” He gave a dry chuckle. “It’s right, I suppose. The world turned around on me.”

“What do you mean?” Cookie took a deep breath and removed his hoof, raising his eyebrows at Hurricane.

He wrinkled his brow, looking at the ceiling as if searching for words. “I’m of the old world. So is Puddinghead, and Platinum was as well. We were solid and sharp and made to protect the things around us. Clover and you and Pansy, you were the new.” He frowned and looked down at his cup. “You three built Equestria, not out of land and houses, but out of ideas. That charter. Words stuffed in scrolls and spoken to ponies. Poking about and understanding magic and ponies and thoughts. As soon as we stepped out of that cave, it was you three the rest of us were trying to keep up with.”

“And you, Cookie…” He smiled and snorted. “You’re a soldier for this world. You saw the battles that needed fighting, you took up the spear and led the way. And even if you’ve lost your share… you fought them. And stars willing, you’re going to keep fighting them.”

Cookie felt his face flush, perhaps at the highest compliment Hurricane might have ever given a pony in his life, or perhaps at the raindew coursing through his veins. He smiled at Hurricane. “If it makes you feel better, I wouldn’t have done near as much fighting if I hadn’t been butting up against you. Even in the realm of words and ideas, you do the pegasi proud.”

Hurricane refreshed both cups and raised his. “Then may there always be ponies hard headed enough to keep your spear sharp.”

“I’ll drink to that, but none will be your equal.” Cookie downed his drink with little trouble this time, which he knew would have been worrying if he’d still been capable of worry. “I only ask the stars that someday I meet a pony who half lives up to any of you.” He sighed. “I can’t believe Clover is gone.”

Hurricane gave a sympathetic nod. “What’s to happen to the library?”

Cookie found he had to search his mind for the information, though he’d heard it a dozen times today alone. “Celestia is taking it…” He nodded to himself. “She intends to keep the school open.”

Hurricane gave a snort. “Doesn’t that mare have enough on her plate?”

“She’s hoping to entice Luna.” He rolled his eyes and gave Hurricane a smirk. “She thinks if Luna is sharing her understanding of magic, she might remove her head from under her tail.”

A strange silence followed, marked by the frown on Hurricane’s face and the distance in his eyes. Finally he spoke quietly but firmly, “Mark my words, Cookie. Princess Luna… she’s to be watched. I’ve seen her kind before. Ponies thrust into command who don’t know how to lead a troop except with a hoof of iron and lightning bolts at the ready, who look to those who lead well and see only a challenge to themselves.”

Cookie stared at Hurricane for a long moment before shaking his head sadly and looking back to his cup. “She was never suited to rule. Perhaps the school will be for the best.”

“She doesn’t want a school. She wants her crown, and if you’re not careful of her she’ll have her sister’s as well,” he said plainly.

“You can’t be suggesting...” Cookie gaped at him. “Ponies would never stand for it.”

Hurricane raised an eyebrow at him. “She cares nothing for ponies. She thinks the crown should bring their respect, and when they won’t give it to her, she’ll be looking for the power that will.”

“You’re talking about treason.” Frowning, Cookie shook his head. “Celestia won’t hear it. She would never believe Luna would do that to her.”

“Not until the knife is in her back,” Hurricane agreed with a nod. “And if Princess Luna’s aim is true, may the stars save Equestria.”

“If it’s not, that’s the only power that could save Luna,” Cookie muttered, trying to consider the situation through entirely too much raindew. “And either way, Celestia would suffer.”

“Then she’ll need a watchful guard with his wits about him.” Hurricane gave Cookie a meaningful look.

Cookie nodded. “Then I suggest Luna get to work in the next few hours. I think I’m going to pass out.”
> 10 - No Matter the Weight
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Light was shining from inside Cookie’s cottage when Celestia appeared by the garden gate. His yard always smelled of earth and plants and the forest beyond: a fresh, clean smell in the cool of the night. Even as woodland creatures rustled about their nightly business there was something especially peaceful about it compared to the gardens in Canterlot, where the subtle shaping and planning of ponies was a constant reminder of their existence.

She walked up the path and opened the door, sticking her head into the bright living room. A warm, sweet smell hit her as she walked in, worlds apart from the fresh, green outdoors but somehow the perfect complement. Any remaining tension left her shoulders as she crossed the room and peered into the homey kitchen, where she saw Cookie checking the oven.

“Is that honey cakes I smell?” Celestia walked in and used her magic to lift the kettle off the stove and fix herself some tea.

Cookie looked over his shoulder, grinning. “It is.”

“My favorite,” she said, watching as he pulled out a baking pan. The smell in the room grew even more delicious, and it was all she could do to wait until they cooled.

“Then it’s a very good thing I made a batch to send home with you.” He pulled out a second pan and slid it next to the first.

Celestia’s face lit up. “I’d say that’s a wonderful thing.” She went on, as Cookie got his mug and motioned to the living room, “How was your meeting with Twilight?

“Fascinating.” He made his way to the cushions on the floor and sat, careful not to spill his tea. “She’s a dear pony, Celestia.”

“I knew you’d be fond of her.” Celestia joined him there, lying slightly lower so they were on the same level. Her magic deftly held her tea, and she wrapped her wing around his back.

Cookie relaxed into her wing, turning his head to give her a soft kiss. Celestia closed her eyes and smiled as their lips met, then returned the kiss the second after they parted the first. She could have gone on like that all evening, but Cookie pulled away for a sip of tea. She gave a happy sigh and took a drink of her own.

After a few moments of comfortable silence, Cookie smiled and said, “Twilight and I talked for a long time, and there are a few matters I wanted to discuss with you this evening. But first, what’s the news in Canterlot?”

She was about to answer that there wasn’t much of it; then Celestia remembered what she had to tell him, and her face darkened instantly. She used her wing to stroke his back as she spoke.

“Cookie… I have something to tell you, and you’re not going to like it.”

“Not an auspicious beginning.” He raised his eyebrows with a frown. “Well, go on.”

She drew a breath and looked over at him. “I spoke to Discord the other day. He knows I have a special somepony.”

Cookie’s body tensed, and his face reflected it, his mouth in a firm line. He looked at her suspiciously.

“I didn’t tell him,” she answered the look. “He knew about Twilight’s visit with a friend of mine, and I mentioned you were a stallion, and he inferred our relationship. I confirmed it only to try to keep him from digging more deeply on his own, I told him nothing else, and I hope it worked. But I felt you should be warned.”

Cookie nodded and sighed. “How likely is it I’ll have to meet him?”

“There’s no way to tell.” Celestia gave a slight shake of her head, then took a sip of tea. “Trying to find out would only remind him and make it even more likely.”

“And there’s no way to prevent it, is there?” Cookie asked, raising his eyebrow.

“I’m afraid not.”

He nodded, then pursed his lips with an accusing glance at her. “Of course, there’s a way it could have been prevented before it came to this point.”

Celestia frowned. “We’ve been over this, Cookie. And it doesn’t matter now. He’s free, and he’s helped us on several occasions, including assisting in my rescue.”

“And yet we both know there’s no way to assure that a pony is safe from him.” Cookie leaned against her, still frowning.

She resumed stroking him with her wing and laid a hoof on top of his. “He won’t hurt you, or anypony else. He’ll annoy you to no end, and he may even try to scare you—”

Cookie raised his eyebrows. “He doesn’t have to try, Celestia.”

“I understand,” she said gently. “But you’re safe, and Equestria is safe. Just remember that.”

He nodded. “I will.”

A silence fell between them, full of words that had been spoken many times. They didn’t need to be said, but it was clear from Cookie’s frowning face and distant eyes that he’d be thinking them anyway.

Celestia sighed. “Go ahead and say it.”

“Twilight spoke of him the other day. She feels he deserves friendship.” He sighed, still looking into the distance. “Perhaps she’s a better pony than I, but if she had seen it… pony after pony after pony driven mad… watching helplessly, unable to look away or even blink… would she feel the same? Would you feel the same, if you had seen it? Would you have freed him?”

Looking into the distance, she raised her eyebrows. “Twilight is a better pony than most of us, and even she didn’t like the idea at first. She was prepared to turn him back to stone, but one of her friends used her veto.”

Cookie gave a dry glare that she couldn’t help but meet with a smirk.

She chuckled and added, “If Twilight is a better pony than most, Fluttershy makes the rest of ponykind seem like we belong in Tartarus.” Shaking her head, she put on a more serious expression to say what she had said dozens of times before. “But, to the second part of your question… I think I would have still. I do know what happened, Cookie. I heard your council. But I still hold that having control over the most powerful magical being in the world benefits Equestria more than maintaining his prison.”

“We already had the most powerful spellcasters, and the Elements of Harmony as well. Did we really need that much more power?” Cookie grumbled.

“I don’t know, but he’s come in handy. Maybe we could have gotten by without him, but only the stars know that.” She gave him a dry smile and added, “Besides, the price so far has been a few hours of annoyance for a few ponies. I’m willing to make that sacrifice.”

“I’m still wary.”

“I know. But it’s currently out of our hooves.” She smiled and shifted a bit to give him a nuzzle. “Tell me more about your talk with Twilight.”

A small smile appeared on his face, but more importantly a light came on in his eyes and the vibrancy returned to his voice. “We talked about history, about Equestria today… she proposed that local differences are becoming wider than differences between tribes, and that is to be watched. Have you noticed this? Ponies judging others based on where they’re from?”

Celestia tilted her head. “Perhaps a bit? It’s difficult to say in Canterlot—the city is so heavily influenced by unicorns and the nobility, neither of which have ever shied away from casting judgement on other ponies.”

Cookie chuckled. “Very true. I’m thinking about doing some traveling, to see if this might be the case.”

“I think travel would be good for you.” Celestia smiled, standing to refill her tea. As she walked into the kitchen, she saw the honey cakes on the counter and added, “Though I will miss your baking.”

“Perhaps not,” Cookie said from the living room as Celestia collected her tea and a plate of the honey cakes. He went on, “I have time, maybe I could set up housekeeping for a year or two in cities as I go. Then I’d really get a sense of the welcome there, and the feelings of the local ponies about outsiders.”

She walked back into the living room and returned to her seat next to him. “Yes, but it would be a little bit tricky to get to visit you in Appleloosa or Las Pegasus.” She took a bite of cake and savored it, adding once she had swallowed, “I would miss you more than your baking, in that case.”

Cookie grinned. “The highest compliment you’ve paid me.”

“It might come as a shock, but I’m a little bit fond of you.” She leaned over and gave him a nuzzle.

He chuckled. “I find that extremely convenient, considering I fall more in love with you each time I look upon you.” Returning the nuzzle, he drew in a breath pressed to her neck and said softly, “I think my trips away from Canterlot will have to be shorter in duration.”

“Don’t let me stop you. It’s only a few years.” She smiled with a hint of seduction. “And perhaps you can travel to Canterlot from time to time, during that span.”

Cookie began kissing her neck. “I’m sure whoever I might be there has a very sick aunt in Canterlot who must be tended to. Frequently.”

Celestia closed her eyes for a moment, enjoying his attention. Then she gently stroked his mane with a smile, pulling him back just enough to stop the kisses. “More of that later… finish telling me of your visit with Twilight.”

He raised an eyebrow at her. “The other points of conversation were much less pleasant than this.”

“Then this will make a fine remedy afterwards. Let’s hear them.” She took a bite of her cake as he sat up and sighed.

“We discussed the more unfortunate aspects of immortality.” Cookie gave an uncertain smile. “I don’t think I traumatized her too much. She’s very lucky that she’ll have so many beings to turn to as a steady presence.”

Celestia nodded. “There certainly are a lot of us now. It will be nice to have friends who are constant.”

“Indeed.” He hesitated for a moment, eyeing Celestia. “I spoke with her about… my concerns. About why she’s not supposed to look into the magic.”

Celestia raised her eyebrows. “Was she hurt?”

Cookie shook his head. “No, I don’t think so. She understood the difficulties of the decision.”

“Of course she did.” Celestia smiled and shook her head. “You’ve found a pony who worries nearly as much as you do.”

“It’s a complicated issue.” He gave her a dry glare.

Celestia rolled her eyes. “It’s not, really. We love each other, and you remain alive as long as that love is strong. A foal could understand it's a lovely thing.”

Cookie frowned. “If that’s even the case, there’s much that foals understand that’s a great deal more complex than they understand it to be. Better this decision rests upon those complexities indefinitely than to put our very love on such a shaky foundation.”

“Our love is as strong as Equestria, Cookie.” Celestia smiled and nuzzled his mane. “There are no complexities that we couldn’t overcome.”

Smiling back, he nuzzled her shoulder. “Perhaps, but then our love would be another crown for you, and that’s the last thing you need.”

“How do you mean?” she asked, not pulling away from him.

Cookie pursed his lips. “Allow me to put a hypothetical to you. Suppose I do as you suggest. We find out that it is your love that’s keeping me alive, and I blithely ignore that and continue to love you in the same manner I love you now.” He paused, then went on, “Now, suppose that in the future, you meet another stallion—”

“Cookie.” Celestia couldn’t help but smile fondly at him. They both knew that in the time they had been together nopony had caught her eye as worthy of more than the most innocent flirtations.

He raised his eyebrows. “The future is a very long time. It could happen. You meet a stallion, young and fresh, intelligent, talented, handsome… and while you would certainly still appreciate what we have, the time and commitment, the shared history between us, it’s clear to you that you could give this pony your heart as easily as you could share it with me. What would you do, in that case?”

“The same thing I would do now.” She nuzzled him, the same fond smile on her face. “Young stallions come and go, but a love that’s passed as many tests as ours is well worth enthusiastically preserving.”

He gave her a suspicious look out of the corner of his eye. “So you would sentence the young stallion to die within a century, knowing that you could easily offer him centuries or more of life? Knowing that I’ve already lived far longer than I had a right to? Our love would be your only consideration in that, rather than comparing our talents, ambitions, or places in the world?”

As she heard his words, the smile fell from her face as she fully considered that. They were silent for a long time as she tried hypothetical stallions—ponies who might otherwise be denied even a full natural lifespan, who might be capable of doing unique and necessary jobs, former students who might make important advances in magic given enough time.

On the other hoof, nopony else could ever offer her this. Cookie did a unique and necessary job already: he loved her and cared for her as a pony.

Finally she swallowed and answered honestly, “I would love you still. Our commitment to one another is special, and it is a commitment. It might be difficult, depending on the circumstances, but I face difficult decisions and their outcomes every day. I have plenty of practice.”

Cookie nodded. “And then our love would be another crown, another weight of power for you to bear. And that is the opposite of what you need.”

Celestia considered that for a moment, then shook her head clear of the weight. “Cookie, that’s unlikely to ever happen. I’m not exactly looking for a stallion, and most ponies barely see me as a pony, let alone one they could court.”

“That’s one example, there are many more paths to the same end. The fact is that power brings complexity, it brings considerations. Both of us would be affected by those.”

“This already affects too many ponies now.” She frowned at the thought of all of them, of Equestria as a whole. For just a few seconds she considered telling Cookie the truth behind her conversation with Discord, but in light of Cookie’s reaction earlier she immediately put it out of her mind. Instead she added, “There is a power already, with considerations of its own, just in the certainty of the situation.”

“Then allow me to bear the consideration and the weight of that decision alone, and keep our love pure for both of us.” He looked up to her face. “Please, Celestia.”

“I’ve always left it in your hooves,” she said, gently kissing his forehead. At least he had spoken to Twilight. As much as the young princess might worry, Celestia couldn’t imagine that she would allow an unexplained magic to remain that way for very long. Then all of the hypotheticals on both sides could be weighed and prioritized, and steps could be taken to ensure the best outcomes.

Celestia sighed, weary of the conversation and the thoughts that came with it.

She looked down at Cookie, not in a search for any answer, but as the pony who lifted weights like these from her shoulders. Smiling, she whispered, “Cookie… I love you.”

He looked into her eyes, his own eyes bright and matching the smile on his face. “I love you too, more than I can say. That’s what drives me on this: I fear losing that far more than I fear death.”

“As much as that drives me mad, there’s something beautiful in it.” She kissed him deeply, the feel of his lips and taste of his mouth more comforting than anything she knew of. “Thank you.”

“Your presence in my life is all the thanks I need.” He kissed her again, and his strong forelegs wrapped around her. She melted against him, her lips returning kiss after kiss, and tried to ignore the measure of the hours until dawn neared and her duties began.







It was late at night when Celestia knocked on Luna’s door; the Princesses’ Council had just ended another session. It had grown in size to fifteen ponies now, six representatives of the tribes joined by local representatives who journeyed from young cities thriving across Equestria. Cookie had stepped down as representative of the earth ponies after a hundred and fifty years, though he still attended every single session as Celestia’s personal advisor.

Cookie may have remained a fixture after two hundred and fifty years, but somepony else had become notably absent in that time, and Celestia had to fix that.

She knocked again. That remained the only sound in the hall. She began to wonder if Luna was in the trance her dream magic required. Celestia was under the impression that it normally wasn’t necessary until the hours when night became morning, when most of their subjects had reached a deep, dreaming sleep, but there was no other reason she could think for Luna not to answer. The entire castle knew that she never left her rooms after raising the moon, and Celestia knew the secret passages to them hadn’t been used in years.

After a third knock, she called Luna’s name, met by more silence. Finally, she quietly opened the door and peeked inside.

Luna sat at a large wooden desk in front of a window, through which the stars shone brightly. Books and scrolls were laid out in front of her, and her magic held a quill as she filled another scroll. A well-used telescope stood at the second large window, while the comfortable sitting cushions on the floor lay neat and untouched.

Celestia opened the door and cleared her throat, but Luna didn’t so much as glance at her.

Pursing her lips, Celestia said clearly, “It’s been a decade today since you last attended council. The tenth anniversary of the Crystal Heart comes next month.”

Luna seemed not to hear.

“And longer still since you attended court or festivals.” Celestia walked over to the window with the telescope and looked out at the night sky. When Luna still made no reply, not even a grunt of acknowledgement, Celestia sighed to the stars.

She rolled her eyes and added in the same clear voice, “Also, I’ve decided to turn the sun into a bundt cake.”

“Would that not be inconvenient?” Luna said, not looking up. “I might try an object closer at hoof.”

Celestia glared at her. “Luna.”

Luna just raised her eyebrows, still focused on her scroll. “Of course, then you should have no need of Smart Cookie.”

Celestia frowned, but considered her words. “Do you want to discuss Cookie?” she said gently. “He’s going to be with us for a very long time, perhaps we can come to a better understanding—”

“Had I wished to discuss Smart Cookie, I would have come to you for discussion. The same may be said of every other subject.” Luna’s quill sharply punctuated something on her scroll.

Celestia narrowed her eyes and used her magic to tug Luna’s scroll away, rolling it neatly and placing it on a shelf. “Well, I came to you because I want to discuss your role as princess.”

Finally, Luna looked at her with a flat expression. “Have ponies been troubled by their dreams?”

“Not that I know of,” Celestia said slowly.

Luna tilted her head slightly towards the window. “Is the moon in the sky at the appointed time each night?”

Celestia nodded. “It is.”

Luna raised her eyebrows. “Then I fail to see what we need to discuss.”

Shaking her head, Celestia walked to the cushions in the center of the room and sat. She nodded for Luna to join her. “Those duties were never intended to be the whole of your rule, Luna.”

“I never intended them to be, but at every turn, where I try to rule I’m ignored, or told I’m wrong by my subjects.” Luna frowned and shrugged, making no move towards the cushions. “They don’t heed me, so I assume my crown means nothing.”

“Your crown doesn’t mean that ponies will listen to you. It means you have a duty to be a pony others will listen to,” Celestia said pointedly.

“And what of their duty?” Luna tilted her head.

Celestia gave her a confused look. “What of it? They’re tailors and farmers and our advisors. Their duty is to make clothes and grow food and offer us council, and as far as I know most ponies play their roles as best they can.”

“They have no duty to their princesses?” Luna raised her eyebrows at Celestia.

“They have a duty to respect the laws of Equestria, and to respect the difficulty of the job we do,” Celestia gave a small shrug. “They have no duty to agree with us or trust us blindly, and to require that would be folly.”

Luna snorted and shook her head, walking to look out the window. “Nopony tells the farmer he’s wrong when he decides what to plant.”

“They don’t, but if he isn’t mindful of other ponies, nopony will buy his food.” Celestia frowned at the back of her head.

“When my subjects are mindful of me, I shall be mindful of them.”

Celestia sighed. “This is a foal’s demand, and not befitting a pony of your age or station.”

Luna gave a mirthless laugh to the sky outside. “I should have guessed; I have age and station only when that is the reason I am in the wrong.”

“When have I shown disrespect for either of those? When have I ignored your input?” Celestia glared at her sister once more.

Luna turned around sharply, meeting Celestia’s glare with one even fiercer. “You haven’t, but neither have you taken note of the way I am treated!”

Her sister’s look gave her pause, but Celestia drew a breath and went on calmly, “I have taken note of it, but I understand the reasons.”

“As do I.” Luna gave her a dark frown. “Ponies have selected their princess, and they have no desire for a second.”

“That isn’t the reason.” Celestia fought the urge to roll her eyes.”Ponies would welcome a second princess if they felt she was dedicated to Equestria and her subjects.”

“They would welcome a second princess of the daylight,” Luna muttered.

“If by that you mean one who occasionally shows her face to them, at least in council, it is true.” Celestia raised her eyebrows at her sister.

Luna just shook her head. “They do not want me in council. I told you, they ignore me.”

“What was the last thing you attempted to convince the council of?”

Luna turned and walked to her desk, glancing down at the books open there. “That we shouldn’t attempt to renegotiate trade agreements with Princess Crystalline following the death of her father.” She glanced back at Celestia. “I thought, correctly, that she might be more powerful than her father, and it would lead to an undesirable outcome.”

Celestia tilted her head in confusion. “That’s what we eventually decided, with the support of most present.”

“Only after you suggested it!” Luna snapped.

The council sessions surrounding that situation came to her mind. They had been tense at first, the death of the Ice King had been sudden, and his daughter had up to that point seemed quiet and studious, and, it was thought, easily intimidated. The trade towns and earth pony representatives had been ready to pounce on the opportunity.

Celestia stood and walked over to Luna. “If I recall, I was focused on the benefits of having a strong ally between Equestria and Yakyakistan. I answered their concerns about missing the opportunity by pointing out, also correctly, that giving the Crystal Empire time to find its footing would paint Equestria in a friendly light that might benefit us in a number of ways, including trade.” She wrapped a wing around her sister. “So you see, it’s the same thought, but stated so that our advisors listened to it.”

Luna spun around and paced back to her telescope. “It’s the same thought but it came from your lips.”

Celestia frowned at her. “It came from my lips in a very different manner, and that’s what makes the difference, Luna. It considered the concerns the council stated, and addressed them with respect.”

“Their concerns would not have mattered!” Luna made a broad gesture with a hoof. “Princess Crystalline formed the Crystal Heart soon after, and she never would have accepted a weaker position at that point!”

“But they didn’t know that then,” Celestia explained patiently.

Luna snorted and glanced at her shelves of scrolls. “If they had known of her work in love magic…”

Celestia shook her head. “But they didn’t. And none of them are mages, you wouldn’t have gotten through to them by trying to explain it.”

Luna looked down, and for a brief moment Celestia hoped she had gotten through to her. But when she looked up her eyes were narrowed, and her voice was cold as she spoke.

“Of course I wouldn’t have gotten through to them. I am not fair, sweet Princess Celestia who speaks only mild and honeyed words. I do not have Smart Cookie to buy the council drinks and make speeches full of rhetoric and patriotic platitudes in my name.” Luna gestured to the shelves. “I have nothing but research and facts that the council cares nothing for, and a crown that exists to be ignored.”

Celestia drew herself up. “I am trying to tell you how you might not be ignored, and I don’t appreciate your implications.”

Luna just glared at her, unmoving.

Catching sight of the shelves of scrolls, Celestia had an idea. She relaxed and walked over to her sister, gently laying a hoof on her shoulder. “You study magic, you know how important a simple detail or thought is in casting a spell, yet you think government should be a matter of stating your wishes and watching everypony bow to them. You guard the dreams of your subjects, yet in the waking world you assume their fears and concerns need not be addressed. I know little of magic compared to you, and nothing of dreams, but where you are blind I have studied and practiced, and I want to teach you.”

Luna looked down, but Celestia could feel her relaxing. She answered softly, still looking at the floor, “Can you not see, Tia? One can study magic, but if one is born an earth pony she will never cast a spell if she studies a thousand years. She will still have magic, but if she’s compared to a unicorn, nopony will see it.”

Celestia gave her a sympathetic smile. “And if one is a unicorn, but one never tries to study magic, she will never know how much magic she has, and she might see unicorns who have studied as naturally superior when she could have achieved even greater things.”

Luna shook her head slowly. “I know which of these I am, even if you pretend not to.”

“I know that you are my sister, and you are a brilliant, talented pony.” Celestia leaned down and nuzzled her, and Luna returned it.

“Then why do others not see this?” Luna whispered.

Celestia sighed sadly. “Because you don’t know how to show it in the light they see by.”

Luna seemed to be searching for words. She glanced over to the window, and caught sight of something, staring at it for a moment. Celestia felt her tense again and she closed her eyes. “I can cast no other light. Either they are blind to mine, or I am less than you. Whichever it is, I don’t care to concern myself with them.”

Looking out the window, Celestia saw nothing at first. It was only after a moment she realized that tonight was a new moon, and the dark shape was just barely visible among the stars. She shook her head and turned back to her sister.

“Then concern yourself with me, Luna. We can have some private lessons, just the two if us. And when we feel you are ready, you can return to council with me and show them that you’re more than worthy of their respect, and your crown.”

“I would rather not,” Luna said without looking at her, walking back to her desk. Luna’s magic retrieved the scroll she had been working on earlier, unrolling it in front of her. She picked up her quill and began scribbling away.

Celestia gave another sigh, and walked towards the door. “Very well, then. Let me know if you change your mind.”

With no response from Luna, Celestia left. As she walked back to her rooms, she searched her mind for another path, another method, some other idea for getting through to Luna. They were meant to rule together, and as the eldest it was her responsibility to guide her sister. And when Celestia took up a responsibility, no matter the weight, she would not fail.
> 11 - Serpentine
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Another pony was drawn into view. Hauled, really, and it was two ponies, a mother clutching her foal for dear life. The foal must have been just a few months old, still in a diaper.

Cookie was sure this would be it. He’d spent the past… however long feeling every nuanced variation of horror, defiance, helplessness, and disgust. That monster was going to top it all now, and he’d go mad. He very nearly wished for it.

If he went mad, he might not mind the garish colors of the landscape that burned into his eyes or the distorted and haphazard being perched on the throne a short distance away. He might not mind that no matter what he felt he couldn’t cry, or vomit, or speak. Perhaps he’d think that he was actually the doll his body had been turned into before being cast carelessly aside. Perhaps he’d like being a doll. Perhaps he’d always really been made of cloth, with unblinking button eyes.

No, he thought firmly.

The mother and foal were lifted off the ground. The mother buried her face in her foal’s mane, wrapping her whole body around the child in a desperate attempt to protect it, but the child was ripped from her hooves. Her eyes went wide in terror and she let out a bloodcurdling scream as she fought with all her might to get to where the foal floated a few feet away.

The monster smiled. He pulled the foal up to his shaggy muzzle full of mismatched teeth and examined it for a moment. The foal didn’t know enough to quake in terror, but its mother’s screaming and incoherent pleading made it turn its head. Upon seeing her desperately grasping body floating nearby, it burst into tears with the loud wail only a small child could make.

The monster wasn’t pleased with that, and his serpentine form straightened on the throne. He frowned at the child, and the child became a bright yellow ball which floated to the monster’s talon. The sound of the mother’s screaming stopped for a moment, but only because it had reached a pitch and intensity too high for a pony to actually voice.

The talon squeezed the ball, and in the silence it let out two small squeaks. This made the monster smile, and he tossed the ball in the air a few times.

The mother regained her voice, once again pleading and shrieking, her face contorted in agony and terror at the nightmare in front of her.

The monster caught sight of the mother and tossed the ball again, before hurling it away.

Cookie couldn’t see how far it went—he couldn’t turn his head—but the mother’s eyes became huge, and her mouth dropped open. She struggled to be freed but just wound up scrambling in the air as the monster pulled her closer to him, until that muzzle was just inches away from her own.

The monster smirked, his yellow eyes narrowed in mirth. “Go fetch.”

She fell to the ground and righted herself more quickly than anypony Cookie had ever seen, running away in the direction the ball had flown as if running for her life. Or for the life of her foal.

As the monster’s horrible laughter echoed across the world, or what might as well have been the world as far as Cookie knew, Cookie imagined that the mother found her foal.

He tried not to imagine the poor mare sobbing as she clutched at the ball, stroking it tenderly, praying to the stars to make her baby right again. He tried not to wonder how long that might take to happen. He definitely tried not to wonder if it would ever happen.

It didn’t work. This was never going to end. Celestia and Luna weren’t in control of the sun or moon; this monster had stolen them. That simply couldn’t have happened if Celestia could have stopped him. And if Celestia couldn’t stop this monster...

Stay strong, Smart Cookie. Keep your wits about you, Hurricane’s voice ran through his head.

I’m trying, but imagining the voices of my dead friends may not be the best way to maintain my sanity.

What sanity you’ve ever had to maintain is up for debate, but realizing that we’re imaginary is a point in your favor. Puddinghead was right, of course. If he knew the voices weren’t real, that his friends had been dead for hundreds of years, he was probably still sane. 

You are still sane. You need help, and remembering us can help you, as long as you know we’re not real. Pansy’s voice calmed him.

Cookie would have taken a deep breath, had his current form been capable of it. Right. I— I need you. I need you all. It’s like I’m in the cave alone.

It’s warmer here, at least. He could hear the smile in Platinum’s voice. 

Yes, but this could last forever, or at least until I go mad. How many ponies are there in Equestria? How many lives can I watch torn apart before I’m broken? How many— 

Clover cut through his thoughts, Don’t dare think about that, Cookie! If you get in your own head now, you’re never coming out.

You may not have noticed, but I’m in my own head, Cookie thought dryly. You are also in my head. It’s the only blasted place I exist right now!

You know exactly what I mean. You’re the one who thought it.

Yes, but I also thought the other bit.

Listen to Clover, Cookie, Hurricane ordered. She’s the expert on magic. She should know if you can get out of this. 

She’s also imaginary.

They were quiet for a moment, then Pansy asked gently, Do you want our help or not? 

The monster lounged on his throne, the stunted legs of a dragon and a goat dangling over one arm. With a bored frown, he surveyed his kingdom—the bizarre mismatched wasteland that had once been Equestria, now remade in his own image by his seemingly omnipotent magic.

I need you, Cookie begged. Please.

Listen to Clover, Pansy told him. Don’t worry about getting out, just think of something else.

I haven’t slept in stars know how long, he thought. Are there even stars? How long has it been since the moon was out?

He heard Clover snort a laugh. There are still stars, Cookie. You know perfectly well how the sky works. 

That’s why they’re the stars. They’re always there, Puddinghead said simply, as if talking to a foal.

Why do we think they have any sort of a care for ponies? Cookie asked them. Or himself.

He could hear Platinum rolling her eyes. For the same reason you’re talking to us now. 

We’re all going mad?

That does explain a lot about ponies, Puddinghead chuckled.

No, you daft bugger. Clover’s voice was full of sympathy. We need to think the stars have a care for us. We need to think something does so that we don’t go mad at times like this. 

You all have a care for me. 

Always, Pansy replied quickly. 

You’re all long dead, Cookie thought with the sigh he would have made had he been capable of sighing.

Clover answered, Doesn’t matter.


***


The monster floated a pegasus stallion to his face, muzzle to muzzle. The stallion flapped his wings uselessly and struggled against the magic.

“What’s your name?” the monster asked, raising his eyebrows.

The pegasus moved his mouth a few times before stuttering, “Calm Wind.”

“What an awful name.” The monster stared into the pony’s eyes. “From now on, you’re Lipwitz Smackybottom.”

“I’m Lipwitz Smackybottom,” Calm Wind repeated blankly.

The monster grinned, showing his mismatched teeth. “Much better, Lipwitz. Are you married?”

“Yes. With three foals,” Calm Wind said in the same blank voice.

“That’s entirely too many foals. You have one foal. I’ll let you pick your favorite.” The monster leaned on his elbow, never breaking eye contact with the pony. “So, tell me about your wife…”

I can’t listen to anymore of this. By the grace of the stars let that monster have a heart so that I can drive a spear through it, rip it out, roast it, and eat it.

The monster continued; Cookie was forced to watch, but instead of hearing him he heard Pansy’s voice.

Cookie, you’ve never lifted a spear in your life. 

And ponies don’t even eat flesh, Clover added.

He doesn’t care right now, Hurricane said darkly. I don’t blame him.

I knew you’d be on my side.

We’re all on your side, Puddinghead pointed out. We’re your own thoughts.

Fine, but at this moment, I’m leaning towards my Hurricane thoughts. 

I knew you were a bright lad.

The monster released the pegasus, and the stallion flew off with a blank stare to throw his own life into chaos.

Where is Celestia? Cookie thought.

She’s out there, Pansy assured him. She’s alive. 

You’re right, Cookie agreed. That monster would never kill her. He’d torture her. He’d break her mind, enslave her in some form, use her for his amusement. Equestria may be dead, but Celestia isn’t, though she may wish—

Cookie, Clover said in a warning voice.

He hasn’t got her. He’d keep her by the throne, Hurricane said plainly.

Are you sure?

Yes.

Platinum spoke up. Equestria isn’t dead, in either case. You’re alive, and you have your mind. You hold the dream if nopony else does.

I’m currently in the form of a doll and in the process of going mad. But I appreciate the thought.

It’s your own thought, Clover reminded him. Equestria stands.


***


Two ponies walked towards the monster. Cookie wondered if he was finally hallucinating; ponies didn’t walk towards the monster, they ran away, generally as fast as they could.

When the ponies became clear, he was fairly sure he was hallucinating. It looked like Celestia and Luna.

Celestia. I love you.

The ponies continued moving closer, towards the back of the monster’s throne, until Cookie could see the dust and dirt on their coats and the look of angry determination on their faces. He started to consider that this might actually be happening.

She’s going to end this blasted nightmare, Puddinghead said, almost in awe.

What if she falls? Cookie thought, then instantly wished he hadn’t, as he realized what he might see happen to her and what might become of Equestria.

She won’t, Pansy assured him.

Cookie could focus only on Celestia. She was beautiful, and she seemed so real compared to the creature on the throne. But being real meant she could fall, and Cookie had seen the power that creature wielded. He begged her, No please, if you fall… if I watch it… please. 

She won’t fall! Hurricane shouted, trying to drown out his other thoughts.

The throne spun around, and at once the creature was facing the sisters with a wicked grin on his face. “Oh, this is so much fun. How about a game of 'Pin the Tail on the Pony'?”

The monster was holding Celestia’s tail. Celestia looked shocked. Cookie began to panic; she didn’t realize his powers. She wasn’t prepared.

Please, stars above, no. Cookie whimpered to himself, every thought willing his unmoving head to turn away and his unblinking eyes to shut. Don’t make me watch. Don’t make me watch.

Celestia’s eyes narrowed and she stepped towards the monster again, Luna moving to her sister’s side. “Playtime is over for you, Discord.”

She can’t fall, Clover said plainly.

Why not? Cookie thought in not much more than a whimper.

Because you can’t think that, Cookie, she answered.

The monster munched on a talonful of some kind of seeds, not at all concerned with the alicorns in front of him. “Oh, I doubt that.”

Stay strong, Hurricane ordered. Whatever happens, stay strong.

I can’t, Cookie whimpered again.

“Hungry?” The monster offered them some of the seeds. Both sisters scowled at him, unmoving.

“Suit yourselves,” he said with a smile, shoving another talonful of seeds in his mouth, heedless as they fell and scattered around him.

Out of the saddlebags the sisters wore, something floated in their magic. Cookie stared in confusion at six gems, each a different color and one in the shape of a star. Something about them looked familiar, or maybe felt familiar, even from this distance.

The monster looked surprised for a moment, then studied the stones floating in front of him. “Oh! What have you got there?”

The stones! Clover’s voice rang through Cookie’s head. She has the stones from the tree! 

“The Elements of Harmony,” Celestia and Clover said at the same time, as the stones began to circle the sisters, spinning into a magic bubble. Luna added, “With them, we shall defeat you.”

The feeling from the stones was recognizable now, strong and thick even where Cookie lay. It was the warmth of the fire, a feeling of safety and certainty and joy like he’d thought he might never experience again.

The monster fell over on his throne laughing, “You should see yourselves right now. The expressions on your face. So intense. So sure of yourselves…”

Destroy him. Hurricane’s voice became Cookie’s, it didn’t matter anymore, as a bright rainbow burst from the bubble, arcing into the air before shooting directly towards the monster with a high pitched whooshing sound.

“Hilarious!” was the monster’s last cry as the rainbow enveloped him, then spread to cover as far as Cookie could see, including where he lay.

Thank you, Clover. Thank you all.

Clover’s voice seemed unreal, fading into his own as she answered, We’re always with you, you fool. 

A flash of white light filled his vision, and when it dispersed Cookie found he had a body he could move again. He immediately tested it by curling into a ball, his eyes squeezed shut, seeing only darkness for the first time since the monster appeared.

Unused to breathing, and caught between sobbing and laughing, he found his breath coming at a quick pant he couldn’t stop, until he felt a gentle hoof on his shoulder.

“Cookie!” Celestia sounded like sunlight, a joyful laugh in her voice, and her hoof, the first pony who’d touched him in far too long, felt as solid as the earth itself.

“Oh, Cookie,” her beautiful voice filled with concern. “Are you alright?

He swallowed, speaking slowly, “I am. I… I’m here.” He opened his eyes and saw her there, shining and gorgeous, and beyond her green grass and a clear blue sky and the righted houses of Everfree. He gave a smile, weak and uncertain, but fully earnest in love and gratitude. “Equestria is safe.”

Celestia smiled gently. “Equestria is safe. You need to rest.” She leaned down and nuzzled him. “Do you think you can make your way to the castle?”

Cookie tried pushing himself up with his forelegs. His body seemed in working order, not even weak, though jerky and uncertain. He gave a nod.

Watching him carefully, Celestia offered a hoof to help him up. “Don’t bother with the passages, nopony cares right now. Just go to my chambers and wait for me there, I must make sure everypony else is safe and secure.”

“Of course.” Cookie took a breath. “Take all the time you need, I’m well enough.”

Celestia nodded and grinned. “I’m glad to hear it, because tonight we celebrate victory.”

Cookie was almost startled by her joyful confidence, but it proved infectious and he grinned back. As he turned towards the castle, something caught his eye that made his back tense. There where the throne had been stood a statue of the monster, frozen in laughter. The smile fell from his face.

“I thought…”

“He is imprisoned,” Celestia answered. “Don’t worry, it’s safer than Tartarus. He can never escape.”

Cookie eyed it suspiciously a moment more, before giving a nod. “Very well then. I suppose that will have to do.”





It was a week before Nightmare Night, and the trees had yet to be run, so the woods outside of Cookie’s gate still held their fall finery. Cookie was using the crisp day to bed his gardens down for the winter, laying mulch and pulling any weeds that looked hearty enough to survive both the cover and the freezing weather ahead.

He was coming around the side of the cottage when he saw the puff of smoke and flash of magic at his front gate. He froze and blinked for a moment at the two visitors.

The one who drew his eyes right away and made him clench his jaw was that creature. Discord seemed smaller than he had at their previous encounter, or it might have been the perspective of a doll that made him seem to tower over the ponies he tormented, but in either case he scanned Cookie’s house and yard with an easy curiosity.

Next to him Cookie was mildly surprised to see Luna, looking annoyed and watching Discord out of the corner of her eye.

He considered turning around before he was spotted and hopping the fence at the back of his house to hide in the woods until they left. Had it been Discord alone, he probably would have. But whatever mischief Luna might be up to with the monster, he was sure she wouldn’t dare allow it to come to light in front of him.

Cookie drew all the courage he possessed and stepped into the front yard, looking between the visitors. “A bit early for gathering candy, isn’t it?”

Luna gave him flat look, then turned to Discord and gestured to Cookie with a hoof. “Discord, may I introduce Chocolate Chip.”

Discord appeared directly in front of him, and it took all of his willpower not to step back. The monster floated in a circle around him as Cookie tried to follow the movement. Cookie wasn’t sure what he might be watching for, there wasn’t anything he could do against the creature, but on instinct he wasn’t about to let him out of sight.

“He’s it?” Discord asked, raising an eyebrow at Luna.

“I’m what?” Cookie narrowed his eyes.

Discord frowned at him. “An ordinary pony. But the clearly absurd rumor is that you’re Princess Celestia’s special somepony.”

Luna rolled her eyes. “I told you he was not worth investigating.”

Cookie frowned at Discord. “I am Celestia’s special somepony, and I would rather not be investigated.”

A light suddenly flashed in Cookie’s face, blinding him for a moment. When his vision returned he saw a camera in front of his face with Discord behind it.

“Oh, come now. When you’re dating a Princess, you have to expect the paparazzi.”

Cookie pushed the camera out of his face. “Which is one reason I live miles from town and Celestia is careful in her visits.”

“Not careful enough,” Luna grumbled.

Discord shook his head in disappointment. “Oh, Celestia. I expected so much better from you.” He shot Cookie a pouting glare and disappeared, appearing again on the front step of the house. “Well, we’re here, we might as well have tea.”

Cookie blinked. “Excuse me?”

“You invited Cadance and Twilight to tea. I assumed our invitations got lost in the mail.” Crossing his talon and paw in front of him, Discord raised an eyebrow at Cookie.

Shaking his head, Cookie realized his way was blocked. He couldn’t get into his own house without addressing the monster in front of it.

“I assure you they didn’t,” Cookie said firmly.

“Then you probably didn’t put enough postage on mine.” Discord waved a dismissive talon. “Sometimes the postpony falls into the bottomless pit in my dimension, so it takes an extra stamp.”

Cookie swallowed, not wanting to ask, but needing the answer all the same. “How do they get out?”

Discord shrugged. “The same way they came in, I suppose.”

Closing his eyes, Cookie drew a deep breath and then turned to Luna. “What is the meaning of this visit?”

Luna gave an annoyed snort. “Discord felt that if you and Celestia were close enough to have tea with Cadance and Twilight, we should have been invited as well. He found where you live by following my sister and asked me to join him.”

“That’s not how invitations work.” Cookie glared in Discord’s direction.

Luna raised an eyebrow. “Do you wish to explain that to him?”

With a sigh, Cookie considered the futility of his situation. All that he had seen of the creature told him both that he wanted to be anywhere else in Equestria, and that there was no point in attempting to keep Discord out of his home. Finally, he closed his eyes and drew a breath. “I suppose if you want tea, we’d better go inside.”

“You could try to sound a little more welcoming.” Discord finally stepped away from the door far enough for Cookie to walk up to it.

“No, I really couldn’t.” Cookie gritted his teeth as he passed Discord and opened the door, holding it for his guests.

Discord vanished, reappearing on the couch inside. Cookie looked to Luna and stood by the door for her, at least.

She offered him a wan smile. “At least he’s only attempting to overthrow tea parties.”

Cookie shook his head and followed Luna inside.

Doing his best to ignore Discord, he made a beeline for the kitchen. It seemed in his mind to be a paradise, free from the duties of hosting this nightmare, and he wondered how long he might use the pretense of boiling water to avoid his guests.

“Allow me to assist you,” Luna’s voice came from behind him as he put a hoof on the kitchen door.

“That won’t be necessary,” Cookie said over his shoulder.

Luna followed him into the kitchen anyway. “I insist.”

Once in the kitchen, Cookie gave a sigh and closed his eyes to steady himself. He heard the running of water and opened them to see Luna with the kettle in her magic at the sink.

“Thank you for the assistance, but it really wasn’t needed.” Cookie began gathering cups and the rest of the tea service. “And… I hope you don’t take my manner as inhospitality towards you. Our past interactions aside, you know I’m perfectly willing to serve you tea if you care to visit.”

“I am not here for tea, Smart Cookie.” Her magic floated the kettle to the stove. She offered a sympathetic smile. “I didn’t require an invitation for your meeting with Cadance and Twilight Sparkle.”

Cookie nodded, pulling out a pumpkin loaf he had on hoof and taking it to the counter to slice. “I assumed that. Celestia made the arrangements, and I’m sure she would have kept you in mind if you cared to come. But then why are you here?”

“If I hadn’t come, Discord would have come anyway.” Luna raised her eyebrows. “I guard your dreams. I know better than anypony the things you fear. While I know he won’t harm you, I will not allow you to face him alone.”

A large part of the tension eased from Cookie’s back. The thought of going back out there with Discord was almost bearable. And it was far more than he would have expected from Luna, either in her royal duties or as a personal favor.

Cookie glanced at her, and his expression melted into a warm smile. “Thank you, Luna. This means quite a lot to me.”

Luna returned the smile, lifting the kettle in her magic. “It is my duty, and my pleasure.” Her smile shifted to a smirk as she added, “Well, except for it requiring me to endure your manners.”

“A noble sacrifice, worthy of respect,” Cookie chuckled, sliding the tea tray onto his back. He paused at the door, his smile fading again as he drew strength.

In the living room he found Discord leaning over and surveying the books on one of the low shelves that lined the wall.

“So, Chocolate Chip, I see you have a lot of… nothing at all interesting.” Vanishing, Discord reappeared sitting on the couch.

Cookie set the tray on the coffee table. “I’ve traveled a lot in my life, so I don’t keep much beyond what I need and a bit of comfort.”

“Oh, were you an airship pirate?” Discord didn’t even wait for a suggestion from Cookie, a full tea cup appeared in his talon.

Cookie frowned at him, then caught Luna’s eye and nodded at the teapot. Luna smiled at him with a snort, but her magic lifted the teapot and poured her tea.

Settling in with his own cup of tea, Cookie looked to Discord. “No… I don’t believe I’ve ever tried piracy. I simply like meeting new ponies and seeing new places.”

Discord covered his mouth with his paw, yawning as Cookie spoke. He quickly pulled it away and smiled politely. “So what do you do?”

Cookie took a sip of tea. “Bake, write, garden…”

“What do you write? And please tell me it’s something exciting.” Discord gave him a dry stare.  “Make something up, if you must.”

“Philosophy.” Cookie returned the stare with the same lack of emotion.

Discord motioned broadly to Cookie and turned to Luna. “Is this a prank?”

She took a sip of her tea. “No, it is not.”

“What does she see in him?” Discord said to Luna as a scroll appeared and unfurled next to her. Cookie could see that it was a list, ‘Pony? Male? Four legs? Breathing?’ and each had a checkmark next to it. He glared at Discord.

Luna ignored it and raised her eyebrows. “He’s a baker. He bakes for her.”

“Luna, please.” Discord rolled his eyes. “Most of the earth ponies in Equestria are bakers. Ponyville has a half a dozen bakers and one schoolteacher, which does explain a lot, now that I think about it... But the point is, if Celestia wanted a baker, she could find one more interesting than this.”

Cookie cleared his throat. “I am sitting right here.”

Discord suddenly appeared next to him and patted him on the head. “Yes, you are.”

Cookie glared at him, but Discord was already back on the couch innocently sipping his tea.

“He is the pony Celestia selected.” Luna shrugged. “And I understand he can be charming, in his way.”

