On the Nature of Alicorns

by Typoglyphic


Chapter Three

Twilight opened her eyes to find herself on the floor of her bedroom. She strained her neck to look over at her bed. The covers were ruffled, but in place. Right, she hadn't even made it into bed the night before. She pulled herself to her feet and stumbled to the attached bathroom.

After cleaning herself up a bit, she headed downstairs. Well, down a flight of stairs, anyway. She was still on the third story of the castle. She found Spike at work in the kitchen. The sweet smell of breakfast filled the air, waking her up a bit. He turned as he heard the clip-clop of her hooves approaching.

"Morning, Twi'." He turned to the stove and shifted a pan. "Hungry?"

Twilight sat at a nearby table and levitated a pancake over. "Very much. Thanks, Spike."

As she ate, she tried to recall her dream. She knew she'd had one; this dream wasn't as mercurial as most. She remembered that Luna had been there, and the conversation they’d shared. It was good to hear from Luna. Twilight wished they talked more often. She had strong relationships with the other two princesses, after all. It seemed wrong to stay a stranger with a co-ruler.

“Are we going anywhere today?” Spike asked.

Twilight shook her head, swallowed, then replied, “Nah. I’ll probably do some reading, then I guess I’ll see what the girls are up to. You’ve pretty much got the day for yourself.” She stood and levitated her dish into the sink, then turned, heading for her study.

She heard Spike belch behind her, and a flash of green light filled the edges of her vision. She turned back.

“Letter for you,” Spike coughed, holding out a rolled paper. Twilight floated it over and unrolled it. Maybe it was from Luna. She had said something about a letter last night.

Dear Twilight,

It’s come to my attention that you borrowed Star Swirl’s final spell book from the Canterlot Archives. I’m sorry to say that I must discourage whatever research you’re conducting. That spell book contains arcane knowledge beyond even my understanding, and it’s caused no small amount of havoc in the past. Please understand that I do trust you, and I’m thrilled with your continued interest in advanced magic, but I must insist that, for your safety, you return Star Swirl’s spell book immediately. You may send it to me via dragonfire, and I will ensure that it finds its way back where it belongs.

Sincerely, Princess Celestia.

Twilight rerolled the scroll, her heart pounding. Return the spell book? Dangerous? But Celestia had been the one to send it to her in the first place. Stupid, Twilight, stupid. Just because she sent the spell book didn’t mean that Twilight had permission to waltz up and take it without asking!

“Anything important?” Spike asked over his shoulder as he turned his attention back to the kitchen.

Twilight stared at the letter for a second, trying to figure out how badly she’d screwed up.

She took several deep breaths and read the letter over again. Celestia was just worried about her. Twilight did, after all, have a history of blowing things up in her own face. She may have become an alicorn, but she was still a child next to the Princess. That was the context she was missing. This was just a gentle warning not to play in traffic.

She exhaled, forcing all the air from her lungs, and smiled. Everything was fine. She just had to apologize to Celestia for being irresponsible, and then she could carry on with… her…

… research. Right.

Well, she could shift her focus to Scootaloo’s… thing.

“Twilight?” Spike asked again.

Twilight shot her gaze up to meet his. “Wh-what?”

“Anything important?”

Twilight blinked. “Oh, ah, no… not really. But,” she glanced over her shoulder, toward her study, “I might need to head back to Canterlot, quickly. Could you take a letter?”

Spike rolled his eyes and left the kitchen, returning moments later with a piece of parchment and a quill. “Go ahead.”

“Ahem. Dear Princess Celestia,” she paused, searching for words. She had to try to make this up to Celestia somehow. “I’m sorry to have worried you. I didn’t realize Star Swirl’s spell book was such a dangerous artifact. I’d hate to inconvenience you further, so I think I’ll return it myself. Canterlot’s not a long flight from Ponyville, after all.”

Spike finished writing and looked up at her. “Is that it?”

Was it? She grimaced. She couldn’t think of anything else she could do. “Yes, that’s everything.”

Spike nodded, then signed the letter with a flourish and breathed a jet of green flame over it, sending it on its way.

