Chapter 17: Sweet Pea

The mood was like the moment before a lightning strike. With bated breath, the collective mass gathered as an audience, quickly filling up the stands. The Arena was the staging grounds for the first event, but it was a rather minor one. The new Captain of the Guard had taken the initiative by gathering the best and brightest from the Empire’s towns.

Even amongst the ponies there were griffons and dragons and other creatures. It seemed the Empire had territory outside of what Celestia had previously considered Equestrian borders. In a hastily-described series of explanations from Twilight, it seemed the map of the world where Equestria resided had been redrawn with expanded territory covering most of the Northern reaches, including Yakyakistan and the Crystal Empire, to the Eastern lands across the sea incorporating an annexed Griffonstone and the Southern deserts and tribes.

It was then that Celestia found out the reason Equestria had not been in war for so long.

The Badlands, previously a former battleground during Celestia’s reign, had been scorched clean by what could only be described as a rolling tide of malevolent magic. Celestia was sickened to hear how the weather had been manipulated to bring scorching sun or chilling snow in an attempt to drive dragons and griffons from forming a beachhead. Magic had been used to make the land barren, so logistics and supply would be a nightmare to behold. Even roughest and toughest of creatures, dragons, finally surrendered, when Celestia had personally pacified the Dragon Lair.

It had been a bloody and unforgiving thousand years. It was no wonder the Celestia of this world was both revered and feared.The whole affair made Celestia nauseous. Many times, Celestia had almost given into the temptation of ignorance. She almost told Twilight to stop, so that she wouldn’t hear of it. But turning a blind eye to the past was what robbed a pony of their future, so Celestia listened to the sordid doings of her alternative past.

If this Celestia was capable of all this, would she herself—essentially the same in all but action and personality—be too?

With a disgusted grunt, Celestia broke away from the anticipatory atmosphere suffusing the Arena. “I’m not sure I would like to do this.”

Luna shifted uncomfortably in her seat. “The ponies expect it, sister. This is not an affair you would normally miss.”

Celestia felt like her soul was leaving her body with the wistful sigh exuding from her lips. “Luna, I’m not the Celestia you know. It’s difficult to imagine, but I do not enjoy violence. In fact, I abhor it.”

Luna looked at her as if she told her the sun moved on its own. “Impossible, sister. You live for war.”

Though she had deep wells of patience, Celestia was reaching the end of her rope. A very frayed rope at that.

“Luna, how could I convince you otherwise? I am telling you the truth, and even I am getting tired of explaining it again and again.”

Luna played with her hooves. “As you say, sister. And I would like to believe it, but I cannot. The explanation is too fanciful… and the only other is…” Luna swallowed and studied the Arena with great interest.

“Is that I’m crazy?” Celestia stated more than asked. She raised an eyebrow. “But I’m rational, reasonable and in full charge of my faculties. If I have a delusion it is very specific and its not like it’s impeding my everyday activities.”

“One would argue,” Luna retorted meekly, but with flared nostrils, “that avoiding such events would be an impediment to everyday activities.”

Celestia blinked at Luna, then rolled her eyes. “Equestria, as I have found, generally governs itself while I’m away. Both you and Twilight handle most, if any, issues that find their way into policies, procedures, petitions, politics, and any other p-flavoured monstrosities the Court comprises of!”

Luna cringed at the outburst of emotions as Celestia tried her best to take a deep breath and calm down.

Celestia wondered if her temper was increasing. Was it the effect of this world? Was the environment somehow influencing the way she thought and acted? She decided, for the sake of her sanity, to blame the outburst on stress.

Luna straightened slightly, accepting the apology somewhat reluctantly. “Sister, I’m worried about you. Your former self would never apologise. She always stated that actions reveal one’s true self and that apologising was like dismissing the significance of your choice to act.” Luna eyes raked the stands, in search for something that wasn’t physical. Celestia suspected that the difficulty came from reconciling her former perception of her sister to the replacement she had now.

Twilight entered the cordoned area, nodding to the guard stationed there. It comprised of the new Captains of the Guard, Flitter and Shade. They stood at the ready, with relief units flanking them. It appeared that they were taking the job quite seriously.

Twilight paused at the less-than-enthusiastic reply and glanced uncertainly at Luna.