“I highly doubt that.” Discord gave a dismissive sweep of his head.

Raising his eyebrows, Cookie took a drink. “I don’t set out to charm beings who shove their way into my house demanding tea.”

“And it is not you or I who must be charmed by him,” Luna pointed out. “In all honesty, I think Celestia appreciates having a simple, informal escape from life at the palace, with good food and intelligent conversation. What you find dull is exactly what Celestia finds charming.”

“Then Celestia is wrong.” Discord huffed and sat there pouting. “She really ought to consider other beings. I mean, how are we supposed to have tea with this?” He motioned to Cookie with his talon.

“So, Discord.” Cookie narrowed his eyes and stared at the being. “I understand that you claim to be reformed.”

Discord turned his head towards Cookie and blinked in mock confusion. “What? I’m sorry, I couldn’t understand you over the sound of pure banality. Or was that your voice?”

Cookie took a sip of his tea. “That was contempt, not banality. But I understand it’s hard for narcissists to tell the difference.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Discord said as he admired himself in a small mirror.

Raising an eyebrow, Cookie regarded him coolly. “Then you won’t mind telling me directly, how do you feel about the things you did to ponies before your reformation? Are you ashamed of yourself?”

“Oh for goodness sake, it’s like another Celestia.” Discord rolled his eyes and a wig in Celestia’s gauzy rainbow colors appeared on his head. “Discord, remember things you did before; Discord, you have to have thoughts about the future; Discord, when you create a universe where life evolves, it’s ‘wrong’ to give all the creatures different moral codes and let them fight it out. Nag, nag, nag.”

Cookie nodded. “Like Celestia, I’m concerned for the wellbeing of other ponies as a general matter, not just specific ones I like.”

“You have noticed that I’m not a pony, right? I thought the handsome draconequus form gave it away.” Discord fluttered his eyelids sweetly at Cookie and was met with a dry glare. Then he shrugged and leaned back. “I don’t think like ponies, and expecting me to automatically have some kind of... morality that says ponies are equal to me isn’t really fair.”

“Then you can no more be reformed than a tiger can be made a pet,” Cookie said with a frown.

Discord raised an eyebrow. “You’ve never met Fluttershy, have you?”

“I’ve not had the pleasure.” Cookie considered for a moment, then added, “But even if she has you under her control, she’s a mortal, and you are not.”

Luna raised her eyebrows. “Perhaps that is something you should discuss with my sister.”

Discord waved a dismissive paw. “Oh, Celestia already realizes that. She met with me the other day to ask what might happen when Fluttershy dies.”

Cookie eyed him with suspicion. “She was the one who called the meeting?”

“Yes,” Discord said with a serious expression and a solemn nod. “You see, I’m a very important being, so I’m often consulted on government matters.”

“I’m sure.” Cookie said, a bit worried that one could drown in sarcasm. He took a sip of tea. “So, how did you respond?”

A notebook appeared in Discord’s talon. “Well, I looked at my daily planner for the next century and…” The notebook turned into an accordion which promptly caught fire. “Oh darn, I hate when that happens.” The item vanished. “I am a being of chaos, not a being of things-happening-in-a-predictable-way.”

Luna caught Cookie’s eye and shrugged. “He should be allowed points for honesty.”

“I suppose…” He looked down at his tea, his brow furrowed. “When I last spoke to Celestia, she didn’t mention any concern over this.”

Luna took a sip of her own tea, then hesitated a moment longer before she said, “Fluttershy is young and healthy. Who knows what may happen?”

“Exactly!” Discord smiled. “I mean, you all are just assuming that Fluttershy is going to die someday.”

Cookie froze as Discord’s words clicked into place. A suspicion crept into his mind, and a glance at Luna showed her trying unsuccessfully to keep from casting worried glances at him.

Leaning forward, Cookie gave Discord his full attention. “I have a strange question for you. In your conversation, did Celestia ask you anything about your personal feelings for Fluttershy? If they’re deeper than friendship?”

“No.” Discord’s tea cup appeared in his paw and he took a sip. “But she did ask if I’m capable of loving a pony.”

Cookie raised an eyebrow. “Are you?”

“I’m capable of anything except consistency.” The teacup in his paw shifted into a small pumpkin, but his expression didn’t change as he took a sip of something from it.

“But you consistently care for Fluttershy?” Cookie pressed.

Discord smirked as the pumpkin changed into a large pink butterfly. “Even my inconsistency isn’t consistent.”

Cookie frowned, no longer looking at Discord but into the distance behind him.

Luna shifted uncomfortably, the worry now plainly visible on her face. “Sma—Chocolate Chip, it may not be what you’re thinking.”

“She didn’t mention this. None of it.”

“Still, perhaps she didn’t want to worry you,”  Luna said gently.

Cookie leveled a dark look at her. “And she asked if he can love strictly out of curiosity? I know how Celestia works, Luna.”

“Trouble in the boring small town next to paradise?” Discord asked, a small, scraggly potted palm tree appearing next to him. Neither Luna nor Cookie paid him the slightest mind.

Luna frowned. “She is Princess of Equestria, she must explore these matters.”

“I know perfectly well she’s a blasted princess, but I trust her to be honest with me!” Cookie rose to his hooves and set his teacup on the coffee table with a clatter. He paced to the back of the room, then turned and gestured to Luna. “Do you think there are matters of state I’m not qualified to know?”

“Of course not, but I think one can see by your reaction there might be matters you can’t consider objectively.” Luna raised an eyebrow and set her own cup carefully on the table.

“This entire situation is one I can’t consider objectively, but I try my best, though it drives me mad!” Cookie stomped his hoof for emphasis, then returned to his pacing. “Celestia knows this, and yet since you spoke to me she’s done nothing but obfuscate the issue. Exactly how am I supposed to consider the issue objectively when she’s plying me with emotions in one direction while hiding information that may sway me against her wishes?!”

“Celestia is manipulating you? I am shocked. You see? This is my shocked face.” Discord yawned, then let his face fall to an expression of sleepy boredom.

Luna watched Cookie with a worried frown. “You must speak to her. Give her an opportunity to explain.”

“Or at least cover her tracks,” Discord added, sweeping away a hoofprint that floated in the air.

“Discord, hold your tongue,” Luna snapped. “You do not wish to meddle in these affairs.”

Cookie gave a bitter laugh. “Oh, that’s rich coming from you, Luna.”

Luna glared at Cookie. “Shall we explain the situation to him? I’m sure that would much improve matters for you.”

He narrowed his eyes. “No, what would improve matters for me is if you all would leave me in peace. And on this matter, I include your sister.”

“This concerns many beings now.” Luna shook her head. “You can not expect us to sit idle.”

“Of course not.” Cookie gestured broadly. “What’s the use of having the power to pull down the stars if you’re not using it to toy with the fates of ponies?”

“That’s what I’ve always thought,” Discord said with a shrug.

Cookie snorted at him and shook his head, and then eyed Luna. “I’m beginning to think that’s why Celestia wanted you reformed; both of you make a fine addition to this mess.”

“I am here for your well-being, but if you wish me to leave I assure you I can find far better things to do with my time.” Luna rose to her hooves, the cold, haughty expression on her face seeming all too familiar to Cookie.

“Perhaps that’s best! It turns out there are far more insidious dangers to my sanity than this snake, which you’d prefer to encourage rather than defend against.”

“Very well!” Luna started quickly for the door.

“If you see Celestia, tell her I wish to speak with her! Urgently!” Cookie called after her, answered only by the slamming of the door.

Discord rolled his eyes. “Well. Things were almost interesting there, for a moment. I’m glad that’s over.”

Cookie resumed his pacing. “Oh, it isn’t over. Celestia has gone too far this time.”

“Hmm?” Discord looked up from filing his talon. He disappeared and reappeared floating at Cookie’s side.  “I mean, clearly! I certainly wouldn’t stand for it, if I were you.”

Cookie nodded. “This isn’t even a matter of politics. There are limits to how you can manipulate a pony you respect, and she has crossed those thoroughly.”

“Have you met Celestia? You can tell she’s manipulating you when the sun is out.” Discord leaned in, whispering loudly, “I think she does it just to make ponies get out of bed.”

Pausing, Cookie glared at Discord. “You are the last being I need here right now.”

“Should I come back later with popcorn?” Discord said from a row of theater seats that had appeared along the front wall of the house.

“No,” Cookie said crisply. “You should be imprisoned in a stone statue, and this entire situation should not be taking place. However, since my opinions seem to be increasingly irrelevant, I don’t give a blessed feather what you do.”

Discord crossed his appendages. “I’m sensing some hostility.”

“Your senses are finely tuned,” Cookie said, raising an eyebrow.

“I don’t see why you’re mad at me.” Discord appeared in front of Cookie. “I just came over to meet you. It’s your special somepony who’s been hiding things from you. I’m not the bad guy, this time.”

Cookie stared at the monster who had haunted his nightmares for so long, yet now seemed the least of his concerns. He nodded slowly. “You’re right.”

Discord blinked at him. “That worked?” He shook his head and smiled. “Well, on that note, I think I’ll go before you change your mind.”

In a puff of smoke Discord vanished, leaving Cookie alone with his unpleasant thoughts.
> 12 - The Castle of the Two Sisters
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The clouds crept along of their own accord across the face of the moon, always an unnatural and unsettling sight.

Cookie steeled himself as he made his way through the dark, deserted streets of Everfree. The shops were boarded up and buildings and houses sat empty, rotted or crumbling. Towards the edge of town, the forest had sent vines to reclaim the wood and stone ponies had borrowed, and everywhere the few remaining ponies barred their doors at night for fear that a manticore or timberwolf might be feeling bold.

Equestria was thriving elsewhere; Cookie reminded himself of that several times a day. In Everfree the only sign of it was the castle and school, and the block of buildings closest to those where an inn, a pub, and a dry goods store stood clean and well tended, with lights in the windows and ponies going about their evenings inside.

He passed those and made his way to the castle. It was still the seat of government, and nervous guards stood at the door. Perhaps it was the condition of the town, or the same magic that drove the ponies away, but off-duty guards spoke over their cups about shadows and strange movements that made them sure there was danger ahoof, even if they could never find the source.

The guards allowed Cookie through with a nod, and he slipped into the secret passages of the castle, following the familiar route to Celestia’s chambers. The room seemed frozen in happier days, with richly colored decor showing only daily wear and a warm fire burning in the hearth. Celestia lay before it on a pile of cushions, focused on a scroll and quill held in her magic.

“Celestia, I need to speak to you about something important,” Cookie said softly.

Celestia paused in the scroll she was writing and looked over at him. “Personal matters, or state?”

He frowned. “Both, actually. I know you’ve noticed the state of the town and forest.”

She nodded, her brow furrowing. “I have.”

Cookie swallowed. He hated to say these words. They felt like a betrayal of his friends, though he knew that any one of them would have said them decades sooner. He took a breath and looked down.

“I feel it may be time for us to leave.” Glancing up at her, he went on,  “As long as the forest isn’t controlled, ponies will not return. Just about your entire court is in Canterlot, they only come by carriage to see you. The only things left in Everfree are the castle and the school.”

“Which are exactly the things I need to attend to,” Celestia said, setting down the scroll and quill she held in her magic.

“Yes, of course. But perhaps they could be attended to someplace else?” He drew a scroll from his saddlebag and unrolled it, laying it flat on ground in front of her. On the scroll was a drawing of a many-spired palace nestled against the side of a mountain and notes regarding the same.

“What is this?”

“Your castle and school as they might be in Canterlot. Not exactly, of course, I simply had an architect draw up some sketches to give you an idea.”

She grinned, and he saw a happy light flash in her eyes, the spirit of the passionate young pony who had charmed him years ago.

Then her eyes dimmed and she shook her head with a sad smile. “Cookie… I couldn’t spend this money when I have a perfectly good castle here.”

“It’s 800 years old, Celestia. The upkeep will soon outstrip its usefulness, especially without the craftsponies here to do the work.” He sat down beside her and smiled. “Besides, I’ve spoken to the court, and I got the nobles and business ponies to agree to a special fee if it means no longer having to travel to Everfree. It should be reasonable, for this sort of thing.”

She smiled at him, then looked at the scroll again with deeper consideration. “It’s beautiful.”

Cookie smirked. “I thought it was a ridiculous confection, myself. But I’m told it’s the style these days, and the view will have no rival.”

“A pony could see all of Equestria,” she agreed, wrapping her wing around him. “And these balconies! They would be so lovely for raising the sun in the morning. I might even enjoy it again.”

As her eyes scanned the picture, worry began to cloud her face. Her lips pursed, even as she seemed to take in each detail.

Cookie nuzzled her. “If something’s off, we can speak to Sketchston.”

Celestia sighed. “No, I’m just considering how I might convince Luna to move.”

Pulling away enough to look at her, Cookie raised his eyebrows. “Have you considered why you would bother?”

“She’s my sister. She needs me.” Celestia frowned at him, and her magic rolled up the scroll and set it on her desk.

Cookie frowned at her in return. “Celestia… Luna does nothing with the court, nothing with the government, nothing with the school…  Leave her library and she may not even notice we’re gone.”

Celestia pulled her wing away and regarded him suspiciously. “Did you do this to remove me from my sister?”

“Not at all. If she wants to come, she’s welcome. It may be good for her.” He stood and walked to the window, looking out first at the darkness of the town, then the eerie movement of the clouds in the moonlight. “I brought this to you because Everfree holds little for either of us anymore. I have no reason to stay, and I know Canterlot would be good for your government.” He paused and stared at the moon. “And I don’t like the idea of the two of you here by yourselves.”

“You’ll be merely an hour away by flight. I can visit you nightly.”

“I know that,” he said as he turned to see her smiling fondly. He gave a nervous smile in return and shook his head. “It’s just… something Hurricane said once about Luna. It may be foolishness, but I worry for you.”

“For me?” Celestia raised an eyebrow, the smile still on her face. “Luna’s nature worries me as well, obviously, but there’s no need to concern yourself for me.”

Cookie pursed his lips, and glanced back at the moon. He began to pace in front of the window. “What is Luna’s nature? She’s cold, sullen, secretive in her council and blunt in her actions, easily offended and slow to forgive, she thinks herself superior based on no virtue I can see…”

“She has many virtues.” Celestia pulled herself up and fixed him with a stare.

Cookie paused in his pacing and raised his eyebrows at her. “Name them.”

“She’s more learned than I am,” Celestia said quickly. “She’s thoughtful and serious, she’s unafraid to take action.”

Cookie nodded and started pacing again. “She may be learned, but she lacks wisdom. Without that, action becomes dangerous. And with her lack of care for ponies… it may be most dangerous for those closest to her.”

Celestia cocked her head slightly. “What are you saying?”

Cookie stopped and turned to look at Celestia. He’d never mentioned the conversation at Clover’s funeral; he knew Celestia would take it as unkind gossip at best and treasonous slander at worst. And he was content to consider it such, when the castle and town were full of ponies with their eyes on the sisters, when the creatures howled far away in the depths of the forest, and when the clouds and shadows stayed in their proper places.

But here and now, it had to be spoken. He lowered his voice to a whisper, hesitant but loud enough to cross the room. “Hurricane spoke of treason. He saw her nature and thought a bid for your crown wasn’t out of the question.”

Celestia stared at him with wide eyes for a moment. Then she narrowed her eyes and drew herself up to a regal bearing. “How dare you say such a thing?”

“I didn’t for many centuries.” Now that the words were spoken, a calm assurance fell over him and he walked over to sit next to Celestia. “But Hurricane was a pony who understood power. He’d watched hundreds of commands over his life, both successful and problematic, and his estimation seemed worth keeping in my thoughts.”

“He was foolish in this instance; a military command can not be compared to ruling a kingdom,” Celestia said as she pulled ever so slightly away from Cookie. “Hurricane has been gone for centuries, and Luna has shown no eye for my crown.”

Cookie nodded. “This is true, and to be considered. But her nature hasn’t changed. If anything, it’s become far darker than he ever saw.”

Celestia glared at him. “And leaving her in a lonely castle in a wild forest is the way you seek to change it?”

“After centuries of resistance, there is no reason to seek. A pony must be responsible for themselves, and rise or fall on their own actions.” His voice softened, and he caught her eye. “I only seek to protect you from the harm those actions might cause.”

Celestia relaxed, her face softer as she spoke. “I have no fear of my sister, Cookie. I love her, and come what may I will stay by her side.”

Cookie frowned and hesitated, then nodded. “Well… that is your choice, and I understand it, though I might not agree. But… I must make a choice as well.”

“As I said, I can visit you nightly if you wish to go.” She nuzzled him, the warm blanket of her mane floating over his shoulders. “If you built an estate, you could even host me and I could conduct business with the nobles there.”

He was quiet for a time, first trying to enjoy the moment and then putting his thoughts in order. Finally he sighed and laid his head against her. “Celestia, I’m tired. The events with Discord, watching Everfree crumble… I need more than a new city. I need a new life. An opportunity to live without eight hundred years on my shoulders, in my words and deeds, and in my own thoughts.”

“A new life...without me?” she asked softly, her body tensing against him.

“Never, my love.” He smiled. “You are the sun that lights my sky, and the only thing that makes this life slightly bearable. But you can’t be the only joy in my life, it isn’t fair to either of us.”

Worry clouded her face. “Cookie, if you need more from me…”

“I need more from me, Celestia,” he said quickly, hoping to remove it. “How would you feel if Smart Cookie disappeared, and at the same time a small house was built on the edge of the forest with an unassuming and reclusive scholar living in it? In time I would grow unclear in ponies' memories, and then I might move among them under my new name with none but you the wiser.”

“Would you come to me as often?” Her wing draped over his back and held him close.

“We could arrange matters how we wished. At first I might, so you can feel certain that my love for you is as strong as ever. It would be more difficult, though, so we may end up spending more time apart as years go by.” He watched her face, and laid a comforting hoof over hers as the worry returned. “But those years stretch indefinitely,  and we both might find some good in time to ourselves. And if not, nothing is being done that can’t be undone.”

A silence fell between them, but neither Celestia’s wing nor Cookie’s hoof was withdrawn. He knew that this was no small request, and prepared himself to accept any answer without complaint, so long as Celestia was content. However disagreeable his life had become now, it was nothing compared to the thought of facing it alone.

Finally, Celestia said softly, “I won’t oppose the idea, Cookie. I want to oppose it, my instinct is to keep you as close to me as I can… but I have seen the difficulties you mentioned, I know them myself, and I wouldn’t deny you the chance of a more comfortable life.”

“Thank you.” Cookie leaned over and nuzzled her, kissing her cheek tenderly.

She smiled and nuzzled back, whispering in his ear, “I’m sure there will come times when I wish that Princess Celestia could disappear, and a bride come to whatever dear little space you’ve made for yourself.”

Cookie chuckled. “I’m afraid that might be more difficult… your very specific beauty is known far and wide.” He smiled fondly and shook his head. “And even if it were possible, you would never consider the idea seriously.”

Celestia sighed. “I wouldn’t, but a pony needs a dream for cold nights by herself, if her lover isn’t there to warm her.”

“I’m here tonight, and I will never leave you cold for too long.” Cookie looked into her eyes, and then leaned into a deep kiss. Her lips pressed to his and their bodies pressed next to each other, and it calmed Cookie in a way he rarely felt anywhere else.

They parted and Celestia smiled. “Then tonight, I am content. And the future is in the care of the stars.”


***


The castle seemed consumed by shadows as Celestia’s chariot landed in front of it, as it did each night. Since the palace in Canterlot had been finished, she left just after dawn each day and returned just after sundown; she so rarely saw the castle in sunlight anymore. It had been a decade, and it was beginning to feel as if her old home existed only at night, the heavy stone held together by darkness.

She shivered as she quickly walked inside, but the dark, echoing front hall offered no comfort. For that she turned to her thoughts: the bright white palace where she spent most of her waking hours; Cookie waiting in her room, as he should be tonight, keeping the fire warm and candles lit.

Her focus was on this when she heard a door close. She looked up, startled, and saw the shadows in the area moving. Steadying her nerves, she was about to light her horn when a figure stepped into the moonlight of one of the windows.

Celestia relaxed with a deep breath. “Luna.”

“Yes?” Luna stared at her.

“You startled me.” Celestia smiled. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“I do live here still.” Luna didn’t move. Her eyes remained locked on Celestia.

Celestia held the smile on her face, but it was taking effort under her sister’s unnerving gaze. “Of course. You just so rarely leave your chambers. How have you been?”

Luna snorted softly and stepped through a shadow, then back into moonlight in front of Celestia. “Safely hidden from my subjects, so you have no need for concern.”

Celestia frowned. “I had no intention to hide you from anypony. I told you when I was having the palace built, you’re more than welcome in Canterlot.”

Luna raised her eyebrows and said calmly, “What use have I for that gilded folly hanging off the side of a cliff? You built it to court the favor of the very ponies who ought to be courting our favor… and how will their favor serve you when it crumbles?”

“It’s very sturdy.” Celestia raised her eyebrows in return. “Far sturdier than this castle, these days. Decay can only be kept at bay for so long without the care of ponies, and we haven’t had a mason nearby in two hundred years.” She glanced around the dark room and couldn’t keep from swallowing her nerves. “If a building is going to crumble around us, it shall be this one.”

“We shall see,” Luna answered. Celestia firmly told herself the smile at the corners of her mouth was imagined, a trick of the light.

She shook her head clear and replaced the smile on her own face, an especially warm one this time. “Luna, you should at least visit the palace. It does have uses, even for you…”

Luna just looked at her with a dry stare, so Celestia went on:

“There are so many spires I hardly knew what to do with them, so one is equipped with the finest telescopes and tools. I’m told by the scholars at my school that it offers the best views in Equestria for study of the stars, and the pegasi control the weather, so there aren’t nearly so many clouds. Of course, it’s wasted on me, but I thought—”

“Your bribe shall not work,” Luna said coldly.

The smile never left Celestia’s face in spite of the flash of annoyance she felt. “It wasn’t a bribe. My students will make use of them.”

Luna arched an eyebrow. “Then it is still a bribe, but for your students rather than me. Perhaps it will distract them from your lack of knowledge.”

“That’s hardly fair.” Celestia frowned. “I may not be as learned as you, but I’ve studied at least several lifetimes worth of magic, and more diverse subjects besides.”

“Shall I applaud your mastery of frivolous pursuits?” Luna said, cocking her head with a derisive snort.

Celestia drew herself up. “Understanding ponies is hardly a frivolous pursuit. Do you forget the most powerful—” She looked over at the sound of hoofsteps on the other side of the hall.

Cookie stood in doorway that led in the direction of Celestia’s chambers. He looked between the sisters. “I’m sorry to interrupt.” His attention turned to Celestia. “I saw the chariot land, and I came to check on you.”

“Luna and I were just…” She frowned and shook her head. Cookie was the last pony she needed involved in their bickering. “It was nothing.”

Cookie nodded and walked over next to Celestia, eyeing Luna. “I’m glad to see Luna, actually.”

Luna frowned. “Princess Luna.”

“Luna,” he said firmly. Luna narrowed her eyes at him, but he just raised his eyebrows and went on. “I’ve been hearing from ponies a concern about their dreams. A nightmare creature lurks in them and seems to be spreading, affecting more ponies each day. Ponies are even starting to whisper she might escape dreams and steal children or terrorize lonely travelers.”

Celestia frowned. A dream was nothing to worry about, but she hated to hear that her ponies were frightened. She looked to Luna, who was still staring darkly at Cookie.

“They know you guard their dreams, and they wonder why you don’t put a stop to this,” Cookie finished, looking to Luna expectantly.

Luna calmed her face to an even expression and drew herself up. “You may tell them I am a Princess, and I act when I wish.”

Cookie nodded, as if the response was expected. “I can think of a number of words that will fit better than ‘Princess’ when I relay that.”

“What do you imply?” Luna snapped.

He glared at her. “That I would not stain the title Celestia uses by applying it to your selfish display of power when there are so many more colorful and common words for your disposition.”

Luna looked at Cookie for a moment longer, then turned pointedly towards Celestia. “Well I would not stain our title by making use of a filthy mudpony plaything, but I must bear the dishonor nonetheless.”

Celestia’s eyes went wide for just a moment before narrowing in anger. "I will not hear language like that in this castle! You speak well out of turn, Sister, and if you continue in that manner about any of our subjects I will take it as treason against Equestria."

“Who are you to tell me how to speak in our castle?” Luna narrowed her eyes in return and took a step towards Celestia. “You don’t have those fools of court to stand behind, Celestia. I am your equal here.”

Cookie snorted. “Right now you are not equal to the scullery maids. They actually perform their duties and earn their keep.”

Luna fixed him with a deathly glare, but Cookie stood firm in it. Celestia tensed, ready to take action if Luna’s horn lit.

After a moment, Luna relaxed and her face shifted to a satisfied smirk. “The duty of a princess is to rule. Perhaps I shall take up my duty.” She turned and walked towards her chambers, still speaking, “As to the nightmare, I am educating my ponies. It is right that they learn to fear the darkness.”

“Luna, if you are to rule, you must—” Celestia started firmly, but she was answered with a slamming door that echoed through the hall.

“Blessed stars,” Cookie muttered. “Come, let’s get out of here.”

He turned around and started towards Celestia’s chambers. Celestia followed, but couldn’t stop glancing over her shoulder until they made their way to her rooms.

As soon as the door shut behind her, Celestia looked to Cookie and shook her head. “Cookie… I don’t know what to say. Nopony in Equestria should use those words, least of all one of the princesses you crowned. I apologize on her behalf.”

Cookie waved a dismissive hoof. “Don’t, Celestia. It means nothing coming from you, you were more shocked than I was, and I’m not holding my breath on an apology from her.” He pursed his lips and looked at her pointedly. "It's getting worse.”

“I know.” Celestia walked over to her mirror and her magic removed her crown, setting it on its stand. She followed it with her necklace and hoofplates.

“You should leave,” Cookie said behind her. “She is mad. You can no longer be sure what she might do.”

"There must be a way to get through to her,” Celestia said, looking at herself in the mirror. She could wear hundreds of faces for her subjects, from false smiles to the deepest and most pure concern. Yet none of those seemed to have the slightest effect on her sister.

“Perhaps there is, but…” Cookie hesitated until Celestia turned around, looking at him expectantly. He frowned and continued, “This situation with the nightmares… she's well out of favor with everypony, noble and commoner alike. If the ponies of your council knew what took place here this evening, I'm not sure she would be a princess of Equestria when they meet next."

Celestia shook her head firmly. "I don't want that, Cookie. That would hurt her terribly.”

“But would it be wrong?” Cookie asked, arching an eyebrow.

Celestia thought about the conversation in the hall, and could only respond by looking down with a sigh.

Cookie nodded and went on, “And if she’s dismissed she will become more unhinged than she is now. There would be no way you could safely remain here.”

“Then we can’t allow it to happen,” Celestia said as she walked over to lie before the fireplace.

Cookie looked her in the eye. “She’s not fit to be princess.”

Celestia looked away with a sigh. “She would never speak to me again.”

Cookie rolled his eyes and lay down next to her, nuzzling her shoulder. “If that was the worst she did I would thank the stars.”

Looking into the fire, Celestia thought about Luna as she was when they came here. Nervous and awkward, but so full of humor and love beneath it. The change seemed grotesque when she compared them directly, yet she knew she’d watched over centuries. She’d sworn to herself she would stop it, and now...

Tears stinging her eyes, Celestia said softly, “She was the first duty I took up, you know. When Mother and Father fell to Lord Tirek. Nopony asked it of me, but I knew that she would need to be cared for and protected. Star Swirl stepped in to teach us, but… I was her family. Her mother and father. This is my failure.”

She felt Cookie’s body lean against hers, offering strength, and he said gently, “She was never suited to rule.”

Celestia shook her head. “Nopony is suited to rule. I failed her. When we came here, I became so busy all of a sudden. I had a kingdom to rule, and I wanted to spare her the pressures. And you… I don’t regret our love, but I should have been more careful, spent more time with her. But she was focused on her studies, and she had Star Swirl to guide her, and I thought… I was foolish. Perhaps I still am…”

The more she thought about what she might have done differently, the longer the list grew. She wanted to care for her sister, but each step had been misplaced; she could see that now. Why hadn’t she then? Why had she allowed it to come to this?

Her thoughts were interrupted by Cookie’s soft, strong voice. “You could resign to mend things with Luna. The council would send her with you, and she might be better if you both were out of the public eye and your attentions were on her alone for a time. Equestria could get by, it’s likely a democracy would work at this point. And the unicorns could raise the sun and moon, if you two no longer wanted the duty.”

Celestia let that wash over her. It offered hope; hope that Luna might be brought out of her darkness, that Celestia might be redeemed of her failure, that she and Luna and Cookie might live as a family, with happy days stretching before them. With Cookie beside her, it almost felt like it could be real.

But it couldn’t be real. There was a weight on her head, even with her crown shining in its place across the room. She loved her sister, but she loved her ponies as well…

She closed her eyes and lay her head on Cookie’s shoulder. “We both know I can’t do that. I am family to Luna, but I am Princess of Equestria. That must be my duty above all else.”

Cookie’s hoof gently stroked the back of her head. “You are a pony, Celestia. You have personal considerations.”

“I know that too well sometimes,” she murmured, smelling the scents of baking and garden that clung to his coat. She sighed and righted herself, and pulling away from Cookie’s comfort. “But I am still a princess, first.”

He smiled sadly. “Not to me.”

She nodded and draped a wing over his back. “I’m glad of that. I hope it can let you see how much I care for my sister, and how much I want to help her, even if I can’t give my crown for it.”

“Of course I do.”

Celestia frowned. “Right now, all I can do for Luna is protect her crown so that she suffers as little as possible. Will you help me?”

Cookie was silent. He studied her, his face dark with worry and argument. She answered him with quiet pleading.

Finally, he sighed. “I won’t tell a soul what happened here.”

Celestia smiled. “Thank you, Cookie.”

He raised his eyebrows at her. “But there’s only so much that we control in this situation. In the end, this falls on Luna.”

“I know.” Celestia nodded and glanced at her crown once more before settling into the comfort of Cookie’s body and the warmth of the fire.
> 13 - A Line
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The front room of Cookie’s cottage was dim as she entered that night, and Celestia noted there was no tea cup, book, or newspaper near where Cookie sat, no sign that he’d been focused on anything but his own mind. As she walked in, he focused on her, and in the firelight his face seemed to show more years than normal; nothing close to their true age, but there was something venerable and hardened there that gave her pause.

She took a breath and offered a hint of a smile. “You seem calmer than I expected.”

Cookie nodded and glanced at the fire. “I’ve had some time to think.”

“Well then, why don’t we have some tea and discuss the matter?” Celestia walked across the room towards the kitchen.

“I haven’t had that much time, Celestia.” His voice was firm and dark, and she stopped at the door to the next room.

She raised her head and said gently, “Well, I feel I need some tea anyway. I’ll put on the kettle.”

Stepping into the kitchen, she turned on the lights. The brightness seemed normal. The kitchen seemed normal, clean and scrubbed, waiting for Cookie to go to work on something. She allowed herself a moment to breathe.

Her magic took up the tea kettle and filled it at the sink. Her eyes drifted towards the pantry, and she wondered if Cookie had made anything recently and if it would be right to help herself if he had. Any other day she wouldn’t have hesitated, but given the nature of this visit—and the way he had looked out there—she thought better of it.

She floated the kettle to the stove and turned back to the door to the living room, squaring her shoulders and fixing her face with a relaxed but somber expression.

The room seemed even darker compared to the light of the kitchen. She took a seat on a cushion across from Cookie with her back to the fire. “Now. I understand you had a visit from Discord today. Are you alright?”

“Surprisingly, yes. Discord turned out to be the least of my concerns.” Cookie regarded her with an even expression. “When you had your conversation with him, where he discovered my existence… he said you sent for him.”

“Yes.” Celestia drew a breath. “Cookie, I can explain.”

“Please.” He nodded and leaned back with the same stony face.

Celestia looked him in the eye and said with her head held high, “It was my hope that if you allowed Cadance to discover your secret, we might he able to secure Equestria further by making sure he always has the pony he’s closest to. I never mentioned it because I know how you feel about him, and I didn’t want that to influence your decision.”

Cookie leaned forward, frowning. “You do know how I feel. And you knew I wouldn’t be remotely agreeable to this.”

“It was not something that needed to be determined now.” Celestia held eye contact and went on in a steady voice, “I was merely exploring if it might be possible. By the time it became an issue, you may well have decided to find the truth of your power of your own accord.”

“Of my own accord, without the bother of inconvenient information that might influence me against it.” Cookie raised his eyebrows.

She shot him a flat look. “Because that information was not fact, or even a plan. It was only barely a possibility.”

“Yet one which you took action to consider, and purposely kept from me.”

“I study many possibilities every day.” Celestia gave a weary sigh. “You know that I’m responsible for an impossibly large task in preserving and protecting Equestria, and I must have my eyes farther ahead than most ponies.”

“I know that, Celestia.” Cookie’s frown wavered, tinged with sympathy. He looked down and shook his head, then he gave a snort and went on firmly. “So in the present, your plan was to use your dear students to manipulate me into changing my mind on a matter I had already decided.”

Celestia shifted on her cushion, wrapping her tail around her. “That wasn’t why I wanted you to meet them. But I did want you to have all of the information as you made your decision.”

“Except that which you decided might influence me against your wishes.”

“It was not speculation that you’d meet Cadance and Twilight, eventually. That was relevant to the issue at hoof.”

“Very well.” Cookie nodded and fixed her with a stare. “And your personal and inconsequential consideration was that, if I were to change my mind, you might manipulate a love affair between two beings and use the fruits of my decision to secure Equestria.”

Celestia shifted again, but shook her head firmly. “Not manipulate, but perhaps encourage a romance, if the seeds were present.”

Cookie leaned back, relaxing with a disapproving expression that seemed exaggerated by the uneven light of the fire. “Encourage a mare who’s nearly two thousand years your junior and sees you as a deity and her sovereign. There’s certainly no reason to worry about undue pressure there.”

She gave a shrug. “I can’t control those things. I can only help ponies from my current position.”

“And what of the mare in question?” Cookie raised his eyebrows. “Would she be allowed to know before finding herself immortally bound to Discord, or would that be merely speculation that might influence her?”

“We would have to see.”

“Of course.” He nodded. “Like we had to see if you would mention the subject of immortality to Twilight, yet somehow Star Swirl’s work ended up in her hooves before you felt that conversation was relevant.”

Celestia frowned sharply. “She was thrilled. It wouldn’t have mattered, and might have set back her progress if she became impatient or conceited.”

Cookie just met her expression with a casual nod. “Or set back your plans if she had doubts.”

She glared at him. “Do you think I didn’t have Twilight’s best interests at heart?”

“No. I know you did. Just as you have Fluttershy’s and my own at heart.” He pursed his lips and leaned forward. “Yet you are not Twilight, or Fluttershy, or me. And you don’t have only our best interests at heart. This is perfectly understandable, you have a duty to protect Equestria, but for these reasons ponies should be allowed a fair say in their own blasted lives!”

Celestia opened her mouth, knowing as she did that what was about to come out was ill-advised, with just a split second to make the decision whether to let slip.

The whistle of the tea kettle decided it for her, and she closed her mouth and got to her hooves without a word. She turned and swept into the kitchen, where the bright light and strange calm caught her off guard. She was in Cookie’s home, warm and safe from the eyes of ponies.

The kettle on the stove demanded her attention, so she removed it with her magic and prepared the teapot as she took several deep breaths to calm herself. The anger she felt wouldn’t help matters, and harsh words would only make things worse. Cookie could be calmed and reasoned with.

She walked over to the pantry, and her magic took up two cups as she spotted a plate of pumpkin bread, already sliced. She glanced back at the door to make sure Cookie didn’t follow her as she took a slice and stuffed it into her mouth.

The sweet, thick taste gave her strength, and stolen comfort was still comfort after all. But she finished quickly and wiped the crumbs from her muzzle, then put together the tea tray with two cups, in case Cookie had changed his mind.

Walking back into the dim room with the tray in her magic, she floated it to the table. She sat back on her cushion and nodded to it, filling her own cup. Cookie just shook his head, his eyes narrowed.

Celestia took a sip of her tea and said calmly, “Now, you know I want my ponies, all of you, to do as you please. I have never forced an innocent pony to do anything they didn’t like.”

Cookie rolled his eyes. “You know exactly what I’m talking about here. I am not accusing you of being a despot and ruling by force, with no concern for the free will of your subjects. I am accusing you of manipulating matters so your subjects do what you wish of their own free will, entirely oblivious to your hoofprints all over their actions. Do you deny that?”

She frowned. “There have been times when I’ve done as you say, but never for my own benefit.”

“I don’t care who the beneficiary might be, to act this way towards sensible adult ponies shows an astonishing lack of respect!” Cookie gestured with a hoof.

Celestia sighed and shook her head. “Should I not work for the best outcome I can see?” She looked at him and raised her eyebrows. “Should I sit back while your indecision leads to Shining Armor’s death and pain for Twilight and Cadance, while Fluttershy’s death leads to pain for Discord and Equestria?”

“You should trust me to see those dangers and make that decision.” He met her eyes with a flat stare. “Do you think that I’m a sadist, with some desire to spread death and misery? Or an idiot who can’t see where my choices lead?”

“Of course not,” she said firmly then took a sip of tea. “But you balance many concerns, and I know that some are not as worthy as you think them.”

“Who are you, to decide how my concerns should be weighed?” Cookie crossed his forelegs. “I mean it, Celestia. Who in blessed Tartarus do you think you are? I’m your equal in years, I’ve had centuries of experience in government, and many more centuries interacting with ponies. I’ve watched a nation crumble, and laid the foundation for a greater one. I watched what that monster did to ponies, I held you as you cried for your sister…”

As he trailed off, their eyes remained locked. Celestia felt a blush on her cheeks and the urge to look down, and she fought it the only way she knew: by drawing up her shoulders and all her strength.

Cookie’s eyes narrowed. “I can think of only one thing that might make you think that you know better than I how to balance these concerns. And I swear by the stars, if you say it, I’m going to march to Canterlot and rip that charter to shreds with my own two hooves!”

Before she could think, the words shot from her lips, “I beg your pardon, Smart Cookie, I hadn’t realized that you were so wise as to always make the correct decisions, knowing perfectly how benefits and drawbacks ought to be weighed.” She glared at him, setting her teacup on the table with a loud clink. “Silly me, I thought that from time to time you may be mistaken! But if this is not the case, I think we can both agree that it’s you who should wear the crown of Equestria!”

“I am mistaken often, and so are you,” Cookie said crisply. “I had thought that we might counsel one another honestly, and share our wisdom, rather than assuring our faults are mirrored in the other and crafting all foolishness in our own image!”

Celestia snorted, glancing away. “That would be well and good, but there are some subjects on which you will not see reason.”

“And this has never been the case for you? Because I seem to recall a time when you had a blind spot approximately the size of the moon.”

Her face snapped towards him with a wide-eyed stare, the fierce blush rising to her cheeks no longer one she could fight back, if she had even thought to. She looked at him for a moment and then narrowed her eyes and said through gritted teeth, “And look how that turned out.”

Cookie leaned back and shrugged. “So what should I have done? Gone behind your back and had the council strip Luna of her crown? Devised situations to bring you and Luna together in animosity, to lessen your affection? Built an army myself and staged a coup?” He shook his head at the thought and went on with an obnoxious calm. “You would have hated me for any of these, and you would have been right to, even as it might have spared you the pain of facing the consequences. You know that I love you, and to feel that I had lost respect for your reason and trust in your feelings would have come as a slap in the face.”

“Perhaps I would have.” Celestia frowned darkly. “And yet… had I not had the Elements of Harmony at hoof, or the strength to act, Equestria might have fallen. I might have hated you, but equally you might have spared our dream.”

His face softened along with his voice. “You would never have known that, neither of us would have, nor that you would have been able to act quickly to save it. And we have no way of knowing what was avoided by my faith in you. The only thing known at the time was that one path bound us tighter in trust, that we would have each other, come what may, and the other was a severing of that. Given the choice, without clear evidence of folly, I chose to trust in you.”

He looked at her earnestly, and she felt her anger draining, replaced by doubt.

She cast her eyes down and answered, matching his calm. “But this is exactly why I spoke to Discord, to gather evidence, to try to see the path we might be treading. And you fault me for this.”

“I fault you for never presenting me with the evidence you gathered, or even the fear that led you to gather it in the first place. You’ve been clear about why you kept it from me, but this displays a lack of trust that hurts me deeply.” He paused and looked down, something seeming to drain from him. “And, more worrying… I don’t feel I can trust you.”

“You can trust me to do what I feel is best for Equestria and the ponies I love,” she said quickly. “I will always work tirelessly for that.”

Cookie didn’t look up, and Celestia watched him closely. The same warm, shifting firelight that hardened his features head on made him seem softer and younger from this angle.

She shifted on her pillow and felt her feathers rising. He had to believe her. She had protected their dream for two thousand years. That was all this was about; she had done what was best for Equestria.

“What you feel is best,” he said slowly as his head rose to face her. He wasn’t angry, but as serious as she had ever seen him. “Not what they feel is best, not to care for them in the manner they wish. You act in all things as a princess.”

Celestia swallowed and drew herself up. “I am a princess.”

He nodded. “Whether I want one or not.”

“If you want me, you want a princess,” she said softly, shifting again on her pillow.

“Is that so?” Cookie tilted his head, regarding her with curiosity. “I want a passionate, intelligent mare who shares my dream. I want a pony who might challenge my assumptions, and who relishes having hers challenged in turn. I want a pony who remembers the past, who remembers Everfree and the vast, unexplored world around it, and lives in the present it’s become, and will stand with me and face the future. I want a pony I can warm and comfort with my baking, who can warm and comfort me with her smile and wing and the feeling of her mane around me.”

Celestia offered a smile.

Cookie met it with a flat expression and raised eyebrows. “I do not want castles or crowns or displays of power. I do not want a pony whose reason and wishes and ideas about what’s best for me come before my own. I do not want a pony who believes that all decisions, all responsibilities, all magic and the lives of her subjects belong in her hooves, alone, without accountability or question beyond her own conscience.” He paused and shook his head. “Indeed, I always thought it was my place to remind you that you are not that pony in your heart. That it is a cage you step into of your own accord, and to offer a way to leave when you wished.”

Celestia’s smile turned weary, holding all of the affection and gratitude she felt towards him, but the weight he could never understand as well.

“You do, Cookie. And I need that more than I can say, and I love you for it. But…” She rubbed a hoof over her eyes. “It’s never been as simple as you make it seem. To be a princess, I must love Equestria and my ponies with all of my heart, I must be willing to do anything for them, to be all that they need. Where is the line I should draw, that I would sacrifice anything except your trust? If I look at something that may bring harm to my ponies, and I fail to act because my trust was in you…”

“If you must think that way, you must assume no pony is your equal and worthy of trust,” he said softly. “And in that case, how can you ever love?”

Celestia stared at him. “I love you. You know this.”

He nodded then met her eyes. “I always thought so. But I thought you trusted me, that you respected me.”

“I do! I trust you further than any other pony. But there is a line, and we have met it in this.”

Cookie frowned, his eyes locked on hers. “There is a line for you, between beloved and subject. There has been none for me. In all matters, I have assumed you to be Celestia. I have trusted you far more than I would trust any other ruler, not because you are the perfect alicorn who raises the sun, but because you are a kind, strong, honorable pony who will seriously consider the rightness of her actions…”

She looked him in the eye and gave a confused nod. “I hope that I am.”

He drew a deep breath. “To that end, I offer you a choice, Celestia. This is your final chance to consider your actions, to consider whether they are right, and to consider all potential consequences.” He went on deliberately, pointed looks emphasizing his words, “If you tell me you have been mistaken, that you needed council to recognize your errors, but that you hope to be more careful in the future, then we continue as always with but one exception: you shall never know the nature of my magic. If I do decide to investigate, for the benefit of Twilight or Cadance or Equestria, or for my own curiosity, I shall take steps to ensure you will never be told.”

She narrowed her eyes. “And if I’m sure in my actions?”

“Then we have indeed met a line,” Cookie said plainly.

Celestia swallowed, her eyes still in a glare. She didn’t answer ultimatums, it was her instinct not to bow. Yet the uneasy feeling that had been plaguing her all night and the steady look in Cookie eyes gave her pause. But when she spoke, it was firm and even.

“If your magic comes from my love, it’s right that I should know as much as you do.”

Cookie raised his eyebrows. “Normally, I would agree completely. But right now I require an assurance to earn my trust.”

“To earn your trust?” Celestia drew herself up. “For two thousand years—”

“I have trusted you, even in light of treatment of other ponies that should have called that into question.” Cookie pursed his lips. “Now you’ve broken my trust and it must be rebuilt. As much as you have opinions on the outcome of the situation, I can easily take them into account and even pursue those outcomes without your involvement.”

Celestia relaxed and rolled her eyes. “But you won’t.”

Cookie shrugged. “Perhaps not. That is no longer your concern.”

“The wellbeing of my close friends, my kingdom, and my love is no longer my concern?” She raised an eyebrow.

“No. It’s mine,” he said plainly. “And you will have to trust me.”

Celestia sighed, shaking her head. “You’re terrified of Discord, you refuse to meet Shining Armor, you know nothing of magic, you let ethical ideals override practicality, and you become lost in your considerations. And you want me to leave the things I care for most in the world in your hooves.”

Cookie leaned back with a frown. “I had no idea you thought so poorly of me. But it doesn’t matter, because if you will not agree to trust me willingly, I will ensure you never know anyway. The only thing at stake is my esteem, which doesn’t appear to be worth much to you.”

She tilted her head up. “If you wish to play this game, remember who you play with. I can order it investigated.”

“You can order no such thing.” Cookie narrowed his eyes. “I’d advise you to remember who you play with. It turns out that the charter that outlines your powers was written by a pony very much concerned with this sort of thing, who didn’t trust you much at all at the time. Rightfully so, as it turns out.”

Celestia stared at him in the firelight. He was right; she had forgotten who she was fighting. The pony she loved. The pony who watched her crowned. The pony who first dreamed of Equestria. She wondered, at him and at herself, how they could say such things over such a trivial matter.

Her face softened, and she said gently, “Cookie, this is becoming ridiculous.”

He looked down. “I’m pleased to see that you still wouldn’t breach the charter.”

“I shouldn’t need to do any of this!” She gestured with a hoof and looked to him, pleading. “There is a power that might ensure love and companionship for my students, that might ensure a happy and peaceful way of securing Equestria… and you, who are supposed to love me more than any in this world, dangle it just out of my reach.”

“Not all power is yours to command,” he said with a pained expression. “I don’t intend to taunt you, but in this case, I can’t trust you. I already knew you didn’t share my concerns, and you’ve made it clear that you’re more than happy to disregard them.”

She sighed. “For the safety of Equestria.”

“Do you think I don’t care about Equestria?!” he shouted, rising suddenly to his hooves. “That this is not among my concerns? Equestria is the dream we share, it’s the legacy of my friends, it’s the only blasted thing in my life that’s worked as I intended! But… therein lies our disagreement. I never intended Equestria to be a place where ponies live safe from all fear, their lives controlled by a powerful leader, however benevolent.”

“I have no wish to control my subjects lives! I can barely keep the monsters that would destroy them at bay.”

He began to pace through the shadowy room. “You would control mine in this respect. And Fluttershy’s. And if you would do this to us, the only thing stopping you from controlling the lives of any of your subjects is a lack of reason for the time being.”