Twilight plodded back to her study. She found the spell book exactly where she’d left it. She dug it out of the drawer, along with the notes she’d taken the night before. She paused, considering the loose paper for a moment. Would Celestia mind if she kept her notes as well?

She shook her head vigorously, trying to banish the thought from her mind. That kind of thinking was what got her into this mess. She floated her saddlebags over from where she’d left them the night before and swapped the book on pegasus flight with the spell book and her notes, then dropped it onto her back.

“You’ve got the castle to yourself for the day, Spike!” Twilight called as she passed the kitchen. She heard a muffled shout in response. He’d probably heard her.

She stepped through the castle entrance and took off into the cool morning air, aiming herself toward the great mountain city in the distance.

One of Twilight’s perpetual problems was her inability to stop thinking, which was why she enjoyed flying, and also why she didn’t do it often. The concentration needed to keep herself in the air and moving in the right direction was enough to occupy her mind for hours, or it would be, if her wings could ever last that long. She worried that if she became a better flier and the movements became natural, the exercise might lose its meditative effect, and so she only flew when teleporting or walking weren’t options.

With all of that in mind, and the weight of a heavy, hard-cover spell book and a binder full of notes slung over her back, Twilight herself was surprised that she made it to Canterlot at all.

It may not have been an overly long flight, but Twilight was no Wonderbolt, and so by the time she arrived in Canterlot proper the sun had already passed its zenith. The afternoon heat hadn’t made the last few miles of the flight any easier. She sat at a small café down-town and sipped at a tall glass of ice water in an attempt to rehydrate.

The trip had calmed her a bit, and as she sat and her mind started to churn again, she realized that she may have overreacted a bit. She nudged the saddlebags beneath her table with a hoof. This trip was probably just a waste of her time and energy. Celestia had asked her to return the book by dragonfire—the fastest method of transportation ever discovered, which was created expressly to deliver letters and small parcels over great distances. Parcels such as books. Instead, Twilight had flown. Why hadn’t she at least taken the train? It would have been hours faster. The thought struck her that she was also testing Celestia’s patience. She should have stayed around the library long enough to see if the princess had replied.

She looked up at the hill upon which Celestia’s school and the Archives were built, then down at the glass in front of her. She was still wasting time. She pulled a few bits from her bag and dropped them on the table, then set off at a brisk pace toward the Archives.

Twilight’s pace slowed considerably once she crossed the Archives’ entrance hall, passed the guards, and stepped into the Star Swirl the Bearded wing. She glanced from side to side as she passed the towering shelves, hoping she wouldn’t see Celestia down one of the aisles. It wasn’t an absurd fear. There were only a few ponies who had access to the wing, and even fewer who had any interest in its contents. Thankfully, Twilight seemed to be alone.

She found the empty lectern at the back of the wing exactly as it had been the day before. She quickly put Star Swirl’s spell book back in its place and turned to leave. She felt some of her anxiety drain with every step she took away from the book. As she left the Archives, her heart, and saddlebags— now containing only a few hornwritten notes—felt light as feathers.

… Oh right. The notes. Her mood sinking in an instant, Twilight turned and started for the castle.


Twilight slipped out of Princess Celestia’s chambers and closed the door behind her. Court was in session, so she’d been able to quickly drop off her notes and get out without ever encountering another pony. She glanced out one of the castle’s many stained glass windows. Late afternoon, as far she could tell. Time to head home. She was definitely taking the train this time.

She set off down the spiral staircase, eager to be out of the castle. She wondered whether it was wrong of her to be avoiding her mentor. They’d been slowly drifting apart ever since she’d moved to Ponyville, and she sometimes worried that the Princess was enjoying the distance. Twilight was glad for her new life, of course, but she couldn’t help but mourn the casualties of the transition. She reached the bottom of the stairs and turned, slowly making her way out of the innocuous labyrinth of Canterlot Castle. The halls glowed in the late day sun. The silhouettes of the windows cast long shadows on the floor.

