//------------------------------// // Chapter 18 // Story: Sharing the Night // by Cast-Iron Caryatid //------------------------------// Sharing the Night: Chapter 18 ✶ ✶ ✶ Night had fallen and the sky was boiling—a fact that was not lost on the assembled ponies inside the Ponyville palace.  The chaos in the heavens was in stark contrast with the mare herself, who stood stock-still as she surveyed the congregation of ponies before her. Arrayed about the room were many of the last ponies that Twilight wanted to be around right now, though not all of them.  Star Glister, for one, was missing—perhaps scared off for good—and, of course, Luna was conspicuous in her absence for a very different reason than she had been on the previous night.  The ponies that remained were… well, not the type that stood out much at all in spite of all attempts the the contrary, leaving Twilight without a proper target for her anger. And she had a lot of anger. Anger and a great many other emotions that she couldn't spare the attention to sort and catalogue at the moment, no matter how much she wanted to.  Spite.  That was one she could identify of without any introspection.  Was spite an emotion, or was it just a conduit for her anger?  Whatever it was, and could feel it burning inside her chest, trying to escape. Trying and succeeding. Twilight was not all there at the moment.  She was not in her demanifest form; not really; she had managed to remain flesh and blood, but she was having trouble keeping herself together physically almost as much as emotionally, and the occasional crack in her demeanor was spilling very real stardust onto the ground around her. Which was to say, she was sparkling and not at all happy about it—and that she was not at all happy and sparkling about it.  With a scowl, she pushed on and began addressing the crowd. “I'm sure that after recent events, you're all rather sick and tired of having me get up in front of you and make these heavy-hoofed announcements rather than handling the actual appeals and day-to-day business that an alicorn's court is supposed to address.  Believe me, I'm tired of making them.  As you can perhaps guess by our missing second princess, however, neither you nor I are going to get our way tonight.”  A chorus of muted grumbling swept the room, but nopony was about to interrupt.  If her previous audiences had not already driven the point home, the sky outside and her matching demeanor would have put off even the most belligerent of hecklers.  Well, this would be quick and one-sided, then. “There is a silver lining, however.  My message tonight aims to solve that very problem in a bit of a roundabout manner,” she announced, pacing across the round platform of crystal where her throne remained beside the unmistakable stump where another just like it had been ripped free.  A cool spring breeze wafted through the throne room.  She took a breath and enunciated her next statement with slow clarity. “Buck you all to Tartarus.  I quit.” There was a crisp splintering of crystal and the second throne sailed over the heads of the assembled ponies to join its mate on the steps outside the palace doors. “Of course, it’s not that simple,” she continued somewhat conversationally, as if she hadn’t just stopped to violently illustrate her statement.  “It could be.  I could just shut down the Librararchy and walk away, not a single title to my name.  I am allowed to hold court, I’m not required to.  I could just say no as I should have done when all of this began.  Those members of the astronomer’s guild who arrived on my doorstep that day several weeks ago should have received restraining orders instead of an audience.” As Twilight spoke, the calm she’d started with had all but evaporated and she had tiny stars skittering about her hooves like miniature galaxies.  “I am an alicorn, so what?  I’m immortal, so—bucking—what?!  Do you think that means I have all the knowledge of ponykind at my hooftips?” Her pacing stopped mid-step as she froze, then whipped herself around.  “Okay—technically, yes, it does!  But not in the way that it was implied and this is what happens when I don’t plan out my speeches!” The room lapsed into dead silence.  One pony shuffled his hooves and another one coughed. “That’s the point, though!” she yelled, gesticulating wildly with one hoof trailing stardust.  “That’s the problem!  I should be exploring that!  I should be figuring out what it means to be this… this goddess that was born broken, yet burns with so much potential. “But no,” she said, her furious energy leaving her as she wilted.  “All you see is a mare who has power.”  Her voice grew cold with bitterness as she eyed the more greedy of her regular petitioners.  “You see a mare who can bestow it upon you or take it away.  You see a pony whose very word should be law because that’s how special she is, and you’ve built a city around her on that foundation.  I realize that this city has come to rely on me—on my position here—and for that reason alone, I won’t just leave you on your own like the lot of you deserve. “Instead, I’ll be giving you what you want.  Beings of power.  Before the night is through, I will be ascending five demigods to take my place.  You’ll know them by the power they’ll wield, the weight that their words will hold in your hearts… and the fact that my circle of friends is a matter of public record.  Yes, the ex-bearers of the Elements of Harmony; call it nepotism if you will—I’m pretty sure that Equestria was founded on it—but I won’t be giving them any positions of power… just the power itself to do with as they will.  I’m sure you’ll fill in the blanks.  You always do. “Do I seem callous?” she asked them rhetorically, all but sneering.  “Vindictive?  Mildly off-topic?  Somepony told me recently that I’ve been forgetting the lessons of friendship that I learned when I bore the Element of Magic.  For some reason… for some reason, that made me want to come and yell at you lot, and I think I’ve figured out why.” She looked out over the gathered assemblage of ponies, looking for a single one that she could take pride in.  