Celestia followed him with her eyes, and he paused for only a moment before he went on in both speech and movement.

“Celestia, if you judge Discord a threat, now or in the future, you must deal with him using the powers granted to you by the charter. A pony’s magic, or their heart, are unequivocally not among those.”

“Yet nothing in the charter limits me in ways I have acted,” she pointed out calmly. “Perhaps they are not to your liking, but I am charged as princess with doing all in my power to defend Equestria, and if that requires that I not reveal my plans to ponies who would thwart them, or encourage ponies in directions to the country’s benefit, it is not only my desire to do so, it is my duty.”

Cookie stopped in the light of the fire, in front of where he had been sitting. He closed his eyes and stood for several long moments, still and quiet. Celestia shifted on her cushion and ruffled her wings, wishing he’d say something, hoping he’d see the sense in what she said.

When he did turn to her and open his eyes there was a coldness in them. His face rested in a dark line that sent a shiver up her spine.

Pulling himself up to his full height, he regarded her with a nod. “So we come to a line, Princess Celestia.”

Celestia blinked, and the uneasy feeling she had been fighting all night tightened around her. Her heart pounded in her chest as she whispered, “Cookie.”

He began to pace again. “On one side is the trust and understanding one would give a beloved, and on the other is a princess above all other ponies, with a duty to break trust to defend Equestria.” He glanced over at her. “You have made your choice, why should I not acknowledge your position, Your Majesty?”

She rose to her hooves then instantly tried to shrink back, to make herself smaller. “Don’t call me that. Stop this at once.”

He took a few steps towards her. “Stop showing my respect to our wise and benevolent princess? Perhaps I shall offer blessings instead.” He frowned. “May you have all the power in Equestria. May the lives of ponies bend to your will… of their own accord, of course. And may the weight of this fall on your shoulders, alone.”

“No. Please.” She shook her head, hoping to snap out of what had to be an awful dream.

Cookie just raised his eyebrows. “This is what you need, isn’t it? For Equestria, for our dream? It is your duty.”

“You know that’s not true.” She swallowed. “I need you, Cookie. Please. I need your love, and your council, and your baking. I need your home. I—I can’t—”

“I am yours to command, Princess Celestia.” He bowed deeply. “Command me to advise you, to bake for you. Command me to love you, to comfort you. Command me to live or die. Do with me what you will.”

“What would you have me say?” she whispered.

He looked up without rising. “Who am I to tell you, Your Majesty? I have no title, I have no position, I haven’t even got a name of my own anymore. I am nothing but an earth pony who’s borrowed enough magic over the years to remain alive an unfortunately long time.”

Celestia’s mouth worked a few times in silence before she found the words. “You will die.”

“Perhaps I will,” he said as he straightened himself.

“This is madness, to throw your life away because of a plan I’ve only considered, which you advise against.” She took a step to bridge the distance between them. “Please, we can talk about this.”

“I don’t advise against it!” He stepped back suddenly, eyes narrowed. “I am telling you that it is wrong! Even if it never comes to pass, I know now what you think of me and your other subjects, that we’re pieces on your board to be moved as you see fit.” He turned and walked to the door of the cottage. “Now, Your Majesty, I ask you to grant me my leave.”

Celestia stared at him a moment before speaking. “You live here. Where are you going?”

“To Tartarus!” he snapped as he opened the door. “One of us ought to, and it certainly wouldn’t do to order a princess.”

“Cookie—” she whispered, as the door slammed closed behind him.

She stared at it, in shock, frozen in place. As long as she didn’t move, perhaps it hadn’t happened. As long as she didn’t move, it could be undone. If she moved she might feel anger, or fear, or pain… too much pain to think of. For a long time the only movement in the room was the gauzy rainbow halo of her mane, and the fire crackling to warm a suddenly empty house.

As reality sunk in, and feeling returned, tears stung her eyes. Shaking her head to fight them back, she considered going after him. She wanted to so badly that her heart ached. This was wrong, he hadn’t left her, not truly. That was impossible.

But the words seemed to echo in the empty room, like the slamming of the door. Princess Celestia. That was impossible as well. She could fly after him, she could catch him easily, but what could she do to make him unspeak those words and to undo the damage that caused them?

Did she even want to, really? How could he have done this to her, caused her this pain? All she had done was look into a way to protect the country that she was sworn, as princess, to defend. He heard her give her oath, he knew for two millennia how she had worked and sacrificed to uphold it. How could he be so selfish, to cast their love aside over this nonsense?

She glared at the door through her tears.

Then her face fell. Their love wasn’t all he was casting aside.

Her horn lit, teleporting her outside where she took off into the night sky faster than she had ever flown in her life. She was hurt and she was furious and she was terrified, and for all of those reasons she needed to speak with Cadance immediately.
> 14 - The Crux of the Matter
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

As she beat her wings against the cool night air and the wind dried her tears, Celestia shoved her emotions aside, considering what she needed of Cadance. She needed Cadance to save him, clearly. If their love had been cracked or broken, she might know some magic…something that might undo the damage.

Of course, she didn’t know what that damage might be, or how quickly it might break the spell.

Celestia clenched her jaw against the anger swelling within her again. He had done this. It was his fault he was in danger and his fault she didn’t know what might save him. If he had just been reasonable and let her discover his magic months ago, none of this might be happening.

Taking a deep breath to calm herself, she blinked at the stars above the horizon in front of her.

She slowed to a hover. If she knew his magic, none of this would be happening.

She might protect him if he was in danger, of course, but he wouldn’t be in danger. There would be no reason for his anger—the Discord matter would no longer be his concern whether he trusted her or not—and she could reassure him of her honor when the weight of Equestria wasn’t bearing down on it.

Looking to the northern sky, she frowned. She did need to see Cadance, but not like this. She turned towards Canterlot, took another deep breath, and with her lips pursed in determination, she flew for home.

When she arrived, she sent a messenger to arrange an urgent but personal visit with Cadance first thing in the morning, and she gave notice to the charioteers of the same. Another message was written to Twilight, asking her to look in on Cookie in the only place he might have gone. That scroll was set aside; even if Cookie was foolish enough to brave the Everfree Forest at night, she wouldn’t risk Twilight’s neck as well, and she was sure Spike would rather not be woken up with a request that should wait until morning.

She still spent a sleepless night pacing her chambers and praying to the stars that all might go as she hoped, until she left just after raising the sun.

By the time her chariot touched down, not a hint of it showed on her face. She stepped to the ground with a calm smile. Cadance was waiting for her in front of the palace, but her concerned confusion melted as she saw Celestia and moved over to greet her.

“Auntie, it’s so good to see you.” Cadance offered a nuzzle, then looked to Celestia with a wary smile. “I was surprised to receive your message. I hope nothing’s wrong?”

“It’s wonderful to see you, too. I needed to ask a favor.” She nuzzled back, keeping her bearing calm and relaxed. She glanced around at the guards, then back at Cadance. “I don’t suppose we could speak privately?”

“Of course.” Cadance nodded, turning towards the castle. “Would you like some refreshments while we talk?”

Celestia smiled. “Tea would be lovely.”

Cadance nodded and paused to give an order to a guard, then led her to an empty sitting room. The polished crystal of the architecture might have made the room feel cold and formal, but in one corner sat a toy chest with a pony doll leaning half out of it, and the furniture and cushions were upholstered in a simple dark fabric that would render most stains invisible. It still wasn’t exactly a homey room, but it was clearly functional for a royal mother of a young child.

Once a footpony had brought a tea tray and left it with them, Celestia took a seat on a cushion. Cadance sat across from her on a purple couch, using her magic to fix and distribute two cups of tea.

“Now, what seems to be the problem?” Cadance said as she took up her teacup in the glow of her magic and took a drink.

Celestia carefully dropped her smile, leaving a calm but serious expression. She gave a sigh, her eyes cast down at the crystal tea cup on the floor beside her.

“Cookie and I are having a misunderstanding, and… it’s rather important that we end it quickly. I hate to resort to magic, but I was wondering if you might assist me.” She glanced up into Cadance’s eyes with just the slightest touch of pleading.

Cadance blinked a few times in surprise. “I— I suppose I could, but I’m sure you can work it out…”

“I’m sure we could, but Cookie is very stubborn.” She allowed herself to fidget, shifting her face to a worried frown. “It will take time for him to come around, and it’s so hard to tell how urgent the matter really is.”

“You must be concerned if you’d come all the way here to ask me to help.” Cadance frowned, her eyes full of concern, as she set her teacup aside.

“Yes.” Celestia nodded then met Cadance’s eyes. “It may be nothing, of course. I just know so little of love magic, and I hate to take risks when a pony’s life may be at stake.”

“A pony’s life?” Cadance leaned forward, her wings ruffling. “Auntie, what’s wrong?”

“It’s regarding Cookie’s immortality…” Celestia looked away, giving her head a hesitant tilt. “But I shouldn’t have said anything. He did ask that you not look into it.”

Cadance nodded, but her brow furrowed. She paused a moment. “You think it has something to do with love magic?”

“It might. Cookie has been examined by some brilliant mages over the years, and that’s one of the few magics that they knew little about.” She looked to Cadance with a small smile. “Until your work, of course…” She paused and glanced down, taking her tea in her magic and taking a sip. “But, as I said, I shouldn’t have mentioned it. Cookie doesn’t want it investigated.”

“But you said his life might be at stake?” Cadance pressed, watching Celestia intently, eyes full of worry.

“I said a pony’s life… but yes, it’s his I’m worried about.” She gave a sigh and looked down in shame. “We both showed our tempers, we said some things we shouldn’t have, and, well…” She pursed her lips and fidgeted once more. “I don’t know how fickle the magic might be.”

“Well, it’s worked for two thousand years,” Cadance said in a cautious, comforting tone. She relaxed slightly and took up her cup in her magic. “I can’t imagine it’s that sensitive, even if it is love magic.”

“That’s true. But I worry.” She carefully allowed a genuine fear to tint her voice. “I can’t imagine what it would be like to live without him.”

“I completely understand.” Cadance tiled her head in sympathy. “Shining and I have only been together for eight years, and I hate to think about it.”

Celestia looked her in the eyes, matching her sympathy. “I’m sure you do. Forgive me if my concerns seem callous towards you—”

Cadance shook her head quickly. “Not at all! Shining and I have a lifetime in front of us, and you’re afraid something might happen to Cookie soon. But… I’m not sure my magic is going to follow the parameters of a two thousand year old spell. I think it might be safer to talk it out and try to make up.”

Celestia nodded sadly at the entirely obvious information. “I suppose you’re right. It’s just so difficult to have so much happiness resting on something so uncertain.”

“I can imagine.” Cadance sighed, and her eyes drifted towards a window looking out over the sparkling city, her tea still held in her magic but forgotten. “Two thousand years… it’s like a dream come true.”

“It is,” Celestia said softly, so as not to disturb her. She watched closely and went on in a quiet, smooth tone, “He’s been my home and my comfort through so much. I’m not sure how I might have borne it without Cookie at my side. I always thought the stars must have seen what I need and granted it to me.”

“You didn’t cast a spell?” Cadance asked, her eyes breaking from the window and looking back to her tea. She took a sip, obviously trying not to seem too interested in the answer.

“Not intentionally. I’ve always wondered if there was something we did…” Celestia looked her in the eye and took a drink of her own tea, then added, “But of course, we’re not to discuss that. We can’t know unless Cookie allows himself to be investigated.”

“Why won’t he?” Cadance looked to her with a tension that betrayed the casual question. “It would be simple for me to find out.”

“He has concerns about how fickle the magic might be as well.” Celestia frowned and gave a slight snort, raising her eyebrows. “Not enough to prevent him from getting his tail in a knot last night... I’m sure he didn’t intend to get so upset, but he really should be more careful.”

“He should be, if he’s that concerned,” Cadance agreed with a frown and a flick of her tail.

Celestia took up the teapot in her magic and refilled her cup, her eyes focused on the activity. “If only we knew, we might be able to find a way to strengthen it, or even manipulate it in other ways.”

“I wonder if it could be cast on purpose…” Cadance said softly, the hint of a question in her voice.

“Perhaps.” Celestia settled back with her cup, then tilted her head at Cadance. “Do you think you might find a way to cast it on Shining Armor?”

Cadance met her eyes and blushed, then focused intently on her teacup, twisting it in her magic. “Cookie doesn’t want it investigated. I told him I wouldn’t look into it.”

“That’s true, but he’s a good pony.” Celestia loaded her eyes with sympathy. “His mind might be changed. He was planning to visit Twilight, I think. I’m sure if he met Shining Armor and Flurry and he thought there was a chance he might help you all, he’d be far more agreeable.”

“That would be—” Cadance started quickly, eyes shining, but she cut herself off. She took a breath and relaxed back on the couch with a sip of tea before starting again in a mild voice, “That might be nice.”

Celestia smiled sadly. “I don’t blame you if you feel strongly about it, Cadance.”

“I know.” She gave a self-conscious smile. “I would blame me. It would be breaking a promise I made.”

“A promise to whom?” Celestia asked, her brow furrowing in confusion.

“Shining Armor. I promised him I would discuss it with him if something like this ever came up, so I don’t want to get too excited just yet,” she said with a small shrug.

Nodding, Celestia offered an encouraging smile. “I’m sure he would be thrilled.”

“It would depend. We know our time together is limited, and he doesn’t want me to focus all of my attention on this kind of thing. And he doesn’t want it to drive me to do something I wouldn’t mean to do. We’ve seen it too many times, beings who wanted something so badly they let it blind them to right and wrong and the consequences of their actions.” Cadance pursed her lips, then a smirk crept onto her face and she raised her eyebrows at Celestia. “He also has this idea I might turn him into a zombie, but I think he’s joking about that.”

Celestia smiled and shook her head.

Cadance smiled fondly at a thought, then looked to Celestia with another shrug. “Anyway, we agreed that it’s his life, and he has to be okay with any magic I look into and what I do to look into it. It’s hard to say if he’d want to talk to Cookie, when Cookie doesn’t want me looking into it.”

Taking a sip of tea, Celestia raised her eyebrows over the cup. Then she smiled and said, “I would think looking into immortality—of the non-zombie variety—would be worth a visit to his sister’s castle at least.”

“Probably, but I think he’d sympathize with Cookie. And we don’t know the nature of the spell, or how much work it might take to make it work for us, or if it even could…” Cadance tilted her head in consideration, then shook it clear. “I should probably take things a step at a time.”

“You’ll convince him to see reason. He would never leave you and Flurry if he could help it.”

Cadance offered a sad smile. “I don’t want to convince him of anything, I just want him to decide based on what’s in his heart. Don’t get me wrong, if he didn’t want me to look into it it would be hard.” She swallowed and looked into Celestia’s eyes with sympathy. “But I wouldn’t want to make him agree to anything he didn’t think was best for him or his family.”

“Of course not,” Celestia agreed with a nod. “But sometimes ponies become preoccupied with foolish concerns, and those need to be put to rest.”

“I don’t think that would be a problem. Shining isn’t really a foolish pony. Usually.” She paused and considered. “Like I said, I’m pretty sure the zombie thing is a joke.”

“Then speak with him. And if you do investigate, please let me know what you find…” The shadow of a frown crossed Celestia’s face. “I’m sure you can imagine how worried I’ll be until Cookie comes around.”

“Of course,” Cadance said with a nod, then she offered a supportive smile. “Try not to worry, though. I’m sure you’ve been through plenty of bumps in two thousand years, and I’m sure you’ll be through plenty more in the next two.”

“I hope so.” She returned the support and sympathy with a gentle look. “And I hope you and Shining have that chance as well.”

Cadance held her smile on her face, but her eyes seemed distant as she drew a deep breath and let it out. “So do I..."

Celestia drank the last of her tea, letting a silence draw out Cadance’s thoughts before setting her cup down with a gentle clink. Cadance looked up, almost startled, and Celestia gave an apologetic smile as she rose to her hooves.

“I’m afraid I must be going. I hadn’t planned on this visit until Cookie made it necessary, and I have a lot to do in Canterlot.”

“Of course.” Cadance hurried to her hooves, and led Celestia out into the hallway. “I have a lot to do myself. I have a meeting with Prince Rutherford tomorrow, and you have no idea how hard it is to make a crystal palace smash-proof.” She offered Celestia a weary smirk. “Between the yaks and Flurry, sometimes I wish I was princess of the Pillow Empire.”

Celestia chuckled as they walked out to the courtyard. “Then I’ll leave you be. And I hope that you won’t mention this visit to anypony, since nothing came of it. I may have said a bit too much, and mending things will be easier if you wouldn’t mind keeping my confidence.”

“My lips are sealed,” Cadance said. She added softly, “And I hope you and Cookie can mend things soon.”

“I’m sure we will. Thank you, Cadance.” Celestia spotted her chariot waiting. She leaned over and nuzzled Cadance.

“You’re always welcome, Auntie.” Cadance returned the nuzzle.

Celestia boarded her chariot and gave a nod to the charioteers. As it took to the sky, the circle of the city below tightened until it was no more than a dot on the frozen landscape. She took a deep breath of chilly arctic air and let it out, allowing her worries and exhaustion to wash over her expression. Cookie must be okay, or she would have heard from Twilight. She hadn’t counted on Shining Armor, but Cadance was a smart pony, and she would find a way to deal with him. And Cookie couldn’t possibly refuse a father and mother and their foal; despite having no interest in it himself, the earth pony respect for family had seeped into his bones in Girthshire.

He would be upset with her, but he already was. And he might try to take steps to keep her from finding out the details of the magic, but those could be dealt with. Once the magic was known, Cookie would be safe and their problems would be over, and all that would be left was tidying up the mess they’d made last night.

Some tea and a long conversation should do the trick.


***


Hours after storming out of his own home, Cookie stepped off the train platform onto the streets of the town, silent between late night and early morning. He’d never been to Ponyville, but it seemed very much like Rainbow Falls and countless other villages across Equestria, save for the castle gleaming in the moonlight.

Rage and heartache had faded, replaced by a numb hopelessness that he hadn’t felt in a very long time but knew all too well. That and the chill of the fall air had driven him here.

He frowned at the strange crystal building. He knew he’d be welcome, probably even at this hour. Twilight would insist on offering him a room and a cup of tea. She would lend him an ear, and if he told his story she would offer sensible advice and words of encouragement.

That was the problem, he realized. He didn’t want to be encouraged. He wasn’t sure he ever should have been encouraged, but once upon a time the stars took pity on him…

He looked to them now, finding a few familiar patterns, and between those and the position of the moon he navigated the streets of the town until he found a path that left the buildings behind in the direction of the Everfree Forest.

The path was well-trod, so he expected it would take him to his intended destination; if not he’d likely end up hopelessly lost and eaten by a timberwolf, which would have been just as well at that point.

That was a pleasant effect of the empty, numb feeling that had come over him on the train: as he walked through the dark, wild forest it was easy to ignore the sounds and calls of the creatures, even knowing perfectly well how many considered ponies as a potential meal.

Less easy to ignore was the murmur of words in the back of his head that kept reminding him where he was, again and again. This forest was Everfree. The city he built with his friends at his side. The home of three entire tribes of ponies, where for the first time they counted one another as neighbors and countryponies. Nothing remained.

He realized he must have already walked beneath the area of sky where pegasus Senior Command had floated, and through the district where the first pegasi allowed to live on the ground had made their homes alongside earth ponies and unicorns. Beyond that, to his left, would have been the large manors of the unicorn nobles and earth pony guild masters, who seemed to find a new joy in life in trying to outdo one another.

Before him, at the center of the city, Clover’s stone library would have stood like a fortress among the shops and houses, promising a commitment to magical knowledge for centuries to come. But centuries had come and gone, and turned to millennia, and now nothing stood in place of their work and sweat and promises to the future but dark, wild forest.

There was no longer any sign of the city, not a single cut stone or brick, except as he came close enough to see the ruins of The Castle of the Two Sisters silhouetted in the moonlight. For just a moment he remembered it as it was when the stone was new and the walls were strong and a shining young princess sat upon the throne. The thought made him cringe as the floodgates loosed again in his mind, and he turned quickly for the ravine with the cave at the bottom.

Pain twisted his heart, and as he neared the top of the ravine and saw the mouth of the cave in the moonlight, it mixed with fear and turned to panic. He had to get to that cave. He needed that cave. The night was still, and despite a fall chill there was nothing that could be mistaken for the driving snow or the howls of Windigos, yet it was the same feeling as he scrambled down the rocky steps and darted inside.

Almost as soon as he stepped inside, the panic melted. The crystalline tree stood with its gemstone fruit, now in different shapes but giving off the same dim glow it had when Clover had shown him it years ago.

But more than the sight, he felt it. A warmth like home, but stronger. A palpable sense of love and security. With his eyes closed, there was no doubt in his mind: they were there around him, so real he could lean over and meet Clover’s shoulder.

Cookie fell to his knees as the pain and panic and numbness washed away in an embrace like a dear friend. He felt tears on his cheeks and welcomed the release, sobbing against the cold rock of the floor.

For the first time since tea yesterday he allowed himself to feel everything; the terror at the the nearly omnipotent monster who roamed the world with no more care for it than a tom cat for kittens. The betrayal of an immortal goddess who saw the desires of individual ponies as impediments to her vision of Equestria, rather than the whole of that vision as they’d shared it. The emptiness of a love that preserved his life, that he’d fought so hard to keep in a delicate balance of respect… which had turned out to be nothing but his own ignorance of its lacking.

He laughed through his sobs at the futility of the last. That he hadn’t seen it thousands of years ago indicated that his parents had obviously had a flair for irony. He thought he could balance the feelings of an immortal with those of a pony who by rights should have perished before his third decade, who owed every day after to the mercy of other ponies. He tried to counter magical artefacts and legendary power with honey cakes and conversation. He somehow convinced himself the power of a crown, the power of the sun, might be checked against a piece of paper and the story of a power borrowed for a moment, a spark in the icy dark.

And he thought himself her equal. Celestia, indeed. She had always been a princess. He had been an idiot.

The cave didn’t mind; it softened the pain of the admission. It had always been a warm blanket for foolish ponies.

As his sobs trailed off, he considered whether he should return anyway. Celestia would almost certainly take him back. He knew she cared for him, and she enjoyed his company and a space away from the castle kept warm and stocked with food. A flattering apology and unspoken agreement to pretend he didn’t know what he’d learned last night would allow the pretense that nothing had changed. It would be a mockery of all that was sacred to him, but it might be his only chance at preserving his life.

He’d sold his self-respect once before, to Puddinghead, for a salary that kept him from the poor house. He remembered her orders: he was not to have a single blasted idea in her government. He was to do nothing but sit there as a symbol to the Baker’s Guild. At least Celestia was content to allow him to voice his thoughts. On the other hoof, Puddinghead had allowed him control of his own life and magic and never asked that he pretend to enjoy his servitude.

Puddinghead would tell him he was being a dolt, that he had a cushy house and a beautiful mare and eternity to enjoy them, and here he was worrying about a rump-load of things that wouldn’t matter at all if he was dead. Which was true and of no comfort to him.

Clover would tell him he was lost in his head; that if there was wisdom in any of his thoughts, he’d never find it in a swamp of philosophy, fear, and self-pity.

Pansy would look at him with that even expression and simply ask “do you love her still?”

Still prostrate on the stone floor of the cave, he tried to consider his heart to answer that question and found that he didn’t know. He knew he loved Celestia and always would. Her warm smile and the twinkle in her rose eyes haunted him. But he knew just as well that he could never love the princess who felt entitled to the only power he possessed.

Which was she? Which would she be tomorrow?

But Pansy wasn’t here to hear the answer anyway. None of them were here. Just the warm glow of the cave hushing his thoughts and reminding him that all would be well someday.

He wasn’t sure how long he had been there or if he had slept at some point when he heard a soft tapping in the silence. Hoofsteps. But he couldn’t imagine any pony he had the strength to face.

“Smart Cookie?” Twilight Sparkle’s voice was soft and concerned. The hoofsteps came closer. “Hi. Princess Celestia sent me a note, asking me to keep an eye out for you. She suggested I take a look… well… here.” She hesitated a moment, then added, “It looks like you could use a friend.”

Fighting the urge to start sobbing again, Cookie turned to look at her, bright and guileless in the daylight streaming from the cave’s entrance.

He pulled himself to a sitting position, rubbing his eyes with the back of a hoof. “I don’t know. I— I don’t deserve the friendship of a princess.”

Twilight smiled and sat down next to him. “I’m the Princess of Friendship. It’s kind of my thing.” She smiled at him. “Besides, you don’t care if I’m a princess.”

Cookie frowned. “I changed my mind.”

She raised an eyebrow at him. “You hate changing your mind.”

“Do I look like I’m pleased at the moment?” he said with a sharp look that he had neither the conviction nor the energy to hold. He drooped from ears to tail with a sigh. “There comes a time when ideals are put to the fire. If they survive, they are values, if they don’t, they are worthless. Many of my finest ideals met the crucible last night, and I’m afraid few survived.”

“What happened?” she asked with a gentle tilt of her head.

“I had an argument with Princess Celestia.”

Twilight frowned. “It must have been a bad one.”

“Yes. I... left her.” He paused, wondering how much information he owed Twilight, not to mention her friend Fluttershy, regarding the details of the fight. It was a subject to be broached carefully and with consideration he wasn't currently capable of, so he simply added, “I’d rather not say more than that right now.”

“Okay.” Twilight studied him quietly for a moment. “So, why did you come here?”

“The last time my life was in ruins, I found it rather homey.” He looked around at the rough stone walls. “Of course, it was the only shelter in sight in the middle of a blizzard, so I wasn’t left with much choice.”

Twilight’s eyes went wide. “This was the cave? That… makes perfect sense.” She looked around with a new fascination. “Without the tree, with a blizzard outside, this would be a scary place to be.”

Cookie felt a shiver, then closed his eyes bask in the magic. “The tree is very much an improvement. Why are the elements shaped differently now?”

“My friends’ cutie marks.” Twilight said with a fond smile. She glanced at Cookie. “They aren’t princesses, but their magic is tied to the elements, and they have thrones in my castle.”

“Is that so?” Cookie raised his eyebrows.

Twilight nodded. “In a circle. I might be a princess, but we’re all equals there.” She smiled at him. “I couldn’t have used the elements without them, just like you needed your friends for the magic you cast here.”

Cookie gave a snort. “I didn’t cast any magic. I cried on Pansy’s shoulder and admitted I was a failure.”

“Magic is funny that way sometimes. I fixed Star Swirl’s spell by convincing Fluttershy to help Rainbow Dash feed her pets.” She shrugged with a smile. “But, it worked. The magic of friendship picks up on the simple things you do, but it’s the most powerful magic in Equestria.”

Cookie nodded. “It formed Equestria.”

“And you were one of the ponies who cast that spell.” She offered him a friendly nudge.

“I suppose I did,” he whispered, though his every instinct still credited the stars.

“...By admitting you needed a friend.” The smile remained on her face, but her eyes shifted, turning it to a gentle smirk.

Cookie blinked. He smiled at her, and couldn’t help chuckling. “Very well. I admit it: you’re far too clever for me. And I could very much use a friend right now.”

“Only if you don’t mind that I’m a princess,” she said with the same teasing smirk.

“Perhaps I was a bit hasty in changing my mind.” Cookie shook his head with a heavy sigh, actually feeling a bit lighter for it. “It’s been an awful night.”

Twilight nodded and gave a sympathetic frown. “So, what are you going to do now?”

He glanced at her and raised an eyebrow. “Quite possibly, die.”

“Oh.” Twilight looked at him in shock as the pieces arranged themselves in her head. “You’re still alive. If you only had one fight, Princess Celestia probably still loves you.”

Cookie shook his head, looking at the cave floor. “As much as she ever—”

He stopped. It was a foundation of his understanding of ponies and love that to be true, such a relationship must be based in mutual respect for one another as ponies of equal worth. He couldn’t imagine the emotion working any other way. It was why he fought so hard to avoid the question of whether she held his life in her hooves; how could a pony truly respect another when they knew they might kill the other by simply casting them aside?

If he had never been worthy of respect from Celestia, she could never have loved him. And even if she had respected him at some point, her willingness to dismiss his reason and desires indicated that period had ended somewhere along the way.

Yet… he was alive.

Questions flooded his mind. Had he been dying for some time already? Had the magic come from his love alone? Was it possible to love a pony one controlled totally, or had Celestia’s self-deception fooled the magic as well? Was it even love magic at all?

“Cookie?” Twilight said, tilting her head at him after some time.

He blinked at Twilight. She held the answers. There was no doubt that whatever the magic, she could determine it. And he was equally sure that there was no answer that could do more harm to the love between he and Celestia than Celestia herself had managed.

And if he was dying, it would be wrong to take the secret to his grave. Keeping it in his power was one matter, but unilaterally deciding that no one might ever know it was another entirely.

“Twilight, I have an offer for you.” He cleared his throat and looked at her, rising to his hooves and drawing up to his full height. “I’d like for you to examine my magic. It can’t hurt anything at this point, my worst fears have already been realized, and you’re welcome to share what you find with Cadance and anypony else who might take comfort in it.”

Twilight nodded, flapping to stand, her face falling into a determined line. “I could also try to make sure we can keep you safe.”

Cookie raised his eyebrows. “However, there is a catch…”

She eyed him, more in confusion than suspicion. “What’s the catch?”

He looked her in the eye. “I'd like to request that you do all you can — all that’s honorable, of course — to keep the information from…” He paused, and went on resolutely, “From Celestia. For as long as I live, at least. And that you do your best to extract the same promise from Cadance.”

Twilight blinked at him. “Why?”

Cookie pursed his lips. “It was the subject of our argument. My magic is my own, to do with as I please.”

“But she’s the princess.” Twilight frowned in thought. “What if she needs to know so she can help keep you alive, or to help Equestria?”

“I’d ask that you trust my judgement,” he said softly, a hint of hope in his voice. “I’m very fond of both living and Equestria, and if I thought telling Celestia would aide either of those endeavors I’m perfectly capable of doing that myself.”

Twilight raised an eyebrow. “What if I don’t agree with you?”

“You can advise me. I would appreciate it very much,” he said sincerely, then smiled at her. “I know for a fact that you possess wisdom beyond your years, and beyond mine as well. But one of us must trust the other to have final say on this matter, and it is my life and my magic.”

Twilight looked at him, deep in thought for several moments.

Eventually she smiled. “That’s fair. I know you think hard about these things, and it is your magic after all… I trust you to have final say.”

“Then I trust you to hold to that.” He grinned and motioned to the bright sunlight at the entrance to the cave. “So, let’s go find out what this mess is about.”


***


It was late in the evening, and Cookie’s hooves clicked quickly on the marble floors down the hallways of Canterlot Castle towards Celestia’s chambers. He was led by a guard, and thankful for the assistance; he hadn’t been here in hundreds of years, and looking around, he felt as if entire wings had been relocated since then.

The guard stopped at the large door to Celestia’s chambers and knocked.

“Come in,” Celestia called. The guard opened the door and stepped inside as Cookie held back a step.

“Your Majesty. A messenger arrived bearing an urgent message from Princess Twilight Sparkle, with orders to deliver it to you personally.”

Celestia froze upon seeing him standing there, but she recovered quickly and nodded to the guard. “Thank you. I’ll receive the message alone.”

The guard nodded. “Yes, Your Majesty.” He turned, casting a suspicious glance at Cookie, and left.

Cookie stepped forward and closed the door after him. The room was full of her familiar scent, her heraldry, and items and decorations that he remembered from long ago. And there she sat on her cushions, tea in front of her, her mane and tail wafting gently in a warm breeze that existed only for her.

It took all of his strength, but he simply nodded to her. “Celestia.”

“We’re on a first name basis again?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

Cookie took a breath and let it out slowly. “I think so.” He offered an apologetic frown. “I’m sorry for the pretense. It’s not as hollow as it might seem.”

Celestia tilted her head in confusion. “What would Twilight have to tell me that she would send with you, rather than through dragon fire?”

He looked her in the eye, his heart pounding as it had when Twilight looked at him and first said the words. “It’s not love magic.”

Celestia stared at him, her face almost, but not quite, perfectly composed. “What do you mean?”

Cookie swallowed, not breaking their locked eyes. “Having nothing to lose, I thought I might be of some use to Twilight. She could tell quickly that it wasn’t love, it’s a magic that she recognized but knows little about. It seems to coexist with Harmony magic often…” He trailed off as the details became confused in his mind. “She’s most certainly better equipped to explain it than I am, and she hopes to find out more, but I thought you should hear the crux of the matter from me.”

“It’s not love…” Celestia whispered, then she was silent for a few long moments.

Cookie just watched her. He knew the thoughts racing around her head, of all that had happened these past months that was now rendered moot, and all the things done in service of flimsy theories and hopes that now stood stark and bare without them.

Celestia looked at him and drew herself up, her face revealing nothing. “Well. It appears we’ve both acted foolishly for no good reason. Let this be a lesson to us.”

Cookie walked over and took a seat on the floor across from her. He raised an eyebrow. “What is that lesson?”

“That it’s ridiculous to become so invested in a hypothetical situation that you harm the ponies you love.” She offered a rueful smile.

Cookie nodded and looked down. “Yet… doesn’t that show that if such a situation would arise, those would be your actions?”

“Perhaps. That would depend on the situation and how it played out,” she said gently, taking the teapot in her magic and refilling her cup. “But I’d say this one is unlikely to come up again.”

“I certainly hope not.” He frowned and shook his head as she nodded to the teapot, offering. He looked to the fireplace and went on, “I’m afraid I took a different lesson from it.”

“Oh?” Celestia tilted her head, her cup paused in her magic for only a moment before she continued taking a drink.

Cookie looked at her, remembering the feelings of love and care of their long years together, the anger and self-righteous strength of their fight, and the despair afterwards.

But as he spoke, it was only regret that filled his voice. “I learned that I’m your subject first, always, whether there is reason to acknowledge that or not. And that when your subjects have magic a fraction as powerful as your own, you consider it your duty to direct us in how to use it. I learned that your trust in me is only as strong as my willingness to give you what you desire.”

Celestia sighed. “We both said many things in anger last night. I’m sorry from the bottom of my heart that I gave you those impressions.”

“Did you say anything that wasn’t true?” he asked, looking to her with raised brows as a small hope crept back into his heart.

She glanced at him and shook her head. “Not that I recall, but I might have phrased it better. We both know I tread a careful line between crown and pony—”

Cookie frowned and looked back to the fire. “We do, and for that reason I asked you to allow me to consider my own magic, to avoid placing that burden on you. Which should have been my right as a free adult pony regardless, I should add. Yet you felt no need to excuse yourself for jumping over that line until you were caught in your manipulations.”

“Cookie, I swear by the stars, I thought I was doing what would protect Equestria. That is the only excuse I offer.” Her voice was warm and apologetic, and everything in her countenance spoke of sincerity.

“I believe you.” He sighed and looked in her eyes. “But if whatever magic Twilight finds might be used to protect Equestria, should I expect to be lied to again?”

She paused and then said carefully, “I would hope that you would be more reasonable about it in a different situation.”

Cookie closed his eyes and took a breath. “That was a good many words to say ‘yes.’”

“Cookie. This is over.” Her voice warmed with a smile, “Let me pour you some tea, and we can discuss your concerns.”

“No, Celestia. I do need to consider my concerns, but not with your assistance.” He looked over to her, catching the pleading in her eyes. He went on softly, “I still believe you to be good, kind, fair, and dedicated to Equestria. But I don’t trust princesses, and I now know that you’re willing to act as a princess towards even me, if you alone feel it’s best for Equestria. So I have no way of knowing when I can trust you.”

“I am a princess, but I’m still Celestia.” She smiled fondly at him. “What can I do to reassure you of that?”

Cookie swallowed, nearly losing himself in the calm twinkle of those rose eyes. “I don’t know. And I don’t know if I want you to reassure me.”

She shook her head, the smile still on her face. “It would be ridiculous if you didn’t. Our love has lasted two thousand years—”

“I don’t know that,” he said in a soft, firm voice. “I don’t know how long I’ve loved you based on false pretenses, assuming you were true to me and unaware that it was because I had nothing to offer that might cause you to be false.”

Taking a sip of tea, she raised her eyebrows mildly. “And how am I supposed to show you I would never have done what I never did?”

“I don’t know.” He sighed and looked down at the trim of the rich pillow beneath him. “But let us be honest, from the very start I’ve had nothing of note but words and ideas, and I offered those freely and trusted your judgement. There was nothing to lie to me about, whether it was your nature then or not.”

“The charter,” she said too quickly. She drew her head up with a confident smile. “I’ve never broken the charter you wrote, though I always could have easily.”

“That’s true. And it held last night.” He drew a breath, clinging to that. “You don’t seem to care much for the intentions clearly stated within it, but as to the powers and responsibilities laid out you’ve been unfailingly honorable.” He looked to her and addressed her from his heart, “Thank you.”

Celestia gave a nod, relaxing back into her cushions. “Equestria is our dream. I will always respect that, and the part you played in making it reality.” She paused and looked him in the eye with all the warmth he could imagine. “I love you, Cookie.”

“...I love you too,” he answered, unable to help himself. Then he swallowed and looked back to the fire. “But to offer you what we had before requires more than that. It requires enough trust in you and confidence in oneself to believe you when you say those words. It requires faith that the pony who feels that way is strong enough to bear the crown you wear without being consumed by it.”

With a sigh, he focused on a glowing ember. He added in a whisper, “Those were lost last night.”

“You’re lost in your head.” Celestia smiled and shook her head, her halo of a mane wafting around her. “Cookie, stop and look at the world around you. Equestria thrives, its ponies love and respect me. At the same time, I have more dear friends than I’ve had since its founding, and until last night your cottage provided me a blissful oasis from castle walls. I do have the strength I need, but you are part of it, and however they worked the stars saw to it that I would always have that strength. How could you doubt that I love you?”

Cookie looked over to her, tilting his head in consideration. “Because rather than step out from castle walls and face your actions as a pony, you hid behind those walls to defend your actions. Because among those dear friends are a pony who had immortality thrust upon her without warning when we discussed many times that it was your duty to counsel her, and one you sought to treat in the same manner after having arranged a romance with a nightmarish creature of chaos.”

He pursed his lips and paused, returning his focus to the fire. “In light of this, is my cottage truly an oasis that gives strength to the pony to bear the crown with her own wisdom, or a convenient hiding place for when the actions of the princess threaten to worry the conscience of the pony?”

“The former, always,” Celestia answered firmly. “My conscience is clear so long as I act as princess in the best interests of Equestria.”

Cookie glanced at her with raised eyebrows. “If your conscience is clear in those actions, in the way you treated me, I’m afraid that it’s already too late, and no amount of strength I can offer you will do you any good.”

“It does do me good, Cookie,” Celestia said, worry evident in her voice for the first time that evening. “You make my life bearable. I need you.”

He shook his head. “I can’t in good conscience give you the strength to bear the life you’ve chosen.”

“So… you propose to leave me, truly?” she asked directly, all of her smiles and warmth fallen to the wayside. “After two thousand years. After all we’ve been through, all we’ve faced together, you want to face the future alone?”

Cookie cringed at the thought, but he turned the pained look to her. “I don’t know. I meant what I said, I love you, and I consider you a good pony with many fine qualities. But I’ve also seen things from you in the past day that shake the foundations I thought our life together— that I thought Equestria was built upon. My decision on the matter needs to take all of this into consideration.”

“If I leave you on your own it’s going to take you years, maybe even decades to reach a conclusion,” she pointed out. “If you would just talk to me, I could put your fears to rest in an evening.”

He looked at her. Even without her smiles, she was still the most beautiful pony he had ever seen. She exuded a gentle strength and power like the wind; but he was well aware how easily that power could blow a pony off their course.

Cookie drew himself up with a sigh. “I know you could, which is exactly why I need to think of this elsewhere.”

Celestia regarded him silently for a moment, so he continued:

“I’m planning to stay in Ponyville for a time while Twilight looks into this magic. Not at the castle, she’s arranged a place less conspicuous nearby where I might be of some use as Chocolate Chip. After that, I might take some time to travel as I spoke of, to see Equestria as it is today. I ask that you leave me be. I give you my word that when I reach some sort of conclusion, I’ll let you know.”

She raised her eyebrows, her face a cold mask. “What makes you think I’ll be interested in your conclusion after that time? Perhaps if you leave me I shall find that I never needed your cottage.”

“I hope you do. But I hope that’s because you find the pony inside stronger than you ever thought she was,” he said softly. “I fully expect you to live your own life. If you fill my place, or no longer have use of me... you have been my world, my life, my hero, and my love for two thousand years. I truly wish only the best for you, however we go forward.”

She drew herself up to her full height with the nobility that seemed her birthright. “I suggest you be careful what you wish for. I promise I’ll see to it that it’s granted.”

Cookie rose to his hooves. He bowed his head with a nod. “My wish stands, and I shall trust you to know what’s best in your own life as I ask you to trust other ponies with theirs.”

“Cookie…” Her mask started to crumble; first her eyes filled with pleading and the beginnings of tears, then the firm line of her mouth began to waver. When she spoke it was in a small whisper, “Please don’t go… we can talk about it...”

He could feel his own eyes filling with tears, and the overwhelming urge to go to her, to nuzzle her and tell her everything would be fine. He willed himself to look away and turn towards the door, and his voice to stay strong as he said without looking back, “Good-bye, Celestia.”
> 15 - Strong Enough to Bear This
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Celestia wasn’t sure how she got from Everfree to Canterlot. She had dismissed her charioteers before the confrontation, sensing that something wasn’t right. Perhaps they returned for her. Maybe she teleported, or flew the whole way. She didn’t know, and it didn’t matter.

She paced in her chambers in Canterlot, her shoulders held stiff and squared, her jaw clenched as she forced herself to take deep, steady breaths. Outside, the streets filled with ponies. There were whispers around the kingdom already, and those who’d heard them watched her balcony, waiting to see if she would raise the moon tonight.

She would raise the moon tonight.

Until that time, she couldn’t allow them to be concerned for her strength. She paused before her balcony; every muscle, every breath, every thought was full of nothing but pain, but any pony looking to her would see her on her hooves, head held high.

Tears came to her eyes and she twisted her face in the effort to fight them back. Not yet. Soon, she hoped. She begged the stars to let him get there soon.

Her breath caught in a sob, but she swallowed it.

There was a soft knock on the door.

“Come in,” she said clearly, reminding herself to draw and release each breath.

The door opened and a guard stood before her. “Your Majesty, the chariot you sent has returned.”

She nodded. “Please bring Chocolate Chip to my chambers, immediately.”

The guard shifted uncomfortably. “Your Majesty… he refused your request to come.”

“No,” Celestia said firmly, staring at him. Her heart sped in her chest, and she felt all of the pain and tears building inside of her with a burning pressure.

The guard swallowed, trying to shrink back without moving. “I’m sorry. We didn’t have orders for what to do. We could force him—”

“No, he didn’t refuse,” she snapped. “He wouldn’t have. Did you tell him it was urgent? I need him?”

“Y-yes, Your Majesty.” The guard was cowering by now, but Celestia hardly noticed.

She swept away from him, pacing aimlessly around the room. “He wouldn’t— Cookie would never—” She couldn’t finish a thought as half a dozen kinds of heartbreak ripped at her mind. She looked frantically around the room for some kind of focus; her eyes landed on the balcony and she squared her shoulders. “I shall go myself!”

A few brisk steps took her out onto the balcony. The guard called to her, but she paid him no mind. She didn’t bother with a glance at the ponies below as she took off into the open sky.

She hardly noticed the time pass when she saw Rainbow Falls below her, and Cookie’s cottage came into view. Something seemed strange about it, some detail she couldn’t put her hoof on, but she was in no state to explore it right now.

Landing heavily on the path in front of Cookie’s front gate, she blinked. The gardens were empty and barren, not even a weed growing in the patches. Her fur stood on end; something was very wrong. Shaking her head, she threw open the gate and hurried through the yard.

She opened the door and looked around in confusion. The large front room was totally empty, stripped of all possessions and furniture. Her hoofsteps echoed as she cautiously stepped inside and called, “Cookie?”

Her voice rang hollow from the bare walls and high ceiling, and she ruffled her wings. Some dull pain remained from the morning, but it felt distant here in the face of mounting dread at Cookie’s absence.

“Cookie!” she shouted, but there was no response. Her heart started to pound in her chest. She’d lost her parents, and Star Swirl, and Luna… she couldn’t have lost Cookie as well.

She hurried to the kitchen, bursting through the door frantically. “Cookie, where are you?”

There was nothing there either, no dishes, no food, not a sign it had ever been used by a pony. She felt tears stinging her eyes and she didn’t bother to fight them as she turned and crossed the front room to look in the bedroom.

“I need you! I—” She found the bedroom as empty as the rest, without even a bed, and sobs began to choke out her words. “I— Cookie, please…”

She turned back to the front room, looking helplessly at the empty space before collapsing in front of the cold, clean fireplace and burying her head in her forelegs to soak up her tears. They seemed like they might never stop, and through them, between heaving breaths, she whimpered her thoughts as they came, “Please come back. Please. I need you. I can’t raise the moon alone. I can’t bear this crown alone. I can’t face eternity…”

“Sister…” a gentle voice spoke behind her.

Celestia turned and saw her there, the pony who had tried to destroy her and her country, and who had ripped her heart in half. “You!” She rose to her hooves with a fresh strength. Her horn glowed with the power of her pain and fury. “What are you doing here? What have you done with him?”

“Tia, this is a dream.” She stepped forward cautiously. “It is I, Luna, not Nightmare Moon.”

“Luna?” Celestia whispered as she took in her sister’s words. The glow of her horn dimmed and she shook her head free of those shadows. The cottage in Rainbow Falls faded—Celestia realized Rainbow Falls hadn’t even existed that day—and in its place she found herself and Luna in the endless field of stars that marked the line between thoughts and places.

Celestia found she was shaking and took a deep breath to steady herself. She looked to her sister. “Oh dear, Luna, I’m so sorry. I thought—”

“I know,” Luna said, frowning thoughtfully at her.

With a sigh, Celestia got her bearings, wresting her body and mind from the icy grip of pain and fear with the discipline she had built over thousands of years.

She swallowed, and said with a shake of her head, “It’s… it’s nothing. I suppose it’s obvious why I’m dreaming about this.”

Luna nodded with the same thoughtful frown. “Yes.”

“And I suppose it would have to affect me.” Celestia squared her shoulders and offered Luna a wan smile. “Better here than in the waking world.”

Luna’s frown deepened and she arched an eyebrow. “Is it?”

“Of course.” Celestia’s smile grew strong and warm. “I’d hate to disturb other ponies with my carrying on. They depend on me.”

“Tia…” Luna sighed and shook her head. “I’ve avoided interfering these past weeks because of my involvement, but I can no longer watch as you torture yourself with this night after night.” Her face softened with sympathy as she took a step towards her sister. “I care for you; you do not face this alone.”

Celestia frowned. She had hoped that Luna hadn’t noticed, but after three weeks she had to admit that was unreasonably optimistic.

She composed her face with a shrug. “What is there to face? I lost a love.”

“There is pain in lost love, yet you’ve spoken to nopony of it. I don’t believe you’ve even shed a tear.” Luna frowned and added, “Not in the waking world, at least.”

Celestia tilted her head with a smile of gentle reproach. “I’m not a school filly; I think I can overcome a broken heart without hysterics.”

Luna offered a dry, dubious look that clearly remembered the dream she had witnessed.