A breeze rolled over her. Or she thought one did, anyway. Her mane and tail hadn’t moved. She glanced around.

One particular shadow caught her eye as she turned a corner. She could have sworn that it had just—

“Princess Twilight Sparkle.”

Twilight jumped, then exhaled, trying to calm herself. The shadow seemed to ripple, distorting until a blue alicorn emerged from within. Or maybe Twilight just hadn’t noticed her. The equine mind worked in strange ways.

“I apologize,” Luna said, approaching with a grace that Twilight envied, “it seems I am always startling you of late.”

“Luna,” Twilight shook her head, her heart still pounding. “Er, Princess Luna, I mean.”

Luna grinned. “Do not concern yourself overly with titles, Twilight. You will come to find their usage increasingly comical as you age. We—Celestia and I—use them only as farce.” Luna lit her horn, and Twilight noticed the small, bound notebook Luna held beneath one wing. Luna levitated it up between them. “I have found something that may bear relevance to your research.” She gestured at the book with a hoof.

Twilight took a step back. “Sorry, Luna, but I…” of course she would find a way to accidentally waste both sisters’ time in a single day, “I’m letting that one lie. Apparently I was sticking my nose into some dangerous stuff.” Oh, and Luna had even said that she didn’t have much spare time to waste, hadn’t she?

“Oh?” Luna didn’t seem too mad. Or even annoyed really. “Dangerous?”

Twilight nodded sadly. “Princess, ah—C-Celestia sent me a letter this morning, asking me to hold off on anything to do with Star Swirl’s magic. She said that even she didn’t really understand it.”

Luna frowned. “Such is hardly characteristic of our sister. Did she offer any particular details?” Her frown deepened when Twilight shook her head. “Well...” she squinted at the floating book. “I do not believe this book to contain any spellcraft.”

“Then...” Twilight surrounded the book with her own magic, moving it closer so that she could have a better look at it. “What is it?” It was small enough to be, as she knew from experience, mildly infuriating to write in, and was tightly bound in thick brown cloth that was torn and worn away toward the edges. Against her better sense, she let the cover fall open and squinted at the first page of hornwritten script. “Luna,” Twilight looked up at her, “this isn’t Equestrian.”

“Nay,” Luna grinned, “it is. I believe this to be one of Star Swirl’s personal journals. I knew him to keep such records during our acquaintance.”

Twilight looked back down. Every word was an unpronounceable mess of letters, none bearing even a passing resemblance to actual vocabulary. “A cipher?”

A few light-hearted chuckles escaped Luna’s mouth. “Are you surprised?” She gently closed the book’s cover with her magic. “I found it in a pile of reading material I gathered from the Archives after my return. I have not had a chance to attempt to penetrate it yet, but you are certainly capable.”

The book, and the promises it held, were positively alluring. Twilight ran a hoof across the cover, imagining the insights that were sure to lie within. Then she remembered why she was here in Canterlot in the first place. She snatched her hoof away as if the book might bite.

“I don’t think—”

“It is fine, Twilight.” Luna seemed to have guessed Twilight’s thoughts. “My sister’s warning was about magic, not knowledge.” She pulled her lips into a grin, baring her teeth. “Besides, you should push back against your mentor on occasion. There will come a day when you are forced to emerge from her shadow.”

The thought of defying Celestia sent chills down Twilight’s spine. And not in a good way. She started to move the journal back toward Luna, hoping she would take it back. She hadn’t moved it more than a foot before she met resistance. Luna was pushing it back.

“Think of it thusly, Twilight. You are one of the few able to recover these pieces of the past. It would be...” Luna pursed her lips as she searched for a word, “anti-intellectual, to let this opportunity pass.”

Twilight winced. Luna’s aim was impeccable. There were many accusations that Twilight could bear stoically, but anti-intellectualism was not one of them. She sighed, then unbuckled her saddlebag and dropped the journal inside.