That was what Luna had said, right?  That she was responsible for these ponies—for leading them and setting an example.  Somehow, that was supposed to translate into rapport and understanding. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t tried.  She had!  She’d refused to sit on pomp and circumstance!  She had gone out of her way to be casual and friendly with them!  They were the ones that hadn’t stepped up; they were the ones who had failed to actually be worth her pride. Maybe that was the problem.  Luna had insisted that Twilight was too detached from her ponies—that she didn’t respect them.  The evidence agreed with Luna… but it was possible that the data was contaminated.  It was possible that she was just associating with the wrong ponies. The thought only infuriated her more, the stardust rolling off her coat now darkening the throne room. Luna hadn’t been there for Twilight’s speech the night after their altercation with Gemini—not that Twilight blamed her; it was unavoidable.  Her own fault, even.  Still, it meant that Luna hadn’t actually seen Twilight imploring them to treat her like a pony rather than a princess.  Second-hoof, the mood—the assertiveness and threats—no doubt overshadowed the matter, even in her own telling. In a way, it was as if the nobility had won after all.  They had managed to dictate the terms of their relationship with her, even as she struggled and demanded otherwise “It’s your fault.  It’s you, not me.  I can’t get blood from stone and I can’t get friendship from the kinds of ponies that seek out a day-old goddess hoping to take advantage of her naïveté!  I know friendship!  I am friendship!  And you… are—not—worthy.” ☼ ☼ ☼ Up in Canterlot, Celestia had just finished making her own short announcement, though unlike Twilight’s impassioned rant, the solar princess didn’t even remember what she had told the ponies gathered there.  Some diplomatic speech about change and trying times had fallen from her lips while her mind had been entirely elsewhere. Her duties to the public taken care of, she found Luna around a corner, slumped up in the corner where one of the castle’s many plinths held some historic display or another.  She looked horrible; her coat was a mess, her eyes were bloodshot and even her ethereal mane—now black as her mood—seemed tangled and limp. Celestia let out a heavy breath and sat down next to her sister.  “Do you want to talk about it?” “Do I look like I want to talk about it?” Luna bit back with a sour sneer. Celestia turned to examine her and settled on the familiar lost, haunted look in her eyes.  “Yes.  Desperately,” she said.  Luna scoffed, yet didn’t contradict the statement, and they fell into a tense repose for a moment. “I never intended to reject her,” Luna eventually offered, dropping her head so that her mane fell over her face. “Well…”  Celestia said with a smirk, trying to lighten the mood.  “You don’t seem to have succeeded.” “I am aware,” Luna snapped bitterly.  “I just… I had been waiting to talk to her alone about the way she was taking to her position and my own mistakes in advising her.  I had a whole conversation planned out, as did she it seems, and the two just… came out at odds.” “Came out at odds?” Celestia asked.  “Is that what you call it?” “I know what I said!” Luna shouted, surging to her hooves to face her sister.  “I know that I hurt her!  Have you looked outside, Celestia?  The sky is wroth with her fury, and it is all I can do to weather it and hope for her sake that she doesn’t injure anypony in the calamity.  Do you think I can just go to her and apologize?  She would cast me from the sky on the second word—as is within her power!” Celestia winced under the brunt of her sister’s anger.  “Sorry,” she said, and looked away in shame.  “I didn’t mean for that to sound so wry; you must know that she would never do that, though.” “Do I?” Luna asked, sounding honestly afraid of the answer.  She gestured up at the sky through one of the castle windows.  “It is all I can do to stay in the sky now, and she isn’t even trying.  I…  I am scared of her, sister; nearly as much as I am scared for her.” “Luna…”  Celestia looked up at her sister standing over her.  “She’s just frustrated.  I promise you, she only wants what’s best for both of you.” Luna gave Celestia a flat look, walked over and sat down again with a huff.  “I know what she wants of me.  She was very clear about that.” Celestia, to her own astonishment, could imagine that.  “She thinks it’s inevitable.” “She’s not wrong,” Luna admitted with irritation. “She told you?” Celestia asked, at first surprised before she remembered her ex-student’s attempts at innuendo regarding herself and Harmony.  “…Of course she did.” “Nay, she did not have to… or perhaps I should say that I took the opportunity to do so from her, though in hindsight I am not certain she would have broached the matter.  Contrary to the popular adage, it seems that those who remember history are doomed to repeat it.” “I think the two ponies I know best are both smart enough to avoid that.” ✶ ✶ ✶ “I’m an idiot,” Twilight groaned.  She was sitting with her hooves dangling over the edge of the large white stone platform which had once held two crystal thrones.  Floating in front of her was the transcript of her attempted night court session.  “Did I really say that?  ‘I am friendship,’ with the emphasis and everything?” The only ponies that remained in the palace were Twilight’s four heralds.  They all looked at each other, and it was Herald One—Incunabula—who ended up answering.  “I am afraid so, princess.” Twilight grumped at that and looked up at her.  “Please stop calling me that.  I am shutting down the Librararchy.  Sorry about that, by the way.  Your jobs and everything.  I know how that feels.” The heralds all repeated the shared look, this time with a little more confusion.  “You have not yet signed the papers to transfer ownership of the libraries back to Equestria, Princess, and our jobs predate your aquisition of them.  