Celestia went on quickly, “And besides, you never liked Cookie. You of all ponies should know I’ll be just as well off without him.”

“My opinion of Smart Cookie has nothing to do with this,” Luna said with a tilt of her head. “Nor does what is best for your life, whether you have one lover or one hundred or none at all. My only concern now is that my sister is in pain, and she hides it from those who might help.”

“There is pain, but it’s healthy. Cookie’s betrayal woke me from a long and pleasant dream.” Celestia pursed her lips as she felt a few painful heartbeats for her lost home. She pulled herself back to the present with a small shrug. “So I’ll resign my tears to dreams as well, and I promise you when I wake they’ll be forgotten and I will be all the stronger for it.”

“That isn’t the way of dreams.” Luna looked at her pointedly and gestured to the starscape around them. “They merely reflect the path you choose. If you refuse to change paths in the waking world, you will not avoid your torment, you will merely experience it twofold.”

Celestia rolled her eyes. “I’m not tormented, Luna. I’m disappointed. There’s no reason to concern ponies over that.”

“Your mind is not at peace, and your dreams warn that this hurts you more than you show any pony, even me… perhaps even yourself.” Luna’s expression remained firm and fixed on Celestia. “This concerns me.”

“Speaking of your involvement in this matter,” Celestia said sharply, with a glare at Luna, “have you considered by now that perhaps ponies secret hopes and fears are their own, and none of your concern?”

Luna’s face barely moved except for the slightest narrowing of her eyes. “I am princess here, Celestia, and it is my duty to protect my ponies. Even you.”

Celestia’s glare melted to a frown. Luna was right; only she had the power to rule here, and she ruled even Celestia.

Setting on a different course, Celestia took a deep breath and nodded. “I understand. I’m sorry you have to witness my dramatics here, even moreso because I’m sure the subject matter is uncomfortable for you.” She allowed a slightly pleading cast to her eyes. “Of course, I don’t have the magic to make it more suitable, you were always more talented than me. Perhaps you could fix this, as a favor to me?”

“If I felt your dream needed adjustment, I would come to your aid.” Luna frowned at her. “Your dream is full of wisdom.”

Celestia’s eyes narrowed. “I beg your pardon?”

Luna sighed. “You are strong enough to bear this, sister. But you are not strong enough to bear it alone.”

Shaking her head, Celestia drew a sad smile to her face. “Luna, would it make you feel better if I woke and asked you to my chambers for a chat?”

“Perhaps,” Luna said, eyeing Celestia with suspicion.

“Then that’s what we’ll do.” Celestia’s smile grew more confident, and she walked over to Luna, draping a wing over her back. “I’ll have the kitchen send up some tea and treats, and l’m sure that we can calm your fears.”



***



Winter had just been settled in, but the kitchen at Sweet Apple Acres was cozy against the cold, both outside and in Cookie’s own mind. It was late at night, and the ponies who lived here had gone to bed long ago. Cookie should have as well; even his small contribution to the farm work was several times what he was used to in his own garden, and a cloud of exhaustion hung over him that made it difficult to focus on anything in particular. So he’d decided to bake something, and now he waited with his thoughts for the muffins in the oven.

He set about cleaning the wooden countertop, tapping into the echoes that seemed to press him here. He’d expected it of the forest, with its ghosts and ruins and the familiar magic of the cave, but when Twilight had arranged for him to stay on her friend’s farm he hadn’t expected an entirely different sense of déjà vu and the not entirely pleasant mix of emotions that came with it. From time to time over the centuries he’d found places like this, where the smells of baking, wood, earth, sweat, and smoke from the oven, and a bone-deep feeling of earth pony magic about the place transported him to Girthshire and his long ago youth. This time was particularly poignant, with the feelings of failure and melancholy and a tired acceptance draped around him like the tattered rags of those days.

In the wee hours of the morning, with the smell of muffins in the oven and the meditative work of cleaning up before him, those feelings drifted in and out of his mind along with thoughts of the warm springtime dream of Equestria that came after that dark winter, and more realistic ideas about places he might go and work he might do. And in the empty spaces between, visions of Celestia tempted him with love and taunted him with loneliness.

Deep in those thoughts, lost in his head, he was surprised by the sound of a voice in the room with him.

“Chip?”

Looking up quickly, he saw Twilight’s friend Applejack standing in the doorway, without her hat for once and rubbing sleep from her eyes. He’d understood who she was from the moment Twilight had introduced them; she was the sturdy, down-to-earth, hard-working mare that earth pony mothers had been telling their sons they ought to settle down with since before his mother had tried to tell him—with no success in his case, as he’d never loved a mare who didn’t have a horn. But while some of Twilight’s other friends represented more unique or modern sensibilities, Applejack and her family might have lived on the outskirts of Girthshire or Everfree or any number of other places and times and not have been noticeably changed by the experience.

Cookie offered her an apologetic frown. “I’m sorry, did I wake you?”

“I smelled the bakin’. ‘Round here that’s a sure sign somepony couldn’t sleep.” She stepped in and glanced at the oven, then leaned against the counter. “So what’s on your mind?”

“Far too much.” He sighed. “The past, the future.”

She offered a sympathetic tilt of her head. “Wanna lay it on me?”

Cookie considered that, weighing the balance of his privacy, his desire for counsel, and the fact that it was somewhere around 3 o’clock in the blessed morning. “I would, but I’m not sure how much to explain.”

“Well, let’s start at the start. You’re from Rainbow Falls?” Applejack asked as she crossed the room and poured herself a glass of milk.

“That’s not the start, but it will do well enough.” Cookie nodded, and as Applejack took her milk to the table he collected his cup of lukewarm tea and moved to join her. “I had a cottage in the countryside near there. I suppose I still do, but I’d rather not return.”

Applejack nodded. “Why’d ya’ leave?”

Cookie took a deep breath, considering the branches the conversation might take and the uselessness of this conversation if he couldn’t tell Applejack the truth of the problems. Finally he settled on the important aspect of the truth for their purposes.

He swallowed and looked down at his cup. “It isn’t home anymore.”

“Ya’ mean, somepony who was home wasn’t there anymore,” she said softly.

“Precisely.” He nodded.

“I been there.” She took a drink of her milk and studied him. “Who was it?”

“A mare. She broke my trust, and I realized things about myself, and about her, and… now I’m here.” He looked up with a shrug.

Applejack frowned in consideration. “I guess I don’t know much about love stuff. Maybe you oughta talk to Rarity.”

“I’ll consider it,” Cookie said, relieved to avoid retreading painful ground, but no closer to a decision or sleep. “I feel as though I just need time to think right now. I apologize for doing it at this stars-forsaken hour in your kitchen.”

“We’ll both be sorry enough ‘bout that in the mornin’,” Applejack said with a smirk.

Cookie smiled. “I’m sorry for that as well. But I do promise I’ll still be as much help as usual, for as little as that’s worth.”

Her smile softened. “You’re no farm pony, that’s for sure. But you try, and you know we’d let you stay even if you didn’t, on account of bein’ a friend of Twi’s.”

“I’m sure, but I’d never take advantage of that.” He frowned at the thought of being here and utterly useless, with its echoes of the past. “Besides… I need it.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Well, when farm work’s what ya’ need, we got just the thing.”

Cookie bit his lip and looked around the kitchen. “I need some kind of work, at least. I— I always thought… that mare was my purpose. I thought that together we nurtured a dream, and that she needed me so that she could see it realized. I used to bake for her, to comfort her; she liked sweet, hearty recipes… traditional ones meant to fill a pony and warm them on cold nights around a hearth.”

He sighed and added, “But I realized that I no longer recognized her dream, and that the love and comfort I offered could no longer truly touch her heart.”

Applejack was quiet for a moment, then she nodded. “Yup. You oughta be talkin’ to Rarity.”

“I’m sorry,” Cookie said, shaking his head at himself. “I meant to say that I feel useless now, and I hate feeling useless. It reminds me of a bad time in my life. So I appreciate having ponies who can give me useful work to do until I figure out what work I should put myself to.”

She glanced at the oven. “You’re a darn good baker.”

Cookie nodded. “I’m a fine baker, but I’m hopeless at running a business.”

“Maybe Twi could help ya’ get a job at the palace in Canterlot,” Applejack suggested.

“No,” Cookie said firmly with a frown.

Applejack gave him a confused look. “Okay then.” She took a drink of her milk, thinking for a moment. “What’s your cutie mark for?”

Cookie relaxed, leaning back in his chair. “Spreading ideas. I like new ideas, and I like talking to ponies about them.”

She shrugged. “Well I reckon there’s plenty of ponies out there with ideas they want spread.”

“Any with ideas worth spreading, though?” Cookie asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Maybe one or two.” She grinned at him. “If ya’ wanted to talk to ponies ‘bout the benefits of eatin’ a lot of apples…”

Cookie regarded her with a smirk.

Applejack chuckled. “I’m kiddin’. You don’t have ideas you wanna spread?”

“I always have ideas. A few I think may be very important.” He frowned. “But… who am I to decide that?”

“The pony with the cutie mark for talkin’ ‘bout them?” she said with a pointed tilt of her head. “Who do ya’ think oughta decide it for ya’?”

Cookie took a sip of his tea and his frown deepened. “I’m afraid I’ve had quite a few foolish ideas in my life.”

“I reckon I can’t think of pony who hasn’t,” she said with a shrug. She paused as she studied his face for a moment, then added gently, “Maybe you oughta talk to Twi. She’s the smartest pony I know, I bet she can tell ya’ what’s worth spreadin’.”

“Perhaps.” Cookie nodded. “And you’d be welcome as well, if you’re willing. I’ve always found the best ideas come from the minds of several ponies who might challenge their weaknesses and add to their strengths.”

“That’s a good way of thinkin’.” She nodded. Then she tilted her head, looking into the distance. “Of course, it’s got its downsides too.”

“Does it?” Cookie asked, confused by the prospect.

“Yup.” She rose to her hooves and walked over to the oven, opening the door and glancing over her shoulder at him with a smile. “You been so busy jawin’ with me that you darn near burned these muffins.”

He chuckled. “To the contrary. I feel that’s an excellent argument for the importance of listening to the counsel of friends, so long as they have the wisdom to see your faults. And that’s certainly a well caught display of one of mine.”

Applejack pulled the muffins from the oven and set them on the counter. Then she turned back to him with a smile. “Well, how’s this for some counsel? Get some sleep, and in the mornin’ you’ll have some fresh muffins, plenty‘a time to think, and ponies’ll be awake to run your ideas by.”

Cookie offered her a warm smile as he got to his hooves. “Wise, and I’ll try to take it to heart. Thank you, Applejack.”

“No problem, Chip. We’ll get this all worked out for ya’.” She gave his shoulder a friendly bump as he left the room, then they parted ways.

She went upstairs towards the bedrooms, and he made his way to the barn, where a surprisingly comfortable cot had been set up in a corner. Barrels of apples stored for winter were stacked as makeshift walls that provided sufficient privacy, and while it was chilly and likely to get colder, several heavy hoof-made quilts had been provided that made what little sleep he got comfortable.

But as he sat down on the bed and tucked in for what was left of the night, it wasn’t the quilts that kept the chill away. It was the simple feeling that he wasn’t alone in the world, no matter the weather.








Tears came to Celestia’s eyes as she paced her unfamiliar chambers in Canterlot. She twisted her face in the effort to fight them back. Not yet. Soon, she hoped. She begged the stars to let him get there soon.

At the very least he had to get there before moonrise. She couldn’t do that alone. At the moment she couldn’t imagine how she might do it at all. It would become real then, and she was the pony tasked with making it real. How could her subjects ask such a thing of her? She had already sacrificed her only family; how could they give her just a half of a day to grieve before facing the truth of it?

The answer was in her bearing as she looked across the balcony at the throngs of ponies below, and the soft steady sound of her breath and the tears that couldn’t fall. Her subjects neither knew nor cared for the loss of her sister; they cared that she had defeated a usurper, a threat to Equestria and their way of life. For that victory to have meaning, the moon must rise tonight, and Princess Celestia must have the strength to raise it.

She knew she had that strength. Just barely. But if that very strength wasn’t to break her, she needed to cry first.

The more Celestia paced, the more the room felt like a cage; the open balcony with the beautiful view was nothing but an opening in the bars for ponies to gawk at her, and on the other side of the ornate doors to her palace stood guards who might just as easily be keeping her inside as keeping trouble out. This was not her home. The Castle of the Two Sisters was her home, as it had been since she was crowned. Some part of her longed to return, to find it strong and secure, Everfree bright and vibrant, and Luna…

Her breath caught in a sob, but she swallowed it.

There was a soft knock on the door.

“Come in,” she said clearly, reminding herself to draw and release each breath.

The door opened and a guard stood before her for only a moment before Cookie tried to shove past him.

The guard struggled to hold Cookie back. “Hey, you—”

“Leave him be,” Celestia said quickly, her magic drawing a curtain over the balcony. She took a breath and nodded to the guard as Cookie stepped past, into the room. “Thank you, you’re dismissed. Please make it known that I wish no interruptions until dawn tomorrow.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.” The guard bowed and stepped out of the room, closing the door behind him.

“Celestia, the rumors—” Cookie started, but he got no further before her mask crumbled and her face twisted in an anguished sob. He went on in a whisper, hurrying to her side, “It’s true. Oh, my dear… I’m so sorry.”

Celestia gave herself over to the pain, gasping for breath as she sobbed, letting tears flow so that the salt burned her cheeks. She would have fallen to her knees right there, but she felt Cookie’s strong body against her, leading her to a cushion. There she crumpled into a heap, covering her face with her hooves. Her crown and necklace and hoofplates bound and pricked at her, and she tore them off one by one and threw them against a wall with an angry grunt.

Cookie lay down next to her, his foreleg over her shoulder, his head resting against her mane. He said nothing for hours as her body wracked with heaving breaths and the only sounds she could make were low moans and high pitched whimpers. There was nothing to be said anyway; no words would express her pain and no words would bring her comfort. All of the comfort she needed was in her tears and his strength as he allowed her the indulgence.

Eventually, she could cry no more. The tears and snot dried on her face and matted the fur, and each empty sob drew fresh pain into her lungs. With a soft rub on her shoulder, but without a word, Cookie stood and left, returning a short time later with a cool, wet cloth and tea tray that he set down next to her. As Celestia wiped her face clean, Cookie poured her tea for her in gentle, solemn silence, and in that moment she was sure that no hero of Equestria had ever done a greater deed in her name.

When the tea had soothed her parched throat, she finally did her best to relate the events of that morning. It was the first time she’d spoken of it to anypony and each phrase stabbed her heart. She stopped more than once to cringe in pain or cry tears from some mysterious reserve. But Cookie rested a hoof on her foreleg, and she managed to finish the tale of Nightmare Moon’s banishment.

He was silent for a few minutes before he spoke in a soft, awed voice, “You are truly the most noble pony I have ever met. If any deserves the title of Princess—”


“No.” She shook her head sharply and wiped her eyes once more. “Please. If I deserved this title, I wouldn’t cry now. I would celebrate the defeat of a tyrant usurper.”


“You are both, my love,” Cookie said, moving closer to her and nuzzling the side of her face. “You are Princess, so you give all that you are, and you are Celestia, so you cry. And you will always be Celestia to me, so cry all the tears that you have.”


She nestled close to his body, trying a few steady breaths and finding they came easier in that position. “I have to raise the moon tonight, Cookie. I— I fear it will break me. You’ll stay by my side, won’t you?”

“I’ll stay by your side as long as you like,” he whispered, his breath warm on her cheek. “And if you break, I’ll put you back together so nopony will ever see the cracks.”

“They mustn’t.” She swallowed a lump in her throat and tried fill her body with the strength she would need. It felt too fragile, too tenuous even now.

“It would do them good.” He gave a gentle frown at the curtains that covered the balcony. “Too many ponies see you as a statue, not knowing that you even have a heart, let alone that you would cut it out of your chest for their benefit.”

“I wish I was a statue,” Celestia whispered. “One that might move the heavens and defend Equestria and never have to feel this pain.”

Cookie’s hoof stroked her neck and shoulder. “You wish that now, but you won’t forever. You’re in pain because you loved, and that will always risk pain.”

“My love for my sister very nearly risked Equestria’s downfall.” She frowned and looked around for her crown, the expression growing darker as she saw it on the floor in the heap of her regalia. She drew it to her with her magic and examined it for damage. Finding none, she held it before her and seemed to speak to it, “I should have banished her to Tartarus before it came to this.”

Cookie got to his hooves and took the crown from her magic, examining it himself for a moment with a wary eye. Then he looked in her eyes and placed the crown on her head so gently she could hardly tell it was there.

“If you had, you would not be Celestia,” Cookie said in an even voice. He leaned in and kissed her lips, then added as they parted, “And to have a statue for our princess, rather than Celestia, would bring Equestria’s downfall far more surely than any foe we might face.”

Celestia nodded, trying to take strength and pride from his words. But every moment sundown drew closer, bringing the judgement of her ponies and the cold glare of the moon. Today she felt as though no comfort could fight through the pain of her failures.  
> 16 - A Very Good Excuse
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Twilight, it’s a pleasure to see you,” Celestia said, stepping into a spacious open foyer down the hallway from the throne room. Court had just ended, and she had made her way out quickly.

Twilight grinned and walked over to greet her. “It’s good to see you too! I mean, that is why I came, but it’s still good to see you. I’m glad you had time today, I know this is short notice.”

Celestia gave a nod to her guards, sending them off to the surrounding hallways to provide them some privacy. “I always leave time after court for a noble or representative to catch me for a private word. It was just a matter of making sure that noble was you.”

She studied Twilight for a moment, then looked around the open space with its vaulted ceilings and marble floors. It was strange to find her waiting here; surely the guards must have offered to take her to Celestia’s sitting room or some other more comfortable spot in the palace. She wasn’t sure why Twilight had requested this place to meet until her eyes landed on the large framed document that hung on the wall next to where Twilight had been standing.

The charter of Equestria was nearly as ancient as Celestia was, but through magic it had been preserved and was still relatively legible. At least, Celestia could easily read the all-too-familiar Girthshire script, a plain style with the occasional curling flourish. Just seeing it made her body tense, and her eyes scanned the words without taking them in until she got to the bottom.

Platinum’s elaborate signature took up the center, with Hurricane and Pansy’s names written in nearly identical precise script to the right. Clover and Puddinghead seemed to have fit their names in where there was room. But in the same script as the charter, “Smart Cookie” was signed on the left just after the body of the document, where one might sign a letter.

She felt a rush of emotion as his name and voice echoed in her mind and too many memories came back at once. But before those could show on her face she set her jaw and erected a wall of sheer willpower to keep them at bay.

“He—um, he did a good job,” Twilight said softly.

Celestia looked over, realizing she had been silent too long and Twilight had noticed the direction of her stare. “He agonized over it, even as we prepared for the coronation. He wanted something that would protect and preserve Equestria.” She gave a gentle frown that hid the enormous effort the light expression took. “He doesn’t trust princesses.”

Twilight nodded and looked at the charter. “But he trusts ponies, that’s why it’s written for all of us to offer to the pony we think should lead us.” She tilted her head and read the preamble, though she seemed to be equally reciting it from memory. “The ponies united to form the nation of Equestria do hereby grant the charter of Equestria to any ruler duly appointed according to the terms listed herein, in accordance with the following provisions intended to preserve the rights of ponies and lend our rulers the powers necessary to protect and defend the lives and rights of all citizens.”

As she finished, Twilight looked over to Celestia with a smile. “I’ve always thought that was a funny phrase. ‘Lend our rulers the powers necessary,’ like they were a book from the library.”

Celestia gave a wry smile in return. "As I said, he doesn’t trust us.”

“I’m not sure if that’s true…” Twilight’s brow furrowed in consideration. “I mean, in some ways when you lend something, you’re asking more of a pony than when you give it to them. Once you give a pony something, it’s theirs to do whatever they want with. But if you lend it to somepony, you expect it to be returned in the same condition.” Twilight smirked and raised an eyebrow. “I think we’d be in really big trouble if we dog-eared the powers to defend Equestria.”

“Spoken like a natural librarian,” Celestia said with a chuckle. “Well, I’ve done nothing that might damage them in two thousand years, no matter how difficult the restrictions made things at times.”

Twilight cocked her head. “You’ve never needed to… suspend the charter or anything? Even when we were under attack?”

“Never.” Celestia smiled. “I’ve found that if you think ahead, and plan carefully, there’s much that can be accomplished between the lines written there.”

“But… then how do you know if you’re allowed?” Twilight furrowed her brow in confusion.

“What do you mean?” Celestia asked with frown.

Twilight nodded to the charter. “If you do things that aren’t part of the powers they gave you, how do you know they’re willing to lend them to you?”

Celestia drew herself up slightly. “They may not be, but they’re mine nonetheless.”

Twilight blinked at her with a face that shifted between forms of curiosity.

“The powers outlined are those powers granted to me—well, to us, specifically, as Princesses. The rights outlined are the limits we and the cities are bound by.” Celestia nodded to the charter.  “Anything not written is a power retained by ponies… but we are also ponies of Equestria, and have as much leave to use them as every other pony.”

“Ooh, I see.” Twilight nodded. “So, it doesn’t say anything about the Elements of Harmony, which means that you could use them, but so could anypony else who could connect with them, like me and my friends before I was a princess.”

Celestia smirked. “Something like that.”

“But the rules are different,” Twilight added with a nod.

“Are they?” Celestia arched an eyebrow.

“Well, yeah.” Twilight looked up at her. “When you order the guards to do something, or order ponies to pay taxes, they have to do it. But… well, according to what you said, you couldn’t have made me use the Elements of Harmony any more than I could have made my friends help me. We have to rely on the reasons ponies help each other.” A satisfied but guileless smile came to her face. “So the limits on those powers are the same things that limit any pony’s powers: the laws of the cities and towns, how much ponies trust you, and how good a pony you are.”

It was only thanks to Celestia’s rock solid control that the frown she felt didn’t flash across her face. She considered that perhaps Ponyville wasn’t the best place for Cookie, and something might have to be done about that if he didn’t move along quickly.

But with her normal gentle smile, she cocked her head and looked down at Twilight. “I know you aren’t in Canterlot to look at the charter. You said you came to see me?”

She hesitated a moment. “I just needed to ask you… I, um, needed some books that are related to my research on his magic. You said that he had been examined by great mages throughout history, and he said you kept their findings. I just wanted to look those over and make sure I’m not redoing work they’ve already done.”

“Of course.” Celestia nodded with the same smile on her face and no sign of true emotion but a careful draw and release of breath. “I keep them in my chambers, but we can get them now, if you like.”

Twilight smiled. “That would be perfect.”

Celestia led Twilight through the halls, up to her personal chambers. Once they arrived, she nodded for Twilight to wait on a cushion while Celestia opened the door to a large closet and stepped inside.

She lit her horn, revealing a cave of shelves. Many were filled with scrolls and books entrusted to her by ponies who felt they belonged in her hooves, and a few with a jumble of talismans and artifacts. One shelf was spread with an array of jewelry, and another with personal mementos; stones and keys, feathers and pressed flowers. Her eyes landed on a heavy gold seal of an outdated style, embossed with his cookie and wheat stalks cutie mark. She frowned and turned away to a shelf on the other side.

When Celestia emerged from the closet, it was with a stack of books and scrolls in her magic. She floated them over next to Twilight as she took a seat on a large cushion across from her.

Twilight eyed the door eagerly. “So, what else do you have in there?”

“Personal belongings that I will dispose of as a pony, when I wish, thank you,” Celestia said firmly with a fond smile. “It’s mostly things from my private life. Things written for me by friends and family, journals, mementos. I’m not ‘hiding the good stuff,’ I assure you.”

“Okay. I’ll try to stop imagining it,” Twilight said with a smile. She brought the top book on the stack to her with her magic and opened it, scanning the first page.

“So, do you have any theories?” Celestia asked. She wasn’t sure if Cookie wanted her to know about this, but she tamped down any uncertainty. It was her duty to keep track of these things, whatever he might think.

“Yes.” Twilight nodded, then she gave a thoughtful frown. “Sort of. I know the magic; it has the same markers as a magic that I found in the cave with the Elements of Harmony.”

Celestia frowned. “Could it be related to Hearth’s Warming? That’s been dismissed many times over, but it seems like a strange coincidence.”

“I don’t know.” Twilight stared down with a furrowed brow at the book in front of her, not really reading it. “I’ve always thought the spell on Hearth’s Warming must have been harmony magic, and of course there’s plenty of that in the cave.”

“Naturally.” Celestia nodded.

“But this is a different magic. It’s in my castle, too, in the map, and as far as I know that doesn’t have anything to do with Hearth’s Warming.” Twilight’s eye caught something on the page of the book and she snorted a laugh.

Celestia relaxed back in her cushion, watching Twilight. “I suppose it’s quite outdated in magical theory.”

“No, it’s not that.” Twilight chuckled and shook her head, then she looked down at the book and read, “While one can not rule out anything without proper work, investigation into dark magic shall be perfunctory for now. If future mages find he’s been sacrificing kittens for immortality or something of the sort I offer my apologies, but I’ve got a load of other things to look into which seem somewhat more likely. Besides, I never did like cats.”

A genuine smile crossed Celestia’s face, the sense of humor instantly familiar despite the centuries. “Clover’s notes,”

“Were you friends with her, too?” Twilight asked, closing the book and settling back on her cushion.

“I was friends with all of them in a way.” Celestia gave a soft laugh. “Though I have to admit that Clover intimidated me.”

Twilight’s eyebrows went up instantly. “She intimidated you?”

Celestia nodded. “When we first met, I arrived with Star Swirl, and it was clear she was unhappy with him. It wasn’t long before she gave him a very thorough dressing down in the manner only she could, with plenty of… colorful language. Star Swirl himself was taken aback, and I was his student, and a young mare, and Clover was among the ponies deciding to offer me a very important position. I tread carefully around her for some time.”

Twilight shook her head. “It’s funny to think of you as a new princess.”

“It is.” Celestia sighed, something inside of her relaxing and allowing the gentle mist of nostalgia across the wall that held her emotions.
“What were you like?” Twilight asked with an eager fondness.

“Spirited, I believe ponies put it.”  Celestia smiled. “But that was at home in the age; we had a new kingdom, a new land to explore, new advancements in magic and new ways of thinking about ponies...

“I was often nervous, of course,” she added. “The beginnings of Equestria were constant negotiations between three very different cultures. I had to rule carefully. But I did like my fun. There were my pranks with Luna, and sometimes Star Swirl and Clover as well. Princess Platinum arranged the most enjoyable balls I’ve ever attended, nothing like the Gala today. Even the meetings of council, listening to the wit and wisdom of my friends and advisers, flirting with—”

Celestia nearly choked on his name as visions from memory crossed her mind without warning. She could see him standing across from her in the ballroom of the Castle of the Two Sisters, wearing his lace cravat, mane already unkempt from dancing, waiting to begin a reel. It brought the warmth of affection to her heart, followed by a searing pain she fought to keep from showing.

“Princess?” Twilight’s voice was full of concern. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…”

Swallowing the lump in her throat, Celestia reaffixed the gentle smile to her face. “It’s fine. Fond memories from a distant time. Was there anything else you needed, Twilight?”

“Well, no…” she tilted her head and went on gently. “But I made sure I had some extra time, in case you needed to talk.”

Celestia arched an eyebrow. “What made you think I might need to talk?”

Twilight shrugged and hesitated before answering, “I’ve been talking a lot to Cookie, all of us have, and it seems to help him. I thought maybe you could use a friend, too?”

“I can always use a friend, Twilight.” Celestia said with her warmest smile, to set Twilight’s worries to rest. “But I don’t have any special need of one right now. I promise you, I’m fine.”

“Okay…” Twilight said with a frown. “But if you need me, I don’t mind coming here.”

Celestia nodded. “I appreciate it. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Twilight smiled and rose to her hooves, her magic glowing around the stack of books. “I guess I should go. I can get some reading done before I have dinner with Moondancer.”

Celestia nodded and stood. “And I have tea with the Saddle Arabian ambassador. I hope I’ll see you soon.”

“Of course. Before Hearth’s Warming, at least.” Twilight offered her a nuzzle, which Celestia returned.

“I’ll look forward to it.”

Twilight left the room, but Celestia held back for a moment. Once the younger princess was safely out of sight, Celestia frowned and took a deep breath, squaring her shoulders. She pushed all thoughts of Cookie, old and new, out of her mind. Then she smiled and walked with confidence out to the castle hallways.


***


The next day, Celestia sat frowning in a dimly lit room, waiting for the Chancellor of Griffonstone for a meeting that was not on her official schedule.

The palace in Canterlot did not have a throne room chamber as the Castle of the Two Sisters had. Celestia had made sure of that when the building was designed. She had wanted to protect the shining beauty of the new castle from the things those old walls had heard whispered, to ensure the purity of its airy, upward reaching architecture was never tarnished.

Yet it still managed to have a small, windowless room hung with thick tapestries where nothing good had ever happened. And her subjects, staff, and foreign nationals still requested to meet with her there to unburden themselves—and to burden her—with their schemes, accusations, and offers. She had come to accept long ago that as long as there were castles, there would always be throne room chambers.

The door opened, and a distinguished gray griffon slipped quietly into the room. She rose to her hooves and nodded to him.

“Chancellor Gunther.”

“Your Majesty.” Gunther bowed his head in return.

Celestia sat down and motioned for him to take a seat across from her. Once he was seated she regarded him with a stony, emotionless face. “What is the purpose of this meeting?”

Gunther’s face rested in a sharp frown, but his wings and tail twitched restlessly. He swallowed and looked her in the eye. “Your Majesty, Griffonstone has a problem. Those of us on the council aren’t stupid. We can see the ruin our country is in and the challenges we face. And we know that with hard work, intelligence, and sacrifice we can return our former glory.”

He paused, and his frown deepened. “The rest of our flock… They’re stupid. Or stubborn, or selfish, or sometimes all three at once.”

Celestia raised her eyebrows. “I appreciate your candor, but I’m not sure of your point.”

“The council can’t rule our flock. We would have to institute martial law to enact the reforms we need, and that might just as easily lead to our banishment and a return to anarchy.” He hung his head and sighed, then looked up at her pointedly. “Our only alternative is to find a leader the flock might accept and follow willingly.”

Celestia shifted on her cushion to a more relaxed position and tilted her head in confusion. “Are you suggesting I should be that leader?”

“Yes.” Gunther nodded.

She frowned at him. “Your flock would be content being joined to Equestria? I have no interest in staging an invasion that neither my ponies nor your griffons desire.”

“That… well…” For a moment his beak moved without sound and a look of terror flashed across his hard expression. He steeled himself with a deep breath and went on, “They have far too much pride to admit they would be, but we believe there is a way. We’ve found a griffon we believe to be an heir to Guto’s throne. Griffons still yearn for the days of Guto’s rule, to set him on the throne would be simple, griffons would be thrilled. Of course, he’s an idiot. He’s done nothing but perch on a hovel his whole life. Every griffon would know he’s not actually running the country, and our council would face the same problems but with a symbol for rebellion to rally around.”

The frown remained firmly on Celestia’s face as she stared at him. She had a good idea of where this was heading.

Gunther swallowed and continued, “But he’s a useful idiot, who would be happy to marry and let a queen rule in his place in exchange for no more than an allowance and chambers—separate chambers—in a palace. And when he passed away, well, if that queen was still living there would be no need for heirs…”

“And if that queen was also Princess of Equestria…” Celestia added for him, still otherwise motionless.

He nodded. “She would retain that title as well. Even griffons who might balk at being part of a pony nation would be comforted if it was by happenstance that our queen also ruled Equestria. Then the kingdoms would be effectively joined with no need for invasion or treaties, and with the full support of all but the most stubborn griffons.”

She raised her eyebrows. “That does sound like a possible solution to your problems… but it’s quite a bit ask of our hypothetical princess.”

Gunther closed his eyes and nodded. “Certainly. We can only imagine she might consider it if she had a deep sense of compassion for all beings.” He looked at her and went on quickly, “But it does have advantages to offer, which she might also consider. Our land has untapped resources, it’s a mountainous region and we’ve never been talented miners.”

Celestia fixed him with a flat stare. “I have trouble imagining that if you suspected vast reserves of precious minerals under Griffonstone, your griffons wouldn’t have discovered quickly how to mine them.”

He gave a noncommittal shrug. “That’s difficult to judge, Your Majesty. Since Guto all of our industry has stalled, even in areas we can easily outperform ponies.”

Fighting the urge to roll her eyes, Celestia considered ending the pointless conversation right there. She could investigate this heir herself and see about arranging his marriage to a more suitable and intelligent griffon; perhaps one of Twilight’s contacts. But out of curiosity she asked, “What areas are those?”

“Our military is in disrepair, we lack equipment and effective direction, but the whole world knows the potential of griffon soldiers.” Gunther drew himself up, his certainty showing on his face in a way that had been notably absent the rest of the meeting.

“I do have a military, you know,” she pointed out.

“You have ponies,” he said gently. “With all due respect, were it not for the magic of a few talented individuals, yourself included, Equestria would have fallen seven times in the past ten years. Ponies are not warriors.”

Celestia drew herself up to match his posture. “Perhaps you have forgotten, but the pegasi were once the match of the griffons and any other being.”

He arched an eyebrow. “Our legends speak of the entire tribe of pegasi dedicated to war in hopes of countering our raiding parties. Would you want your ponies to do that again?”

Celestia didn’t answer, and her gaze grew distant as she thought of that time. It had been centuries since she sent her ponies to war, and she worked hard so she would never need to again. But if it ever became unavoidable, she had to admit that even Spitfire and Shining Armor themselves were a pale imitation of Commander Hurricane’s troops. She had intentionally, if discreetly, dismantled the world that built ponies like the commander, and as much as she respected ponies like him and Pansy, she would be loathe to ever see it return.

“Griffon soldiers are valued as mercenaries around the world,” Gunther pressed. “With leadership and a full treasury, Griffonstone could offer the finest military force of any nation. Given the threats Equestria has faced, it’s worth a thought.”

“...it is,” Celestia said softly, considering how thin their defenses really were.

Gunther hesitated, fidgeting his wings and clearing his throat. “We aren’t picky about which princess. We understand that Princess Twilight Sparkle already has contacts among our flock—”

Celestia’s head snapped towards him with a glare. “Absolutely not.”

Gunther shrunk back. “Then perhaps Princess Luna?”

“No. Enacting the reforms you need will still be delicate, even for a popular ruler. Twilight and Luna lack experience.” She let her face rest in a stony expression as she entertained an idea that had never seemed possible in the past two thousand years. “If this is to work, I’ll wed your king myself.”

Gunther blinked at her in wonder. “If you're sure, Your Majesty… that would be better than we’d dared to hope. No matter how they feel about ponies, our flock has nothing but respect for the princess who raises the sun.”

“I am not sure,” Celestia said firmly. “I’ll need to give this very serious consideration.”

“Of course.” He whispered, then he shook his head out of a fog. “Of course! Please, take all of the time you require. If you have any questions don’t hesitate to send a messenger.”

“Thank you,” she said absently.

“Thank you, Your Majesty.” Gunther rose to his paws and bowed. “We only hope this can work to everyone’s advantage.”

Celestia managed a nod to him, and he left the room quickly, glancing back at her several times as if he wanted to assure himself he’d actually been speaking to her.

She just sat there alone, thoughts screaming through her head in the dim silence of the room. A battle had begun in her, her bruised and battered heart on one side and the strength and future of Equestria on the other.

“You don’t wait for the sheets to get cold, do you?”

Snapping out of herself, Celestia’s eyes went wide as she turned and looked behind her in the direction of the voice. Sure enough, Discord floated by the wall, a smirk on his face that stoked her rage more than seeing him rule Equestria ever had.

“What are you doing here?” she snapped.

“I like to stay informed on government matters.” He disappeared, reappearing on the cushion across from her. “One never knows when you’ll need my advice.”

Celestia fixed him with her iciest glare. “I suggest you buy a newspaper next time, rather than spying on top secret meetings.”

“I don’t see why I would, if they’re all as juicy as this.” He folded his paw and talon in front of himself and leaned forward with the same smirk. “So is this just a rebound marriage of political convenience, or is it serious?”

Drawing a deep breath, she tried to calm herself. It was the only way Discord might leave. “When did you become so interested in my love life?”

“I’m not sure lying back and thinking of Equestria counts as a love life.” Discord tilted his head. “Of course, considering the last pony, it might be a step up.”

“There will be none of that in this arrangement,” Celestia said firmly. Then she swallowed, pushing down a wave of guilt, and added in a whisper, “And you know nothing about my last lover.”

“I know he’s been moping around Ponyville, whining to anypony who will listen that his life is meaningless without you.” Discord rolled his eyes and snapped, a pink heart made of mist appearing in front of him. “Of course, he’s right about that. But it will almost be worth it to watch when he finds out about this.” The heart cracked in two before dissipating into the air.

Celestia felt the childish illusion far more than she should have, but she set her jaw and frowned at Discord. “He left me, and he gave his blessings for me to live my life as I see fit.”

“Of course.” Discord nodded. “And I’m sure he’ll understand that you see fit to marry a griffon you’ve never met because…” He paused with his mouth open, raising a talon, before raising an eyebrow as he went on, “Oh dear. Why are you considering this again?”

“To unite Equestria and Griffonstone,” Celestia explained, drawing her head high. “Griffonstone would fare better with our resources and leadership, and Equestria would stabilize a neighboring country for good, with its military potential in our own hooves.”

“Ah, yes.” DIscord nodded. “I’m sure I’ll sleep easier at night knowing that Griffonstone… exists. But in a manner I no longer have to concern myself with!”

Celestia threw him a flat glare. “And of course, your concern for other beings is legendary.”

Discord smirked. “That’s what your fiance said.”

She shook her head quickly. “He’s not my fiance. I’m considering the proposal. Ponies and griffons have a long history of conflict; they’re no threat to us now, but they might be again someday. Or in their current state they might easily become a tool of some other being.”

Discord looked up from a griffon marionette that had appeared in front of him, the wooden handle jerking in his talon. “I thought we were talking about making them the tool of some other being?”

“A being with less benevolent motives,” Celestia said with a glare.

“Yes, of course, the white princess’s burden.” He gave the puppet a pat on its head and it disappeared, then he threw open his arms with a grin. “Well, I support you wholeheartedly in this! Consider this my RSVP to the reception. I’ll even bring a gift.” He appeared next to her and shoved a giftwrapped box in her hooves, and added in a stage whisper, “It’s a toaster!”

She set the box next to her and said dryly, “I’ll start on the thank you note.”

Discord appeared on the cushion across from her again, this time with a map between them. “Of course, the griffons are just the beginning, right?” He planted a miniature Equestrian flag on Griffonstone. “Once this prince dies, you can marry a yak. Or a changeling. Or a caliph from Saddle Arabia.” A flag appeared on each location he listed. He tilted his head, considering, “I understand Spike has a viable claim to the Dragon Lands, so that one should be easy.”

Celestia gaped at him. “Spike?! I would never--”

“But Celestia, dragon soldiers!” Discord motioned with his hoof and a line of toy dragons in armor appeared on the map.

She gathered herself quickly, in part to erase the fleeting thought of what a force that might be. “The Dragon Lands are perfectly stable under Ember. And the Yaks under Rutherford, and the changelings under Thorax.”

“Oh, they’re no threat to you now, but they might be again someday. Or they might become the tool of another being. A very large blowtorch, in the case of the dragons.” He picked up a toy dragon solder and squeezed it, producing a flame. Then the map and toys disappeared and he leaned forward, smirking. “Admit it, the only place this line of thinking can end is with the world in your hooves.”

“This is a unique situation. The griffons have asked for my assistance,” she said pointedly.

Discord raised his eyebrows. “Have they? Did they sign a petition? Hold a vote? Write your name in stones on a beach, begging for help?”

“Their elected leader—”

“Had a top secret meeting with you to discuss a coup. Always a sign of popular support!” He shook his head and regarded her with a knowing, nearly condescending smile. “I can't imagine how this might blow up in your face...”

Celestia frowned. "I have two thousand years of experience, a half a dozen loyal and extremely powerful magic users to call on, and the griffons can't organize a large tea party at this point. I believe I can handle this situation."

He shrugged. "I'm older than time and can bend reality to my will, but I still ended up as a statue. Twice."

Celestia gritted her teeth and said through them, “We are very different beings.”

“In some ways.” Discord leaned back against thin air, peering down his snout at Celestia. “But it seems like we share that tiny niggling idea in the back of our minds that it would be so much easier if ponies would just let us control everything.”

“I am not trying to control everything!” she snapped. “I’m just trying to protect my ponies!”

Discord pointed at her with his paw. “That’s a very good excuse. You don’t mind if I use that one if it ever comes up again, do you?”

“It’s the truth!” She rose to her hooves, drawing herself tall, her entire body tensed as if to prove the strength of her dedication to her ponies.

“I know, Celestia. That’s the sad part,” Discord said with a rueful smile that was somehow more unnerving than any expression Celestia had seen on him. Then it quickly flashed back to his smirk. “But on the bright side, I’m sure you’ll get plenty of new toasters out of it.”

With that he disappeared, leaving her standing firm and defiant in the empty room.

Eventually, slowly, she allowed herself to relax. She felt hollow inside, as if she’d become numb to her own thoughts and emotions. All things considered, she decided it might be the best feeling she could hope for.
> 17 - Honor and Duty
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The snow made the trek towards the farmhouse on Sweet Apple Acres slow and laborious, but Cookie didn’t mind. He’d spent the morning at the far edge of the property, fixing a fence rail that had pulled away from the post as it soaked with melted snow during the day and froze at night. It wasn’t difficult—the walk took longer than the job had—but he was glad to have spared somepony the chore.

As he came upon one copse of trees, he heard the voices of foals cut through the chilly air.

“Come on, Apple Bloom. It won’t be that bad.” 

“A lot of famous actors like playing the villains. They say they’re the most interesting characters.”

He looked through the trees at the clearing where a large treehouse was nestled, and saw Apple Bloom, bundled in her coat and scarf, sitting at a picnic table freshly swept of snow. Her unicorn friend sat with her, while the pegasus filly rolled large snowballs for a snowpony. They were a common sight around the farm, often racing past at high speeds or issuing warnings that one definitely did not want to see what had happened in the chicken coop. 

He paused a moment, then turned and walked over to them. As he came closer, it became obvious that Apple Bloom’s friend’s attempts to cheer her up hadn’t had much effect. Her ears drooped and a scowl was firmly planted on her face, and she barely looked over at him. 

“Heya, Chip.”

“What’s wrong?” Cookie asked, tilting his head. 

“We just got our parts for the Hearth’s Warmin’ pageant at school.” Apple Bloom gave a snort. “I gotta be stupid Puddin’head and yell at stupid Smart Cookie and get frozen in stupid ice.”

“Stupid Smart Cookie is an oxymoron,” Sweetie Belle pointed out. 

Apple Bloom frowned at her. “I gotta be one’a them, too!”

Cookie fought the urge to smirk, and settled on a sympathetic smile. “It’s not, anyway. Smart Cookie was a name, the pony it refers to could certainly be stupid, whatever his parents might have hoped.” He sat on the other side of the table from the fillies and raised his eyebrows. “But I take it you don’t like the role of Puddinghead?”

“I’d rather be a townspony.” Apple Bloom sighed. 

“Why?”

Apple Bloom looked at him, confused. “‘Cause the leaders are, ya’ know, the bad guys. I mean, other than the windigos.”

Cookie frowned. “I’m not sure it’s accurate to call them ‘bad guys.’ They certainly weren’t perfect, but I don’t think any leader could be.”

“Except Princess Celestia,” Scootaloo said as she joined them, her hat, coat, and boots thoroughly covered in snow.

Cookie heard Celestia spoken of often enough, but he still felt a pang of regret at her name and held back a frown with practiced ease. He sighed and said softly, “Even she’s made mistakes.”

“Yeah, but none that destroyed Equestria,” Scootaloo pointed out, fluffing the feathers on her wings and shaking them free of snow.

Cookie pursed his lips in a frown. “And if she did, would you think her a villain?”

Scootaloo shrugged. “I mean, if it was a mistake… I guess not.”

Apple Bloom snorted. “But Puddin’head’s mistake was bein’ a jerk!”

Cookie couldn’t help but chuckle. “Among other things. But she played an important part.”

“Right, she messed everything up.” Scootaloo smiled and leaned over to nudge Apple Bloom. “Without her there wouldn’t even be a play!”

Regarding the young ponies, Cookie leaned across the table. “Did you know that Chancellor was an elected position? Like your mayor, here in Ponyville.”

“So?” Apple Bloom said, tilting her head in confusion.

“So it’s rather hard to say that she messed things up. The earth ponies were the ones who elected her.”

“But it was still her responsibility to stop the Windigos,” Sweetie pointed out. “That was her job.”

“Of course it was. And that’s exactly what she thought she was doing,” Cookie said firmly, looking at each of them. “She fought quite hard to try to make the unicorns or pegasi change the weather. When that wouldn’t work, she tried to defend ou-- the earth ponies’ reserves of food, so that they might last until a solution could be found. And when that didn’t work, she led them to a new land to escape. There are many things you can accuse Puddinghead of, but not attempting all she knew that might save her tribe isn’t one of them.”

Apple Bloom rolled her eyes. “But she coulda just worked together with the pegasi and unicorns and fixed the whole thing!”

Cookie shrugged. “Chancellor is an elected position.”

“Uh… you said that already,” Scootaloo pointed out. 

“It’s important to remember, though in their own ways the other tribes consented to the behaviors of their own leaders as well.” He raised his eyebrows. “Do you really think that the whole of what attracted the Windigos was that Puddinghead couldn’t reconcile with Hurricane and Platinum?”

“No. The whole tribes didn’t like each other.” Apple Bloom frowned with a more thoughtful expression. “So… I guess Puddin’head wasn’t any worse than any of ‘em, except Smart Cookie. She was just the one who had to stand in front.”

Cookie glanced out at the snow covered orchard, considering a debate he’d had with himself hundreds of times over the years, though he knew it would never be resolved. He remained focused on the cold white landscape and frowned. “It’s unlikely that Smart Cookie was much better, before he met Pansy and Clover in the cave. There are benefits to not standing in front, you can often see more clearly and consider matters without the weight of other ponies lives and expectations on your shoulders.”

“So you’re sayin’ that even Smart Cookie might’a messed things up if he was in charge?” Apple Bloom asked. He smiled at her, both for her simple, straightforward way of putting things, and because she would make a very good Puddinghead.

“Possibly not quite so badly. Or perhaps worse. Who can say what might have been?” He shrugged. “But I can say that after they were thawed in the cave, the leaders gave up their power and positions without question to form Equestria, and the leaders and their associates became fast friends. That certainly wouldn’t have happened if they were bad ponies at heart.”

Apple Bloom nodded. “I guess that does make it better. She’s kind of an interestin’ character when you put it that way.”

“See?” Sweetie said, grinning. “I told you, you just needed to find your motivation! You really should read that book on method acting I gave you.”

Rolling her eyes, Apple Bloom glanced at Sweetie. “I’m not goin’ around for the next four weeks pretendin’ to be Chancellor Puddin’head.”

Cookie stood quickly with a smile that was only barely preventing him from bursting out laughing. “I’m certain that won’t be necessary. Anyway, I must be going.”

“Seeya at dinner, Chip!”

“I’ll see you then. And a good afternoon to you two.” He nodded at Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo.