“Thank you.” Luna started to turn, then stopped. She fixed Twilight with an intense gaze. “We must add that this research you are conducting… it is larger than you.” Luna broke eye contact and looked down, concealing her expression. Her next words came out softly. “If we had known more of our own nature, perhaps… perhaps the Nightmare would have been more easily restrained. Perhaps my banishment could have been avoided.” She looked back up, intensity renewed. “And perhaps there would be more than the four of us.” Luna forced a grin and cocked an eyebrow. “Perhaps even a stallion or two?”

Multiple kinds of embarrassment warred in Twilight’s stomach. After a moment, personal embarrassment won out. “I’m sorry, Luna.” She hung her head. “I’ve been treating this like a pet project. You’re right. This is bigger than me.”

Luna smiled. “Do not worry yourself with thoughts of such gravity. My words were meant as encouragement.” She started to move away again, and again stopped. “Oh, and one other thing.” Her horn flashed, and a green flame danced in the air between them for a moment. A dragonfire signature. “I would appreciate it if you kept us informed of your progress. Merely keep my waking hours in mind.” She looked down the hall at the lengthening shadows. “Dusk would be an optimal time, I think.”

Twilight nodded and committed the signature to memory. It wasn’t a complicated process. Luna stepped back into the shadow. Her dark coat grew darker and darker, until Twilight could barely see her at all. Princess of the Night indeed.

With her sense of purpose rekindled, Twilight set off down the hall, eager to get home and get to work uncovering the secrets of Star Swirl the Bearded at long last.



Twilight hurried through the quiet streets of Canterlot, doing her best to keep her wings tucked in tight and her head tucked low. Ponies stared anyway. She was glad that there were only a few blocks between the castle and train station. How many ponies had seen her earlier, while she’d been too busy panicking to notice?

As she neared the train station, the piercing whistle split the air, and a crowd of ponies spilled out of the train station’s entrance. Twilight’s ears splayed. She’d missed the train. She pulled her wings in closer and began to work her way through the crowd, ignoring the gasps and awkward bows as she passed. She would have to find a better way of getting around in the future. Hopefully one that didn’t involve employing a personal sky-carriage.

She settled onto a bench on the platform and curled her legs in. If the train had just left, then, according to the normal schedule, she’d be waiting for the better part of an hour. The thought was made all the worse by the growing crowd around her bench. It seemed that nopony was quite brave enough to sit next to her, but the cramped station gave them little room to work with, and within moments a tight perimeter had formed around her. She glanced at the large clock mounted on the station wall.

Only fifty-two minutes to go.

She glanced around at the gallery of anxious, excited, and occasionally vapid expressions directed at her, and sighed, then slowly stood up. “Excuse me,” she said, her head held low. “Pardon.”

It took her nearly five minutes to work her way back out of the station, but it was more than worth it. Of all the places to spend an hour in Canterlot, the train station was one of the poorer choices.

Back on the street, she glanced around, trying to recall her mental map of the city. She could always go back to the archives, or even find a nice restaurant. She blinked, and a smile crossed her face as she thought of a better idea. She set off toward the castle with renewed enthusiasm. She turned left a few few blocks, winding her way around the city. She looked down a side street lined with resplendent mansions, all built in obvious imitation of the royal palace. She turned and trotted down the street.

The houses became slightly less grand the further north she went, slowly turning from giant four-story manors to large two-story residences. Eventually she came to a sedate blue house nestled in the middle of its block. Four cutie marks were embossed onto the rich wooden front door. Three small stars rested above the image of a crescent moon. Just below them, a blue and purple shield was flanked by a large, six-pronged star. She smiled and raised a hoof to knock. Hopefully they were both home.

She didn’t have to wait long. The door opened to reveal a middle-aged white mare. Her mane was parted precisely above her horn, just as Twilight had always done it.

“Hi mom,” Twilight closed her eyes as her mother’s eyes lit up, and the older mare darted forward, wrapping both forelegs over Twilight shoulders. “You know, this was a long easier when we were the same height.” Twilight heard her mom giggle over her shoulder.

“Velvet? Who is it?” A dark blue stallion stepped into view. Twilight smiled even wider. His jaw dropped open, first in shock, then in cheer. “Twilight?”