Sans our positions in the Librararchy, we still work for Equestria in the capacity of heralds to the resident alicorn of Ponyville.  You cannot actually fire us.” Twilight blinked.  “Rainbow Dash must never know that I said this, but doesn’t that make you… spies?” Incunabula cocked her head to the side in thought then gave a shrug.  “I suppose it does, Princess” Twilight stared at her then shook her head in annoyance.  “No.  Enough.  I don’t have the energy to spend on this nonsense.  I appreciate everything you’ve done, but right now…  Just leave.  Please.” The heralds said nothing, gave each other one last look, nodded and left, their hooves clopping softly on the dense crystal stairs. In the quiet hush that remained, Twilight was at a loss as to what to do.  She had thoroughly humiliated herself at court, revealing herself as a petulant, whiny and inconsistent filly playing at being a princess.  There was a grain of truth to the things she’d said, though—maybe more than she’d like admit.  She really didn’t have any place holding court, yet all the same, she should have… Should have what? That was the problem, her head was a mess and she had no idea what was what any more. I have only very recently come to realize just how poorly I have led you. All the things that Luna had said to her, all the encouragement—the understanding—everything they’d done together… did it mean anything any more?  As well as they’d gotten along, it had only really been a short while punctuated by a few powerful moments.  If Luna had changed her mind… if she took those moments away, then Twilight wasn’t sure what was left. Luna had changed so suddenly, after all—not tonight, but before.  Only a short while ago, Luna had been unable to control her hatred and hurt regarding Twilight.  Who was to say that the two of them, who had fallen together so perfectly, wouldn’t simply fall apart just as easily? And would it be Luna who gave up or would it be her? The idea was ludicrous.  They were all but destined to be together.  She knew this; they both knew it… but was that even a good thing? I just don’t think that now is the right time. That was Luna’s excuse.  Other things were allowed to be more important because they could always be together later.  They were immortal and there was nopony else.  They knew with absolute certainty that later was an option. That had that been the mistake Somni had made, hadn’t it?  Somni had waited ten thousand years because the outcome was inevitable, only to stumble and fall without ever actually approaching it. I don’t want you to become so obsessed with love that you forget about the ponies that give the world meaning. Somni’s failure wasn’t obsession, it was never taking the chance to actually pursue what she desired.  It was in letting somepony else make that decision for her.  Fati hadn’t even known until the end how her sister felt about her, so of course Luna wouldn’t know why Somni and Solaria ended up dragging each other into oblivion in search of any comfort they could find. Luna…  Luna was wrong.  The idea hit Twilight harder than she had expected.  It wasn’t a new idea; she’d been entertaining various approaches to the concept all night, but here in the dark and quiet, it snuck up on her.  Luna had never claimed to be perfect—just the opposite—yet she was still… …still what?  A princess?  No, that wall had been torn down.  Ancient?  No, that was just rude.  What was it then?  What made her so special that Twilight didn’t want to believe she could be so wrong?  So misguided and mistaken? Oh.  That was it, actually.  Luna was special, and that’s all there was to it; she was special to Twilight.  When Luna derided herself, Twilight wanted nothing more than to say no, that it is the world that is wrong.  Snow is for sleeping in, thunderstorms are for playing in, and the night…  The night is for living in. That was why it hurt so much.  That was why it was so frustrating.  The words echoed in her head once more. I have only very recently come to realize just how poorly I have led you. To think… to even consider that she might be right… and therefore to have been wrong?  It was the one thing she couldn’t allow herself to truly accept.  She had invested so much in Luna already.  She was a wholly different pony than she had been before her ascension; she couldn’t untake those steps or unmake those decisions. Luna had been her rock—literally and figuratively—and her rock had moved.  Should she follow it, knowing that it was what tripped her, or should she cast herself out onto a path that may have been flawed to begin with?  And what would either one of those even involve? Twilight lay there in the creeping cold of the deserted throne room slowly dissolving into stardust as she felt her grip on the world loosen, and she realized—not just in her head but on a deep, haunting level—how it is that a pony can lose sight of who they are. ⚙ ⚙ ⚙ Harmony was glad to find herself left alone for a moment while Celestia went off to reassure the little ponies that everything was alright—an act which somewhat confused her, as everything was most certainly not alright.  As much as she wanted to fix things, though, she was… well… She was completely lacking in every way that would allow her to actually do anything about it. It pained her to admit it, but she didn’t actually know either her shining light or little light all too well, nor much of anything about their situation except the very basics that had been overheard in the aftermath of their disagreement.  Truly, she didn’t even know ponies that well, and in all honesty, and wasn’t even sure she wanted to. She had been alone for a very, very long time, and some of that…  a lot of that was by her own choice.  She had not been very aware of events in her previous form as jewelry, but she had been aware of ponies.  She could have spent the years moving from pony to pony, six at a time, if she’d wanted to.  