“Seeya, Chip!” Scootaloo shouted after him as he turned to leave.

Cookie got a few steps from the clearing and took a deep breath, when the conversation continued behind him:

“Now, Scootaloo, what’s your motivation as a pegasus soldier?”

“I have a sword and Commander Hurricane yells at us. Who needs more motivation than that?”

...at which point Cookie lost his battle, and silently chuckled all the way to the farm house. 


***


“Hi, Chip. I’ll be with you in a moment,” Twilight nodded to Cookie as he stepped into the throne room of her castle. 

Cookie was there at Twilight’s request, to answer a question that apparently couldn’t be relayed through Applejack, but Twilight seemed thoroughly distracted at the moment. Her throne room appeared to have been taken over by a small post office, with piles of cards and envelopes neatly divided on the currently dormant map. Her friends were scattered informally on or around their thrones, some with piles of cards of their own already. 

Twilight picked up a scroll and one stack of cards from the table in her magic and floated them to Rarity. “That list is for Manehattan. I thought you’d want to write those.”

“It would be my pleasure,” Rarity said with a smile, taking the cards and list in her blue magic. She sat on her throne, and turned to use one of the flat arms as a writing desk. 

Twilight had already turned to another of her friends. “Rainbow, I just need you to write the ones for Gilda and Gabby. Use the non-Equestrian cards. And please make it formal, we all need to sign it.” 

“Sure thing.” Rainbow Dash flew over and grabbed a card, taking a quill in her mouth. She used her hoof as a surface, and muttered as she started to write, “Hey… G... how’s it… hangin’?”

Twilight shot her a disapproving look. “Rainbow...”

“What?” The pegasus looked up, confused. “I didn’t start it with ‘Yo.’”

“Excuse me, Chip.” Twilight said with an apologetic smile. Then she sighed and walked across the room, frowning as she motioned for Rainbow Dash to follow her. “You cannot use ‘how’s it hangin’’ in a formal note…”

Cookie walked over to the table, casually looking over the card on the top of the nearest stack: a stylized representation of the first Hearth’s Warming. While the details were intentionally blurred, he noted with a satisfied chuckle that the colors and genders of the ponies pictured were correct for once.  

“What’s all this?” he said to the remaining ponies. 

Rarity answered him, the quill in her magic continuing to write on a card, “We’ve made quite a few friends over the years, so we make one list for Hearth’s Warming cards. Then we divide it up, write a short note for each pony, and we all sign them.”

He smiled and shook his head. “I suppose preprinted cards simply wouldn’t do for the Princess of Friendship.”

“If we work together it doesn’t take long, and taking the time to put thought into each note is the least we can do.” Rarity lifted her chin with a gracious regality. 

Applejack nodded and set down her pencil, seated on the floor in front of her throne where she was using the seat as a desk. “Yeah. And the first year after we got the map, Twi experimented with some spell and ended up sendin’ two hundred cards to Ma Hooffield.”

Cookie raised his eyebrows. “Lesson learned, I suppose.”

“Is Twi just about done with Dash?” Applejack asked Fluttershy, whose throne gave her a better view of where Twilight had their friend cornered.

Fluttershy looked up from the envelope she was addressing. “She... just pulled out the Canterlot Manual of Style.” She offered Cookie an apologetic smile. “You might want to make yourself comfortable.” 

Cookie chuckled, turning to lean against the map. He felt a nervous rush through his body for only a moment, but it was gone as soon as it came. He shook his head and took a deep breath, “So, I suppose Hearth’s Warming is coming.”

“It’s only twenty-seven days, eleven hours, thirty-four minutes, and fifty three seconds away!” Pinkie Pie said, glancing up with a happy grin. 

“Are you going to be alright, Chip?” Fluttershy asked with a sympathetic glance at him as she returned to her seat.

“Why do you ask?” Cookie asked with a mild suspicion. 

“Just… without your special somepony. I, well, I thought it might be hard for you,” she said gently.

Cookie relaxed and frowned. “It will. I have… mixed feelings regarding Hearth’s Warming anyway, and this isn’t likely to help.”

Pinkie tilted her head. “What’s wrong with Hearth’s Warming?” Her eyes narrowed. “You’re not the Snowfall Frost type.”

“I’m certainly not,” Cookie said firmly. Even knowing it was just a fable, he always found that story disquieting. He sighed and went on, “It’s simply bittersweet to me, but I’d never recommend that other ponies don’t celebrate it with friendship and joy.”

“You know, it’s a lovely time of year to mend bridges,” Rarity said with a pointed look. “A card and a small gift are a wonderful way to break the ice.”

Cookie smirked. “A time for rekindling old flames, as it were?” He shook his head and looked down. “I’m not sure I can. The more I consider it, the larger the divide between us seems. I begin to wonder… if it wasn’t a mistake from the beginning. I knew even then that we played very different roles in the world, though they complemented each other at the time. It shouldn’t be surprising that over time they would come between us.”

“But you don’t know what you’re gonna do in the world.” Applejack pointed out. “Maybe it oughta be somethin’ that takes ya’ closer to her?”

“I suppose I could, if I wanted to.” He hesitated. The thought of returning to government did cross his mind occasionally, but public life carried with it the likelihood of being discovered or revealing who he was. He shook his head. “But that life isn’t for me. It would put pressure on me that I can’t imagine, and I have none of the skills or talents necessary to bear it. I’m not sure that anypony has them, but my own deficit would be obvious immediately.” 

“Well, you better do something soon,” Pinkie said, not looking up from the card she was writing; or more accurately decorating with elaborate doodles and glitter. “You said you used to bake for her. A pony with nopony to bake for them is in troub~ble.” 

“Um, Pinkie, I’m sure there are bakeries wherever she is now,” Fluttershy pointed out.

“We better hope so,” Prinkie said with a doubtful frown, before picking her card up and shaking it. A cloud of glitter momentarily covered her in shimmering gold before she shook herself off.  

Looks passed between Pinkie’s friends that unanimously voted to drop the subject. 

“Did you know that Princess Celestia might be getting married?” Fluttershy offered the group in the manner of light conversational gossip.

Cookie had been hit by various things over the course of his life, but never as hard as by that causal statement. The nearest feeling was when Discord’s magic had distorted his entire form into an immobile doll, powerless to so much as blink. Even his mouth seemed frozen, incapable of forming the questions that crowded his mind. 

“I did not!” Rarity answered, eyebrows arched in surprise. “Where did you hear that?”

“Discord was talking about it.” Fluttershy smiled. “He said it’s not certain yet, but she was talking to him about marrying a griffon prince.”

Rarity rolled her eyes, her excitement draining. “I might consider the source, darling. There are no griffon princes. They have a council that governs them.”

Cookie took a deep, shaky breath to try and steady himself, and firmed it with a deep frown. Rarity was right, of course, there was no good reason to believe gossip, and even less to believe gossip from a creature who acted solely for his own amusement. Yet it was the very fact that there was no monarchy in Griffonstone that cast doubt over those thoughts. If Discord wanted to sow confusion, there were a dozen more plausible lies he might have used. And Griffonstone had always been difficult to rule; if Celestia was unhappy with the direction of their new council...

He glanced at the present company with dark curiosity. “Suppose it was true. Suppose there was a lost prince of Griffonstone, and Celestia announced she was marrying him. What would be your thoughts?”

“I would get started on a dress immediately.” Rarity didn’t hesitate. “Princess Celestia’s wedding dress might be the most important garment design in the history of Equestria. Every designer would offer one, and it would have to be perfect.”

“I’d guess he must be pretty special.” Applejack tilted her head. “Griffons ain’t known to be the friendliest bunch.”

“Anypony Princess Celestia was in love with would have to be more than pretty special, Applejack,” Rarity sniffed. “It’s difficult to imagine a stallion or other being worthy of her.”

Fluttershy nodded. “He’d have to be very nice, Princess Celestia wouldn’t fall in love with a griffon if he wasn’t.”

“And handsome…” Rarity added with a smile. “Well, dashing, at least. And I suppose if he was a lost heir he wouldn’t have been raised in a noble house, but he’d need to be at least well-bred and gracious and well-mannered. She simply couldn’t fall in love with a pony who wouldn’t understand her place in the world and be able to share that with her.”

Cookie tried to ignore the stab to his heart and glanced at her with raised eyebrows. “Would you think that she was in love with him?”

Fluttershy looked at him, confused. “Um… if they were getting married…”

“Were it anypony else, I might be suspicious.” Rarity glanced at Chip with pursed lips. “But this is Princess Celestia we’re talking about, she’d never be involved in something sordid.”

Applejack nodded and stood to deliver her cards to the table. “Yeah, see, we know the princess. She’s good folks, even if she seems kinda fancy.”

“Those griffons make some pretty yummy scones,” Pinkie said, looking up with a glance at him that seemed to convey a warning, though Cookie was sure she knew no more of the situation than her friends. Well, very nearly sure, he thought as he watched her pull a set of colored pencils out of her mane. 

“I see.” He shook his head. “And what if you found out it was a political maneuver?”

Rarity frowned and finished writing something with a flourish. “I think if she did something like that, it would have to be because she had a very good reason.”

“Or a really bad reason she’d need our help with,” Pinkie added.

Applejack gave a snort and glared at Cookie. “I wouldn’t pay it no mind unless it came from Princess Celestia or Twilight or somepony who’d know first hoof. There’re plenty ‘a ponies out there with sour grapes, or who just wanna cause trouble.”

“And a pony who might accuse her of that would be causing trouble?” Cookie challenged her with a frown.

“They sure would, and they better have a darn good reason,” Applejack said with a firm nod.

Rarity nodded in agreement. “It certainly wouldn’t look very good for Princess Celestia, so I can’t think of a reason they would unless they thought the marriage might harm something.”

Cookie leaned against the table and cocked his head. “Ah, but if a loveless political marriage wouldn’t harm anything, why would ponies find it distasteful?”

“Maybe there’s too much cinnamon,” Pinkie offered. “I made cookies last week that were distasteful, and it was because of too much cinnamon.”

Applejack shook her head at Pinkie and turned to Chip. “Love is what makes a family, and that’s what gettin’ married is supposed to be about. If she fell in love with some griffon prince, I reckon the griffons would be like our in-laws, and we oughta do right by each other for Princess Celestia’s sake. But if she didn’t love the fella, it’d be like… like tryin’ to trick us and the griffons into that.”

“Exactly.” Rarity nodded, floating her stack of cards to the table. “And that sort of dishonesty is beneath the princess. I hope she trusts her ponies enough to know that we’ll offer our friendship to the griffons without the need for political theater.”

“Are you kidding? Political theater is awesome!” Rainbow Dash said as she landed on her throne, rejoining her friends. “You get to see princesses and armies and sword fights and stuff. It’s the theater about ponies standing around talking that’s boring.”

Rarity rolled her eyes as Twilight walked over and started looking at the piles that had been recently added to the table. With a glance at Twilight, Rarity asked, “Twilight, you know her better than any of us: would Princess Celestia marry a pony she didn’t love?”

Twilight’s head snapped up, and she looked quickly to Cookie, then back to Rarity. “I-- why-- I mean, no, of course not! Why would you be talking about something like that?”

“Discord said she might be marryin’ a griffon prince, and Chip asked if we thought she was in love with him,” Applejack explained. 

“Discord is wrong. There are no griffon princes, and Princess Celestia isn’t thinking about getting married right now.” Twilight looked over to Cookie. “I just saw her the other day, she’s-- she’s not thinking about getting married.”

Cookie shrugged, avoiding looking Twilight in the eye. “It was mostly hypothetical. A fascinating discussion.” He nodded to Twilight’s friends. “Thank you, ladies.”

“It was no trouble at all.” Rarity said with a wave of her hoof.

Twilight frowned and shook her head. “Chip, do you mind stepping in the library? There was something I needed to ask you.”

“Yes, I understand you have a question for me.” Cookie straightened to follow her as she walked out of the throne room and down a hallway. About halfway down her magic opened a large door, and both ponies stepped inside.  

Cookie had been confused the first time he saw Twilight’s library; he’d never in his life known a pony with a keen mind who was also capable of rolling up scrolls and placing books back on a shelf, but Twilight’s workspace was almost unnervingly tidy and organized. She had credited it to the young dragon who acted as her assistant, but as he came to know her more it was clear that she was the driving force for order in the castle. It made him wonder if perhaps Clover might have become an alicorn if she’d ever been able to find the scroll she was looking for.

Now he casually walked over to a shelf and glanced at the contents; engineering texts, in order by Dewey Decimal’s system. He guessed they were there for reference, judging by the fact that the entire field of engineering hadn’t been upended by a series of startling breakthroughs in Twilight’s lifetime so far. 

Twilight closed the door behind her and took a deep breath. “Cookie, there is no way Princess Celestia is engaged to a griffon prince. You can’t believe that.” 

Looking up from the shelf, Cookie gave a shrug. “I wish I couldn’t, your friends seem quite certain, but I honestly have no idea. If she has reason to think that there’s something to be gained by ruling Griffonstone, a marriage would easily circumvent any need to amend the charter or put ponies in danger with an invasion. I have no doubt a lost heir could be invented.”

She frowned at him, her hooves planted as firmly as her opinions seemed to be. 

“Beings have proposed unions like this to Celestia many times over the years. She always declined them, I-- I thought because that sort of calculation was beneath her. But now…” He shook his head and sighed.

“It is beneath her,” Twilight said, with no hit of wavering.

Cookie gave another light shrug, then casually glanced at her. “What did you need to ask me, Twilight?”

Her face softened and she took a few steps towards him. “I wanted to ask you if you’d stay here for Hearth’s Warming. It’s just me and Spike, and we have plenty of room.”

“I would, but I may not be the best company this year,” he said with an uncertain frown. Imagining the frosty night and the questions it would bring... without the certainty of a place at Celestia’s side, it seemed darker than ever.

“I understand.” She nodded, closing the distance to stand beside him. “That’s why I asked. I don’t like the idea of you spending it alone, and I was worried you’d use that as a reason to not go to some other celebration. Besides, I thought the harmony magic in the castle might help.”

He offered a sad smile. “Very well. I appreciate it.”

Twilight’s face lit up with a smile, and she gave him a friendly nudge. “It’s my pleasure, really. I mean, not everypony gets to say they’re spending Hearth’s Warming with Smart Cookie.”

Cookie chuckled. “There are ponies who have, but few who are aware of it. I preferred to spend it with Celestia, of course, but it wasn’t always possible, so I often spent it with ponies I knew, or in hotels or inns where ponies drifted in and out throughout the day. I don’t like the idea of being alone on Hearth’s Warming either, you know.”

“Well, you won’t be.” She nodded firmly.

“Thank you. If that’s all, I suppose I should let you get back to your cards.” He turned and took a few steps to the door. When he glanced back to see if she followed, she was watching him with a thoughtful frown. “Is that all?”

“Princess Celestia would never marry a pony--or a griffon--that she didn’t love.” She said it just as firmly as before, but something about her eyes made it less than a statement of fact.

Cookie swallowed and said as gently as he could, “Twilight… I’m afraid Celestia would do a great many things you don’t think her capable of.”

“I’m sure she’s made mistakes, she’s not perfect. But she’s good and noble and kind. That would be like a lie. Princess Celestia couldn’t just stand in front of everypony and… lie.” The worry in her eyes was now fully formed into a question, one Cookie had been hoping since he met her that she would never ask him.

He turned to her, facing her to softly offer the plain answer, “For two thousand years I’ve kept Celestia’s council. I can state for a fact that yes, she absolutely could stand in front of everypony and lie. She’s done so many times.”

“What has she lied about?” Twilight asked, a hint of challenge in her voice.

Cookie considered the question, then shrugged. “Everything, depending on the situation. Threats the country faced, the true purpose of her words or actions, how matters of state were arranged as they were. And always… always her feelings. Very few ponies know the truth of those.” He pursed his lips, trying to find the words to explain it to the young princess. “You see, Princess Celestia isn’t real. She’s a crown and a mask and a cup of tea. She’s whatever ponies require of her at the moment. She doesn’t lie, she is a lie.”

The frown on her face twisted to a skeptical grimace. “And you don’t think you might be a little biased?”

“It isn’t only Celestia. It’s the nature of leaders.” He turned and found her expression unchanged, so he added, “I’ve known a few in my time: the Chancellor of Girthshire, the Princess of Monoceros, the Commander of Hippocampus, and, of course, the Princesses of Equestria. All of them great ponies of the highest quality, and all of them capable of deceit, betrayal, tyranny, and worse when leading a nation.”

Twilight rolled her eyes before fixing him with a disapproving frown. “If you’re saying that power corrupts a pony, it sure took a long time for Princess Celestia.”

Cookie shook his head and absently walked across the room to a window that looked out over Ponyville. “That isn’t it. Celestia is not corrupt, even now, while Puddinghead was born corrupt. Before the cave she certainly would have been a con artist if we hadn’t elected her as our official one. The others fell somewhere in between, I think.” 

He stood there, looking out over the picturesque town with its ponies trotting to and fro in the streets. Pursing his lips, he furrowed his brow in thought. “Power doesn’t need to corrupt. The position simply locks them in a cage of whatever virtue their ponies demand of their leaders, while challenging them to a game where the stakes are the lives and happiness of ponies; where some must be sacrificed so others might thrive. If there is a better way to destroy a good pony than asking them to lead a nation, I’ve yet to find it.”

Noting the movement beside him, he turned to look at Twilight as she walked up and studied the scene out the same window. He added, “When I say that Princess Celestia is a lie, it’s out of no disrespect for Celestia. To the contrary, it’s out of only the greatest respect for Celestia, it allowed her to do an impossible job for millennia before it consumed her.”

“She’s still the same pony. She’s still a good pony at heart,” Twilight said with a thoughtful certainty while she looked at the town below.

Cookie nodded. “Celestia yearns to protect the ponies she loves from all unhappiness; she’s both fiercely intelligent and empathetic, and was instilled from birth with a sense of honor and duty.” He offered a sad, apologetic smile as Twilight glanced over at him. “In this, I admit I’m hopelessly biased. She is not perfect, even as a pony… but she has my heart, still.”

Twilight gave a sad smile of her own in return. “She loves you, too.”

“I know that,” Cookie said, quickly glancing back out at the town without really seeing it.  

“Then how can you think she’d do something like this?” Twilight asked, her head tilted in confusion. 

Cookie sighed and turned away from her, pacing the length of the wall to the bookshelves before turning and pacing back with a pained expression. “She used to feel the sting of each lie and betrayal of trust, to wish to take a more honorable or loving course of action, even as she had to turn from it. I was the pony who tended those wounds and dried her tears and saw Celestia as she truly was. I always understood her reasons even when I disagreed.

“But then… this whole mess with my magic…” He paused in front of Twilight and gestured with a hoof before returning to his pacing. “She hid her plans from me, knowing they were well beyond what I might excuse, and that I had the power to easily thwart them for once. She showed no hesitation or regret at the deception, or her betrayal of my trust, just the excuse of the princess: she was protecting Equestria.” 

Returning to the windows, he looked out once again with a sigh, this time glancing at the afternoon sun. “If it is her plan to marry a griffon prince, I believe without doubt that she thinks it will protect Equestria. And I know now that honor, love, and respect are no barrier to that end.” 

Twilight’s eyebrows were raised in surprise, and she asked cautiously, “What did she want to do? That’s beyond what you would excuse?”

Cookie cringed and regarded her with a sideways glance. “I would ask if you really want to know, but I know your nature. Instead I will remind you that Celestia is a pony, no more and no less. She is good and wise, but she makes mistakes.” 

“I understand.” Twilight nodded as something in her face shifted to steel herself. 

After a few moments in silence trying to find the words, Cookie said softly, “When Celestia decided that you and your friends might reform Discord, she knew that might be dangerous when your friends are gone. Discord faces pain similar to what you face, but he’s far less grounded. As I understand it, at times the only thing keeping him in check is--”

“Fluttershy,” Twilight supplied, a suspicious curiosity creeping across her face. 

Cookie nodded. “When Celestia thought my immortality was due to love, her thoughts bent towards that, and she hoped that she might arrange the magic I held and the feelings between Discord and Fluttershy into a romance that would make Fluttershy immortal, with Discord eternally in her control.”

The suspicion on her face grew and formed into a deep frown, but Twilight glanced at Cookie and said cautiously, “I mean, if Fluttershy was okay with that…”

“Do you think she intended to ask?” Cookie looked at her and raised a questioning eyebrow. “She never asked if I would be content seeing my magic used that way, she merely introduced me to you and Cadance in hopes that one of you would inspire me to reveal it. Nor did she ask you if you wanted to become immortal before sending you an unfinished spell to complete that would require unlocking a poorly understood form of magic that happened to be your area of study.”

“She knew,” she said with a soft certainty, looking to Cookie for corroboration of the expected. He didn’t have to answer; she swallowed with an absent, thoughtful nod and the same suspicious frown.

Cookie had to admit that he was a bit surprised, though on reflection he shouldn’t have been. He’d worried that Twiight would be shocked, would fight against him, and possibly not even believe him. 

Instead she just looked out the window and frowned for a very long time. Without turning her head, she asked with the same soft voice, “You knew?”

Cookie nodded. “She spoke of it to me many times. I insisted she speak to you, but she always assured me she would in due time.”

“You trusted her to do that?” Twilight turned her head towards him with a skeptical look.  

“I knew that she loves you as a daughter.” Cookie met her gaze with confidence. “I thought then that concern for you would outweigh her fear that you might object, and that the outcome might not be best for Equestria. I apologize for the miscalculation.” He sighed, his expression turning pained. “But as I said, honor, love, and respect are no barrier. There’s only one limit I know of that she won’t cross if she believes it might be best for Equestria.”

“The charter,” Twilight said, frowning at a thought. “And all the other things she can do are only limited by… by how much ponies trust her, and how good a pony she is.”

“Ponies trust her without question,” Cookie pointed out.

“They do… I did.” Twilight turned her frown back towards the window and stood there for a few long minutes. Cookie considered whether he should move to comfort her; he knew first hoof that the place where ideals met reality was next door to Tartarus. But before he had decided, she looked over at him suddenly, her face in a determined line. 

“We have to help her.”

Cookie blinked. “I beg your pardon?”

Twilight shook her head, and her determination softened to pure concern. “She didn’t want to hurt you or lie to you. She can’t have wanted that, she loves you. And she cares about me and Fluttershy, too. And if this is true, about marrying a griffon prince… She’s hurting herself and ponies she loves, and we’re her friends.” The determination crept back to her face as she spoke, and she looked Cookie square in the eye. “We have to find a way to help her, so she doesn’t need to do that.”

Cookie turned away from her quickly. He looked at the books on the nearest shelf as if fascinated, though he didn’t really see a blessed one as he took a deep breath and swallowed. “Twilight, I’ve tried for years to remind her she doesn’t have to, and shouldn’t, do these things. I’ve suggested, counseled, argued, pleaded… I even went so far as to issue an ultimatum. I have no powers but words, and I fear those are wasted on her.” 

“I could talk to her,” Twilight suggested.

“You’re welcome to try,” he said with a snort. 

“Right.” Twilight nodded. “All I need to do is get through to the real Celestia, and not get fooled by the Princess.”

“Oh, is that all?” Cookie asked, eyeing Twilight dryly. “Twilight, I’m not sure you’ve ever seen Celestia, and if you have you never realized it.”

“You have.” Twilight studied him. “I know she’s managed to fool you, but you know better now. Maybe we should go together…”

“No. Absolutely not.” Cookie said firmly, turning to leave. He only got a few steps before turning around to add, “I don’t trust princesses, Twilight. I don’t trust commanders or chancellors, either, and nor should any pony in their right mind. I’m well aware that I’ve lived my life as a pawn, or sometimes a bishop or knight, first in service of Puddinghead and then Celestia. It’s only by the luck of the stars that it took so long for me to be sacrificed.” 

“But you trust ponies,” Twilight said, tilting her head in consideration.  

“I do. And I like living among them.” He drew a breath and went on, “So I shall remove myself from the board.“

“What do you mean?”

“I intend to leave here and disappear after the holiday,” he said, with a certainty borrowed from wild emotions. “I wish no contact, not with Celestia, nor with Luna or Cadance, nor… with you and your friends.” His manner softened as he added, “Wonderful ponies though you are, if I were to let you know where to find me it would be a matter of time before I was drawn back in.” 

“You can’t.” Twilight shook her head, seeming confused by the idea. “Cookie, you can’t just walk away and leave her like this. She’s still Celestia, your Celestia, and she needs a pony who can see that.”

A pained expression crossed his face, projecting the feeling that shot through his heart, but he shoved it aside. “That pony is no longer me. Her fate is with the stars.”

“Well, I can’t give up on her, and I won’t,” Twilight pulled herself up, catching him in her gaze and refusing to yield. In that moment she looked more of a princess than he’d ever imagined possible, and he frowned gently at her. 

“I understand. You have your cage of virtue just as she does. You have my sympathy.”

Twilight’s gaze didn’t shift as she stood firm and proud. “I don’t need your sympathy. I’m not doing this because I’m a princess, it’s why I’m a princess. I have this crown and this castle because I never give up on my friends. I thought you, of all ponies, would understand that.”

Cookie stared at her. Somewhere deep in her eyes was a light he recognized from long ago, and at the edges of his vision figures of ponies seemed to form, indistinct but entirely familiar.  There was a duty there, a debt whose payment was being called in. 

His mind tried to argue it. He had tried and failed. He had no more to offer. He had never asked the stars for the love of a princess, or immortality, or even life beyond the cave for this very reason; he would never have anything that might repay the loan of those powers. 

But despite his protest he knew that if he held honor by any power in the world, he owed everything to the princess before him. If all he had was himself, so be it. 

“How can I be of service?” he whispered, fighting the strange urge to kneel. 

Twilight smiled and the spell seemed broken; before him stood a determined young pony, her eyes bright with hope. “I don’t even know how I can be of service right now. We need to figure out some way to get through to her.”

Cookie frowned. “As I told you, I don’t know that…” He shook his head, glancing as he did around the clear and empty room before stopping suddenly and looking up at Twilight. “But I know how we might discover the answer.”
> 18 - The Battle One Always Loses
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Just after sunset, Celestia climbed the stairs to the astronomy tower. She opened the door and entered the dim room lined with charts and tapestries, and the first thing that caught her eye was the field of stars twinkling brightly through the wide entrance to the balcony. Celestia paused in awe for a moment before a shadow at the edge moved, and Luna walked towards her, her mane seeming to drag a piece of the night sky into the room.

Despite having issued the request for this meeting Luna glanced at her with a frown, then stopped at a table in the center of the room to make a few notations.

Celestia smiled and took up the burden of pleasantries as she walked a few steps towards the welcome openness of the balcony. “Good evening, Luna. It’s a lovely night, isn’t it?”

“Indeed.” Luna just barely glanced up from the star charts on the table. “Sister, may I ask you a question?” 

“Of course.” As Celestia reached the balcony, she took a deep breath of the chill winter air and looked up at those eternal lights.

Behind her, Luna spoke words that brought her quickly back to the present. “Tia, forgive me if this sounds absurd, but… are you considering a marriage to a lost prince of Griffonstone?”

“Oh, Luna. Where did you hear such a thing?” Celestia glanced to Luna and offered a gentle smile, silently cursing Discord to Tartarus and back. 

Luna was still frowning down at the table, not so much as looking up to note, “That is not an answer.”

“I did hear that there was a lost prince,” Celestia said with a shrug. She turned and walked back towards the table to better gauge Luna’s reaction. “Chancellor Gunther thought that I should know about him, and that the griffons are considering a return to monarchy. He would like for me to meet him, but since that hasn’t happened yet, how could I be considering a marriage?”

Luna finally looked up from her scrolls and narrowed her eyes at Celestia. “That is surprising to hear, as I attended the state dinner where we sat with Chancellor Gunther, and your secretary has no record that you held another meeting with him.” 

Celestia nodded. “It was informal. We met by chance in the gardens and had a brief chat.”

“I see.” She gave a nod, then looked back to Celestia and arched an eyebrow. “Strange, then, that your brief chat in the gardens inconvenienced the maids attempting to clean the dark study at three o’clock.” 

“I’m afraid I’m not sure what you’re saying,” Celestia said with a tilt of her head. Clearly Luna had done her research, but there was no reason to provide her more than she already knew. 

“You had a secret meeting with the Chancellor of Griffonstone.” Luna frowned, the accusation plain on her face. “Discord offered a rather detailed account of it, and while I hesitate to lend weight to his words, I’m not sure why you feel the need hide this information or lie to me about it.” 

Celestia turned to once again admire the view. The snow topped spires nearby and roofs below glittered in the starlight; a negative of the dark sky, it seemed even colder, though it was dotted with the warm light of windows and streetlamps.

She gave a casual shrug. “It was of little consequence and it slipped my mind. And whatever Discord says should be trusted exactly as far as you can teleport him.” 

“A change in regime in a neighboring nation, and a lost heir to the throne that you were invited to meet while no such invitation was extended to me was of little consequence and slipped your mind?” Luna asked in a dry voice. 

“Are you jealous?” Celestia asked, frowning gently over her shoulder. 

Luna rolled her eyes. “No, I’m insulted that you continue to lie to me. It forces me to consider that Discord may have been truthful in his recounting.”

“I’m not lying, what was said was of little consequence to you.” Celestia came to the edge of the balcony and pursed her lips at the stars. “You hardly take a role in matters of state when they occur, I’m not sure why you’re so concerned with options that are simply under consideration.”

“I am concerned, so I expect the truth. What did you discuss with the Chancellor of Griffonstone?”

Celestia looked behind her towards Luna with a disapproving glare. “It was confidential.”

Luna stared at her for a moment, then raised her eyebrows and whispered, half in shock, “Discord spoke the truth. And you…”

“Fine.” Celestia turned to walk back into the tower room, watching Luna with a casual calm. “The chancellor suggested that Griffonstone might fare best under the rule of an Equestrian princess, and I’m considering the idea. The simplest means of achieving it would be marriage to an heir of Guto.”

Luna made no reply, but her wings ruffled and face twisted in disgust. 

Celestia shrugged and came to the table, glancing down at the maps of the sky and the patterns she never was able to find in the stars. “It would bring wise rule and stability to Griffonstone, and offer us a strong military to call on. Is that so bad?”

“You know what I object to,” Luna snapped.

“I haven’t made a decision, but it sounds far worse than it would actually be.” Celestia said with a calm tilt of her head. “He’s a mortal griffon, it would only be for a few decades, and the union wouldn’t require heirs so we would never so much as share a bedchamber.” 

“You would make a false oath of love before your ponies.”

Celestia looked up at her, raising her eyebrows. “Which would harm nopony, and the result would help ponies and griffons both.” 

Shaking her head with a sigh, Luna’s voice softened. “Tia, love is magic, one we have used before in defense of Equestria. To betray it in this manner, even for the sake of your ponies, is not wise.”

“A single political union is hardly a betrayal of love,” Celestia said with a firm but gentle look of reproach. 

Luna glared at her and rose to her hooves. Walking to the balcony, she stopped to look out at the night sky. “I’m not a master of love magic…” She glanced back at Celestia. “Perhaps we should ask Cadance?”

Celestia pursed her lips for a moment. She had been hoping that if she made her decision, she would have a chance to meet the griffon and establish a pretense before she dealt with Cadance. “Luna, you can’t tell anypony of this. It would be a political—”

Luna cut her off, whipping around to face her. “You know this is wrong. You know she would never approve.” 

“She would. I would talk to her,” Celestia answered with a gentle smile.  

“You would lie to her, as you tried to lie to me,” Luna said, taking a few steps towards her. 

Celestia’s smile fell away. Not daring to look away or show shame, Celestia looked Luna in the eye. “We each have our domains, and matters of state fall to me. I would make sure you both saw the situation correctly when it became necessary.”

Luna gave a snort. “Very well. Please, what is the correct way to view this?”

Celestia sighed, allowing her entire manner to soften. She didn’t risk another smile, but she said gently, “I’m considering an alliance that will give us a new power to protect Equestria. The simplest and most peaceful way to cement this alliance is with a temporary and practically symbolic marriage. Nopony will be harmed and everypony will benefit. One could only wish every matter of our safety was this simple.” 

“What about Smart Cookie? Would he not be hurt?” Luna raised her eyebrows. “Perhaps that is your point in this.”

The accusation brought a sharp frown to Celestia’s face. “Luna, you can’t think I would rearrange world politics to annoy my former suitor.” She shook her head. “Cookie told me to do what was best for me, and what is best for Equestria is what is best for me.”

Luna took another step towards Celestia. “Even so, he felt that the bond of your heart was true, as any lover should. That you would make an oath and present a love to the world that’s no more than a cold calculation cheapens every other love you have had or shall have.“

“Then let him find a pony more worthy of him,” Celestia snapped with more force than she intended. “I will do what I must to protect Equestria.” 

Luna paused, the accusation on her face shifting to suspicion as she eyed Celestia. “This is not new, is it? When I asked you to seek out Smart Cookie’s power, it wasn’t the love of your students that swayed you, it was the defense of Equestria.”

Celestia composed herself and nodded. “That was a consideration.”

“That was the most important consideration.” Luna frowned in thought. “You never would have acted otherwise.”

“They never would have asked me to, it was you who pushed me in that direction.” Celestia raised her eyebrows at Luna. “When they heard of the situation, they both felt it was a matter worthy of serious consideration, and the start of that was best left to Cookie.” 

Luna nodded. “So rather than leave it to them, you pursued the defense of Equestria in spite of love. And now you pursue it in its void.” 

“Protecting Equestria is my duty.” Celestia turned to examine a tapestry on the wall; the sun and full moon in a sky divided between day and night. The moon was surrounded by its phases, but the sun stood bright and stark next to it.

“It is our duty.” Luna said behind her. “And this marriage would only make Equestria weaker, so I must object.”

Celestia rolled her eyes.  “I’d love to hear how having a strong military at hoof might make us weaker.”

“Do you wish to reenact Mother’s death? To lead an army where nothing but true magic would be of use?”

Celestia drew in a breath, caught off guard by the bluntness of the question. She spun around to address Luna, but instead her gaze landed on the night sky and its vast eternity, its countless distant pieces in their own, precise, inexorable courses, too many for the mind of a pony to comprehend.

She lashed out, as much at the stars as at her sister, “Don’t you dare suggest that I have not learned from Mother’s fall!” 

Only one pony in history had understood the movements and currents of magic and destiny. As Celestia went on she fought the feeling of being small and helpless as that wisdom, and the love that was held with it, was ripped away from her by the slight, steady turn of the heavens. 

“Mother died because she never looked past what power she had. I think any pony who looks at Equestria today can see that I would never make that mistake. We have more magic than ever thanks to me. We have faced Lord Tirek, and Equestria survived because I arranged it so that we had the most powerful spellcasters close at hoof.” She drew a breath and let it out slowly as the feelings faded. “Having an effective military on top of that simply gives us more options, so that we might use the correct power for the situation we face.”

Luna’s face was a serious and stern mask as she drew herself up, still not matching Celestia’s stature. “This is not our power, sister! Our power is not in treaties or armies or political maneuvering any more than it is in spells and knowledge and magical talent. Our power is in the bonds we form. Our friendships, our families, our loves... these are what created Equestria and what have kept it strong all these centuries.” 

They held one another’s gaze, neither flinching as Luna went on, “This marriage would make a mockery of those powers, and I am warning you it is folly.”

Celestia raised her eyebrows. “Those are our deepest powers, it’s true, but they’ve never worked alone. From the time Equestria was young, I’ve gathered them and positioned them for our use.”

Luna tilted her head, studying Celestia. “From the time Equestria was young? Is this why you courted Smart Cookie? A political maneuver to overcome your biggest detractor, and assure the founders would never question you?”

“No! Of course not!” Celestia clenched her jaw and narrowed her eyes at her sister. “I loved Cookie truly, how dare you—”

Luna cut her off with the same curious expression, “Then what has changed in two thousand years, that what was once offensive and unthinkable is now reasonable and logical?”

Staring at her sister a moment longer, Celestia then turned away with a sigh. She looked around the room, small and claustrophobic as her gaze avoided the balcony. The tapestry seemed crude and simplistic now, a mockery of the real heavens. “I have learned that sacrifices must be made, and I am the pony who must make them.”

Behind her she heard Luna cross the room to the table where her scrolls were laid out. 

After several moments, Luna said plainly, “To sacrifice bonds of love for power is a treacherous path.”

Celestia sighed and turned towards Luna, now bent over the table with her quill in her magic. “It’s only temporary. One mortal lifespan.”

“I assure you, on this matter my wisdom exceeds your own. It is far easier to go forward down that path than it is to return.” Luna paused and glanced up. “Love grows weaker as you battle the objections of those who care for you, while other powers are always within your grasp.”

“Perhaps some of us are stronger than others,” Celestia said, drawing herself up to her full height. 

Luna raised an eyebrow, then went back to her work. “I pray for your sake it is true, for none of us are stronger than the magics that protect Equestria.”

Celestia hazarded a glance at the stars, serene in their sky, and then looked back to Luna, framed by her mane full of them. She hesitated, then answered softly, “That’s as it should be…” 

“Indeed.” Luna nodded as she wrote. “Have a good night, Sister.” 

“You as well.” Celestia turned toward the door, then looked back to Luna with a suspicious glance. Luna was still hard at work, lost in her notes, and Celestia made her way to the stairs.







Celestia had drifted to sleep in Cookie’s forelegs, but found herself in a field of stars. It was a strange place, seeming infinite in all directions, but she felt almost as if solid reality was just beside her on one side; the kingdom she had ruled for a millenia and a half and the stallion who had been her only constant for that time were just a step away. It pulled her like a magnet, steady and firm and unyielding. 

But something else grabbed at her from the other direction, grasping with tendrils of emotion and wonder and terror. It tried to drag her to whatever was pressing against her in the other direction, someplace strange and wild.  

Between them she stood balanced in this starry landscape on the edge of both. And before her stood an alicorn, nearly as black as the far reaches of space, with a mane floating about her in the vibrant hues of distant galaxies. 

Legends long ago had called her The Pegasus Who Touched the Stars, the pony who had deciphered the heavens and learned how the forces that drove them affected all the creatures of the world. Those legends were long forgotten, along with the kingdom that had formed around her transformation into a pony who was neither pegasus, nor earth pony, nor unicorn. 

Even her name was lost to time, but Celestia remembered Princess Astra well. 

“Mother? You’ve… returned?” Celestia hesitated, then nearly galloped across the short distance to bury her face against the warm neck of the other alicorn. “Oh Mother, I’m so glad, I’ve missed you so… and Father, and… I’m sorry, Mother. I’m so sorry, she…”

“There now, Celestia,” her mother gave a sigh, but she could hear the weary smile in her voice. “We choose our path, and the stars turn until its end. My path ended long ago, you know that.”

“Is this a dream?” Celestia whispered, feeling tears stinging her eyes.  

“It is not.” Her mother’s leg wrapped around her and held her near. “This is the land that borders all lands: the waking world, dreams, and the worlds beyond. I am exactly as real here as you are.”

“Can we meet here again?” She risked pulling away just enough to show her pleading face. 

Her mother chuckled with a twinkle in her rose eyes. “You look just as you did when you would ask for more sweets. But I can grant you neither now, I don’t possess that magic. I’m here only by the turning of the stars, and I can’t say when they might align again.” 

“Very well.” Celestia gave a sigh and gathered herself against foalish theatrics, but she still pressed her cheek to her mother’s neck once again. “Are you content? Is father?”

“You know the answer to that in your heart.”

Celestia nodded. “Do you know my kingdom thrives and spans much of the world? I’m well liked by my ponies and known to be good and just in my rule.” 

“I do know that.” Her mother’s hoof lifted her chin, and Celestia looked into her smiling face as she went on, “You’ve accomplished great things, Celestia.” 

“Thank you.” Celestia beamed as the knowledge that she’d succeeded filled her heart. She’d been raised to be a princess of ponies, and had done her mother proud. 

Her mother’s smile tightened, and a knowing look crossed her face. “Yet there is a shadow over it all that you can’t escape.”

Celestia’s face fell, and she swallowed a lump of guilt that threatened to choke into a sob. “Please, Mother. Tell me I did the right thing. I tried to save her, I tried to help her. She attacked me, and she attacked my kingdom. I had no choice!”

Her mother gave her a knowing look and said gently, “You’ve had many choices. Do not grant them to the stars so easily; they are cold and not inclined to correct their courses.”

“They are cold.” Celestia nodded with a grim frown. “And inscrutable. Who am I to fight them?”

Her mother raised an eyebrow. “Would you fight them for the kingdom you are so proud of?”

Celestia cringed. They both knew the answer: there was no battle she wouldn’t enter for Equestria. That was the choice she had made; that was the path she set on. 

Her mother regarded her. “Celestia, you are my daughter, and you are a Princess. You walk among the stars, but each step reveals who you are, and leads you to your destiny.”

Celestia drew herself up, but she could feel the surrender through her body. “I am Princess of Equestria. I had to defend my realm.”

A firm nod sent the bright nebula of her mother’s mane drifting. “That was the choice you made. Your realm is safe.”

“Yes.” Celestia looked down at the starry sky below her hooves. “And my sister… the Nightmare.”

“That was the choice she made,” her mother said with the same certainty. “She pays the price.”

“Yes.” The empty space below was almost dizzying. Celestia wondered if she could fall here, and if she might fall forever. 

“But never expect the stars to remain in place. They move, and we face new choices.” A hint of a smile played across her mother’s face as Celestia looked up. “I’ve been sent to bring you warning, my daughter, so that you have time to consider.”

“To consider what?” Celestia asked, already feeling her feathers ruffle in trepidation. 

Her mother went on easily, “What you might do next time you face her. The stars are not inclined to second chances, but sometimes they come all the same.” 

Celestia swallowed but held her gaze intently on her mother. It felt like time stopped; eternities passed before the words came from the elder alicorn’s mouth:

“On the longest day of the thousandth year, the stars will aid in her escape.”

“In her…?” Celestia looked at her mother, pleading, unable to form words. 

Her mother’s cheek pressed to hers, warm and safe for a moment. “I love you, my daughter. I love you both. May you both choose your paths well.” 

“No…” Celestia gasped. “No… I can’t face her again… You can’t ask me choose all over again to… I don’t want to hurt her!”

But her mother was gone, and Celestia was left alone in the vast emptiness. 

“Mother?” she whimpered, tears stinging her eyes. There was no answer, only the pain of the past and the future, the pain of the empty places where her family should be. She felt it building inside of her until she let it out in scream, “Mother!” 

Sitting up in the bed suddenly in the dark of Cookie’s bedroom, she nearly screamed again but caught herself in time. Panting, she stared wide eyed at the wall across from the bed. A painting of ponies working in a sunny field hung there, perfectly competent in its composition, and around the dark room sturdy wooden furniture anchored shadows firmly in place.

Cookie stirred, then propped himself up on a foreleg. His mane was messy from sleep, and a look of concern was painted clearly on his face. “Celestia? Are you well?”

“The stars shall aid in her escape,” Celestia whispered.  

“Whose escape?” Cookie asked, laying a comforting hoof on her. 

“The Nightmare. Nightmare Moon.” She tried to shake her head clear. “It‘s true, it must be. She appeared in my dream to tell me.”

His eyes narrowed in suspicious confusion. “Who, your sister?”

“No. Mother.” Celestia let out a breath and relaxed enough to lay back against the warm pillows. 

Cookie gently stroked her wing. His hoof felt solid and real, and the room with its trappings of a common life added more of the same. Even his disheveled state and bewilderment were a comfort; the turnings of fate and eternity of the stars held no sway in his bed at three o’clock in the blessed morning. 

“You trust it was her? Not merely a dream?” he asked gently.

Celestia closed her eyes, focusing on drawing breath and the feeling of Cookie’s hoof. “It was her. I could feel her presence. It is prophecy. She was the master of Fate magic, she knew the courses of the stars and the power of cutie marks.” 

“That sounds like an impressive magic to master,” Cookie noted. He was quiet for a moment, then asked, “You said she fell in battle with a monster?”

Celestia cringed as the shadow of that long ago day fell over her; watching her mother and faither and their troop of guards fly towards the monster and…

She shook her head clear once more and answered Cookie, “Lord Tirek. He’s in Tartarus now. Star Swirl befriended his brother, and his brother betrayed him. Otherwise… I’m sure we would have fallen, and after us the rest of the world.” 

Cookie offered a frown of sad sympathy, and shifted closer to drape a foreleg over her back.

Celestia nestled against him as she went on in a whisper, “I— I always felt as if she must have known her own fate. She flew to battle knowing she would fall.”

“Or knowing something greater would come of it,” Cookie said gently. “If she was as you say, she must have seen what would be born. She may have known you needed the teachings of Star Swirl, but also of grief and experience to bear the crown you were destined for.”

“Perhaps.” Celestia nodded reluctantly. “But why would she leave a task like that to me? I was barely a mare.”

“Because you were the match of Equestria,” he said with a gentle, fond smile at her. “You were young and fresh, you came to us on equal standing to assume a crown that demanded a new perspective, and to lead us into a future none of us could see.”

The corners of Celestia’s mouth twitched into a smile remembering those long ago days reflected in Cookie’s eyes. “But we could dream it.” 

“That’s made it all the sweeter, hasn’t it?” Cookie said with playful nuzzle. “My grandmother used to say that half the joy of bread is the smell of it baking.”

Celestia chuckled, then sighed with smile. “How is it the long dead are always so wise?”

“We offer them the boon of forgetting their foolishness,” Cookie pointed out. 

Celestia snuggled down between Cookie and her pillow. Perhaps she did dismiss her parents’ foolishness, looking for a way their death made sense, something that made them worthy of the hole it left inside of her. But there was another, and her foolishness could never be excused, and while she wasn’t dead Celestia had to admit she felt her absence just as keenly. 

Eventually she whispered, “Cookie… I miss Mother. Both of my parents. And I miss…”

Cookie nodded and looked down at her. His mouth was a firm line, but his eyes held nothing but sympathy. “So, what does her escape mean?”

“I don’t know. Mother warned me so that I might have time to consider my choices, but…” Celestia paused and swallowed. “But I have none.” 

“Might she be... reformed?” he asked with only a faint hint of hope in his voice. 

Celestia answered him with a soft snort. “Alone, on the moon? Certainly not.” 

Cookie sighed, his ears drooping as he tenderly nuzzled her neck. “Then I suppose you’re right, you have no choice.” 

Celestia nodded, but she was quiet again, considering even the most desperate and outlandish chances there might be to change the course of the stars. Finally, with a sigh, she voiced the only one that seemed remotely possible. “In theory, there’s a way we might use the Elements of Harmony to clear the darkness from her mind. But I channeled all of my magic last time, I’m not powerful enough to do it.”

“You’re not powerful enough?” Cookie arched an eyebrow. “You raise the blessed sun and moon.”

“You know perfectly well that I have the raw power of an alicorn and little talent at magic to match it.” Celestia frowned, remembering her long ago lessons with Star Swirl. It was Luna who had been the prodigy, and even Star Swirl was more powerful than Celestia in all but her talent with the sun.

She felt Cookie squeeze her. “I know I’ve seen you arrange agreements between ponies that must be powerful magic, for there’s no other explanation under the stars.”

Celestia smiled sadly. “Government is not magic. At least, not the kind we need.”

“So where would we find this magic?” he asked, settling in to his own pillow next to her. 

She gave a resigned sigh. “We would need to find a unicorn with the talent of Star Swirl and a perfect understanding of the Elements, at exactly the correct time five hundred years hence.” 