“It’s good to see you both.” Twilight gently stepped out of her mother’s hug and into her father’s. “It’s been a really… hectic week.”

Night Light chuckled, then turned and gestured. “Well, come on inside, princess.”


“… so then Pinkie realized that we’d been trying so hard to emulate Yakyakistan that we’d forgotten to actually make the yaks feel at home here in Equestria.” Twilight paused her storytelling for a second to grab a biscuit from the table in front of them. She munched on it for a second, then continued, her mouth still filled with crumbs. “Onshe we leth Pinkie do what she doeth best—” she cut off as Velvet glared at her pointedly. Twilight swallowed quickly and nearly choked on cookie dust. “Ahem, sorry about that. Once the party started, Prince Rutherford declared our two countries friends for a thousand moons, and that pretty much sums up the Pony Summit.”

Silence filled the room as Twilight finished her tale. After a few seconds, Night Light suddenly jerked upright, blinking rapidly. “Oh, that, uh… very interesting.” Both Twilights glared at him. “I mean…” he winced, “I’m glad to hear that you’re acclimatizing to your royal… obligations, so gracefully.”

Twilight raised an eyebrow, doing her best to keep a straight face. It took a lot to knock her father off-balance, and she couldn’t help but enjoy it while it lasted. “Really? And to which obligations are you referring, exactly?” Out of the corner of her eye, she saw her mother giggling into her hoof.

Night Light froze, then he glanced from his daughter’s barely controlled expression to his wife’s quiet chuckling. He relaxed and rolled his eyes. “Sorry, your majesty.” He sank back onto the couch. “As interesting as political summits are, don’t forget that you used to come home and tell us stories about dragons and demons, and that was before you got wings.” He caught Velvet’s gaze. “I’m happy that your life has gotten slightly more boring recently.”

Her panic earlier that morning rose to mind. She sighed. “Yeah, boring.”

“And to think,” Velvet added, “ we were worried about Shining when he joined the royal guard, and we were thrilled when it looked like you’d settle into a nice, safe magic career.” Night Light snorted in agreement. Velvet fixed Twilight with a stern look. “Desperately tearing through newspapers to make sure our children are okay isn’t how I expected to spend retirement.”

“We know that you’re both very busy,” Night Light said, “but it would be nice if you could visit every now and then. Just so that we know that you’re healthy, and happy, and—”

“Sane?” Velvet asked dryly.

Night Light’s ears flicked back. “Well, you never know,” he grumbled back. “Your grandfather had Alicornia Discordia, and my side of the family is rife with moon-madness.”

Twilight brightened. “Oh, how’s Grandpa Glint doing?” A pang of guilt wormed its way through her chest. “I haven’t visited him in…” Years, but she didn’t want to say it aloud.

Night Light gave her a sympathetic look. “You know how it is. It comes and goes. He was calm when I visited him last week, but…”

“The nurses say he probably doesn’t have long,” Velvet said quietly. “He’s always muttering about ‘the legions of darkness’ and ‘the curse of the moon’.” She shook her head sadly. “You should see him if you have the time.” She didn’t voice the subtext that everypony heard. Even though I know you won’t. Twilight dropped her gaze to the floor.

Night Light coughed. “Well, I suppose you don’t need to worry about inheriting any of that yourself,” he said, gesturing to her wings.

“Yeah,” Twilight muttered, “I’m pretty sure alicorns are immune to disease. Normal diseases, anyway.”

“Immortal and you never get sick?” Velvet shook her head in mock outrage, clearly trying to dissipate the somber atmosphere that clouded the room. “That’s just not fair.”

“Just think of Shining, dear. First he fell in love with an alicorn, then his sister sprouted wings out of nowhere. The poor stallion is surrounded by immortal ponies.”

Velvet rolled her eyes, then looked back at Twilight. “Speaking of your brother, I don’t suppose you’ve heard from him recently?”

Twilight frowned. “No. Not since last Hearth’s Warming.” The room fell silent for a moment. “I’m sure he’d visit if he had the time.”