She could have been out in the world doing good in her own roundabout way, living through the highs and lows of the lives of the little ponies she was connected to as she had been these last two years. It just… would have meant involving herself with ponies… and caring… and for all she hated the alicorn who had created her—may her name be forever forgotten—the fact that Harmony had only ever attached herself to alicorns or groups including alicorns spoke volumes on its own. She was wondering, not for the first time, why she couldn’t have just been properly born again like all the others when a piece of her own magic found its way back to her from out in the castle gardens. The draconequus’ prison had begun to crack, and she didn’t need any great insight into ponies to know why. Harmony looked to the sky as she stumbled her way out into the grounds, still quite unused to the idea of actually moving about on legs.  The sight of her little light’s heart bared in the dancing of stars across the heavens for all to see filled her with a disquieting sense of unease. She didn’t blame the little one for being the cause of the failing seal; she could not.  That she had a hoof in Twilight Sparkle’s genesis was a new idea to her—the first new idea of her new life—and she was quite fond of it; she would not let the child bear any blame that she could shoulder herself, and this…  This did come back to her. It was Harmony’s power that had sealed the monster away in the first place—and the second place, for that matter.  If the prison was so prone to failure, then it was her fault. And it was prone to failure.  It shouldn’t have been, but it was. Why? Discord was a spirit of chaos born during the calamity when her little light’s stars had rained from the sky and brought an end to the ordered life of the previous aeon.  Neither alicorn nor dragon, he would have to consume magic rather than producing it, and with civilization once again waxing in full across the face of Equestria, his new prison should have held for many times as long as the original. So why didn’t it? Harmony pondered that question as she arrived just in time to see the statue shatter. ✶ ✶ ✶ The highlands of the Sheepland Isles sparkled in the starlight; the grass was heavy with an evening fog, yet the sky remained open and clear, giving everything a quiet, mystical quality that Twilight destroyed on her arrival.  Rough as her essence was, she wasn’t just leaking, but could barely stay manifest—or stand still.  Her legs barely seemed to be able to decide whether they existed from one moment to the next, and as they curled in anticipation of movement, they twisted in ways uncomfortable to look at. She noticed none of this and shot across the land like a shooting star with one thing and one thing only on her mind drowning out the noise in her head.  When she ran, the sky ran with her.  Where she searched, her presence bore into the land like a weight.  Where she hunted, she tore open the world. She had tried retreating into the sky in an effort to get away from the mess roiling about in her head.  In the past, immersing herself in the wholeness of her stars had calmed her—broadened her view—but that was fear.  Fear could be tempered by being bigger and greater than what you were afraid of.  Anger,  though?  Regret?  Heartbreak?  Her greatness only fueled the fire. It took longer than she had expected to find it.  Not only was it smaller than the others, but with the stars under the earth now a part of her, there was no backdrop against which to spot the subject of her search.  The world as she knew it was a thin sheet stretched between two vast, churning oceans of stars. Eventually, though, there was nowhere left for it to hide. “Baa—?” was all it said before a great hoof reached out of the sky and it ceased to exist.  Just like that, the legend of the golden ram would now eventually fade into history and myth. Twilight took a brief moment to hope that Rarity would appreciate it before moving on.  Demigods don’t create themselves, after all, and—for better or for worse—she had made a choice. Just one. If you actually believe that your status is what stands in your way, then you should have done what any good friend would do and made demigods of them! Whatever else happened, she would finish what she had started and maybe… maybe things would turn out alright. ☼ ☼ ☼ Celestia hesitated outside the door to the suite where the ex-bearers of the Elements of Harmony slept oblivious to the chaotic events of the last few hours.  She had thought that she could let them rest for the night before addressing their continued care in the morning. Then the transcripts from Twilight’s most recent session of court had arrived. It vexed Celestia that neither Twilight nor Luna had thought to inform her of this eventuality, but she was far more concerned about the tone than the content.  If there was any chance that Twilight was… unstable… then it fell to Celestia to warn her one-time student’s friends of what had transpired and, perhaps, make an appeal for their aid. Resigned to being the bearer of bad news, Celestia knocked on the door with her golden-shod hoof.  Just when she was considering knocking again, the heavy wooden door groaned open to reveal that the lightest sleeper of the group was, of course, Rarity.  Her white coat, while seemingly luminescent in the night, remained quite unbrushed.  Celestia was not at all surprised, but kept the strained smile off of her face.  This wasn’t the time for that. Rarity was clearly not expecting royalty, as she began speaking even as she rubbed the sleep out of her eyes.  “Yes, what is it my—dear Celestia!  I mean—princess Celestia!  What brings you here at this time of… what time of day is it, actually?  I seem to have—” she broke her sentence with a yawn, “—drifted off to sleep while we were waiting for Princess Twilight Sparkle to reconvene with us on a possible solution for our, ah, condition.  Has she brought you abreast with the… situation?” “She mentioned it briefly, but there were other matters being attended to at the time and Twilight has most recently been confiding in Luna more than myself,” Celestia explained.  “At least, she had been.  I am afraid that it has been yet another eventful day, Miss Rarity.” Rarity deflated a little, the burst of energy she’d received from finding a princess on her doorstep already flagging.  “O-oh, yes, of course, Your Majesty.  I hardly expect our little situation to take precedence over pressing matters of state.” Celestia shook her head and gave the ex-bearer a kind smile.  “No, my little pony.  Believe me when I say that I would have personally addressed this without delay had the Elements of Harmony not chosen just then to begin walking around and sprout wings.  Related as the two are, however, the situation was inevitable.” “Oh.”  Rarity’s head dropped as the last of her liveliness left her.  “This is one of those dreams,” she mumbled, before lifting her head back up to give the solar princess a… less than honest smile.  “I suppose that Princess Twilight has also acquiesced to your request that she not bestow any of her godly power on us mere mortals, and indeed, we shall never see her again?  Very well, subconscious, my ego is quelled.  You can take the rest of the night off;  I shant have need of you.”  And with that, the door gently clicked shut in Celestia’s face. Celestia blinked, blinked again, and then knocked once more. “Yes?”  Rarity said, punctuating her question with a yawn.  “Oh, it’s still you.” “Indeed,” she responded, actually letting some sarcasm into her voice before quickly hurrying on, so as not to lose the sleep-deprived mare’s attention.  “Actually, I think the idea is wonderful, though I am somewhat concerned about the reasoning and motivations that went into the decision.  She has declared her intent to create five demigods before the night is through, so I was hoping that you girls would talk to her when she inevitably steals you away for your ascensions.” Rarity simply stared at her for a while.  “I’m not certain I see the point, but very well.”  The door clicked shut again. Celestia knocked again. “Yes, my peculiar dream princess?” Rarity asked, her overly saccharine tone anything but. Celestia raised one hoof, then hesitated.  “Ah, I thought it relevant to point out that I am too late and so you need not worry.” “Oh.”  Rarity looked down at her mussed, yet literally radiant coat. The high-pitched squeal that emanated from the newly ascended demigoddess made Celestia wince and fold down her ears.  It would surely have awoken the rest of the ex-bearers… had they been anywhere in the castle. ✶ ✶ ✶ Twilight’s hoof wavered with uncertainty as it hovered over Applejack, hesitating to wake her up.  She wanted to believe that she was doing the right thing… or at least the better thing for all of them.  The logic made sense in her head, but that no longer meant much.  Perspective was everything and hers was questionable. There was nothing else to do at this point, though.  For better or for worse, she lowered her hoof and shook her friend awake.  At the very least, she would talk to her, and if all went well, she would still have a friend when breakfast rolled by. Applejack didn’t wake; in fact, she barely moved, resembling nothing more than a lump of rock lying on the thick black cloud that Twilight had pulled in from over the Everfree lake.  She briefly wondered if Applejack wouldn’t be more suited to dragon magic as the dragon empire’s ambassador Couscous had gained, but the secret to that mystery had been lost to the ages. Of all the pony lives that her stars remembered, those from before the stars existed were forever lost.  Only the memories of Somni and Fati as they went about their duties dreaming for all the creatures of the world could tell her what the empire was truly like, and that only in the broadest of strokes. None of that, of course, mattered at the moment.  She was avoiding the matter at hoof, but who could blame her?  Twilight hadn’t had the best track record with the others recently; she was a half a mind to skip the talk as she had with Rarity, simply unleashing her on the world.  Applejack wouldn’t appreciate it, but it’d probably be better than if this conversation went badly.  This was supposed to make them understand her, wasn’t it?  Nopony had woken Twilight up and asked if she wanted to be a goddess. She had wanted it, though, and Applejack… vehemently did not.  Luna had insisted that Twilight was not without empathy, though, so, putting all her weight into it, she shook Applejack once more, finally eliciting a response. That response being to roll over, mumbling about fancy no-good Canterlot beds being too soft. Twilight shook her again with an annoyed grunt.  “Get up, Applejack, immortality awaits.  Not literally, of course.  I mean, past a certain critical mass of magic you might be able to live on as a starbeast, but I'm pretty sure that your soul would still move on, so—” “Ah’m up!  Ah’m up!” Applejack yelled, waving her off with one foreleg.  “Consarn it, can’t a gal get a good night's rest without gettin’ an earful of navel-gazing?” Twilight sat back on the stormcloud to give Applejack some space.  “Sorry, Applejack, I told the stuffed shirts at court that I’d have five demigods for them to harass by morning and I’d hate to be made a liar, so we’re kind of on a schedule, here.” “What?” Applejack cried, sitting up in a hurry.  “Twi, you already know mah answer t’that!”  It only took her a brief moment more to realize that she wasn’t where she had gone to sleep, causing her to scoot away from the edge of the cloud.  “Wha—where are we?  Just what is going through your head, girl?” “We’re up above Sweet Apple Acres!” Twilight beamed, forcing a smile and avoiding the issue at hoof.  “I thought it’d be the perfect place for your ascension.” “Gal dernit, Twilight,” Applejack cursed as she got to her hooves and scowled.  “Ah—said—no!  Ya’ll can put me down and go back to your crystal tower empty-hooved because Ah ain’t changing mah mind!” Twilight took a deep breath and let it out in a heavy sigh.  “No.” Applejack’s eyes widened a tiny bit before narrowing into a fierce glare.  “What did you say?” “I said… no,” Twilight answered with less certainty, avoiding the unfriendly look in her friend’s eyes.  “Look, Applejack… I’m not going to let you be the one to break up our friendship.” “So you’ll do it yerself?” Applejack balked. “Yes—I mean, no—I mean…”  Twilight was drilling a hole in the cloud with one hoof as she tried to find her words.  “Not yours and mine.  Maybe I will be doing that, but I’m hoping you’ll forgive me.  What I’m talking about is the group; the rest of the girls.  You have to know that something like this… it changes a pony.  If I let you say no… it’ll be just like when I became an alicorn, only instead of me being the odd pony out for being special, it’ll be you for not being special.” Applejack’s ears wilted slightly, but her face only hardened.  “If that’s how it has t’be, then that’s how it has t’be.  Mah answer still stands, and if you force this on me, Ah promise that Ah will never forgive you.” “If that’s how it has to be…” Twilight repeated in turn with significantly more trouble.  “Then that’s how it has to be.”  There was a long moment of silence before Twilight finally looked up at Applejack once more.  “But why, Applejack?  At least tell me that.  Where does your conviction come from that you would abandon your friends instead of stepping up beside them?” “Ah worked hard t’get where I am, dangit!” Applejack snapped.  “Real work, hock-deep in mud, sweat and tears!  Ah ain’t about t’let you cheapen that!” Now Twilight was just confused and more than a little hurt.  “Applejack…  Is that what you think?  That you’re better than us because you work with your hooves?  Help me understand, here, because that can’t be true; Rainbow Dash, Fluttershy, Rarity and Pinkie Pie are all hard workers, even by your standards.” “Of course not!” Applejack insisted, stomping her hoof into the dark stormcloud.  “Ah don’t think they should do it either, but that ain’t mah choice.” “Is it just me, then?” Twilight all but whispered.  “You think I haven’t worked hard enough for this?  Do you remember that night out on the library balcony when I told you—admitted with tears in my eyes that I wanted this?  Do you?  Because, knowingly or not, I’ve been on this path since before I even got my cutie mark.  Years of studying, years of work, not just in magic, but in ethics, history, critical thinking—in becoming the kind of pony that Celestia trusts with this power—and it’s not enough!  It’s never going to be enough!  But I’ve tried, damn it!”  Twilight cursed Applejack in her head, wondering why it was that these arguments always ended up with herself in tears.  “Maybe I didn’t strictly earn it; maybe I was born with it and was drawn to Celestia as a child because we were both alicorns; it doesn’t matter, because regardless, I have put in the work.” Applejack looked like she wanted to say something, but Twilight wasn’t done.  “And you,” she spat.  “If this is how you feel, then what in tartarus was that this afternoon?  I swear you all but worship Celestia and you put me on a pedestal right beside her!  You laughed my concerns off and insisted I was important—that I deserved this!  Was that a lie?”  Still sore in the wake of Luna’s face-heel turn, the similarity of the two situations stung. “Wha—no!  That’s not what I mean at all!  That’s the point!  That’s the whole point!”  Applejack was glowering hotter than ever.  “Yer the princess’ student, Twi.  You’re trained for this; we ain’t.  We’re just ponies; we’ve each got our own path and our own goals and there’s nothing wrong with that.  Dang it, Twi, Ah thought you agreed with me that the world doesn’t need a buncha god-children runnin’ around making a mess of things!  Why do you have to go and complicate things with this now?  Where’s your conviction coming from?” “Me?” Twilight said with a feeble, forced chuckle as her head dropped down, covering her face with her unruly mane.  She was having trouble keeping the conversation straight; this wasn’t how it was supposed to go.  “Applejack, I have no conviction.  I don’t know that this is the right thing to do; I just know it’s what I’m going to do.  From there?  I don’t know.  The Librararchy is done with and I don’t know where Luna and I stand, but I won’t be going back to that tower tonight…  I don’t even know where I’m going to sleep since the sky is out, too.  It’s true I was angry and being contrary when I first made the decision, but the truth is, I’m lost and I need help.  I just want my friends back, Applejack.” “And we ain’t good enough as we are?” Applejack asked.  “We never left!  You stopped talking t’us!  Ah only heard of this Libra-whatever yesterday and now yer shutting it down?  Land sakes, girl, if y’want friends then y’gotta talk to them!” “I’ve—been—busy!” Twilight yelled.  “But you know who I never stopped talking to?  You know who meets me for breakfast when I’ve got time?  Rarity!  And do you know why?  It’s not that she’s involved in court; actually, she’s been avoiding it!  No, it’s because she’s the only pony that seems to realize that just because I moved into a palace doesn’t mean I don’t still have a door they can knock on!” “Of course she knows when you’re around!” Applejack scoffed.  “The mare is literally using her obscene wealth to spy on you!” “Good!” Twilight shouted back.  “At least she’s putting in the effort!  How many times have you so much as set hoof inside the palace, Applejack?  I literally have ponies that I can not fire whose very job it is to herald my coming; are you really saying you couldn’t get ahold of me?  But then—why even outsource?  If Rarity is so informed, then why not get her help?  Or are you not talking to her either?” “Of course we talk!” Applejack insisted defensively.  “There’s not a day that goes by that she doesn’t have some new angle t’convince me to sell her mah farm.” “Oh, well, I’m glad that you two are so close these days, then,” Twilight said, rolling her eyes.  “Stars, I’m not trying to attack you, Applejack.  