His face turned to a thoughtful frown, then he offered a shrug. “Then it is with the stars, but it’s something we might hope for.”

“The stars work against us here, Cookie,” Celestia answered with a much deeper frown, one that felt like it drove into her heart. “On the longest day of the thousandth year, the stars will aid in her escape. She will cast us into eternal night, unless I stand against her once more.” 

Cookie studied her for a moment, then he raised an eyebrow and noted softly, “You’re afraid.”

Celestia sighed and turned away from him to pretend to sleep for the few hours until dawn. “Of course I am. It’s the battle I always lose, no matter how Equestria fares.”
> 19 - To Deserve One Another
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

As Cookie looked around Twilight’s throne room at the ponies in attendance, he couldn’t help considering the Princesses’ Council of Equestria as it stood today: representatives from each of the cities and towns around Equestria who gathered twice a year to niggle over taxes and weather and propose self-serving changes to the charter which would be immediately voted down. Perhaps some of the individuals were as intelligent and passionate as any of Celestia’s councillors, but as a group Celestia had stopped seeking their advice centuries ago.

The council that sat before Cookie, on the other hoof… this was a council to be reckoned with. Twilight and each of her friends sat on their thrones—brave and dedicated defenders of harmony and Equestria, but different minds from all walks of life. Cadance occupied a chair placed to Twilight’s left, having found time between ruling a renewed kingdom and raising a young daughter to attend to Twilight’s urgent summons, and next to her sat Luna, bearing her keen intellect and hard-earned wisdom with a thoughtful frown.

It had been a very long time since Cookie had seen a collection of minds such as these set to unravel a tangled problem of government, and he was only sorry that the trouble at hoof might get the best of them.

After a few moments, as everypony settled in, Twilight gave them all a warm smile. “Thanks for coming, everypony. I know we’re all busy this time of year, but we have something important we need to talk about. I’m really worried about Princess Celestia, and Chip suggested that as the ponies who know her best, we all might be able to figure out how to help her.” She glanced at Cookie. “I think he had something he wanted to say before we get started?” 

Cookie cleared his throat and addressed the room. “Yes. I owe several apologies. To you ladies,” he said, nodding to each of Twilight’s friends, “Especially you, Applejack, I apologize for a deception. My name is not Chocolate Chip, it’s Smart Cookie. I helped to found Equestria, and Twilight has been looking into why I’m still alive. I prefer to not be recognized, so I live under an alias most of the time.”

Pinkie Pie offered a bright smile. “Happy Hearth’s Warming, Mister Smart Cookie!”

Cookie chuckled. “And to you. But please, just Cookie is fine.” 

The rest of them looked to Twilight with faces of confusion, and she nodded a confirmation. 

“No way,” Rainbow Dash said with a suspicious glance. “This has to be a prank, right?” 

Rarity blinked in confusion, leaning forward in her throne to get a closer look at him. “How in Equestria…” 

Applejack’s whole face stretched in shock as she turned to him. “You’ve been sleepin’ in my barn… I— I woulda given ya’ a bed in the house if I’d known!”

“It’s a very comfortable barn, and I never would have turned one of your family from their beds. I do appreciate all you’ve done for me.” He offered her a warm smile, then turned back to the group. “In all other matters, I’ve been honest with you as far as I could be. I did have a cottage in Rainbow Falls, and I did recently separate from a pony I loved. Her name is Celestia.”

Cookie heard a strangled cry from next to him, and he turned to see Rarity gaping at him. 

“I— you— she—” she managed to say before gracefully fainting, draped over both arms of her throne. 

“Should somepony assist her?” Cookie asked the rest of the ponies, none of whom seemed very concerned.

“I’m fine!” Rarity said, gathering herself to a sitting position. “Fine. I just— I gave romantic advice to Princess Celestia’s…” she paused, apparently trying different words in her head until she raised an eyebrow at him. “I beg your pardon… what exactly were you?”

“Her suitor. It was a very long courtship.” Cookie smiled, but it fell to a grimace. “Well, ex-suitor, now.” He sighed and went on, “As we discuss things in this meeting, I felt it was relevant that I’ve known Celestia longer and more closely than anypony here… and that my words may not always be unbiased. Please take them or challenge them as you see fit.”

As Twilight’s friends looked at him, considering, he turned to Luna. “The other apology I must make is to you, Luna. I was… distraught at our last meeting, and I said some unkind things to a friend who went out of her way to help me. I’m not sure we entirely agree on the severity of the situation, but you didn’t deserve that treatment. You have my sincere apologies.” 

Luna nodded. “We didn’t agree on the severity at the time, but I’m beginning to understand what you feared. I apologize to you as well; just as I possessed certain facts and understanding that you lacked, you understood things that I did not.” She offered a wan smile. “You said that perhaps someday I might understand respect, Smart Cookie. I hope you were right.”

Cookie returned the expression. “There are few things I would rather be right about. I’m glad you came, Luna. I’m glad all of you came, because the issue at hoof is not an easy one to address, and we shall need to hear from ponies who see Celestia in very different ways to sort it out.” 

“What is the issue exactly?” Cadance asked, tilting her head at Cookie. “I mean, obviously it’s awful that the two of you have been having trouble lately, but Twilight made it seem like something much bigger.”

Twilight nodded and stood up to address the group. “The problems Princess Celestia and Cookie had aren’t why we’re here, but they might have been a symptom of it. See… Princess Celestia has been doing some things lately that aren’t…” She paused and frowned, then went on, “that aren’t right. But we don’t think it’s because she’s a bad pony, or that she wants to hurt anypony. She just thinks she has to do them to protect Equestria.” 

Applejack rolled her eyes. “Is this about that prank Discord was pullin’, about the griffon prince? You can’t be takin’ that seriously.”

A snort drew attention to Luna. Her face was dark as she said crisply, “It is true that she is considering marrying a griffon prince, though she’s never so much as met him, and taking control of Griffonstone. I didn’t believe it myself, so I asked her, and… words passed between us.” 

“How could she consider something like that?” Cadance looked around the circle in shock, searching for an answer. 

Rarity arched an eyebrow. “A rebound relationship is one thing, but this is taking it a bit far.”

Cadance’s eyes narrowed as her gaze fell on Twilight, who sat uncomfortably tight-lipped. “What’s that look, Twilight?”

“What look?” Twilight’s eyes shifted nervously.

“The look like the one you used to get when somepony said the sky is blue and you felt like you had to explain about the spectrum of light and reflective and refractive properties,” Cadance said, leaning forward to study Twilight with suspicion. 

“Oh. That look.” Twilight glanced at her friends and cleared her throat as she fidgeted on her throne. “The situation with the griffons is only part of this. There are some other things she’s done, or tried to do… When she thought that Smart Cookie was still alive because they were in love, she wanted to know about his magic so that she could get Fluttershy to fall in love with Discord and become immortal—”

“WHAT?” Rainbow Dash was out of her seat and in front of where Fluttershy sat frozen in shock before Twilight had finished her sentence. 

Twilight sighed. “She was worried that he might be dangerous when she… well…”

Rainbow narrowed her eyes. “She can’t do that!”

“Down, girl,” Applejack said to Rainbow, then she glanced over with a look not that different from her friend’s. “Twilight…”

“I know.” Twilight nodded sadly. “Cookie objected too. He tried to argue with her, but she wouldn’t listen.”

Cadance frowned. “That’s what you fought about? You wouldn’t let her do that to Fluttershy?”

“I took issue with her lack of regard for the self-determination of several ponies, myself included,” Cookie admitted. 

“She also knew that I would become an alicorn if I figured out Star Swirl’s spell, and she never told me.” Twilight looked down with a sigh. 

Cookie scanned the faces of Twilight's friends, from the dazed, wary concern of Fluttershy to the fury that Rainbow Dash was barely keeping in check. Pinkie, Rarity, and Applejack wore more complex mixes that fell somewhere along that spectrum.

Cadance’s frown deepened and her wings ruffled as she turned back to Cookie. “She tried to get me to help her find your magic. She wanted me to use my husband and baby to convince you… she said she was worried about you.”

Cookie clenched his jaw, then let out a resigned sigh as he looked to the large map of Equestria on the table before them. “It’s likely she was. It’s important to remember that the ends she sought were benevolent in each of these actions. She felt that if Fluttershy could love Discord it might prevent harm to Equestria. She felt that Twilight would have had questions and concerns that might have made her hesitate to reach her true potential.” 

“So?” Rainbow Dash asked, her entire manner poised for a challenge. 

“So she doesn’t think she’s doing the wrong thing,” Twilight explained, shaking off some of her disappointment. “She knew she was hurting ponies, but she thought if she didn’t then Discord might destroy Equestria, or I might have been scared to continue my studies, or Cookie might have died.” 

Fluttershy hesitantly raised a hoof. “So… um… does that mean I should marry Discord?” 

“No,” Twilight answered with a huff. “The magic she thought would help isn’t even the right kind of magic.”

Cadance drew herself up and looked Fluttershy in the eye. There was an cold tension about her that melted as she addressed the timid pegasus gently, “And even if it was, that’s not how love works. Fluttershy, you should marry anypony you fall in love with, no matter what anypony else says.” 

“Oh. Okay.” Fluttershy nodded and frowned in thought. “It’s just… well, I’d be very disappointed in Discord if he destroyed Equestria.” 

Pinkie Pie shook her head with an unnerving calm. Her eyes stared straight into Cookie’s, full of knowing sympathy. “Princess Celestia doesn’t know how things will work out in the end.” 

“Nether do any of us,” Rarity pointed out. 

Applejack leaned back in her throne, crossing her forelegs with a grim frown. “So how about if she talks to ponies about what she thinks might happen, and let’s ‘em decide for themselves what they wanna do?”

“They might decide wrong.” Twilight frowned in thought. “She doesn’t trust ponies.”

“She trusts them to an extent,” Cookie pointed out, stepping up to the map at the center of the circle and surveying it. “One has to in order to manipulate as subtly as she does. She doesn’t trust them to place Equestria above all else. She knows that you might consider friendship or love to be more important.”

“But those things protect Equestria.” Pinkie Pie said, rolling her eyes.

Rainbow Dash nodded. “Yeah, we’ve had, like, seven different kinds of magic explosions to prove it.”

Luna pursed her lips, then spoke. “Yes, but they must be used at the right time, in the right manner, and she feels only she can arrange that.” 

“She may have a point there,” Rarity said with sympathy in her frown. “I assume she knows quite a bit that we don’t about what’s going on in the world, and she is a Princess with thousands of years experience.” 

Luna cleared her throat.

“Begging your pardon, of course,” Rarity added quickly. “But you were… indisposed for quite some time.” 

“Which lends Luna another kind of wisdom well worth considering,” Cookie said, looking up at Luna across the map.

Luna nodded at him. “And Smart Cookie is our equal in years and possesses yet another view. And you all understand the Equestria of today better than any of us, and Princess Cadance might see us from the outside. Each of us sees matters differently, and to assume we alone see all is folly.” 

“And if ya’ think what you see gives ya’ leave to lie to other ponies who wanna help, that’s a darn sight more than folly,” Applejack grumbled. 

Rarity nodded reluctantly. “I suppose that even if she has her reasons for directing us, it’s unwise to do so without respecting other points of view.”

Cookie nodded. “So we come to the question this council must answer: how might we convince Celestia of this?”

“Tell her?” Pinkie suggested.

Applejack’s face twisted in uncertainty. “Sure, but how? 

“If this conviction is strong enough that she’s willing to betray those closest to her, I hardly think a gentle reminder is going to get through to her,” Cookie added with a frown.  

“Twilight could talk to her,” Rainbow Dash said, looking around the circle. Applejack, Fluttershy, Pinkie, and Rarity looked to each other, nodding.

“I’m not sure that’s wise.” Luna shook her head. “She’s recently been confronted by both Smart Cookie and myself on some of these matters, and both ended with her turning us away. You and Cadance are the ponies closest to her whom she still trusts. Given her state, I think it best that we only endanger those relationships as a last resort.” 

“Then it would be best to keep her away from the Crystal Empire until this is worked out,” Cadance said sharply. “I have some very strong words for her about her little forays into love magic, and how it absolutely does not work, not to mention how she tried to use me and Shining.” 

Cookie nodded and offered her a look of sympathy. “Noted.”

Fluttershy cleared her throat, then asked, “But... why would she listen to a pony she doesn’t trust?”

Luna sighed. “She may not, but if she counts all of us among those ponies, there’s nopony left to speak to her at all.” 

“Okay then…” Rainbow Dash gave a shrug. “Magic friendship explosion?

Rarity raised an eyebrow. “I think that may be overkill.”

“It’s the only way to be sure.” Rainbow Dash pounded a hoof on the arm of her throne, her face a grim line.  

“We don’t even have the Elements any more,” Twilight said, rolling her eyes. 

“They’re in the tree, it’s right over there.” Rainbow motioned in the direction of the Everfree forest. “We only need them for an afternoon.”

“May I point out that we’re taking issue with Celestia unilaterally deciding what’s best for ponies? I think that using powerful magic to force her into line may not be an improvement,” Cookie said with a dry glare towards Rainbow.

Rainbow glared back. “It worked for Princess Luna.”

“Celestia in not possessed by dark forces. She’s ignoring her friends’ feelings.” Cookie paced a few steps towards Rainbow’s throne, pausing to motion broadly with a foreleg towards the map. “Is this how you react when a pony in Hoofington needs your assistance?” 

Rainbow puffed up. “If a pony in Hoofington tried to sell Fluttershy to Discord, I would!”

“Um..” Fluttershy leaned forward slightly, looking at Rainbow. “You tried to sell me to that pony for a Daring Do book…”

“That was different!” Rainbow rolled her eyes. “And I took it back!” 

Fluttershy nodded and slunk back in her throne. ”I know. I didn’t mind.” 

Cookie rubbed his face with his hoof, and Twilight sighed and said to Rainbow, “How about if we keep the conversation to how we could convince her with words?”

Rainbow slumped in her throne. “We already said we couldn’t.” 

“No, I suggested it wouldn’t be as simple as telling her.” Cookie shook his head. “She’s already been confronted about aspects of this several times. She wouldn’t hear it from me, and from the sound of things Luna didn’t fare much better.” 

Luna nodded. “She thinks she acts to protect Equestria. To argue against any action she might take seems small compared to that.” 

“Um… small things can be kind of important to some ponies,” Fluttershy pointed out, frowning in thought.  

“Of course,” Cookie said gently. “But to everypony in Equestria? To Equestria as a whole? That’s how she must view things as a princess, even if she understands in her heart they aren’t right.”

“They can be important to everypony.” Twilight frowned and raised an eyebrow at Cookie. “Like some old jokes that aren’t funny, and how they can make ponies think.”

Cookie froze, then nodded slowly. “Yes…”

He looked around the room at the confused faces of everypony but Twilight, and his brow furrowed as his gaze landed on Luna. “Luna. Why did you turn to the Nightmare?”

Luna looked shocked, then a pained expression crossed her face. With a glare at him she answered, “I was jealous and angry and made a terrible mistake.” 

Cookie shook his head. “No. Why did you do it? What event spurred you?”

She pursed her lips. “You know as well as I there wasn’t one reason. Simply centuries of… small things.” Her glare melted as realization dawned on her face. 

“Yes.” Cookie looked down for a moment, then back to her with a sad determination. “Luna, I’m sure I was responsible for some number of those small things, and for that you have my deepest apologies. You’ve always known me to be a fool, but I’m afraid I outdid myself, and caused irreparable harm to you in the process.” 

Their eyes met, and for a moment an understanding passed between them, apology and forgiveness in both directions. Luna’s sad smile suggested it was welcome, and Cookie couldn’t shake a familiar feeling in the back of his mind.

Eventually Luna shook her head with the same sadness. “Smart Cookie, you were not the cause of all of my troubles.”

“No, but I’m sure I caused my share, and failed in my role as your councillor as well as your friend.” He frowned sharply. “And in doing so I failed not only you, I failed Equestria.” 

“Cookie…” Luna said softly. “It’s in the past.” 

Cookie nodded. “It is, but we have a problem in the present, and perhaps we can learn from it.” He began to pace around the map, looking at each pony as they came into view. “Celestia believes what she does is not as important as protecting Equestria. I counter that: Small things are a great danger to any nation. Large things can be seen and guarded against, but it’s the small things one rarely notices which form the cracks in our very foundation.” 

Twilight nodded. “We caught it this time. But the problem with small things is that they’re small, and they just make sense at the time. So how do we show her that they all add up to something bigger?”

Pinkie rolled her eyes. “With something small. Duh.”

“I think Pinkie’s got a point,” Applejack said, sitting up. “Small things can be important to a pony, but they can be good, too. If we can show her something small that means a lot to her, maybe she’d see how the wrong she’s been doin’ means a lot to other ponies.”

Twilight grinned at Applejack. “Right, like when I first found the Elements. I thought that the fate of Equestria didn’t depend on me making friends, it seemed like such a little thing compared to keeping it safe from Nightmare Moon—no offense.” She glanced nervously at Luna. 

Luna gave a gracious nod. “None taken, do go on.”

Twilight continued, “But it was the help you all gave me in little, important ways that showed me how powerful friendship can be.”

“But what’s small that might be important to Princess Celestia?” Rarity frowned. “She has everything she might ask for, and a staff and guards to help her with anything she should need.”

Cookie paused in his pacing and looked at Rarity. “No. Those ponies serve the princess, so that nothing small might concern her. If this is to work, it must be something that’s important to Celestia, as a pony.” 

“Honey cakes?” Luna suggested, raising an eyebrow at Cookie. 

Pinkie Pie nodded. “She hasn’t had a pony to bake for her in waaay too long.”

“Yes… but something more as well.” Cookie looked around the ponies.

“It is Hearth’s Warming,” Fluttershy said, glancing nervously around the circle. “Maybe somepony should get her a present?”

Cookie stared at Fluttershy as the feeling in the back of his mind became something he could name: a connection between ponies whom the stars had placed on opposite sides of the board. A warmth unexpected, and all the more precious for it. A Hearth’s Warming gift.

Fluttershy tried to shrink back behind her mane. “Um… it was just an idea.”

“It’s a brilliant one,” Cookie said softly. “That… that is precisely what is needed.” He closed his eyes and drew a deep breath, then looked to Twilight. “I believe I know how I might help. I have a gift for Celestia, I just need to prepare it.” 

“What is it?” Rarity asked with a tilt of her head.

“Words,” Cookie answered, then he smiled at Pinkie Pie. “And a bit of baking to make sure she hears them.”

“Atta boy!” Pinkie grinned. 

“Hold up,” Rainbow Dash darted into the air, addressing the circle. “Somepony tried to sell our friend to Discord, and we have friendship lasers, but we’re going with words and pastries instead?”

“Personally, I support trying any number of things if it means we can avoid treason,” Rarity said with a pointed look at Rainbow. 

Applejack frowned and looked between them. “Yeah, but Smart Cookie said he already talked to her.”

“I did.” Cookie nodded. “And I spoke some powerful words in those conversations, but they were the wrong ones. The words I intend to offer her now are among the most difficult to say, and even more difficult to trust, but if they are accepted I can say with certainty that they are every bit as powerful as the Elements of Harmony.” 

Twilight offered a suspicious smirk, to which Cookie responded with a smile and shrug.

Luna looked between them and nodded. “For now, I suggest we leave this in Cookie’s hooves, and if his gift seems not to work we can meet again after the holiday.”

Twilight nodded. “That sounds good.” 

Cookie nodded. “Thank you. And thank you all for your insights. It’s an honor to have the help of a council such as this one.”

“It is,” Luna agreed, rising to her hooves. “And if I recall, that boon is to be repaid with fellowship and good company in the kitchen afterwards.”

“You’re all welcome,” Twilight said, starting in that direction with a grin. “I’ll put on some tea.”

“Ya’ still got some of that apple butter I brought ya’?” Applejack asked as she joined Twilight, along with the other ponies. “I can whip up some biscuits right quick.”

“I’ve gotta sit on councils more often!” Pinkie said, bouncing after them. 

Cookie held back until the throne room was empty. He glanced at the map, then turned to look at the star on Twilight’s throne. It was her cutie mark, and the same one on the trunk of the tree that bore the Elements of Harmony. It represented a power that had saved Equestria, and the very power that had formed Equestria. 

If he was to offer Celestia the gift that she needed, the only magic that could protect him was to wish upon this star. But it had heard him once before, and perhaps it might again. 







A blizzard raged outside of the Castle of the Two Sisters. A particularly tasteless blizzard, considering the date. Hearth’s Warming festivities had been cancelled, Princess Celestia urging ponies to celebrate the day safe and warm at their own hearths, but for the six ponies gathered around the fire in the kitchens of the castle, the idea of spending this night apart was utterly, totally unimaginable.

Yet for six months now, Cookie had been imagining it. Imagining the blizzard howling outside without Hurricane and Pansy lying next to each other by the fire, without Platinum and Puddinghead’s songs and Clover’s commentary on the proceedings. This night was perfect; in spite of the storm that echoed the Windogos, this room was full of the wit and wisdom and affection that had kept them at bay. But there would be other Hearth’s Warmings, and too many of them...

Clover’s voice cut through his thoughts. “For the love of the stars, Cookie. Chin up. It’s just a bit of snow.”

Cookie sighed, and his frown deepened as Clover sat down next to him in front of the fire. Celestia had retired for the evening just an hour ago, but even before that Cookie had been plagued by more melancholy than usual. Without her his mind was left to wander, and it seemed drawn to the vast emptiness of the future.  

“I’m not bothered by the storm, but you must admit it doesn’t promote pleasant thoughts.”

“And we all know that’s what the weather’s for.” Puddinghead returned from the spread of food across the room with a third helping of pie on her back, bumping it onto the table and then taking a seat. “That’s why Hurricane's in charge of it. He’s the very spirit of pleasant thoughts.” 

Hurricane snorted, but his haggard face hinted at a smirk. 

Lounging on a plain, sturdy sitting pillow left by the servants, Platinum pursed her lips and took a long drink from her goblet of wine. “I must agree with Cookie, it does put one in mind of the days before the cave.”

“No,” Clover said firmly, then she drained the last of her wine. “I won’t allow it. Puddinghead is going to sing the bawdiest song she knows, and I’m going to down a glass of wine for every metaphor for male genitalia I can decipher.”

As she used her magic to refill the goblet from the decanter on the table, Cookie raised his eyebrows at her. “Blessed darkness, Clover. You’ll die.”

Clover nodded. “Yes, but I certainly won’t be thinking about it!” 

“I don’t see why everypony has their tails in a knot,” Hurricane said with a frown. “It was an ugly battle, but it was won, and the world’s the better for it.”

“I don’t have my tail in a knot.” Clover took another long sip of wine. “I am very specifically keeping my tail from knotting.”

“By asking Puddinghead to sing.” Platinum motioned with her goblet. “That does suggest that you’re resorting to drastic measures.”

“I am indeed,” Clover agreed with a nod.

Pansy had been watching Clover from her spot next to Hurricane and said gently, “It’s a perfectly normal storm. I watched weather patrol set it myself.”

Clover sighed. “I’m not frightened by the snow.” 

“Then what’s wrong?” Cookie asked, shifting to lean against her.

She pursed her lips and looked at the fire for a moment. “What’s wrong is that my only thought during that time was to wish with every bone from horn to tail that Star Swirl was there to fix it. And every time I think of that, I remember he’s no longer here to fix anything, so I am doing my blasted best to think of anything else.”

“Clover, Star Swirl was a talented pony. But you saved the day without him then, and you can go on now.” Pansy’s face was full of strength and certainty, and as Clover glanced at it she set down her drink and nodded with another sigh.

“You know, you lot don't get the credit you deserve,” Puddinghead said from the table, her mouth full of pie.

Clover nodded. “Yes, being celebrated by ponies everywhere isn't quite enough for a spell none of us had any idea we were casting.” 

“Pansy got a promotion, as well,” Hurricane pointed out. “And Clover got a title for it. And Cookie got several hours where Puddinghead left off him.”

“An honor I've never forgotten,” Cookie said with a wry smile. 

“You'd best not, as nopony's seen the like again.” Puddinghead chuckled as she left the table and joined the group around the fire. “But I was serious. What Clover said was true, you had no idea you were saving the pony race or founding Equestria at the time. At the time, you all simply thought you were befriending a couple ponies who'd be just as pleased if you died quickly so they might steal your cloak.”

“Now Puddinghead, that's not true.” Clover raised an eyebrow. “I was hoping Cookie would die quickly. His cloak was bigger, and Pansy would've been useful for body heat.”

Cookie chuckled softly. “You say that, but you were the one who offered your confidences first.”

“Lulling you into a false sense of security.” Clover smirked, then looked down at her cup as she went on, “In all honesty, the whole court knew I complained nearly non-stop. Pansy was simply the first pony who ever… listened.”

Pansy frowned, drawing her head up slightly. “I had never complained before that night.”

“We know.” Platinum offered her a sad smile.

For a moment Pansy’s lips pursed, before she drew a breath and went on, “It was admitting weakness and failure, and I couldn't do that, there was nopony I could trust not to whisper it to my troop, or to Commander Hurricane. I was terrified to speak it aloud, even to Clover and Cookie, though I knew they held no sway among the pegasi. Their mockery would have made it true.”

Hurricane wrapped a wing around her and looked her in the eye. “It was the bravest thing you've done, and I don't say that lightly.”

“Scary enough to make a grown stallion cry,” Clover said with a sympathetic smile at Cookie.

“There's no need, Puddinghead,” Cookie added quickly with a sharp frown. 

Puddinghead raised her eyebrows at him. “I didn't say a word. If you were the sort to break easily you'd never have lasted that long in my cabinet.”

Cookie shook his head. “That's a different beast. A pony can endure all manner of things from ponies when he doesn't care for their opinions. But to offer a pony respect and empathy and look for it in return, and instead find betrayal and mockery… that is how you break a pony.”

Platinum nodded and smiled at him. “And yet you managed to offer each other trust, despite being strangers of different tribes with no reason to expect it returned. It was no small feat.”

Cookie shrugged. “To be fair, we thought the consequences would be as short lived as we expected to be.”

“Yes, not freezing to death was nearly as pleasant a surprise as having friends,” Clover said with a laugh.

“But nowhere near as surprising as Hurricane believing us,” Cookie added. “I would have sooner asked the Windigos for help if one had wandered into the cave.” 

Pansy rolled her eyes and let out a breath. “Imagine how I felt.”

“You had just saved my life, you know,” Hurricane said, raising an eyebrow as he looked down at her.

She smiled at him. “As if you ever valued your life over the honor of Hippocampus.”

He shook his head. “Honor tied to a flag is no honor at all. The honor is in serving ponies, and when what serves them best is to let them go…” He trailed off with a frown, then finished with a drink of cider from the mug in front of him. 

“It was hard,” Cookie said with a nod to the old war pony. 

Hurricane returned the nod. “You’re stars damned right it was hard. At least I knew my command was tested.”

Puddinghead smirked at him. “Oh yes, you could have led the pegasi to their deaths in an orderly, predictable manner.”

“Hush, Puddinghead,” Platinum said with a sweep of her tail. “Hurricane is right and you know it. We all had our weaknesses as leaders, but we knew them, and we had our strengths as well. To put the nations we’d just moved the stars and a whole blessed tribe of ponies to save into the hooves of three untested ponies—two of them not even of our tribe—and to trust that they had the strength, wisdom, and vision to unite us?”

“For the record, none of us did,” Clover noted. Then she added with a smile, “But together we seem to have managed it, with some help from the Princesses.”

Puddinghead shook her head, setting her bun wobbling. “I was never bothered by that. Girthshire was a democracy, some other poor mule would have taken over for me sooner or later, so why not let those three have a go at it?” 

“We could have put it to a vote,” Cookie suggested. “It’s possible that even Girthshire ponies would have recognized that our platform of “continuing to live” was preferable to your platform of blaming the unicorns and pegasi.” He paused and took a long drink of wine before muttering, “I mean, I wouldn’t have placed money on it, but it was possible.” 

Puddinghead chuckled for a moment, then her face settled to a wry smile. “I wouldn’t’ve run. Even if I’d been determined to keep Girthshire independent myself, I would’ve endorsed you at the next election. That was the ice that stabbed me in that cave, and these two as well if they’re honest: realizing the darkness blessed mess I’d made, well beyond what I could hope to clean up by myself.” 

Platinum considered that, an expression of guilt forming on her face before she looked down. “I honestly did my best. I did all I knew—”

“We all did,” Hurricane said with a grim nod.

Puddinghead nodded and turned that same smile on Cookie. “And the truly remarkable thing, the thing that convinced me that they might be onto something, is that Cookie never blamed me for it. He had every right to, I’d made him miserable and bungled things every step of the way. He could’ve told everypony how, had they elected him, none of this would have happened. He could’ve tossed me right under the cartwheels and made sure I had no say in Equestria. But he didn’t. He trusted me to play a role in another blasted government, and he gave me a chance to make things right.”

Hurricane snorted a laugh. “Save the tail-kissing for his funeral, Puddinghead.”

Cookie shifted uncomfortably and muttered, “If I ever get one.”

“Cookie, I’m afraid that’s one of those events in life where you simply can’t refuse the invitation,” Platinum said, raising an eyebrow. 

Clover looked to Cookie, and he gave a resigned nod. She shrugged, turning back to Platinum. “You know Cookie isn’t one for formalities. He’s skipping the whole death business.”

Hurricane frowned in confusion. “It’s not optional.”

“I didn’t select it.” Cookie took a drink. “It seems that immortality has been imposed upon me.”

“Is that so?” Hurricane said, eyeing Cookie with suspicion.

“Actually, it is,” Cookie said with a sigh. “Clover’s been looking into it, but it seems some magic has taken up residence within me. At the very least I shall live indefinitely.”

“I see.” Platinum looked to Clover, who just nodded. She turned to Cookie and cleared her throat. “I would think that knowing one might live forever should inspire… joy, perhaps? Wonder? At least a slightly better than average mood?”

Clover tilted her head. “You would think that, and so would any other sane pony in the world. So of course Cookie is making himself miserable.”

“Cookie…” Pansy stared at him, her eyes wide. “This is wonderful! You’ll have Princess Celestia, and she’ll have you, and you’ll carry our memories.”

“It’s a travesty.” He rubbed a hoof over his face. “Each of you deserves this far more than I do. Hurricane is stronger than me ten times over, Clover is far more intelligent, and Pansy’s wisdom and judgement is more keen. Platinum can gracefully lead ponies with a toss of her head, and Puddinghead understands their base instincts well enough to have soundly beat me in open election. What do I have to offer the world?”

“I’m sure Princess Celestia can think of something…” Puddinghead smirked. 

Clover rolled her eyes and nudged him with an elbow. “Ideas, Cookie. You have ideas.”

“I’ve already given Equestria the best of those in the charter. I could die tonight and the world would be no worse for it, and yet…” Cookie waved a hoof at the absurdity. 

Puddinghead shrugged, and got up to refill her drink. “Fine, you don’t deserve it. You’re a sorry excuse for a pony who gets his head so far up his rear end that he’s trying to see through his tail and hear through his cutie mark.” 

Pansy glared at her. “Puddinghead, have you ever considered not making things worse?”

“Joke’s on you, nothing I say can make Cookie feel worse. He does more than I ever could to himself. But I can tell him the truth.” She looked at Cookie out of the corner of her eye and offered a knowing smile. “And the truth is, not a single blasted one of us would deserve it. We’ve all been fools and cowards, bastards and liars, hopeless and useless and damned by the stars to an icy grave.” 

“Care to argue with that, anypony?” Puddinghead looked around the room, her chin raised in challenge. 

Each pony there had the self-awareness to avoid her eyes, looking at the floor or their drinks with expressions that spoke of unpleasant memories coming quickly to mind. 

Puddinghead nodded and went on, “But we’ve been blessed, too. And from time to time we manage to be kind and brave and wise, and strong and honorable. We manage to be useful, and to teach and inspire each other. Not often enough to deserve our blessings, but often enough to deserve one another. And that’s enough to make a fire in the darkness, as it turns out.”

She turned to Cookie and pointed a hoof at him. “So stop whining about how you don’t deserve it, and start figuring out how you might do a bit each day so that this day at least you might deserve a bit of it. And when you fail—and you will fail, Smart Cookie—don’t you dare make that all that you are. Because you’re carrying all of the lessons we taught you within you, and that’s how we’re trying to deserve our own blessings.”

Cookie blinked at her for several moments. “Well said. Thank you. I shall remember that always.”

Puddinghead snorted with a fond smile. “Of course you won’t, you fool.” 

Hurricane nodded and added, “You’ll spend most of eternity with your tail in a knot over taxes and what the council wants to do with the roads.”   

“But we’ve no doubt you’ll remember it when it counts…” Clover grinned and offered him a nuzzle. “Which is good enough for a fire in the darkness.”
> 20 - Judgement
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Celestia frowned as she approached the door to her chambers, flanked by her guards. The halls were decked in holiday finery, though it felt like every bit of good cheer she’d managed to show this year was false. Fortunately, this situation didn’t call for any, though it might call for a delicate touch. Typically if a pony had broken into her chambers the guards would have addressed it, but considering the pony involved, they’d brought the matter to her.

She opened the large wooden door slowly, so as not to startle her, and glanced around the room. The pony wasn’t hard to spot, hovering by the fireplace in front of a banner displaying the flag of Equestria. Her distinctive mane and tail were always eye-catching to say the least. 

“Rainbow Dash,” Celestia said firmly. 

Rainbow looked over and landed. Her eyes darted nervously to the balcony, then to the door Celestia was shutting behind her. “I’m... not supposed to be here.”

“No, you’re not.” Celestia frowned gently and walked over to the cushions by the fire. “But I don’t mind. Would you care for some tea?”

“No thanks.” Rainbow straightened her shoulders. “Other ponies will mind, but I don’t care, ‘cause I needed to make sure you know something.” She hesitated, then took a breath and said with conviction, “If you ever mess with Fluttershy, or Twilight, or any of my friends, you’ll be sorry.”

Celestia sat and settled in, studying the pony. There was evidence of military training in Rainbow’s bearing, but it was clear that she was driven by a deeper strength. Her face was calm and serious, but not the even expression of a soldier. Instead it was what that was designed to mimic: confident understanding of what needed to be done and a certainty in her actions. 

Allowing a small smile to play at her lips, Celestia tilted her head. “What makes you think I’d do anything to your friends? I hope they’re my friends too, not to mention ponies I count on to protect Equestria.”

Rainbow’s eyes narrowed. “Smart Cookie told us what you tried to do—”

“I’m not surprised that Cookie would try to turn you against me,” Celestia said with a sad sigh.

“He didn’t. He says you’re still okay for now. That’s why I’m not supposed to be here.” She eyed Celestia suspiciously and rose to a hover, crossing her forelegs. “But I am here, because you were already planning to mess with Fluttershy. That’s not okay.”

With a tilt of her head, Celestia observed the pegasus again in her new pose. She was a slight mare, with no training in weapons. But Celestia was well aware that she was over-confident, even in light of her considerable talents, and could be dangerously impulsive without her friends to reason with her. 

Celestia arched an eyebrow. “Rainbow Dash, I have no intention of harming Fluttershy or any of your friends. But appearing in my chambers to intimidate me is not acceptable.”

Rainbow’s eyes darted towards the doors that led to the balcony and open sky, but the only movement she made was the flapping of her wings as she hovered. She fixed her gaze on Celestia again with the same scowl. “Neither is what you were going to do, so I guess we’re even.”

“What did you hear that I was going to do?” Celestia asked, making sure nothing but a calm curiosity showed on her face.

The frown on Rainbow’s face didn’t budge. “Try to get Fluttershy to fall in love with Discord so she’d be immortal.”

Celestia raised her eyebrows. “And that would really be that bad?”

Rainbow rolled her eyes. “It’s creepy on, like, seven and a half levels!” 

“How so?” Celestia asked with a tilt of her head.

“You never even asked her if she likes Discord that way!” Rainbow waved a hoof wildly, emphasizing her incredulous expression. “I mean, you can’t just figure on a pony having the hots for Discord. He’s not even a pony!”

“If she hadn’t liked him, that would have been the end of it,” Celestia pointed out.

Her eyes narrowed again. “Have you even met Fluttershy? She’d probably marry Discord if I told her she should! You’re the Princess of Equestria!” Rainbow frowned deeply and landed in front of the fireplace with a frustrated sigh. “And that’s another thing. Look, you’re in charge of everything, but you really shouldn’t be in charge of, like, who’s dating who. I mean, I think ponies can figure that out themselves.” 

Celestia shifted to a more relaxed position. “And what if who’s dating who might protect Equestria from much larger threats?”

“Like your thing with that griffon?” Rainbow asked, cocking her head. 

Celestia’s lips pursed and her eyes narrowed for a split second before noting the innocence in Rainbow’s expression. She took a breath and asked, “Where did you hear such a thing?”

“Princess Luna.”

“I see.” Celestia nodded, carefully keeping the annoyance from her face, though she couldn’t help musing, “Apparently I’ve been a topic of conversation recently.” 

Rainbow nodded. “Yeah, there was a meeting.” 

Celestia raised her eyebrows in surprise. “Who was at this meeting?

“All of us, Princess Cadance, Princess Luna, and Smart Cookie,” Rainbow said with a casual shrug.  

The last name mentioned explained everything, and Celestia’s face hardened as she said darkly, “This was Cookie’s idea.”

“Yeah, he wanted to figure out how to make you stop it,” Rainbow answered, still apparently oblivious to the impact this information was having.  

“I see,” Celestia said coldly, lost in thoughts of what game Cookie was playing. Enlisting Twilight and Luna and Cadance suggested something large and potentially dangerous, even if only accidentally.  

“Anyway, I don’t care if you want to marry some griffon,” Rainbow went on with a dismissive toss of her head. “But it would be totally creepy if you made somepony else marry a griffon.”

Celestia turned her attention to the pegasus in front of her with a more serious focus. “I wouldn’t make anypony do anything they didn’t want to do. At most I’d encourage them to do things that would help Equestria.”

Rainbow frowned. “Yeah, still creepy.” 

“Well, I’m afraid my desire to protect Equestria outweighs my desire to be seen as not creepy,” Celestia said sharply, returning the frown.  

“Do you even have any friends?” Rainbow asked. 

The question seemed serious, not intended to taunt despite the bluntness. Still, Celestia felt taken aback by it. “I beg your pardon?”

“You can be creepy and protect Equestria, I guess.” Rainbow considered that, brows furrowed, then looked at her. “But you can’t really be creepy to your friends and still have friends. I know it hurt Twilight’s feelings when she found out you set her up to be an alicorn without asking her. And it hurt Fluttershy’s feelings when she heard about the thing with Discord. And you hurt Smart Cookie’s feelings, that's why you broke up. And you hurt Princess Cadance’s feelings and Princess Luna’s feelings with this whole marrying a griffon thing…” She still looked perfectly serious as she finished, “So, do you have some friends somewhere who you aren’t creepy to?”

A bolt of annoyed anger shot through Celestia, and it was all she could do to keep from snapping at the little pony in front of her. She took a deep breath, but still her face was hard and her voice cold as she answered, “I balance an immense responsibility with things like love and friendship, Rainbow Dash. But that responsibility must come first. And if ponies who claim to be my friends can’t see that, perhaps it is they who are not very good friends.”

Rainbow just raised her eyebrows. “Twilight took over for you, when we were fighting Tirek. She had all the magic in Equestria, all your magic and the other princesses’ too, she was the only princess in Equestria. And she gave it all to Tirek to save her friends.” 

Celestia’s face softened but the frown remained. “She is the Princess of Friendship. It’s her magic.”

“I’m not the princess of anything, and I’d do the same,” Rainbow shot back. 

With a sigh, Celestia shook her head. “She’s young. So are you.”

“We’re not thousands of years old.” Rainbow shrugged. “I guess it’s good that you’re a princess, but I’m glad Twilight’s my friend.” She frowned and squared her shoulders, pulling herself to her full height, not even as tall as Celestia sitting. “And as far as I’m concerned, friend outranks princess any day. So leave my friends alone.” 

“I assure you I will,” Celestia said, but she found herself unable to look away from Rainbow. She couldn’t remember ever having seen the like, a pony so young and small facing her as a... threat. Of sorts. She tilted her head slightly and asked, “Out of curiosity, what exactly do you intend to do if I don’t?”

Rainbow didn’t hesitate, “Whatever I have to to make you.” 

Celestia raised her eyebrows. “That probably wouldn’t turn out well for you.”

Looking her in the eye, Rainbow answered, “I’ve stuck with friendship this far, I’ll stick with it to the end.” 

Celestia nodded. “You’re a brave pony, Rainbow Dash. Your friends are lucky to have you.”

Rainbow puffed up with pride. “I know. I hope you can find some friends as good as me, Princess.” Rainbow turned and walked to the doors of the balcony, pausing and turning around as she opened one. “Oh, and thanks for not calling the guards.” 

“You’re welcome. Have a good day,” Celestia said with a nod.  

“You too!” Rainbow called cheerfully, then the door closed behind her. 

Celestia closed her eyes and shook her head at the space where the pony had been. Twilight’s friends certainly occupied a unique place in Equestria: vital allies necessary for the country’s safety, but without the slightest sense of the position they occupied or the decorum it suggested. Rainbow Dash would never consider a terse secret meeting in a windowless room when she could fly in Celestia’s bedroom window. It was fascinating, really.   

Still comfortable on her pillows, Celestia allowed herself a few moments to consider the content of this strange confrontation. 

She could consider this a true threat if she wanted to. Rainbow Dash was a formidable pony: a member of the Wonderbolts, popular, capable of a sonic rainboom by herself, and with her friends… Celestia frowned gently. If she ever did aim for a coup, she had Twilight Sparkle to place on the throne. It wasn’t unimaginable. 

But it was absurd. Twilight respected Celestia too much to allow one of her friends to act against her. And even if Twilight were persuaded, or Rainbow acted without Twilight’s blessings, Celestia had magic, and a loyal military, and the love of the ponies of Equestria. Perhaps this was more reason to consider the griffon proposal…

Do you even have any friends? The blunt, scratchy voice echoed in the back of her head. She was nearly as surprised as she had been when the question was asked. 

Of course she had friends. Luna and Cadance and Twilight might be upset right now, but they could be made to see reason. Certainly nothing she had done was worth losing a friendship over, and some tea and contrition would soothe the hurt feelings. It might be more difficult if Cookie had warned them that she might do exactly this, but...

This was all Cookie’s fault. Celestia rose quickly to her hooves and paced away from the fire. She should have seen this danger in introducing him to Twilight; her friends were exactly the sorts of ponies he swayed easily with informal dialectics and rhetoric. It was his nature, his special talent. Now the whole situation would need to be managed. 

Celestia stopped as she reached the far wall. A large mirror in an ornate wooden frame hung before her, reflecting her face and the fire behind her in cold glass. 

The princess in the glass wore a thoughtful frown. She raised her head with an air of nobility and bore the weight of the crown upon it with grace. Her face was considered the standard of beauty throughout her kingdom. The pony she saw there was beloved by her subjects, and had dedicated her entire life to being worthy of that love.

Do you even have any friends?

The frown deepened until it seemed defensive. With this expression her face looked ancient and cold, like a marble statue. Only the fire behind her seemed alive, dancing merrily with the occasional unruly pop. The light reflected off her crown, making it appear warm and bright. 

But the crown wasn’t her face; it was merely an accessory. And princess was merely a title. And the leadership of Equestria was her profession, one she did well, but one which she could easily retire from, or be removed from by her ponies if she failed. While the pony beneath those things...

The eyes of the pony in the mirror narrowed skeptically. There was judgement there, and consideration of what use she might be put to in the future. If the pony before her required friends, some could be persuaded, and this time she would keep them apart from her role in the world. They could have tea and talk of the weather and never come close enough to see this expression. 

But Celestia could see it all too clearly in the mirror. The pony’s face softened and fell into a worried pleading as Celestia realized that she didn’t want to be this pony’s friend. In fact, she didn’t like this pony much at all. The desperation in her face broke her heart, all the more because she knew she was the only pony who could be trusted to see it now.

She cringed away, shaking her head. Friendship was Twilight’s role to play, and somepony else had to play the role of ruler of a nation. Maybe Cookie was right, and it was a cage, but he was wrong to think she could step out; if Equestria stood in the balance there was no escape from it, and only room in this cage for one pony. She had been born to this role, she had chosen it, and she could bear it. She would have to bear it, and if that required her to betray those closest to her she would have to bear it alone until the stars fell from the sky.

Celestia drew herself up to her full height. There was a meeting with the Captain of the Guard in half an hour, and there were reports to be read before that, and afterwards a formal dinner honoring the director of the Equestrian Mail Service. She would be busy for hours, until the sun went down. 

Carefully, she reconstructed the pleasant, serene expression of a princess in control of her kingdom and focused on her duties, and hurried out the door.   







It was rare that she got to see Cookie’s cheerful cottage in the daylight. The midsummer garden was crowded with vegetables, dots of ripening peppers and squash amidst the unruly tangle of green. The flower beds along the house added more splashes of color, calling to mind the rainbow falls the nearby town was named for. 

The sun was already on its descent; in a few hours Celestia would have to lower it and raise the moon, and the thought cast a shadow over what should have been a much needed break after a busy day of celebration. But she shook it off as she approached the door and opened it, peering in with a smile.

“Cookie?”

He was seated on the floor, using the coffee table as a writing desk, his floppy mane falling around his face. Pen still in mouth, he looked up and smiled, then motioned with a hoof as he made one more note before depositing the pen into the ink pot.

“It’s afternoon already?” he asked, rising to his hooves and crossing the room as she stepped inside to meet him.

Celestia grinned and nuzzled him. “It is, four o’clock. We have twelve whole hours before I’ll need to return.”

“To the kitchen, then.” He motioned and followed as she started in that direction. “I’ll fix supper quickly, and thankfully I was wise enough to do the baking before I started thinking.” 

“That is a blessing, indeed.” Celestia chuckled as she walked through the door into the bright, roomy kitchen that always smelled of delicious cakes and breads. 

Cookie stoked up the stove and put a pan on one burner and a kettle on another, then walked over to the pantry and stuck his head inside. He collected ingredients on a tray on his back and carried them to the counter. 

“The sun came up, so I take it everything went well yesterday?” He glanced at her, then focused on slicing the squash in front of him.

“Just fine,” Celestia said with a sigh, using her magic to open a cupboard and retrieve two mugs and the tea pot.

Cookie glanced up again as he started on the next vegetable. “What’s wrong, my dear?”

“Nothing. Everything is fine.” She shook her head and looked to the peaceful kettle, waiting for it to spring to life. “I’m just thinking about next year.”

“Yes. That.” Cookie frowned at the cutting board as he worked. “Have you decided what you’ll do?”

“The Summer Sun Celebration will be in Ponyville.” The kettle and kitchen fell away as Celestia's thoughts traveled to the little town, full of ponies who were completely unaware of its importance.

He nodded. “That’s the town near—on the edge of the Everfree Forest?”

“Yes. The farmers I gave the land to did discover the Zap Apples, and a pleasant little town has grown there. I’ll practically be in the shadow of the castle, the Elements will be close at hoof.” Celestia imagined that moment, as she had so many times.  “She’s blunt, she’ll attack me before anything else.”

“Then shouldn’t you retrieve them first?”

She looked over to where Cookie had paused in his preparations to stare at her with an eyebrow raised. She swallowed and nodded. “I should.”