“Oh, I don’t doubt it.” Velvet said. She and Night Light exchanged nervous looks.

Twilight squinted at them. “Why? Is something there something I should know?”

Velvet laughed. “Oh, no. We just worry sometimes. You know how your brother is. He’d freeze to death before complaining about the cold.”

Twilight managed a little chuckle. “I think I understand. Running a place like the Crystal Empire would be enough to drive somepony crazy.”

Her mother’s laughter trailed off. “How do you mean, dear?”

“Uh…” That caught Twilight off-guard. “I-I mean that holding together a kingdom that’s been through as much as the Crystal Empire has would be a lot of work.”

Her parents shared another look, and Twilight shifted uncomfortably on the couch.

“What’s going on?” she asked. “Why are you two so worried about Shining all of a sudden?”

Night Light sighed. “You’ve both been through so much lately, and Shining doesn’t have thousands of years to recover.” Velvet glared at him, but he continued anyway. “I’m glad he and Cadance are together, but… does he have any friends up north?” He shook his head sadly. “He’s investing his entire life in Cadance, and—”

“That’s enough, Nightie,” Velvet interrupted. “Twilight has enough on her plate right now.”

Twilight slid to her hooves. “I should probably be going, anyway. Thanks for the cookies, mom.” She gave them both quick hugs. As she stepped through the door, she turned back at Night Light. “I’ll visit Shining sometime. Maybe I’ll convince him to come home for Hearth’s Warming this year.”

She started off down the street.

Her dad had a point. As far as she knew, Shining didn’t have any friends apart from Cadance in the Crystal Empire. Then again, he’d always made friends more easily than she, so maybe he had new ones by now.


Twilight made it back to the train station in time to catch the second to last train to Ponyville. The comfort was worth the occasional hushed whispers and sideways looks that always surrounded her in public, and the compartments reserved for VIP passengers were well isolated. She had the journal out of her saddlebags and on the table in front of her as soon as she sat down. She licked her lips. Finally! Real, first-hoof accounts about Star Swirl the Bearded, by Star Swirl the Bearded!

A brief inspection proved that the words were definitely encrypted. She tried some basic cipher-breaking techniques, hoping that Star Swirl had chosen a simple, antiquated cipher that relied on regular letter replacement, but none of her efforts bore fruit. She flipped through the journal in case Star Swirl had slipped or given up on the encryption toward the end. No luck there. The old wizard upheld his reputation for thoroughness. She looked around, wishing she had some paper to write on. Then she could have analyzed the cipher properly.

After a few hours of puzzling at the elusive hornwritting, Twilight found herself running her eyes along each line aimlessly, fantasizing about their potential meaning . By the time the train slowed and the conductor knocked on her compartment’s door, she had scanned every page twice, and her neck and back felt as though they were coated in a layer of rust. Several of her vertebrae cracked loudly as she walked out of the train. She didn’t care.

She had to force herself not to bounce like Pinkie Pie as she walked through the empty streets of Ponyville. It was well after midnight, and not a soul stirred. Twilight would hate to accidentally wake anyone up.

One careful step at a time, Twilight slipped through her castle, careful not to make a noise for fear of waking Spike. Her bedroom was exactly as she had left it that morning—her bed conveniently still made. The journal, which she realized was still floating next to her, she set on her bedside table. It wasn’t a very… respectful place to leave an artefact of such enormous cultural and historical importance, but leaving it in her study felt wrong for some reason.

She tossed and turned for a few minutes. She could almost feel the journal. It pulled at her in a way that only the thrill of discovery ever could. After half an hour she rolled out of bed. Wrong or not, she wasn’t going to get any sleep with the book next to her. And she needed to catch up on sleep, or else her schedule would start to look like Luna’s.

She eyed the deep drawer that had housed Star Swirl’s spell book earlier that day. No. This journal wasn’t a secret. There was nothing dangerous about it. She placed it on her desk where anypony could see. She shivered with excitement as she returned to her room and slid back into bed.

She settled into the welcome warmth of her sheets, and, despite her nerves, sleep enveloped her in moments.