I just want to make you into the kind of pony that understands; the kind of pony that won’t think twice about walking into a session of court with a bag of popcorn to snack on while you wait and commentate.” “So, somepony else entirely,” Applejack summarized dryly.  “Somepony who resembles Discord.” Well, there was a thought.  “No! I want you to grow as a pony, like you have since we became friends.  Applejack, think about this and tell me honestly…  If you’d had a choice, originally, on whether or not to be the bearer of an Element of Harmony, would you have?” Applejack’s expression softened just the slightest bit with guilt and she looked down at her hooves.  “No.  No Ah wouldn’t’ve.” “So which is it?” Twilight asked, her own determination growing in the wake of Applejack’s admission.  “Do all the things we’ve been through as friends mean nothing to you, or is it possible, just possible, that this is one of those times that it’s more important that we do something together than it is that we all agree?” Applejack didn’t answer, choosing instead to turn and look out over Sweet Apple Acres, chewing at her lip.  Twilight didn’t feel good about it, but she knew she had her. “Look, Applejack…”  Twilight walked over to sit down next to her friend.  “If it helps, you don’t even need to think of it like that.  From the beginning, there were only two ways this could have gone; it’s either this, in which case you’re able to go on with your life mostly as normal, just a little more complicated… or I’d have to leave you as you are, and Celestia would be setting up a stipend for services to the crown as your retirement.  Tell me this isn’t the better option.” Still, Applejack said nothing, only sagging until she flopped down on the cloud next to Twilight. “Trust me,” Twilight said, reaching an arm over Applejack’s withers as her eyes became windows to the night sky and Taurus leaped out of the sky and filled her friend with power.  “This will all work out for the better.”  She only wished she had somepony to convince her of that.  Unconsciously, her star-filled eyes drifted to the pitch black moon silhouetted against the churning stars in the sky. ☾ ☾ ☾ Luna shivered involuntarily as the stars brushed up against her moon, bringing back memories of those first days after Twilight’s ascension when they had clung to her, crying themselves to sleep. Those were not the only memories that were brought to mind, however.  For ten thousand years, Somni had been an incorrigible tease, and while Fati had remained ignorant, that didn’t stop the single star which she still possessed from volunteering images that made her face burn red. It was a good thing that moonrock could not blush; one of many reasons that she’d had to get out of Canterlot and away from her sister.  Her choice of venue, however, left something to be desired.  Specifically, it left one particular pony to be desired—and she did desire her.  In that, they were in complete agreement. Luna sat in the dark amidst ruined, pockmarked crystal where two thrones had once been, a piece of parchment on the floor in front of her describing a scene hauntingly similar to one from her past; one far less provocative than the others fighting for prominence in her head. Thrones always did make particularly symbolic avenues for venting one’s aggression. She did not think that Twilight Sparkle was as far gone as she had been when she had destroyed her sister’s throne and declared that the night would last forever, but she could not be certain.  The difference in collateral damage was immaterial; that she had not yet crossed a line did not mean that she was not in a state to do so, just that she had no reason to. No—as much as Twilight had railed against the nobility, they were merely scapegoats, not the true focus of the star goddess’ ire.  That honor was reserved for Luna. And she deserved it. Images of a white moon falling out of the sky filled her vision whenever she closed her eyes even as the stars shifted course again, sending yet another awkward shiver down her spine. At this rate, she would not have to face Twilight’s fury; either her guilt would eat her up from the inside, or she would simply combust and form a new midnight sun. The silky feel of Twilight’s magic across her surface did its best to convince her that it wouldn’t be the worst way to go. Luna was not going to sleep tonight. ✶ ✶ ✶ After what had happened with Applejack, it was a long time before Twilight felt up to continuing her night’s work.  Given her mood, then, her next choice of demigod was obvious. “I bestow upon you the power of Capricorn, the… fish-goat thing whose broken horn became cornucopia, the horn of plenty.  Go forth and pink.” Celestia have mercy on Las Pegasus, because Twilight had the feeling that she’d just doomed them all.  Fortunately, omniscience was optional, so at least she didn’t have to watch.  Twilight manifested a new body up above the everfree lake before her old one had even finished dissolving into stardust. She had just finished preparing a nice cloud and summoning the last two of her friends from between the stars when she found herself dissolving into stardust once more. Well, her face was, anyway.  Half of it.  The other half was still flesh and blood and reeling from the hoof that had just been introduced to it.  “Rainbow Dash!” The pony in question suddenly stopped in place, and Twilight could see through one eye and a splash of starlight that she was breathing heavily and had an unconscious Fluttershy on her back.  “Twilight?  You’re the one that foalnapped us?” “Oh for goodness’ sake!” Twilight cursed as the scattered stardust slowly became her face again.  “I didn’t foalnap you; this is your ascension!” “Oh,” she said, only now looking around and realizing that she wasn’t being held captive in some villain’s lair.  Still, she seemed confused.  “But I haven’t picked a constellation yet.” “I… might have decided to take matters into my own hooves.  You’re fine with Draco, right?”  Suddenly a lightbulb went off in Twilight’s head.  “Huh, actually, come to think of it, I could have given Applejack Draco instead of Taurus—guardian of the golden apples and all.  Wow, what a missed opportunity.  You guarding apples is like the fox guarding the henhouse.” “I don’t know what you heard, Sparkles, but no matter how foxy I am, I am not into Applejack like that!”  Rainbow Dash thrust her hoof forward to point at Twilight.  “In fact, you still owe us for that lunch you set us up on.” Twilight rolled her eyes.  “I’m sorry; I just quit my dusk job, so I can only pay you in unimaginable power.” “Hrmm,” Rainbow Dash said, as if thinking it over before breaking into a grin.  “Yeah, okay.”  The grin is short-lived, however.  “Wait, you actually got Applejack to agree to this whole thing?  How in the heck did you pull that off?” “Umm, well, agree is not exactly the right word,” Twilight admitted with a bit of a sulk.  “She said no, I said no, we yelled at each other for a while and I might have just out-stubborned her until she stopped resisting.  She never actually said ‘Yes, Twilight, fill me with yer godly power,’ so it’s possible she might be unhappy with me for… a while.” “Oh dear,” came a soft voice from behind Rainbow Dash. “‘Shy! You’re awake!” Rainbow Dash cried, rushing to get her off her back and set her down. Fluttershy waved Rainbow off and walked around to approach Twilight.  “Twilight…  Why would you push something like that on her?” Twilight wilted instantly and looked away, out towards Sweet Apple Acres on the horizon.  “I just… everything is falling apart and I couldn’t…  I did the right thing, I think.  The logic was sound.” “Did… did something happen?” Fluttershy asked, walking up beside her. Twilight dropped her head and mumbled, “She said no.” “We know she said no, you said that,” Rainbow Dash snarked. Twilight frowned.  “Not her.” “Oh my…”  Fluttershy leaned in closer.  “But why?” she asked quietly.  “Was it too soon?” Twilight glanced at Rainbow Dash.  “It’s… complicated.” Rainbow Dash was getting frustrated.  “What’s complicated?” “I don’t want to get into it,” Twilight grumped, dropping to sit on the cloud and absently swirling stars in her hooves until she had two shining figures of pure white outlined in black floating before her.  “I’ll just get angry again.  Here; one Draco and one Ursa Major/Minor pair, on the rocks.  In the rocks.  Whatever.  It sounded smarter in my head, but I guess I should be used to that.” Rainbow Dash was reaching out for the shining dragon in front of her when she paused and sat back down, raising an eyebrow at Twilight.  “Are you sure you don’t want to talk about it?  Because you sound like you want to talk about it.” Twilight may have been a bit forceful when she crammed Draco into Rainbow Dash’s metaphorical hole. Rainbow Dash wobbled in place, a light in her chest making her look and feel like she’d swallowed a glowing parasprite while Twilight motioned Fluttershy closer and gently eased the power into her much more carefully.  “She said she felt the same way, but—and I quote—that ‘now isn’t the right time.’”  The venom she added to those words said all she needed to about that.  “Yeah, that sounds like Applejack,” Rainbow Dash said absently as she made faces and tried to settle herself.  “Wait—you’re into Applejack?  Applejack is into you?!  What the hell, Twilight?” “Oh Twilight…”  Glowing with a warm, maternal light, Fluttershy put her hoof on Twilight’s withers and pulled her closer.  “I don’t know what to say; I’m sure she just—” “Took me for granted,” Twilight interrupted, leaning into Fluttershy’s comfort.  Fluttershy wrapped her hooves around Twilight’s head and pulled it down to her chest in a motherly embrace.  Twilight was of a mind to resist at first, but her attempts were lukewarm and eventually, she gave in and let herself be pulled down onto the cloud.  Twilight’s voice was a little muffled and raw as she pressed herself into Fluttershy’s coat with a sniffle.  “I know, but it just… hurts so much…” Rainbow Dash wouldn’t let it go, however.  “But—” “Rainbow Dash,” Fluttershy said in her sweetest, softest voice as she stroked Twilight’s starry mane.  “Please shut up and push the cloud.  I think it would be best if we all slept at your house tonight.” ⁂ Twilight felt a mess as she woke the next morning to a sunbeam needling her in the eye and cursed Celestia on principle.  With an unhappy groan, she rolled herself over and stuffed her face into the crook of Fluttershy’s neck where it had spent most of the previous night. It didn’t work. There was a pounding on the front door.  “I know you’re in there, Twilight!” came the voice of her one-time mentor, and Twilight cursed Celestia on point of fact.  Bending sunlight was just cheating. “Then you know I was asleep!” Twilight shouted back, refusing to move as Fluttershy stirred from the disturbance.  “Lemme alone!” Twilight didn’t have to see Celestia to imagine her pressing her lips together into a line.  “You’re not asleep now!” “And whose fault is that?” Twilight shot back. “Whose fault is it that Las Pegasus is a crater?” Celestia countered. Twilight froze for a second, slightly worried.  “A crater… of fun?” she asked warily. Celestia, too, hesitated in her response.  “Yes,” she begrudgingly admitted.  “There is a rollercoaster.  Please, Twilight, I just want to talk!” Twilight gritted her teeth.  She was already wide awake, and Fluttershy was giving her encouraging looks.  “Fine,” she grumbled, not concerned with whether or not the princess of the sun could hear her, knowing that Celestia could be aware of anything her light touched and she was clearly abusing that skill readily.  Twilight didn’t even bother to quickly remanifest as she usually did in the morning.  Celestia wanted to talk to a grumpy, rumpled goddess, fine, that’s what she’d get. The door squeaked as it opened, revealing not just a stern-faced Celestia, but also a tired Luna hiding glumly behind her messy black mane, Harmony with her head cocked in question and… Discord leaning on the clockwork goddess’ withers? What. “Pack your things, Twilight; we’re going camping.”