“And we come to your fears.” He turned back to his work, carrying a plate of vegetables to the stove and depositing them in the hot pan. He added spices and a dash of oil with a loud hiss as the mouthwatering smells came together and filled the room. “Is there still no way to reform her?”

“The magic of the Elements should be able to banish the dark power that eats her, and then she could be dealt with; reasoned with, perhaps, or made to understand somehow…” Celestia trailed off, the rest of this path intentionally vague. There was no use daydreaming only to face the cruelty of reality.

“So is there a pony who could manage it?” Cookie said as he stirred the pan a few times. “Cadance, perhaps?”

“Twilight Sparkle,” Celestia said quickly. The kettle started to whistle and her magic floated it to where the tea pot stood ready. “I know she has the magic, I saw it when she got her cutie mark. When she learns to use it properly, her power will rival Star Swirl in his prime. If she could channel that through the Elements, I know she could unlock their full potential.”

“Have you asked her if she might be willing?” Cookie regarded Celestia as he returned to the cutting board, turning his attention to lettuce and other fixings for salad. 

“She can’t use them.” The smell of steeping tea tea wafted up, joining the smells of dinner cooking, so warm and comforting that she had to smile sadly as she added, “Someday, somepony will write a book that can teach the most brilliant ponies in the world about friendship, but it hasn’t been written yet.”

“If anypony demonstrates that, it’s your sister.” Cookie frowned down at a radish in thought. “Celestia… isn’t that concern enough in itself?”

Celestia gave a light shrug, floating a mug to Cookie. “She’s young. She has time to learn.”

He took a sip of tea and leaned against the counter. “Your sister aided you against that monster of chaos.”

“Ponies can join their powers and understanding through them, yes.” Celestia nodded, enjoying her own tea. 

Cookie raised his eyebrows and turned to slide a large wooden salad bowl from the cabinet. “So there you are. Offer to show Twilight how to join her magic to another with a better understanding of friendship.”

Celestia pursed her lips as her magic gathered dishes and napkins from their places, setting the small kitchen table. “I could face Nightmare Moon with her, but the Nightmare’s rage at me and suspicion of my plans might make her even more dangerous to both of us.”

Cookie turned to give the vegetables on the stove a stir, addressing Celestia over his shoulder. “If I may, my dear… you may not be the best pony for the duty.” He turned back and slid the salad bowl on his back, carrying it to the table. “If she’s to work with a pony who understands the qualities of friendship, isn’t it best that it be a pony she might befriend, so she can begin to learn them herself?”

“I am her friend,” Celestia said with just the tiniest pang of defensiveness.

Cookie smiled and brushed her body as he passed her. “Of course. And her mentor, and her sovereign, and her elder by millennia. I’m afraid it’s not a friendship for a beginner to learn from.”

She raised her eyebrows at him. “So you think I should find a pony among Twilight’s peers, and hope they have the qualities to use the Elements?”

“It would be your best hope of reforming Nightmare Moon, and might avoid another as well.” Cookie gave a shrug as he pulled the vegetables from the stove and poured them into a serving dish.

Celestia frowned and took her place at the table, helping herself to the salad. “It also risks two innocent lives and offering Equestria on a platter if Twilight should fail. I should do this myself.” She paused and looked at her plate. “Did you make rolls?”

“In the pantry.” Cookie nodded, carrying the serving dish to the table. He took his place across from her as she retrieved the rolls with her magic. “You don’t want to do this yourself.”

“I don’t, but it can’t be worth the risk.” Celestia shook her head as she added a roll and the vegetables to her plate.  

“There’s risk in any plan we make here,” Cookie pointed out as he served himself. 

“Yes,” Celestia answered, swallowing a bite of salad. “But it should be on my shoulders.” 

“And if you should fail?” he asked, barely glancing up from his food.

“I’ve considered that.” She nodded at him and said between bites, “You should go to Canterlot and contact Cadance and Shining Armor. He’s my captain of the guard. Tell them all you know and together you can devise a plan.” 

“And I can’t do this if it were Twilight who failed?” Cookie raised an eyebrow at her. 

“You would have fewer resources at your disposal.” Celestia shrugged and took a sip of tea.

He kept his eyes fixed on her as he pressed, “Resources we would already know weren’t sufficient.” 

“I simply can’t take this risk, Cookie.” She rolled her eyes, ignoring her plate for the moment. “It’s my duty to defend Equestria.”

He pursed his lips as they stared at each other for a moment, then his face softened as he stood and walked around the table to her, leaning his strong body against her and offering a nuzzle.

“Celestia, Equestria is nothing but an idea: that all ponies might work together to build a land where every pony can pursue their dreams. You are a pony. If you can’t pursue your dreams, there is no Equestria, and we have failed.”

“My dream is to keep Equestria safe,” Celestia said, returning the nuzzle. 

“Nothing more?” he whispered.

Celestia was silent a moment. Cookie felt so warm beside her, and the kitchen and food felt so much like a home; not a home she’d ever had, but one she’d dreamt of. One where she gathered ponies she loved in good cheer, with no more worries than whether a second roll would spoil her dessert. But it wasn’t the kitchen or Cookie... 

She turned to look at him, almost pleading, and said softly, “And to have my family around me.”

Cookie nodded and looked her in the eye. “Then set hoof on that path. And just as the farmer never knows what his planting will yield, and the explorer never knows what land she might find, we will see in the end where we are and where we must go next.” 

Celestia gave a light snort and turned back to her plate, looking down at it with no move to eat. “It might be hard to see the next path if Nightmare Moon has covered the land in eternal darkness.”

“Then we shall be a hundred million ponies together in the darkness.” Cookie gave a wave of his hoof as he returned to his side of the table. “With the stars to guide us, there must be one or two of us who might lead the way to the light.”

She hesitated with a thoughtful frown. “I suppose even if there is a risk, it might be outweighed by the benefit. With the Elements in the hooves of a pony like Twilight, and my sister’s mind and magic in service to Equestria, there would be nothing in the world we’d need to fear.”

“That much is certainly true,” Cookie said, returning his attention to his own dinner with gusto. 

“I’ll consider it,” she said, her mind suddenly full with the idea of a collection of mages and magics like the world had never known, prodded forward by memories of that warm dream.  

Cookie nodded and swallowed. “Don’t consider too long, you’ll want to prepare Twilight and help her find a friend to assist.” 

“Yes…” Celestia wondered how she might arrange such a thing; what could make Twilight value friendship as more than a frivolous novelty, without turning it into a set of directions to be carefully followed in hopes of the right reaction in the end. To avoid the former she would need a situation where she must depend on her friend and learn to trust her, but the latter suggested that under no circumstances could she know the importance of this lesson...

Cookie’s voice cut through her thoughts. “You’ll also want to eat your dinner before it grows cold.” 

She looked up to see him smirking at her, and she smiled back at him as she raised a roll to her mouth. “I think I must want too many things.”
> 21 - A Gift too Common for a Princess
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was late afternoon, but Celestia had already lowered the sun and now retired to her chambers. They were warm and bright, with a cozy fire and some festive blended tea awaiting her, but she flopped on her pillow with a frown, unable to gather the fortitude to appreciate it. 

Most years Celestia looked forward to these short days and long dark nights. The greatest gift of the season for her was always time; time for early evenings curled up in front of the fire, for parties and plays and concerts, for extended visits with--

She sighed and frowned at the book she’d been reading. This year the time seemed like a curse. Each evening stretched long and empty, and each book she picked up seemed shallow and bland. Tonight, the longest night, would be the worst. She knew that across the land ponies were gathered with friends and family to celebrate the miracle on which Equestria was built, while her company for the evening was flat pages full of flatter prose that she was determined to tolerate until the end, if only to see if the book was, perhaps, an elaborate joke. 

Eyeing the book, she prepared to face off against the author once more when there was a knock at her door. She breathed a sigh of relief and postponed the duel. “Come in.”

The door opened slowly and Luna stepped in, offering a nod. “Happy Hearth's Warming, Tia.”

“And to you,” Celestia said with one of the most genuine smiles she was capable of forcing. “Would you like some tea?”

Luna shook her head, remaining relaxed in the spot in front of the door. “I just wanted to let you know that I shall be out of the castle this evening. If I'm needed, you may send a message by way of Spike.”

Celestia frowned with a tilt of her head. “So you'll be with Twilight?”

“Yes.” Luna gave a nod. 

“Is this another secret meeting about me?” Celestia rolled her eyes and gave a toss of her head, but her gaze quickly returned to Luna for the answer. 

Luna raised her eyebrows. “No, it is a Hearth's Warming celebration. I should think that would hardly be suspicious on Hearth's Warming Eve.” 

“I was not invited,” Celestia said, doing her best to sound casual. 

Luna gave her a considering look. “It was arranged quite recently, once Twilight's friends learned the truth of who Cookie was. Obviously he will be there, Twilight may have thought it would be uncomfortable.”

Celestia raised her eyebrows at her sister. “So you call him Cookie now?”

Luna nodded, a smile warming her face for a moment. “We've reached an understanding, I think.” 

“I see.” Celestia turned to look at the fire to hide a pained expression. She had always hoped that Cookie and Luna might warm to each other, but now it just seemed to be destiny twisting the knife.

Luna's voice softened as she approached where Celestia sat. “Tia, you've been invited to dozens of celebrations around Canterlot. Cookie is in Ponyville and has few friends there outside of Twilight and her friends. Regardless what passed between you, I'm sure you wouldn't wish him to be alone on this night.”

“No.” She shook her head slowly, still watching the fire. “No, of course not. I hope you all have a lovely time.”

“I'm sure nopony would mind if you cared to come tonight, if you won't find it awkward,” Luna said, with a gentleness usually reserved for foals and the gravely ill. Her wing brushed Celestia’s back.

Celestia’s lips pursed, and she looked to Luna. “Even if Cookie weren’t there, do you really think I’d be welcome in light of what the two of you have been saying about me?”

Luna raised her eyebrows. “Nopony has spoken false of you.”

“That wasn’t what I asked.” Celestia sighed and looked back to the fire.

“It wasn’t.” Luna sighed. “You know Twilight Sparkle well, Tia. And you know her friends, and Cadance and Shining Armor, and Cookie. They may not be pleased with you, but none of them would turn you away.”   

Celestia shook her head firmly. “I couldn't impose.”

“Upon Twilight and Cookie, or upon your pride?”

Celestia looked up at her sharply, but Luna’s face gave her pause. Luna's expression was soft, and there was a hint of humor and empathy in her eyes that made the question less an accusation than a gentle reminder. It was their mother’s expression, which Celestia had tried to capture so many times. 

Luna let the silence slip by as Celestia gaped, then smiled and raised her eyebrows as she stepped away toward the door. “I'll let Twilight and Cookie know you may stop by.” As she got to the door she turned and said over her shoulder, “Happy holiday, sister.”

“Happy Hearth's Warming,” Celestia returned, watching as Luna continued on, and the door shut behind her.

The next hour ticked by slowly. Celestia tried to lose herself in her book and tea, but neither held her interest. She considered wandering the palace and visiting with the guards on duty, but she knew that a surprise visit from one's boss was rarely an appreciated Hearth's Warming gift. 

Her mind kept drifting to Luna, and to Twilight's castle, and the gathering of ponies she cared for. The gathering she hadn’t been invited to. 

It was for the best, really, she thought with a resigned sigh. No matter how much she cared for them, they had been poisoned by Luna and Cookie’s words, and now they all knew how little her affection was worth. Her presence would do nothing but chill the room with suspicion and anger, or provoke ponies to cause a scene. That would need to be mended eventually, for the sake of Equestria she would have to convince her fellow princesses to put their trust in her, but she could only accomplish so much in one night. 

Celestia frowned darkly at the fire as these thoughts crossed her mind once again, then she shook her head clear. She was being foolish. Luna was right, of course; Twilight would welcome her if she chose to come, and if anypony brought up her recent misjudgements Twilight would be sure to step in to avoid souring the event. Even Cookie would keep his mouth shut to avoid animosity while the snow fell and the hearthfire burned.

In fact… this would be the perfect time for an appearance. This could be a chance to remind ponies that she was as they remembered her, as they'd always known her, not some dark despot hiding away in her castle. She could get a sense of who might be easily soothed and who was most under Cookie's influence, and perhaps she could even glean the best way of broaching the subject when the time came for more delicate repairs; any defect in the walls they must have built against her alleged manipulations. She needed them to trust her eventually, she could lay the foundations of that tonight, when nopony would be allowed to argue against it.

And if the stars allowed it, she might even manage to have a word with Cookie, to remind him that she knew the games he played and that they would be futile in the end. She was and would always be Princess of Equestria.

The gold glow of her magic rang a bell to summon a footpony to make the arrangements, and she glared at the book next to her with a silent promise to vanquish it another day.


***


Snow was falling gently in Ponyville, and the streets nearby were quiet, with the occasional pony trotting cheerfully through the dark town laden with gifts or food. In front of Twilight’s castle Cookie stood in the light cast from the bright, warm windows of the building, looking up at the stars through the falling flakes.

Hoofsteps crunched behind him, but nopony spoke for a moment. Out of the corner of his eye he caught a glittering movement.  

“Have you ever felt small, Luna?” Cookie said, turning to look at her. “Insignificant? You were born a princess, from the very beginning your life mattered a great deal to ponies. Does that ward off the feeling that one is a flake of snow in the darkness?”

Luna arched an eyebrow. “I spent one thousand years alone on a rather large rock.”

“Touche,” Cookie said with a simple nod. 

She relaxed next to him and tilted her head in thought. “...but even there, I didn’t feel small the way you describe. The dark magics give one a grandiose view of oneself beyond all logic and reason. I thought I had been banished because I was too powerful, too dangerous. I was no mere princess, I was a queen, the very empress of my barren wasteland.” 

Cookie gave a snort. 

“The rocks didn’t care. Ungrateful knaves, every one of them.” She gave a small smirk that made him chuckle softly. Then she sighed as she went on, “But I do think I’ve felt what you describe, as a young mare. I was a princess, and tasked with governing a great kingdom. I studied… oh, how I studied. Books of law, tactics, logic, and history. I worked with Star Swirl on magics that would allow me to improve the lives of my ponies. I felt so sure I was doing everything right, so that I might be seen as a great Princess of Equestria… And then, I would take my place at the council table, prepared to govern my land, and my own council would bicker and jest and ignore me, yet somehow outstrip my knowledge at every turn.”

Cookie glanced at her and raised his eyebrows. “Your council was made up of ponies who’d been running governments and fighting wars since before you had your cutie mark.”

Luna raised hers back. “Yet I held the title of Princess, and I had since birth. And there, it seemed worthless.” She shook her head. “And truth be told, it was worthless. Had I been wiser, I would have acknowledged that and learned from watching all of you. That’s what she did. Instead I vowed that I would study harder until my books revealed the secret that would make me a princess.”

Cookie pursed his lips in a frown at the sky. “That ended poorly.”

“Yes.” Luna gave a short nod, then glanced at him. “I don’t place blame on you, Cookie. You contributed in small ways, but it was I who reacted with offense, anger, and pride.”

“I understand why you did.” He didn’t look at her, watching the snow against the dark sky that made it seem like the stars themselves were falling gently. “When one feels small, those make the warmest cloak and safest cover, and you feel that you need them desperately. Trusting that other ponies might care feels like asking if cold might not freeze you or the sun might not burn you.”

“And yet, many ponies do care.”

He glanced over at her. “Do they care enough to see beyond their own offense and anger and pride?”

“One can’t know without asking,” Luna said with a shrug. “Would you like to come inside? I’m afraid the cold out here is not a metaphor.”

He smiled at her. “Go warm yourself, I’ll be along in a few more moments.”

She gave him a distrustful look, then shook her head as she turned back to the castle. “Very well.”

Cookie stood there as he heard the hoofsteps retreat and the door to the castle close. Luna was right; it was quite cold here in a very real way, though it distracted him and calmed his nerves. But at some point before he lost feeling in his hooves a return to warmth and friendship was in order, and so he turned to follow her inside when he noticed a movement in the sky. 

He stood and watched as a chariot approached and landed on the street before him. Celestia stepped off, the light from the castle reflecting off her white coat in the darkness so it appeared to come from inside of her, while the warm rainbow of her mane and tail floated around her. 

She dismissed her guards and they flew off, then she turned to the castle without making note of him. 

“Happy Hearth’s Warming, Celestia,” he said softly, his voice carrying in the quiet of the night. 

Celestia paused and nodded, keeping her focus on the door in front of her. “And to you. Were you waiting for me?”

“No, just feeling the cold.” He approached her cautiously, unsure if he was welcome.   

She bit her lip and glanced at him with a hint of a glare. “Do you expect me to encourage you to come inside?”

Cookie looked at her for a moment, seeing all at once her cold beauty and the very equine pony under the mask and crown. He put on his own mask, a casual smile, and answered, “No, but I will anyway, making note that you had no opinion on the matter, for or against.” 

“Good.” She gave a nod as he fell in step next to her. For a moment she seemed to relax, but as quickly as he noticed she drew her head high. They walked in silence toward the castle. 


***


Inside Twilight’s castle, Celestia allowed a smile to warm her face as she stepped in front of Cookie to look around. The large front hall was lined with garland and decorations, and a large tree dominated the center, twinkling with lights and glass ornaments. On one side a large fireplace was lit and offering warmth to the room, and Twilight’s friends mingled with Luna, Cadance, and Shining Armor. 

Twilight looked up as Celestia entered the hall, and her eyes went wide. She didn’t bother with the space between, disappearing and reappearing at Celestia’s side in a flash of magenta. 

“Princess Celestia!” Twilight said with the same wide eyes and a nervous smile. “I’m so glad you could make it. I would have invited you, but…” She trailed off with an awkward shrug. 

Celestia smiled at Twilight. “I understand.”

The door shut behind them, and Twilight glanced back, then at Celestia with raised eyebrows. “Did you get him to come inside? Princess Luna tried twice. We were about to send Pinkie out.” 

She rolled her eyes. “Cookie has some strange traditions regarding Hearth’s Warming.” 

“I’m also stubborn as a mule.” Cookie chuckled. 

Celestia glanced at him with mild disapproval and opened her mouth to order him to the fire to warm himself, then closed it without a word.

Cookie was watching her, and his eyes followed hers to the fireplace then read her expression with a gentle smirk she remembered from ages ago. 

He offered a nod to Twilight. “If you’ll excuse me, it’s a bit chilly outside. I’ll be over by the fire.” 

Celestia gave a snort, watching him cross the room. She turned her attention to Twilight and raised her eyebrows. “I understand there was a meeting regarding me.”

Twilight had been holding steady with her labored and slightly manic smile, but it dropped instantly, replaced by sheer panic. Still, she managed to squeak out, “I-- you-- you heard about that? I mean, of course you heard about that. You probably keep track of that sort of thing, and you live with Princess Luna, and--”

“I’m not mad at you, Twilight.” Celestia offered her a gentle smile. “I’m concerned. If you felt uncomfortable with my rule, you should have brought your concerns to me. We could have talked about them.”

“Yeah, well…” Twilight swallowed and shifted uncomfortably. “I mean, of course. Sure. It’s just…”

“Maybe Twilight should talk to you sometime, Auntie,” Cadance said sharply from Celestia’s other side. “And maybe you should listen.”

Celestia turned, letting the smile fall to a concerned expression that met Cadance’s disapproving frown. “I always try to listen. Your thoughts are very important to me.” 

Cadance held her glare. “Of course. How else would you be able to use them to get what you want?”

Celestia calculated a moment, then cast her eyes down. “I know you’re hurt, but I assure you I was only trying to arrange the best outcome for everypony.”

Cadance took a step towards her. “I am hurt, and I hope next time you’ll leave me and my family out of your arrangements. And that includes Twilight.” 

“Cadance!” Twilight squeaked, inserting herself between the other alicorns, looking at Cadance with a motion of her head. “I think I hear Applejack calling you from the kitchen. She probably needs, um… sugar.”

Celestia looked over Twilight at Cadance, studying her. Cadance stood her ground; clearly mending things there would take some serious consideration.

Twilight bit her lip and put a hoof on Cadance’s shoulder, almost pleading, “You really should go help Applejack.”

With a glance at Twilight, Cadance’s expression softened. “Okay, Twily. I’m going.”

She turned and walked off with one last glare over her shoulder at Celestia.  

“I’m sorry, Princess,” Twilight said gently, turning back to Celestia. “I know you never wanted to hurt anypony.”

“I’m sure I’ll find a way to mend things with Cadance,” Celestia said with a firm smile. 

“I know,” Twilight nodded, then glanced around the room. “But, um, for now you should probably steer clear of Shining, too. And Rainbow. And Fluttershy, at least when Rainbow might see you. And I think Applejack will be polite, but…” An uncertain look crossed her face, then she grinned wildly and a magenta glow hauled Rarity over to them. “Oh, look, it’s Rarity! Rarity, didn’t you have something long and involved to talk to Princess Celestia about?”

Rarity blinked, looking from Twilight to Celestia as the pieces fell into place. “I, well, I suppose--”

Celestia knew she faced an uphill battle in this room, but she rolled her eyes with a smile. “Twilight, I’ll be fine if you’ll allow me to leave this drafty doorway.”

Twilight blinked. Then she swallowed, looking around the room, before answering Celestia with a nod. “Right! Of course! Enjoy yourself…”


***


Cookie studied the fire. Since only one picturesque log burned on the grate, he had to assume that the fire and the warmth it cast were the result of Twilight’s magic. He wasn’t sure why she considered this necessary -- it certainly wouldn’t have been difficult to light a less attractive real fire, and the decorations in the room provided more than enough to look at -- but it did make a nice touch.  

He had been standing there a bit longer than necessary when somepony joined him. Looking over he felt a jolt of hope as he saw Celestia. It was one thing for her to make an appearance at the party, there might be many reasons for that, from public relations to simply not wanting to be alone, but it had to be a good sign that she wasn’t avoiding him. 

He smiled and tilted his head. “You know, I’m not fond of castles, and one can’t help but notice the magic that created this one had a unique aesthetic… but I find it warmer than many cottages.”  

She didn’t look at him, answering the fire instead. “It is special. I understand you’ve been making use of it to offer council.” 

“Mostly to receive it.” Cookie gave a sigh. “One doesn’t need to be a princess to question one’s path and look to the wisdom of others.”

Celestia pursed her lips and glanced at him, muttering in a harsh whisper, “I’m not sure how painting me as a tyrant might show you your path.”

“I’ve never claimed you were a tyrant, nor anything but a pony dedicated to protecting Equestria and her ponies.” He frowned at her. “You know me, Celestia. I may not agree with your actions, but it’s neither my nature nor my desire to defame you.” 

She closed her eyes and shook her head. “No, it’s your nature to work against me. I am a princess, after all.”

He turned his frown towards the fire and stared at it for a moment before speaking softly, “I’ve been thinking about this quite a lot--”

“That doesn’t surprise me. This is the most interesting thing you’ve done in centuries.” She glanced at him with a dry annoyance.

Cookie looked over and blinked at her, his heart falling. “I beg your pardon?”

She glanced around at the other ponies keeping their distance, engaged in their own conversations, then made her face even as she spoke, “I know you’re relishing this. The chance to play Smart Cookie, the firebrand, the common pony hero, ever eager to stand up to the stuffy oppression of authority. And I’m sure your recent thoughts will offer incontrovertible proof that I am a danger to free and innocent ponies everywhere.”  

He stared at her with his mouth set in a grim line as she raised her eyebrows and went on, “But as always, it will be strangely vague on what might replace me. A better princess, who will face the same challenges and end the same way? A democracy, with its power hungry politicians appealing to the base desires of ponies? A council for you to argue with eternally with no hope of reaching a decision?”

The fire crackled in front of them, and around them in the room the voices of ponies murmured. 

Celestia shook her head, answering herself, “No. Of course not. I cannot live up to your ideals, Cookie, but that’s no fault of mine. Nothing could live up to your ideals. You work against me because I exist, and for no other reason.” 

Cookie swallowed. He wanted to say something in his defence, but his objections were small in the face of the truth and even smaller before the feeling toward him that must have driven her to voice it. 

Eventually he spoke quietly, “You’re right. I had hoped we might have a princess who displayed honor, integrity, and compassion, and I know that as a pony you have these qualities in abundance. But perhaps it is impossible to ask them of a pony who must lead a nation. I have no intention of working against you, and I’m sorry if I have in the past.”  

She turned to him with raised eyebrows, but said nothing. 

Cookie closed his eyes and drew a breath for strength as he went on, “I told you, I’ve been thinking. I intended to offer my conclusions to you tomorrow, as a kind of Hearth’s Warming gift, unless you’d like to hear them this evening.”

She answered with a snort. “Another philosophical treatise. Just what I’ve always wanted.” 

“I made you honey cakes as well,” he said, studying her face.

“That sounds far more appetizing,” she said, quirking an eyebrow.  

Cookie hazarded a smirk at her. “You haven’t heard my latest philosophy.” 

Her face was too cool as she answered him, and frost tinged her voice. “Then you could just give me the honey cakes and I’ll be doubly blessed.” 

Cookie’s face fell, and sadness and worry haunted his eyes. He swallowed and nodded, then turned and walked away. Without looking back, he said, “If that’s what you wish, they’re in a box in the kitchen. You can take them when you leave, and I’ll trouble you no more.” 


***


Celestia glanced around the room at the knots of ponies; they had shifted since she last noted them, Fluttershy now sweetly rocking Flurry as Cadance spoke to Luna, Rarity, and Spike. Pinkie had joined Applejack and Twilight near a table where trays of sweets and pastries now sat. Cookie had joined Rainbow Dash and Shining Armor, and they were arguing comfortably. Sports, unless she missed her guess.

None of the conversations seemed to her liking. Cadance and Cookie were best avoided for the evening, but if any pony there had noticed the tone of her conversation with Cookie earlier it was Twilight, and joining her might be awkward even as mentioning it would be carefully avoided. 

Biting her lip, she realized her calculations left her no place she might be comfortable. But at least the path towards Twilight offered food.

“...I know, Pinkie, I’m just sayin’ I don’t think everypony needs to wear matchin’ jingle bell hats for the pictures tomorrow,” Applejack said to her friend as Celestia neared them.

“Maybe they could be optional?” Twilight suggested.

“Oh, the jingle bells are totally optional.” Pinkie nodded, then grinned. “I got another kind with glitter all over them for everypony else!”

“Pinkie…” Twilight started, but she was interrupted by a nudge from Applejack. 

“Howdy, Princess,” Applejack said without her usual cheer, watching Celestia cautiously.

Celestia nodded to the three ponies. “Hello. Don’t let me interrupt.”

Twilight glanced across the room towards Cookie, then offered Celestia a hesitant smile. “We were just talking about tomorrow. Pinkie’s family is spending Hearth’s Warming with Applejack’s family.” 

“That sounds lovely.” Celestia offered them a smile.

“It is!” Pinkie said with a hop. “Tomorrow is gonna be so much fun they won’t even notice how few rocks there are.” 

“Limestone only mentioned it three times so far,” Applejack said with a flat expression.

Pinkie pointed a hoof at Applejack. “Which is exactly why we need the matching hats!”

Applejack’s expression didn’t change, save a raised eyebrow. “I'm havin’ a real hard time imaginin’ how that's gonna help Limestone.”

“Would you like something to eat, Princess?” Twilight motioned to the table. “Applejack and Pinkie and um, other ponies have been baking all day!”

“It looks delicious. I don’t mind if I do.” Celestia said, using her magic to fill a small plate with cookies and cakes.

As Twilight tried to broker the negotiations between Applejack and Pinkie over novelty hats and photography, Celestia sampled the sweets. They were all delicious — she thought she had identified her favorite in a spicy chocolate cookie that must have been the creation of Pinkie Pie — until she took a bite of an unadorned slice of gingerbread.

It was thick and bready but somehow still as moist and sweet as cake, with a dark taste that balanced ginger a bit sharper than usual. She recognized it instantly, her mind flooding with the smell of it baking in a warm, bright kitchen, a cup of tea in front of her and Cookie across the table, smiling with that light in his eyes.

She glanced over at him, though he paid her no mind, and swallowed it with a knot in her throat. What remained on the plate she regarded with trepidation, but she couldn’t resist it. Each bite brought the same taste and smells and memories, and once she was finished it was all she could do not to fill her entire plate with what was sitting on the table. 

Calling in reserves of will, she resolved not to look at the table or Cookie. The ponies at her side had reached some conclusion regarding the hats and were on another subject entirely, while Spike now held a pad of paper on which Rarity sketched something that Cadance and Luna seemed fascinated by. But neither conversation drew Celestia’s attention enough to distract her from the gingerbread.

What did draw her eye again and again, until she allowed herself to fully consider it, was Fluttershy standing apart from the other ponies, rocking the sleeping alicorn foal and humming softly with a sweet smile on her face. 

It was one of the millions of tiny perfections the world revealed each day. Fluttershy’s gentleness seemed to radiate from her, while Flurry looked delicate and serene in the way only sleeping foals could. Celestia didn’t dare move closer; no word or presence could add to the scene.

She wondered if Fluttershy wished for foals of her own someday, or if this was simply a reflection of the care she lavished on her animals. She wondered if things could be mended between them so that she would be invited to visit if Fluttershy did decide to start a family. She wondered if a pony that gentle could be anywhere near as angry at her at Rainbow Dash was on her behalf.

Celestia pursed her lips. From what she knew of Fluttershy, she probably wasn’t angry at all, and a few kind words would not only be the end of the situation, but encourage her to soothe any hard feelings her friends might have. It was the very reason Fluttershy was key in reforming Discord. Fluttershy was a useful pony.

As soon as the thought crossed her mind, Celestia turned away from the scene with a deep frown, ruffling her feathers. Without a glance her magic lifted a piece of gingerbread from the table, but before she could take a bite she looked around the rest of the room. 

Everything was warm and peaceful, the ponies she cared for most laughing and talking without a care in the world. Yet she could look at each one and easily tell if they might be a tool or a threat, and she knew that if Equestria were in the balance she could treat them that way. It was the only reason she had come tonight. This was her cage, and it was always with her.

She considered turning to leave. It would be best. If she had any desire to display the honor, integrity, and compassion Cookie believed in, this was the only way.

Then Cookie glanced in her direction, and they locked eyes for a moment. She felt her cheeks burn, as if he could read her thoughts. 

...and she remembered that he left her honey cakes in the kitchen. Cakes she wanted desperately now, after the reminder of the gingerbread. Even if there were no more dreams, there might be memories for cold, lonely nights.

But if it was honor she wished to display, she knew she would have to accept both of his gifts together. She only hoped the comfort of the memories would outweigh the pain of whatever truth was in his philosophy.  


***


Cookie had been only half listening to Rainbow Dash and Shining Armor discussing plans for what they called Extreme Ice Archery, a sport that Cookie suspected many ponies would be interested in playing but no pony in their right mind would be willing to host. The other half of his mind was an endless loop of the conversations he’d had with Celestia this evening, each word and tone of voice and gesture being scrutinized and coming to the same analysis: it was hopeless. 

By now he wasn’t sure why he’d thought otherwise. He’d seen her true estimation of him before, during their argument and the aftermath. His words meant nothing to her; they were simply an annoyance to be tolerated in return for a warm home and baking. To expect them to warm her heart or change her mind was simply wishful thinking, a fantasy of power encouraged by his place among extraordinary ponies. 

He glanced at Twilight, but she stood near the table of baked goods, too near where Celestia was looking at Fluttershy rocking the small alicorn princess. Besides, it wouldn’t do to trouble her with his change of heart tonight; nothing might be done until after the holiday in any case. 

With a sigh, he returned his focus to Shining Armor, trying to wrap his head around how, and more importantly why, somepony might compete at archery while sliding down an inclined sheet of ice.

Cookie didn’t hear her approach, instead noticing Rainbow’s eyes narrow at something over his shoulder. 

“Hey there, Princess Celestia.”

His heart beat faster, and his mind raced to find a pretense to excuse himself quickly. 

“Good evening Rainbow, Shining Armor. I hope you’ll excuse the interruption, I needed to borrow Cookie for a moment.”

Cookie grimaced, then he remembered how Celestia had glanced around during their last conversation. It seemed she was trying to keep up appearances. He set his jaw as he turned around to face her, then spoke clearly enough to be heard around the room. “I’d rather not be borrowed, thank you. But if you need to speak with me, we can speak here.”

Celestia frowned and glanced around. There was a tension in her face and worry in her eyes, but no malice that he could detect. 

She gave a nod then raised her head and looked him in the eye. “Very well, what is it?”

Cookie tilted his head. “What is what?” 

She gave an impatient sigh. “Your philosophy. I suppose I should apologize to the ponies present, I’m sure they’ve heard of nothing else for weeks, but I’m curious.”

Cookie raised his eyebrows with a frown. “Actually, I’ve not told them. I wanted to run it by you, first, as it concerns your place in Equestria… as well as my own.” 

That gave her pause, and a shadow of fear showed on her face for an instant before being replaced by a stony mask. “Is it personal?”

The ponies around the room were watching them now. Twilight, Applejack, and Pinkie had moved a few steps closer to them, and Cadance walked up beside Shining Armor, joined by Rarity, Spike, and Luna. Even Fluttershy had moved closer, still holding the sleeping foal and hanging well back from the crowd.

Cookie looked at them, then back to Celestia. “Very. But not private, I think.”

Celestia drew herself up. “Then I should like to hear it.” 

Looking up at her hard face, Cookie remembered his decision earlier. There was no point to it now. He shook his head. “I'm not sure I'm prepared.”

“But you will be by tomorrow?” She raised an eyebrow. 

“I'm not sure anymore.” He frowned sharply and looked away from her. “Perhaps it needs to be reconsidered.”

Celestia looked at him with a confused frown. “I've heard all of your philosophies, in every state of consideration. I'm sure it's thoughtful, if not air-tight.” 

Cookie sighed and shook his head. 

“It can't be worse than when you proposed that city where the whole government was selected at random,” she noted evenly, the tension melting from her countenance. She shook her head at the memory. “I honestly thought you might have been possessed by chaos magic.”

He glanced at her, studying her face. “It was a thought experiment.”

She nodded, seeming more relaxed than she had in his presence in months. “It was a ridiculous one, and I told you so, but I never thought that reflected badly on you. As I said at the time, a pony needs to have many ridiculous ideas to have a remarkable one.”

Cookie swallowed and steeled himself with a nod. “Very well… if Twilight doesn't mind an impromptu lecture on an untested theory of the powers of Equestria at her holiday party.”

Shining Armor snorted in amusement. “That's Twily's favorite party game.”

Twilight shot her brother a wry glare, then smiled at Cookie and nodded. “Go ahead.” 

The ponies gathered around now, and Cookie willed his nerves steady. What he had to say to Celestia was well rehearsed, though he hadn’t expected an audience. Still, they were friends, and he knew this gathering would respect what he had to say on this subject. 

Whether Celestia might was another matter, and one that forced him to think a prayer to the stars for strength.  

Cookie’s mouth felt dry as he turned to look at her, as beautiful as she had always been, with her mane wafting gently around her and the gold crown of Equestria on her head. “Celestia. You are a brilliant pony, in every sense of the word.” 

She raised her eyebrows in surprise. “A promising start.”

“The Summer Sun Celebration is your holiday,” he went on. “It’s a demonstration of your power and might, and the ability that gives you to shine light across the world. Luna and Twilight stand by your side, living symbols of the quiet and careful planning and tactical maneuvering that secures that power for you and for Equestria. There is no accident in the Summer Sun Celebration, and if parts go unseen by most, they were overseen by you as you arranged, studied, and guided so that they might happen at the right time, to the benefit of all ponies.” 

He paused and offered her a nod of respect. “Allow me to be the first to say that this is an achievement entirely worthy of the glory and affection your ponies offer you. And I hope that nopony, least of all myself, forgets that we have been blessed to live in the light and peace you work so tirelessly to ensure.”

The ponies around them murmured hesitant agreement. Celestia eyed him with nervous suspicion, but returned his nod with good grace. 

“I have no place at the Summer Sun Celebration. In fact, my own holiday falls opposite, on the darkest days of the year, darker even than Nightmare Night.” He frowned, looking around, not at the ponies but at the room itself with its cheerful holiday decorations. Setting his mouth in a firm line, he gave a nod to nopony in particular. “And that is right. For even as it celebrates the founding of Equestria, and the love and friendship that gave birth to it, it commemorates the crumbling of three glorious nations, the most powerful in the world at the time, and the near extinction of the pony race.” 

Cookie looked to Celestia, then Luna. “You both remember those old cities. Noble Monoceros, home of cunning Princesses and Princes and powerful mages, with castles and magic that rivaled your own today. Thriving, bustling Girthshire, with its ships and caravans laden with food and goods, and talented guilds that produced our bounty. Mighty Hippocampus, with a brave military force and precise organization never surpassed, nor likely to be in the future. Each of them populated by ponies secure in their safety and prosperity, led by rulers who were equally secure in their rule...”

He frowned, and his voice grew quiet. “And today they are dust. Barren wasteland, tainted by the powers that brought them crashing around our hooves.” 

Luna bowed her head, and Celestia nodded solemnly. Looking to the other ponies, Cookie saw the serious unease of ponies who found themselves at a funeral for a distant acquaintance. 

Cookie drew a breath and went on, “Those powers came not from outside, not from a power wielded by a greater nation or being. The windigos were but flies, drawn to the rot that had set in, spreading disease to speed the death of a weakened body. There was no monster or villain who deserves the blame…” He paused and looked around at the other ponies in the room. “None except for me, and every other pony who failed to notice that rot… the distrust, disdain, callousness, and suspicion that grew between fellow ponies.”

He turned to Twilight, finding that her friends had gravitated around her, and raised his eyebrows at them. “As one of those villains, among the most successful in history, I have determined what it takes to destroy a kingdom: It takes ponies looking to care for those they love, to protect their wellbeing, and to defend their own honor. It takes pride and loyalty and bravery.” 

“And, above all, it takes the belief that others with different lands, love, and honor are stubborn, or misguided, or foolish,” Cookie said with a glance first at Celestia, then the rest of the gathered ponies. “Even if you never lift a spear against them, the thoughts spring easily to mind and the words begin to slip off the tongue. First it’s ignorant, conniving, bullheaded. Then stick head, feather brain, mud pony. Your shoulder turns cold towards their misfortune, which they clearly brought upon themselves, and suspicious towards their successes, which must be at your expense. Friendship is swept away. And you never notice; after all, your land and loved ones are safe, and your honor intact.” 

With a pause, he turned back to Celestia. “And thus the most powerful ponies in the world, the rulers of great nations, froze to death in a dark cave, their nations buried under ice, their magic and spears and treaties useless.”

Celestia gave a hesitant nod. Her face was set in a firm frown, but her eyes darted over the faces of the other ponies there. Cookie realized that this room held the defenses she’d built against such things, and it was obvious that she noticed how they’d cracked and weakened recently. 

Cookie waited until her eyes landed on him before he went on more gently, “And we have Hearth’s Warming. Hearth’s Warming is my day to protect Equestria, though not alone-- never alone. The power we celebrate today comes from each pony in Equestria in their own small ways, and is honored by those who share a fireplace or kitchen or a place in one another’s lives.”

Celestia watched him with nothing but interest, but Cookie found it impossible to hold steady before her. He cast his eyes down and shook his head. “It was no accident that Clover and Pansy and I found it. Left untouched by the glories of our kingdoms, without the strength to wield weapons, with minds ill-suited to the manipulation of other ponies, we found it because we had no other powers to reach for. Our only powers were trust, respect, understanding, consideration, empathy, and compassion. And from those powers, we drew life, and unity, and Equestria.” 

He hazarded a glance at the other ponies, finding Twilight’s encouraging smile. He raised his head and went on. “Those are the powers we celebrate each year, not because they are awe inspiring and impressive, but because they aren’t. They are common and ordinary, things every pony possesses... and they are too easily forgotten or cast aside in the name of greater things… in the name of protecting one’s land, and loved ones, and defending one’s honor. And when that happens, a society rots and falls to darkness without a spell cast or a drop of blood spilled or a treaty broken.” 

Cookie took a deep breath, gathering his strength, and looked to Celestia. She still stood proud, her even mask upon her face, watching him. But she seemed smaller somehow; she was a pony, no more and no less. 

“So I propose to you this, Celestia: The sun must be guided, and there is glory in that, and it casts its light on all ponies. The hearth must be tended, quietly, for the ponies we see each day. But both are needed to light the darkness and keep away the cold.” 

She swallowed and looked around the room with worry in her eyes, then she looked to him and nodded. “You make a good argument. One cannot ignore the lessons of history.”

Cookie nodded as well, feeling hope light in his heart for the first time that night, fighting back against the cold certainty of rejection. “In that spirit, I offer you a Hearth’s Warming gift, one far too humble and common for a princess. The one I offered Clover and Pansy in a cold, dark cave, and was given in return.”

Looking into her rose eyes, Cookie found a desperate pleading and the beginnings of tears. The mask of the princess had fallen away and those same emotions were plain on her face. Cookie could feel his own tears welling as a strange mixture of sympathy and love and certainty filled him, and he went on quickly and easily, 

“I offer you trust in your desire to do good and to see the same in ponies around you. I offer you respect as a fellow pony, with talents and accomplishments deserving of it. I offer you understanding and consideration of your own thoughts and feelings, and compassion and sympathy for the burdens you bear and the missteps you make. 

“I offer a sincere apology for any time I’ve withheld these from you. I know that I have too often of late. And I offer my deepest hope that my gift helps warm your hearth on these dark nights, and keeps the rot at bay before it ever touches your beautiful heart.”

Cookie couldn’t resist reaching a hoof to touch her there, on her chest just below the hard, cold golden neck piece.  

Celestia’s wings ruffled at the touch, but her eyes never left his as she whispered, “Oh, Cookie… You mean this? All of it?”

He nodded. “With all my heart, Celestia. This is the only power I know of that can bridge a gap as wide as the one that’s grown between us.” 

“I’ll do my best to always be worthy of it, even if I do sometimes falter… and I know I have.” She looked down, cringing. Then she looked up at him and the ponies gathered around them, her eyes full of tears. “I know I’ve treated you badly, all of you. I came here tonight to try to soothe the bad feelings so that you all might forget that, so that you all might think of me as you did before…” She swallowed and shook her head. “But that isn’t what I want.” 

Twilight tilted her head and asked gently, “What do you want, Princess?”

Celestia blinked at Twilight, then she scanned the faces of the other ponies again, as if searching for an answer. Finally her eyes landed on Cookie, and she nodded firmly then turned back to Twilight with determination. “I just want to apologize. I’m sorry, Twilight. I should have told you… I should have told you so many things over the years. You’re much smarter than I am, and you deserve all the information I can give you. And Fluttershy… you’ve done so much for Equestria in your life, I had no right to take for granted that you'd offer more, let alone for eternity.”

Fluttershy's eyes were wide, and she cradled Flurry before her as if she was trying to hide behind the baby, suddenly finding herself the center of attention. But looking into Celestia's eyes for a moment, she nodded and said softly, “I forgive you, Princess.”

Celestia offered her a nod of thanks with a deep frown. “I know you do, and that makes what I did all the worse.” Shaking her head, she turned to the next pony. “Cadance, you’re wise not to trust me, and I’m sure you still suspect me of manipulation. And there’s no way I can disprove that, and it breaks my heart. But perhaps over time you could come to trust me again, and I will never again give you reason not to.”

Cadance stood proud, but a satisfied smile played on her lips. “I believe you, Auntie Celestia.” 

“Thank you.” Celestia looked to her sister next to Cadance, and crossed the space to look her in the eye and lay a hoof on her shoulder. “Luna... Sister, every word you spoke was truth. I have been a fool, and you were wise to see it and make yourself heard, no matter how little I wanted to hear.” She turned her head and smiled fondly at Rainbow Dash. “And you as well, Rainbow Dash. Every princess should be so lucky as to have a subject as fearless and honorable as you.“

Twilight shot Rainbow Dash a look out of the corner of her eye. “You talked to Princess Celestia after we specifically decided Cookie would handle it?”

“I was being fearless and honorable,” Rainbow said with a grin and a toss of her mane. 

Spike rolled his eyes. "We're gonna be hearing about that one for a while."

Luna smiled at them, then looked back to Celestia with the same fond smile. “You’ve forgiven me far more. Let us put it in the past.”

“No.” Celestia shook her head firmly. She looked around at the confused faces of the ponies. “Oh, I want to move forward, but… remember what I did, how I acted. All of you. Everypony here has proven themselves wise and honorable and loyal to Equestria, so I want each of you to remember my untrustworthiness and foolishness and know that I am not always good, or wise, or honorable myself.” 

Twilight smiled at her. “We know. But you’re still our friend.”

Applejack gave a soft chuckle. “Besides, I dunno that we’re always good and honorable and wise, either.” 

Cookie smirked at a memory. “I was told once that we only need to manage it often enough to deserve one another.” 

Celestia looked over her shoulder at him with a smile. “I’ll try my best to do that…” 

“Princess…” Fluttershy spoke, looking at her with concern.  “When you did… um… those things. Did you really think you needed to, to protect Equestria from Discord?”

“Not right now, of course. You know Discord better than anypony, and I trust your judgement. And I should trust it as to the future...” A pained expression grew on her face. “But I-- I can’t stand the thought of watching Equestria fall. It’s my duty to Equestria and my ponies, to Cookie and the other founders, to my mother and father and Star Swirl.”

“You have a mother?” Rainbow Dash asked, her muzzle wrinkled in confusion. 

“Princess Astra,” Luna said, nodding. “She was the alicorn of fate magic. She understood destiny; she could tell a foal’s cutie mark from birth, she had the gift of prophecy, and she always knew what must be done.”

"She fell in battle when we were young. I had only had my cutie mark a year when she died and left her kingdom in my hooves. Then we were offered the crowns of Equestria not long after." Celestia sighed, her eyes downcast. "I never knew what to do. Not like Mother. Sometimes it seems I never will.”

Most of the gathered ponies were looking at her with pity or concern, except for Pinkie Pie, who simply tilted her head in confusion. “Why should you?”

Celestia turned to look at Pinkie with raised eyebrows. “Because it is my duty.”

“I thought your duty was to protect Equestria?” Pinkie asked with the same expression. 

Celestia nodded. “It is.”

Pinkie smiled and shook her head. “That’s not the same as knowing what to do, silly.”

“Pinkie!” Rarity hissed. “You cannot call Princess Celestia ‘silly.’”

“Oh, sorry! Your Silly Highness.”

Rarity placed a hoof over her eyes. “I’m... not sure that’s better.” 

Celestia tried to stifle a giggle without much success. It brought a smile to Cookie’s face, and he gave her a nudge. 

“She’s right, you know.” 

“That I’m silly?” Celestia raised an eyebrow at him with a smirk. 

He nodded firmly. “Yes, and that protecting Equestria rarely seems to have anything to do with knowing how to protect Equestria.” 

“Yeah, we do it all the time without knowing how,” Rainbow offered. “Usually Twilight saves us from something and then rainbow lasers shoot everywhere.”

Twilight smiled and shook her head. “No pony is saying you shouldn’t try to protect Equestria, Princess. Just that maybe if you don’t know how, it’s okay. Other ponies might have ideas, or find other ways.” 

Celestia nodded. “That’s easily said, but I never intended to push other ponies away. I never intended to hurt anypony, it just seemed to be the safest course at the time.” Her face fell to a frown and she went on softly, looking to Cookie with worried eyes. “I-- I don’t know how I can stop.”

“Tellin’ ponies this is a good start,” Applejack pointed out. “We know to keep an eye on ya’ while you figure it out.”

“I suppose I do need that.” Celestia sighed. “I’m sorry.”

Luna walked over and positioned herself on Celestia’s other side. “There’s far more wisdom in allowing other ponies to deter your worst impulses than to battle them alone.” 

Cookie frowned in thought for a moment, looking from Celestia to the other ponies gathered. Finally he looked over at Luna and nodded. “An excellent point, Luna. Ladies, allow me to make a proposal--”

“Ain’t it a bit soon for that?” Applejack asked uncertainly. 

Cookie blinked at her, then looked to Celestia at his side, feeling his cheeks warm. “I-- um-- not that kind of proposal.” He gathered himself and went on, “More of a policy proposal. Celestia, Luna, I would recommend that once a month, you make a regular visit here, if it’s agreeable to Twilight, so that Twilight and her friends might serve as your council. I think it will be far harder to manipulate six very different minds who all know they have reason to be wary, and far easier to be honest about your concerns among ponies who know your fears and will offer sympathy and compassion.” 

Celestia smiled at him. “I think that’s a wonderful idea.”

“As do I, on one condition.” Luna looked over to him. “Cookie, I ask that you would join us as well.”

Cookie nodded with a grin. “I think that could be arranged. It’s been far too long since my mettle was truly tested.” 

Twilight smirked at him. “So I guess this means you’re not removing yourself from the board?”

“I suppose not.” Cookie chuckled. “At least now I have my choice between three intelligent and wise leaders to offer my service to.” 

The smirk faded to a knowing smile as she studied him, then she raised an eyebrow. “You don’t need to offer service to anypony, but you are immortal, and you do have responsibilities. You owe it to Equestria to take them seriously.”

Cookie raised his eyebrows in mild surprise. “I’m always happy to offer counsel. But if you want more than that, I assure you, whatever you’re thinking, I could only possibly make a mess of it.”

Twilight gave a shrug. “Well you’ve done it pretty well for two thousand years and you only messed up once, so I think you can handle it.” Her face fell to a serious line and she looked him in the eye. “Cookie, it’s your responsibility to bake for us.” 

He stared at her in confusion, and while there was a hint of humor in her eyes, she appeared completely serious. He looked around and his eye was drawn to Celestia’s satisfied smile, and Luna nodding in agreement. 

“I have seen you be many things to my sister, and I have not always been pleased with that. Yet even at my most peevish, when I would look for ponies who might better suit her, that was the one place you held that I could find no other qualified for.” 

“There are other bakers in the world,” Cookie protested, motioning with a hoof. “In this room, in fact.”

Luna raised her eyebrows. “None that remember the tastes and smells of our youth, and the recipes and techniques to produce them. None that serve her tea in mismatched mugs and plates, and leave her to help herself. In short, none who bake for Celestia.” 

Pinkie rolled her eyes. “I tried to tell him that.” 

Cadance smiled at Cookie. “For each of us, there’s bound to come a time when we find ourselves lost. It’s important that we all know there’s a pony who doesn’t care that we’re immortal, or princesses, or have powerful magic. A pony with a warm hearth and bread and a sympathetic ear even when we’re at our lowest.” 

He felt Celestia’s warm wing brush his side, and she added softly, “A place where we can cry.”

Cookie swallowed and looked between the alicorns, then drew himself up with a firm nod. “Very well. You have my word that my door shall always be open to each of you, and I’ll do my best to never again forget to offer the gifts of Hearth’s Warming to the ponies who need them most, and often receive them least.”

“Um, excuse me,” Fluttershy said softly, “but… does that go for Discord too?”

Cookie frowned and opened his mouth to refuse, but stopped short as he caught sight of the worry in her large blue eyes. He sighed, considering for a moment that this small mare might in fact be the most powerful creature he’d ever met. “Yes. I suppose we all have our burdens to bear. Though I get the impression my very existence annoys him.”

He felt Celestia nudge his side and looked up to see a smirk on her face. “We all have our talents as well.”


***


After Cookie’s presentation and the aftermath, the party lasted long into the night in good fellowship and cheer. None enjoyed it more than Celestia, who savored each conversation and the wonderful qualities of the ponies present as if she’d been starved and suddenly found a feast. She discussed Twilight’s friend’s amusing and exciting lives, took a moment to make clear to Twilight and Cadance and Luna how she loved and respected them, and fell into easy reparte with Cookie that felt more comfortable than drawing breath, all while enjoying plates of the delicious baked goods to her heart’s content. 

Through it all, she was well aware she had neglected an apology. Cookie never said a word, nor paused for a moment in his interactions with her. She considered that he might not have noticed, but thought it was more likely that he knew her too well: that the apology she owed him was deeper than any single misstep, and there were too many courses that discussion might take. Whatever his faults, Cookie respected allowing time for consideration.  

But eventually night turned to morning, and ponies began to excuse themselves. Celestia knew that even if it would be late in the morning, the sun would need to be raised, and she would need to be in Canterlot.

Celestia said her good-byes to Twilight and Cadance and Shining Armor, and suggested to Luna they might share a chariot if she would wait for her. 

Then she came to Cookie. She looked down at his square jaw and shaggy mane, and his eyes with that light shining deep within them, which had been there since his presentation earlier. She smiled and said softly, “I remember there was another part to your overly generous gift?”

Cookie looked at her with a vague curiosity and nodded. “Indeed. In the kitchen. Would you like me to show you where?”

“Yes, please.” Celestia nodded. 

He led her through the castle halls to Twilight’s kitchen. It had been tidied and readied for the next day, but the room was still warm and smelled of the sweets offered at the party. Sitting on the counter was a neat white box, tied with twine. 

Cookie walked over to it, and Celestia joined him. They stood there in silence for a moment, looking at one another.

“Here we are,” Cookie said with a vague gesture at the box.

“Yes. Thank you.” Celestia nodded, but she made no move to take with box with hoof or magic. She just looked in his eyes and remembered his face as he offered her the respect and understanding and forgiveness she needed to be free.  

She swallowed, never looking away from him, and said cautiously, “Cookie… you have no reason to believe anything I say to you.”

“Perhaps I don’t, but I offered you my trust as a gift, and I don’t make empty promises,” he said with a serious expression. “I will believe every word you say, and you may make a fool of me if you wish.”

Celestia smiled, trying to calm her nerves. “I don’t see why I should. Soon enough I’ll have the pleasure of seeing Twilight sweetly rip you to shreds at the council table.” Her smile grew stronger as Cookie relaxed and smiled back. She added, “I should warn you, she’s going to bring graphs.” 

He chuckled. “I shall relish it.” 

“I know you will.” Celestia allowed herself to relax, leaning against the counter. “It’s why, even when I don’t appreciate your ideas, you’ve been the finest adviser I’ve ever had.” 

“Thank you,” Cookie said, still smiling fondly at her. 

She swallowed and added lightly, “I, on the other hoof, have proven myself a terrible failure at the job. You trusted me to hear your thoughts on your magic, to challenge them as I saw fit…” Her face fell to a frown, and she looked down at the stone floor as she went on, “And instead I manipulated you and withheld vital information because I disagreed with the conclusion you would draw. You were wise to seek a new council.”

“I was fortunate to have one close at hoof, thanks to Twilight…” He paused and added softly, “And you.”

Celestia glanced at him with a wry smile. “"Give that credit to the stars. My aims weren’t so noble.”

“Perhaps not in aiding my council, but…” Cookie pursed his lips, considering her, then he shook his head and smiled at a thought. “You’ve done an amazing thing, Celestia, and you’ve done it in spite of your crown and duties. You’ve formed a family of immortals, where we all might help and care for each other through whatever courses the stars take.” He paused and raised an eyebrow. “It may be your greatest achievement, and the greatest strength anypony could offer to Equestria.” 

Celestia blinked in surprise. She had seen first hoof tonight how Luna and Twilight and Cadance might guide her and forgive her, and it only strengthened her affection for them. And now Cookie seemed to have become fond of Twilight and settled his differences with Luna and even Discord…  She looked to Cookie with a smile she could feel in her heart and soul. “It’s a beautiful thing.” 

Cookie smirked. “It’s a worrisome, messy, frequently annoying, and always complicated thing.” His smiled softened and he chuckled. “So you should know I cherish it.”

Watching him and imagining a future where she would cherish the ponies she loved, the smile slowly fell from her face. There was something still missing, something that might never be again. She knew now she could bear it, she had the strength and love of her friends, all of them, but it was only her own pride that kept her from finding out if she would have to.

Drawing a deep breath, Celestia looked to Cookie. “As to the other worrisome, messy, annoying, and complicated thing, for which we both must take credit…” She swallowed and closed her eyes. “Cookie, I love you. Truly. From my heart as a pony. I walk a fine line between the pony and the crown… and in my recent actions, the crown betrayed you. I betrayed you. I’m ashamed of myself, both for that and my refusal to acknowledge it. So I understand if you don’t want to risk your trust in that manner, specifically, but know that I am truly sorry.”

She felt his hoof touch her cheek.

“I love you as well, Celestia. I never stopped loving you.” 

Daring to open her eyes, she saw him looking at her, his face open and honest with that love and his own shame as he went on, “And I also know the ways I made that betrayal too easy to justify. I’ve spent far too long hiding from nothing but my own fears, so when I saw real danger it was too easy to dismiss. I’ve insisted myself your equal since we met, so you had no reason to think of my power as something I would hold dear--”

“Cookie. You are my equal.” She frowned a gentle admonishment.  

Cookie swallowed, a pained expression crossing his face as he shook his head. “I’m not, Celestia. I’m a pony, and I am worthy of respect in that much, and in two thousand years I’ve managed to do a few things of note. But you… you may not live up to my ideals, but you come closer than any pony I can imagine.” 

Celestia raised her eyebrows. “And yet, left to our own devices for only two months you’ve surrounded yourself with ponies who appreciate your talents and check your flaws, while I nearly got myself betrothed to a griffon I’ve never met.” 

“To protect Equestria, I assume?” Cookie asked with a knowing glance. 

“Of course.” She drew herself up. “A Princess must only choose the most honorable path to freeze her heart in ice.” 

He snorted a scoff, and she smiled as she went on, “You might feel that tending a hearth is nothing compared to tending the sun, and it’s true that most ponies manage it. But I’m afraid tending my hearth is far more complicated. At least, I hope it is, because I certainly made a mess of it.”

“I think the more time one spends in the sun, the more difficult it is to tend a hearth,” he said, mulling it over. 

“Then you deserve the credit for that, all of these years.” Celestia offered a nod of appreciation. “Jobs that go unseen are no less vital. If I’ve come close to your ideals, it’s because I’ve had you beside me.”  

Cookie smiled and shook his head. “You know, I’m far less concerned with my ideals these days. There are enough blasted princesses around that you can clean up after one another.” He paused and looked at her, his smile growing fonder by the moment. “But if I can offer a hearth to warm a beautiful mare with a sharp wit who shares my dreams, I’ll admit I might be worthy of her love.”

Celestia beamed and leaned forward to kiss him. As their lips touched, she could feel the warmth of that hearth through her, as simple and magical as the pony she shared this moment with. It was a part of her, and him, and Equestria, and she never wanted to be without it again. 

When they parted, she smiled at him with a satisfied sigh. “As to what you do going forward… I’d always welcome you at court, if you’d like to come out of retirement. I think public speaking agrees with you. Or, if you still want to travel I’d love to hear what you find.”

He leaned back against the counter, grinning, his eyes never leaving her face. “I’ve been considering this these past few months, and asking the advice of my friends.” He raised an eyebrow. “They’re very wise ponies, you know.”

She nodded with mock solemnity. “I do know that. So what have your friends suggested?”

His grin turned sly and he gave a shrug. “Applejack suggested that if I enjoy baking and have no wish to run a business, I might ask Twilight to put in a word for me in the kitchens of Canterlot palace. I dismissed it out of hoof at the time, but now… I think it may be where I belong for the time being.”

Celestia’s eyes widened and her breath caught in her chest at the thought. “Oh, Cookie…”

He chuckled at her and stepped forward to nuzzle her. “From there I can keep a better eye on you, at least. And if you’d like for me to deliver honey rolls myself, and sit with you--”

“Yes,” she said firmly, the grin returning to her face, even stronger this time. “You’ll visit me as much as you can without scandal.” She looked at his grin and that light in his eyes, feeling a blush warm her cheeks. “Maybe even risking a bit of scandal. It might make matters of court awkward, but I have a very good press secretary.”

“Then we shall present her a challenge.” He tilted his head and kissed her again, and Celestia let her worries for Equestria fall away. The dream of Equestria was safe here in Cookie’s embrace, and it was stronger than any crown.
> Epilogue - A Madpony's Spell
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The kitchens at Canterlot palace were always hot and crowded during the day, between the cooking and plating at meal times and the baking and preparations in between. Smart Cookie did his best to keep out of the way, staking out a small section of counter among the pastry chefs and asking around the kitchen before laying claim to an oven. He had only been there a week, and at first his arrival was met with whispers and snickering due to his newly created position and the orders from the princess that came with it: that he was to deliver baked goods to her whenever he wished. 

That subsided quickly, first as the kitchen staff came to find out he was a baker, even if his recipes where hopelessly old fashioned. But even that grumble fell by the wayside as rolls and scones and sweet buns began to be provided in the cafeteria and meetings and staff spaces around the palace. Few ponies cared to argue about the novelty or refinement of free food, and most were professional enough to admit that it was quite good.

Cookie slipped a tray into the heated oven and closed the door, enjoying a moment where the room felt comfortable by comparison as he walked back to clean his counter. He had just finished wiping it down when one of Celestia's guards emerged from among the bustling chefs, headed his way.

“Spit Shine, isn’t it?” Cookie called to him. 

The guard nodded. “Chocolate Chip, Princess Celestia requests your presence. Immediately.” 

“Well then, I’d best not keep her waiting.” Cookie turned to the pony working at the counter next to him. “Turnover, would you mind taking those out of the oven when they’re done? It should be about 20 minutes.”

“Sure thing, Chip,” the orange pegasus nodded.   

Cookie took off his apron as he walked out of the kitchen, hanging it on one of a long row of pegs outside of the door. 

The guard waited for him, then stepped forward to lead him in an unfamiliar direction. He knew which hallways led to Celestia’s chambers, the dining halls, or the areas occupied by the meeting rooms and offices of the civil servants, but they seemed to be making their way to the public areas by the palace entrance. All that was there was the throne room and the occasional spacious foyer containing bric-a-brac from Equestria’s history, proudly displayed and suitable for photographing by tourists.

“Where are we going?” he asked with a curious glance at his escort. 

“The charter hall,” the guard said, looking at Cookie out of the corner of his eye. “The princess requested it be sectioned off for this audience.”

As they approached the area in question they came upon a group of annoyed tourists talking to two of Spit Shine’s fellow guards, earning them sour looks as they breezed past. But by the time Cookie and the guard arrived at their destination there were no other ponies to be seen, save the beings waiting for him.

The Charter Hall held, appropriately enough, the charter of Equestria that Cookie had written so many years ago. Celestia stood before it, smiling as she saw him approach, but with her were Twilight, Spike, and Discord. Twilight was grinning from ear to ear and appeared to be barely keeping herself from hopping excitedly. 

“Well now, what’s all of this?” Cookie cocked his head but offered a friendly smile to the ponies and Spike. 

“It seems Twilight has some very exciting news.” Celestia glanced at her.

Unable to contain herself any more, Twilight gave a hop and clapped her hooves together. “I figured out your magic!”

“I see…” Cookie raised his eyebrows, feeling a bit fidgety with nervous excitement himself.  

“He’s here now, can we get on with it?” Discord asked, crossing his appendages. 

Cookie eyed him suspiciously. “What’s he doing here?”

Discord shrugged as he pulled out an hourglass in which the sand had stopped falling with time left to go, and he gave the glass a tap with his talon. “I want to know why you're immortal, too.”

“You know about my immortality?” Cookie raised an eyebrow. “I thought you find me boring?”

The draconequus raised both of his eyebrows in return. “Being boring for a very long time hardly makes you interesting, now does it?”

“We can’t get rid of him, can we?” Cookie asked Celestia with a wan smile.

She chuckled. “You could ask him nicely… but no, probably not.”

Cookie shook his head with the same smile. “No, that’s quite alright.” He looked over to Discord. “Since you’re here, you might as well stay.” 

Discord had created a pink striped beach chair and somehow acquired a cocktail with an umbrella in it. He took a sip then waved his paw. “Don’t worry, I already made myself comfortable.”

“Perfect.” Cookie rolled his eyes.

Celestia turned her attention back to the younger alicorn. “Now, Twilight. You had something to tell us?”

“Yes! It’s very exciting. Spike, do you have that book?” She glanced at Spike, who dug through a satchel until he emerged with the book in question. 

“Right here!” He held it up and Twilight took it in her magic with a smile. 

“Thanks.” Twilight turned back to Cookie with a grin, holding the book up to show. “This was in the papers Princess Celestia had, from mages who had looked at you before.” 

The book was very old, and something was etched on the cover that he couldn’t quite make out, worn and faded with age. He studied it a moment before the lines made a pattern he recognized as a familiar cutie mark. His eyes narrowed in confusion as he glanced at Twilight. “...Clover?”

Twilight nodded and opened the book to a page she had marked, then she looked down to find the passage. “Yes, and she wrote: Judging by the restructured spellglow (spent a month reconfiguring Star Swirl's refractor for that one. Couldn't have done it without his notes, and the dear old coot left them in a mess, let me tell you) whatever's got into Cookie is quite strong around Everfree. A sort of dusty pinkish, dry blueish, beigeish glow, like a dirty rainbow. I'd suspect a form of Harmony magic, but it seems especially strong in the charter, and the stars know that was mostly formed of bickering and paranoia and a begrudging acceptance that we had to have some form of rules to keep the blessed darkness at bay. Hardly seems like Harmony to me, but there is a bit of it in the tree. Since Cookie wrote the Charter and was in the cave, might be some magic personal to Cookie. Genetic? Something he stumbled on? Just puts me back at the start.”

Discord gave her a dry look. “That's exciting?”

Twilight glared at him. “Yes! Clover reconfigured Star Swirl’s refractor 1496 years before Haycarts! And she found the same magic I did in the cave, and she recognized that it's not Harmony magic! And she found it in the charter! That was really amazing, because by the time anypony else could have looked at it the glow would have been muted by years of preservation spells, and nopony had any reason to think the charter itself was magic!”

Cookie blinked at her. “But… the charter isn't magic.”

“We'll see about that!” Twilight smirked, and her horn lit magenta. The charter on the wall was surrounded by the same magenta glow before colors shimmered beneath it. It was hard for Cookie to make out what colors they were, but it was clear there were several of them swirling together. 

Twilight squealed as all the magic disappeared. She grinned and looked around at the gathered ponies. “It’s there! She was right! Do you know how exciting this is?”

“It's very exciting, Twilight,” Celestia said with a calm smile. “But what is the magic?”

“Equestria!” Twilight announced with the same grin.

Celestia blinked. “I beg your pardon?”

Twilight’s grin faded to a smile. “Okay, not Equestria exactly. The charter is a spell that gathers the powers of every pony who considers themselves part of Equestria and uses them to ensure and protect our freedom.” 

Cookie had been following in mute astonishment and finally regained enough sense to verify what he was hearing. “The charter is a spell?”

Twilight nodded. “It's not technically a charter, you know. The leaders of Girthshire and Hippocampus and Monoceros were agreeing to it, but also you and Pansy and Clover. And you wrote it on behalf of all ponies, so technically it's a constitution.”

Cookie frowned. “Whatever it is, it's not a spell. It’s six months of arguments made to fit on the largest scroll Platinum would let me get away with.”

“It is, technically, a spell.” Twilight smirked at him. “A new kind of magic that acknowledged that a government was a collection of powers of all ponies intended to secure not only physical protection, but the rights they have. You wrote it, you collected those powers and wrote the spell that protected the rights of those ponies, and that made you an alicorn.” 

“An alicorn?” Celestia stared at Twilight in confusion.

Cookie opened his mouth a few times before saying gently, “Twilight, I think I’ve spotted a glaring hole in this theory… Namely, I am not an alicorn.”

“I’m pretty sure you are an alicorn.” She considered a moment and added, “Technically.” 

“Technically?” Cookie raised an eyebrow at her. 

Twilight smiled. “You understood the magic, and wrote the spell and gathered the power of Equestria, more than enough magic to equal us. But then you loaned it to us on behalf of the ponies it came from. If you had given it, it would be our magic and you might have died after a lifetime. And if you became Prince of Equestria, recognized by the spell, you'd be giving the power to yourself, and I'm pretty sure you'd get wings and a horn and magic to cast.” 

Cookie glanced around to try to see if this seemed as mad to everypony else as it did to him. Twilight just beamed with pride in her accomplishment, while Celestia considered what Twilight had said with a smile growing on her face. 

Cookie swallowed and tried again to explain, "But it isn't magic. Not—not actual magic." 

Celestia chuckled. "Starswirl's First Definition of magic."

"I..." Cookie gave a bewildered shrug.

"Magic is that force which grants us the impossible,” Twilight supplied automatically. 

“Ah, right.” Cookie nodded at a vague memory. “Clover always thought that one was too vague and preferred the third definition, the one that goes over three pages, you know."

"It applies.” Celestia smirked. “I mean, look around all of this. Would you describe it as anything short of impossible?"

Discord appeared between Cookie and Twilight, looking from one to the other. “Twilight, you said that Equestria is the power from all ponies?”

Twilight nodded. 

“Ponies who rarely agree on what kind of salad to order?” Discord went on, “Who lie to each other and judge each other and become unaccountably offended when somepony else does the same to them?”

“Ponies with their own lives and hopes and desires, yes,” Cookie said dryly, raising an eyebrow.

Discord grinned and a cap sporting the Equestrian flag appeared on his head, with a miniature version of the same flag in his talon. “That sounds like chaos to me! Why didn’t I think of it?”

Spike cleared his throat. “He set up the charter so they could have a country that works even when ponies do those things. It’s more… chaotic good.” 

Discord’s props disappeared and he frowned at Cookie. “Does that make him a bard? No wonder he’s useless.”

A warm wing draped over Cookie’s back, and he heard Celestia’s voice next to him, “You say you have no power but words. You forget that words can be quite powerful.”

“That’s what they always say about bards.” Discord rolled his eyes. “But then the skeleton army attacks and they’re all oooh, I’ll just stand back here and inspire everyone!”

Cookie tried to shake his head clear, then he motioned at Discord. “What is he on about?”

“Ogres and Oubliettes. It’s a game,” Spike said, then his eyes lit up. “Hey, you should play with us sometime! We have a guys night with Big Macintosh.” 

Cookie blinked at Spike. “I’ll consider that later. Right now I have some more pressing concerns.” 

“Twilight, what if the charter was broken? Would he perish?” Celestia asked with a worried frown.

“I don’t think so,” Twilight shook her head. “As long as there's a recognized princess to lead us, he'd be fine. If we all broke the charter… well, I guess the power would revert to Cookie until a new pony was selected by the official process.” 

Looking between them, Cookie gave a stern frown. “Ladies… you are never to break the charter, do you hear me?” He went on in a mutter, “What in the course of the stars would I do with a horn? I'd most likely blast a hole in my door.”

Celestia chuckled and gave him a squeeze with her wing. “We shall certainly try to avoid it.”

Cookie put a hoof over his eyes, trying to direct his thoughts. He had to admit this wasn’t nearly as bad as finding out he was immortal, but he still fought the urge to understand every effect this magic could have before he took another step. 

Taking a breath, he looked over at Twilight. “So... long ago Celestia and I talked of marriage. If that had happened, would I have assumed a mantle like yours?”

Twilight paused and considered. “That’s an interesting question. Probably not, I think the magic goes to the ponies recognized by the charter, while you’d be more of a consort. On the other hoof, if you’d been public about it then and ponies started to think of you as a ruler over time, and informally offered you those powers… I’m not sure.”  

“That hardly seems to be an issue anymore.” Celestia smiled down at him. “We made our vows and we’ve stood by them.”

“We have.” Cookie looked at her and smiled. “And it turns out your dedication and honor may have saved my life on more than one occasion, though not in the way we had imagined.” 

“Only because your magic loans me the power to act on behalf of all of my ponies, including you.” She leaned down and gave him a nuzzle. “I hope that satisfies you that neither of us is lesser.” 

“It does.” He looked up into her eyes. “And we can both rest easy knowing that the source of this magic is something that either of us would gladly lay down our lives to preserve.” 

Discord blew his nose loudly and dabbed his eyes with a handkerchief. “I’m so moved! Have you ever seen anything more... symbolic?”

Spike shot Discord a sidelong look. “Says the floating symbol of a universal force.” 

“Fair.” Discord threw the handkerchief over his shoulder. “Well, the mysterious magic has been uncovered, it’s probably just kissing from here on. Come on, Spike. Let’s see if Mac is free.” 

Spike looked to Twilight, who nodded. 

“Go ahead. I’ll find you later.” 

Discord snapped his fingers, and the two disappeared, leaving Cookie and the two princesses alone in the hall. 

Celestia smiled at Twilight. “Twilight, thank you so much for all of your work.”

Twilight blushed and pawed the floor with a hoof. “Clover did most of it. If she had understood how becoming an alicorn worked, you would have had the answer centuries ago.” 

Cookie smiled and walked over to her, laying a hoof on her shoulder. “Clover was without a doubt one of the most intelligent ponies, and one of the best friends, I’ve ever known. So please understand that weight when I tell you that you are the first pony I’ve met who’s her equal in both.” 

“I understand.” Twilight grinned at him. “And thank you.”  

Cookie pulled away and took a deep breath, then he smiled at the two princesses. “Now, if you ladies will excuse me, I think some baking might help clear my mind, and I really must see how my tarts turned out.”

Celestia nodded. “Perhaps Twilight will come with me to my chambers and explain the more technical aspects that I know she’s dying to talk about, and later you’ll allow us to see how they turned out?”

“That can be arranged.” Cookie offered a nod. “Until then.”

“We’ll see you later!” Twilight said cheerfully as Cookie turned to make his way back to the kitchens. 

As he walked back, he took special notice of the ponies he passed along the way; the stoic guards, the leisurely packs of tourists, the messengers and bureaucrats hurrying through the back halls, the frantic kitchen staff preparing for dinner service. Each pony was unique in appearance and countenance and purpose, and each of them kept Equestria alive and made up a piece of the magic that kept him alive.  

He chuckled as he took his place at the counter and considered that it was no wonder he was such a blasted mess. But his tarts had come out nicely. 


***


A month into his tenure at the palace, Cookie had stepped outside into the kitchen garden for some fresh air away from the heat of the kitchen. The garden was a small, plain courtyard planted with herbs, though only the hardiest still bore leaves with winter wrap-up a month away. Cookie remembered mentioning to Sketchston that just such a thing might be useful when the plans for the palace were being drawn up, and while it had seemed like one of many tiny details at the time, he was glad it had been noted.  

Cookie had just leaned against the stone wall of the palace when the door opened, and a pony stuck his head though, looking around. 

“There you are.” Leafy smiled and stepped out into the courtyard. 

Cookie nodded. “Leafy. Good to see you. How is the family?”

Leafy Salad was one of the first ponies Cookie had encountered at the palace, given the unusual nature of the orders to the guards regarding Cookie’s access to the princess, and since then they’d developed a friendly acquaintance. Of the various dedicated and very busy ponies who made up the top levels of bureaucracy of Equestria, Leafy seemed to Cookie to be almost well-adjusted. At least, he had a discernible life outside of being the Permanent Undersecretary of State for the Home Office, and he seemed to be aware that various forms of sustenance could be sought out. The other government officials apparently lived on their caffeinated beverage of choice and some infinite supply of crackers in the bottom drawer of their desks, to the point where there were rumors that a cargo cult was forming in the records office around the appearance of trays of pastries Cookie left for them. 

Leafy stretched his neck and wings and then leaned against the wall on the other side of the door. “They’re just fine, and I’m told it’s likely to stay that way as long as I bring home another batch of cinnamon rolls soon.” 

Cookie smiled. “Celestia requested a few dozen for the embassy luncheon tomorrow, but I’m sure there will be some left over in a box set aside with your name on it. Check back tomorrow afternoon.” 

“I’ll be sure to do that. Wouldn’t want them to go to waste.” 

“Especially when they might help to assure your domestic tranquility.” 

Leafy’s face shifted to a kind of annoyed worry. “Chip… speaking of domestic tranquility… I actually stopped by to see if you had time for a quick meeting.”

“Regarding my own domestic tranquility?” Cookie raised an eyebrow.  

Leafy gave a nod. “Yes. That.”

Cookie regarded him with a curious expression. “And who is this meeting with?”

“The Permanent Secretary and the Press Secretary.” He sighed, then offered a wan smile. “There’s nothing wrong, really. Not yet, at any rate. But you’re putting Spinning Top in kind of a tight spot, and we were hoping you could help us out.” 

“I see.” Cookie nodded, then stood up and motioned to the door. “Well, far be it from one of the kitchen staff to turn down a request from Mister Line. I hope I haven’t kept them waiting.” 

“Can’t say, but maybe you ought to bring a peace offering, just in case?” Leafy opened the door and looked hopefully towards the kitchens. “Might help smooth things over.” 

Cookie chuckled and followed him inside. “A fine idea.”

After stopping by the kitchens to retrieve some sweet buns that were freshly cooled, Leafy led Cookie through the halls to Dotted Line’s office. 

Cookie had spoken to Dotted Line just once, and the shaggy grey unicorn had asked him a total of three questions: how he was settling in, if he needed anything, and if he had remembered to drop form 229-B off at Equine Resources. Cookie couldn’t help feeling there was something odd about the pony; he was awkward in every way imaginable, but everypony from Celestia down admitted in hushed whispers that he must be some sort of powerful mage for the way he managed the government. 

Then there was Spinning Top, whom he’d never spoken to or so much as nodded at. He had, however, seen her; she stood out in any group of government officials like a gem in a potato bin. She was lovely, he had to admit, though her loveliness was so carefully crafted that it approached engineering. But he was sure that by even the strictest standards her hair and hooficure were up to code. 

As they entered Dotted Line's office, both of those esteemed ponies were there, Spinning seated primly on a dark green chair and Dotted behind a pile of paperwork that presumably had a desk under it somewhere.

Dotted looked up and nodded at Cookie. “Good afternoon. Please have a seat.”

Looking around the rest of the room, Cookie realized that real estate on the desk must have been valuable indeed, as the paperwork was forming skyscrapers and mass transit to other surfaces around the room. A few chairs had been cleared, like parks in a crowded city, with nearby piles edging in on the valuable square footage. 

Cookie found a pile that seemed stable and carefully brushed the bottom of his tray of pastries with a foreleg before depositing it on top. "Thank you. I’ve brought these for everypony, please help yourself."

Dotted just nodded, but Leafy picked up two in a napkin before taking a seat.

"Maybe just a bit." Spinning Top leaned forward and cut one into four pieces, taking a quarter. 

As Cookie and Leafy settled into chairs, Dotted cleared his throat and looked to Cookie, “Now, I’m sure you know everypony here has received classified document 44035-x.”

"Yes, of course, though you were asking Celestia about my hoofwriting before you saw it." Cookie smiled. They knew they'd need to tell a few senior officials, but Celestia wanted to see if she was correct that Dotted would take less than a week to become suspicious. He approached her about it on day four.

Leafy smirked at Dotted, and the unicorn fussed with some papers on his desk. "Well, I have to admit that it’s strange seeing the writing from the charter on requests for additional nutmeg."

Cookie shrugged. "I’ve written more requests for nutmeg than charters in my time. But I suppose that document is more familiar to ponies."

"For better or worse," Dotted muttered. "No offense."

"None taken." Cookie chuckled. "I assure you there isn’t a line in there that one or the other of us didn’t disagree adamantly with when I was writing it. Personally, I fought long and hard to have a democracy, I’ve never liked the idea of princesses."

The look of pure terror and fury on Dotted Line’s face suggested that there was an alternate universe somewhere where the short, rumpled pony had been forced to become a radical monarchist revolutionary, and he didn't much like the idea.

"Lucky for you that didn’t work out, eh?" Leafy said with a smile at Cookie.

"For all of us," Dotted said, shaking his head clear.

Cookie smiled and leaned back in his chair. "Compromises were made, and we settled on something we could all put our names to. And we were fortunate to offer it to a pony who has more than earned the support and affection of her ponies." 

"More affection from some than others," Spinning Top said pointedly as she slipped another quarter of a bun off the tray.

"Yes." Dotted sighed. "Yes, and it’s for that reason we needed to speak with you. It seems that the ease with which you’re allowed access to the Princess is causing a bit of a stir among the press."

"The same way a whirlpool causes a bit of a stir," Spinning muttered between bites.

"I’m very sorry to hear that." Cookie frowned. "I can speak with Celestia about returning to a more discreet circumstance. She may be disappointed, but--"

"That will not be necessary," Dotted cut in quickly, as if the very idea offended him. "We will see to it. Leafy suggested an alternative he thought you might agree to."

"Go on…" Cookie leaned forward.

Dotted took a breath and said carefully, "If it’s acceptable to you, we would like to offer the press… the truth… of sorts."

"Of what sort?" Cookie eyed him suspiciously. 

Dotted looked to Spinning Top, who quickly set down what was evidently the third quarter of the bun she was having a bit of and lifted a scroll to read.

"Well, this is a very rough draft, but…" Her voice changed to one of fond sympathies, with a precisely matching sad smile on her face. "The pony in question, Chocolate Chip, believes himself to be Smart Cookie, a founder of Equestria. He has been very thoroughly vetted, he’s quite harmless and only wants to work at the palace and be helpful to Her Majesty in her reign. Princess Celestia cares deeply for the well-being of all her ponies, and in this specific case she’s determined the kindest course is to humor the poor fellow. He’s to remain in the employ of her government and be allowed to visit her as her schedule permits. The Princess kindly requests that ponies allow him his privacy so as not to endanger his mental state."

Dotted and Spinning looked intently for Cookie’s reaction, though Spinning absentmindedly ate the last bite of her roll during the few seconds that passed. Leafy glanced up between pressing his hoof to his plate to clean up the last few crumbs of his own snack. 

Cookie arched an eyebrow. "You’re going to allow them to think I’m mad?"

"You did sign your name to article III, section IV," Dotted pointed out.

Cookie smiled and began to chuckle. "Perfectly fair. It’s brilliant, and I’m happy to help however I can."

"I told you he’d be a good sport," Leafy grinned.

“Do you think the princess will agree?” Dotted asked Cookie. 

“That I’m mad? I have no doubt. She knows it better than anypony.” He smirked, then let his face fall to a more gentle expression. “She’ll find it very amusing, her only disappointment will be that she didn’t think of it herself.”

Dotted seemed to relax and reached for a paper from the stack to his left. “Very well. I’ll make an appointment for you with Dr. Golden Bloom to make a paper trail. Just tell her exactly who you are, and in a few days we’ll have this all in hoof.”

Spinning smiled at Cookie and stood to leave. “Thank you for your cooperation, you’ve saved me decades of headaches.” 

“Glad to be of service,” Cookie said with a nod. 

On her way to the door, she paused next to the tray of buns, and her magic picked up a napkin and used it to wrap up one of the baked goods. “...and if you don’t mind, I may just take one of these in case I get peckish.” 

Leafy followed her, stopping in the same spot. “I think I’m always peckish, so I better take two.” 

As the two ponies left, Cookie sat and studied Dotted. There was something familiar about the pony with unkempt hair, hunched over a desk, with the weight of the world in messy heaps of paperwork solidly awaiting his attention. It took Cookie a moment to place it.

Dotted glanced up at him. “I’ll send the information along when arrangements have been made. Don’t let me keep you.”

Cookie tilted his head and leaned forward. “You know, Dotted, I began my career in government as a civil servant. Secretary of Urban Planning to Chancellor Puddinghead of Girthshire.” 

Dotted set down his quill to listen.

“It was very different from the operation here, I was appointed simply to curry political favor. I had ideas for reform, for new ways of thinking about ponies and their rights, about the open and limited workings of government, but my position was one of those that gets handed all of the busy work, ordering the filling of potholes and repairing of sewers and filing plans for contingencies that might never come to pass.” Cookie nodded to the piles on the desk. 

Dotted gave a humorless grin. "Well. It sounds unglamorous, I know, but... You might be surprised how ponies' passions for things like rights and limited government mysteriously vanish if the trash isn't removed daily." He paused with a dry laugh. "Except for their right to speech, of course, which they direct towards us with all of the care, skill, and precision of a drunken dragon lighting a candle."

"Oh, I'm well aware." Cookie gave a dark smirk. "And you can only imagine the chaos if it seems as though spring might never come, and the Chancellor has decided to shove diplomacy under her tail, and the Secretary of Agriculture has quietly sold off three quarters of our emergency provisions and embezzled the profits. Then all one can do is hope to the stars that whatever poor bastard was in charge of filing the emergency evacuation plans did his job, and did it thoroughly enough to not have to depend on the neighboring nations for aid they have no intention of supplying even if they were able.”

A brief terror crossed Dotted’s face, replaced quickly by a studied curiosity. Cookie didn’t blame him; by all rights Puddinghead’s government should have been a dark legend among civil servants, whispered about in the same hushed tones as Nightmare Moon or Lord Tirek. 

Cookie shrugged as he went on, “I didn’t have much of a life outside of my work at the time, so I had mapped a third route, away from the pegasi and the unicorns, to a land that some of the traveling merchants had mentioned. Puddinghead seemed near ready to hang herself that night, until I pulled out those scrolls, neatly filed in triplicate, with maps and itemized lists of the most efficient means of mobilizing.” 

Dotted gave an approving nod.

“You know what happened next, I suppose.” Cookie smiled and rose to his hooves, idly pacing to the tray of baked goods where he slid a roll onto a plate. “Some inspired clerk among the unicorns must have had the same idea, and of the several hundred emergency plans and back-up plans and contingencies to the emergency back-up plans the pegasi had filed they selected a similar one. And here we are.” 

Cookie carried the plate to the crowded desk and slid it between two of the piles, towards Dotted. “I’m sorry, I’m rambling. I just wanted you to know… as much as we may have differences of opinion regarding government, I have the deepest respect for the job you and your ponies do here.” 

Dotted nodded to Cookie. “Thank you.” He made a move to retrieve his quill, then decided against it and looked at Cookie again. It took a few seconds before he spoke with a frown, “I couldn’t help but notice... last fall, and through Hearth’s Warming, something was unusual about Princess Celestia. I don’t think anypony else noticed, but I saw it, I… with due respect, I felt it in her words and what she wouldn’t say. I was concerned. She seemed to be in pain.” 

Cookie nodded, looking down at the rug. “I’m sorry for that. We had a falling out, and while I never intended to cause her pain, I’m afraid my actions at the time did nothing to prevent it.” 

“After Hearth’s Warming, with your arrival, that remededied itself, and then some.” A thoughtful look crossed Dotted’s face that hinted, with some embarrassment, at serenity. “I’ve never seen her happier. It might be disrespectful to speak this way of the princess, but at times she seems almost... giddy.” 

Cookie smiled fondly. “They used to call her spirited, when she and Equestria were young.” 

“Yes. Spirited.” Dotted smiled at a thought with similar fondness. He composed himself and looked to Cookie. “It’s not my place to comment on her private life, but you have my deepest respect for your role in that.” 

“I understand most ponies around the palace have few objections to my roll in that.” Cookie smirked and nodded to the baked good on the desk.  

Dotted frowned at him. “Puns are the lowest form of humor, you know.”[1]

“All the more reason to engage with them when you can.” Cookie chuckled and turned towards the door, talking over his shoulder. “But I am pleased to do my part in keeping Celestia happy. And if you’d ever like to chat about the charter or political philosophy, you know where to find me.”

Dotted raised his eyebrows. “I look forward to taking you up on that. Have a good day.”

“And you as well.” Cookie nodded to Dotted as he stepped out and closed the door behind him. 

[1] Aside from footnote humor, of course, which is demonstrably lower. [2]
[2] The very lowest form of humor would be the footnote-pun, but they are a rare sight-ation. 


***


It was well after sundown when Celestia finally returned to her chambers.  A state dinner had managed to drag on and on, and while the beings there had seen nothing but grace and smiles from her, now it felt like the building wave of weariness crashed upon her head.

But as she opened her door she saw that there was a tea tray and honey cakes waiting for her, next to where Cookie sat reading. He glanced up and studied her for only a second before offering a sympathetic smile. 

“You’ve had a long day, haven’t you?”

Celestia let out a sigh that drained the weariness and replaced it with contentment, crossing the room and settling into her cushion. “Very. And dull. The Yakyakistani Embassy put on a performance of traditional yak singing, and I’m sure it’s designed to allow one to sleep through any amount of smashing that may be going on.”

Cookie chuckled. “That sounds culturally enriching. If you want to retire early, I understand.” 

“After two thousand years it’s a bit late for early retirement, I think.” Celestia smiled at him as she poured herself a cup of tea.

He pretended to weigh the information. “True, you may be entitled to a full pension by now. I understand if you’re careful you can get a nice little place in Vanhoover, and afford an air ship cruise or a trip to Las Pegasus every now and then.” 

Celestia smirked. “It’s tempting.” 

“You’d miss the food here.” Cookie nodded to the rolls on the tray. 

“I’m not sure, I’ve heard they have all-you-can-eat buffets…” Celestia raised an eyebrow, but her magic retrieved a roll from the tray and she took a bite. 

“Well in that case…” He gave a resigned shrug. “Just try not to lose too much betting on horseshoes.” 

Celestia smiled and shook her head, relaxing into her pillows. “How was your day? I’m sure there must be something interesting going on somewhere in the palace…” 

Cookie grinned and took a sip of his tea. “Well, I spoke to the doctor. I've officially been declared mad. You have a piece of paper to prove it now.”

“That may be the least surprising thing that's happened this century,” Celestia said, trying not to giggle. When Cookie told her about the plan she had laughed like a schoolfilly, then immediately sent for Luna to share the joke. They agreed that only the stars could endeavor a prank that fitting. 

“Soon the entire country will know that you're dedicated to indulging and ministering to me,” Cookie raised his eyebrows at her, chuckling a bit himself. 

She raised her eyebrows back with a smirk. “It's almost like we're married.”

“I know you thought you had escaped that trap long ago,” he said casually, though he tilted his head as if studying her. 

With a sigh, she smiled at him. “I thought the stars had set us on another path. One I've never regretted walking, except when I feared it had ended.”

A slight smile touched his lips, and his eyes twinkled. “The stars never did set a straight course for ponies, my dear.”

Celestia nodded. “But they set a true one, if one is true to oneself.” 

“Indeed they do,” he whispered. Then he drew a breath and looked into her eyes. “In that spirit… would you like to be married?”

“I think that might be offering a bit more comfort to a madpony than my ponies would excuse,” she answered with a smirk, taking a sip of tea.

He snorted a laugh. “I wasn't suggesting it should be public. Beyond our friends and your sister, of course, and they might excuse it if it seems to make you happy.”

Celestia slowly set down her teacup and drew herself up in shock, as her face fought to convey a dozen emotions at once. “You're serious?”

“Yes. If it's agreeable to you, of course.” He smiled and shrugged. “If not, I'd hardly be offended after subjecting you to a courtship that strains the word ‘extended.’”

With mighty flap of her wings she nearly overturned the teatray darting to his pillow, where she buried her face in his shoulder and nuzzled his neck and face. “Of course it's agreeable to me! This is wonderful! I never expected…” She drew back and looked into his eyes.  “You don’t have to, you know.”

Cookie grinned from ear to ear and planted a light kiss on her lips. “I know I don’t have to. But… it feels right. A wedding celebrates a new chapter in a love. The world is changing, and not for the worse, and so our love changes in the same direction. We have a family to move forward with, and a community of friends around us, it seems right to seek their blessings.”

“It is right.” Celestia beamed and settled on the pillow next to him to resume nuzzling. “Oh, Cookie… for so long it was us, alone together, and I felt so blessed, I was so blessed to have you. And now, to get to stand before our loved ones and celebrate… it’s perfect.” 

She felt him give a contented sigh, and his hoof stroked her wing. “It will be beautiful.”

Celestia nodded, picturing the day. “Luna will be my bride’s maid. And I’ll ask Cadance to officiate, I’m sure she’ll be happy to. And I’ll get Rarity to make me a dress… something comfortable and flowing, and a crown of flowers for the veil, I think.” She smiled at Cookie. “My regalia will have the day off, it isn’t fair to ask you to marry a princess.” 

Cookie chuckled. “You know I’m perfectly capable of seeing past your crown, but I have no doubt you’ll be beautiful, whatever you wear.” 

“Where will we have it?” She tilted her head in consideration. “It will have to be away from Canterlot, having Twilight and her friends and Cadance and her family here might draw too much attention... “

She felt Cookie shift nervously. “I… had a request, to that end. Of course, it’s a foolish groom who gets his heart too set on the business of a wedding…” 

“Foolish or not, it’s your wedding too.” She looked to him with a fond smile. “Where do you think it should be?”

“Well, we haven’t got much of a guest list, so I had thought we might hold the ceremony in the cave.” He gave a sad smile, but there was a hint of pleading in his eyes. “There are several ponies we can’t share this day with, but to be close to them would mean the world to me.” 

“Cookie…” Celsetia whispered, frivolities falling from her mind as she looked at him and remembered him standing among those honored ponies the day she took up her crown. Looking in his eyes, she could feel the emptiness of a place that would never be filled, and dedication to holding it sacred. 

Tears stung her eyes, but her face fell to a determined line as she answered with all the authority she possessed, “Consider the matter settled. No other place will do. I’ll let Twilight know this evening.” 

He smiled and gave a shaky sigh, leaning to nuzzle her neck and resting his head against it. “Thank you.”

She nuzzled his unruly mane and said softly, “They would be proud of you, Cookie.” 

She felt him nod. “They would be proud of both of us. And so happy for our fortune. It’s right to remember them as we celebrate, and to be grateful for the ponies at our side now.” 

Celestia smiled. “Besides, we know for a fact the cave will be pleasant, whatever the weather in the Everfree forest. And one can’t ask for a more impressive alter decoration.” 

Cookie looked up at her and smirked. “And if Equestria is threatened during the ceremony--”

“Do not joke about that,” Celestia said, her face suddenly deathly serious. “I have waited two thousand years for this day, I will not be feeling merciful if we’re interrupted.” 

Raising an eyebrow, Cookie started to chuckle. “Oh come, how likely is it that two royal weddings in a row--”

“Smart Cookie,” she said in a warning tone with a pointed look to go with it. 

He chuckled some more and raised a hoof to brush her cheek. “Very well. We’ll petition the stars for a day of peace and quiet.” 

Celestia relaxed and smiled at him. “Can we petition them for a century? I think we deserve a very long honeymoon.” 

“We can petition them for whatever we’d like, it doesn’t mean they’ll grant it,” he said with a shrug. Then he shifted to nuzzle just in front of her ear and whispered, “So I would suggest we begin the honeymoon now.”

Her ear flicked on reflex at the pleasant sensation of his warm breath, and she turned her head to nuzzle his neck as she ran a hoof down the length of his body. “You know, sometimes you’re a very wise pony.”

He nuzzled down her cheek and left a lingering kiss on her lips, before parting to look at her with a devilish grin. “Sometimes it’s easy to be wise.”