Celestia took no notice of the interaction, her mind running through the list of spells she held in her internal compendium. It was a comprehensive codex of sorts, with each spell relating to use case and theory, instinctively summoned more than consciously recalled. She struggled to remember the theories on interdimensional time ellipses and space warping and the such. The fundamentals of teleportation, as it were.

Twilight tore her eyes away from Celestia and trotted to the front. Celestia continued to all but ignore the unicorn as she summoned a megaphone. Twilight made some announcements and commenced the war games, but Celestia was less than interested in that. Instead, she summoned a book, and began reading. The more she engaged with the world, the more she would be drawn into its intrigue. She wanted to avoid that.

Even though she was absorbed in the depth of the academics of dimensional theory, a few snippets of the conversation between Twilight and Luna still made their way through her studious concentration.

“The Princess is reading during the war games; that’s never happened before.”

“But look, the entrants are also equally disturbed, but it looks like some of them are taking it upon themselves as a challenge to attract the Princess’ attention. Perhaps it is all within my sister’s plan?” Luna’s reply carried a hint of uncertainty.

“Indeed, Twilight, that was unexpected. Oh look, that pony was hit by the blast. Ah, foolish, to protect a downed ally. Do they not know that will end in tragedy?”

“Her friend’s been separated, looks like they’re going to deal the finishing blow!”

This time, the explosion was deafening and Celestia had to put down her book. She made it just in time to cop a face full of rainbow.

“A Sonic Rainboom!” Celestia shouted springing up from her seat. Without thinking she leapt to over the railings, wings spreading.

“Princess!” Flitter and Shade both called out after her as Celestia landed on the platform. They, and the retinue of guards, flung themselves out after her.

“Princess!” Twilight called out. She hesitated, her hoof inching over, but Luna held her back.

A hoof swung in her direction. It was barely blocked by a guard with a resounding clang!

“N-Never before had the Princess taken part in the games,” Twilight reluctantly called out in the megaphone. “What will happen now?”

“As usual,” Twilight hesitantly announced in an ill-disguised reply, “there are no rules.”

The guards were loyal to her, it seemed. The other participants had gathered into a loose mob. While they were fighting in a sort of free-for-all, they now were united in a front against the newcomer, who happened to be Celestia and her retinue of guards.

“Neat trick,” a husky voice called out, “but we won’t fall for it, Princess.”

“Yes,” Celestia said impatiently, watching the other contestants edging their way to encompass her and her guards. “Now why did you use it?”

Rainbow glanced at an injured participant, a frail-looking pony, she hardened her expression before replying somewhat nonchalantly. “No reason.”

Celestia already suspected why, but kept silent. Like Celestia, Rainbow was eyeing the rest of the contestants whilst protectively guarding the pony on the ground.

“Last chance,” she called out to the rest of the participants, “let me leave in peace and you will too. I simply wanted to ask a question.” Unexpectedly, there was no response from the assorted mob.

Rainbow frowned at Celestia. “No pony is allowed to leave the Arena once the war begins.” Her stance stiffened. “You either win, or…”

Celestia dodged the incoming magical blast of energy that was partially deflected by her guard.

“You are a disgrace! You let a measly—” Shade growled. Before he could get any further, Celestia cut in.

“Enough,” Celestia said, “there’s no time for that. The others aren’t giving up. We need a plan.”

“I suggest we systematically eliminate the contestants,” Flitter answered immediately.

“May I ask why, Princess?” Shade asked, just loud enough for the guards to hear.

“These creatures are my subjects. No harm shall befall them because of me. Especially because of my misdoing.”

“Do nothing.” It was a simple command, but the guards around her did not look too pleased.

“Princess, we cannot leave you unprotected,” Shade put in, his voice taking a tone of pleading.

Celestia dismissed his concerns with a flick of her hoof. “I will settle this myself. I am hardly a stranger to combat.”

The words rang true, even if the perception was distorted. Shade and Flitter were forced to accede to her wishes by virtue of her counterpart’s violent legacy.

Despite it being necessary, Celestia didn’t like the fact that she relied on any aspect of her alter ego’s persona. It felt morally ambiguous. This whole thing felt morally ambiguous.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Celestia said in response to a twitching movement from her periphery. The figure started in surprise as Celestia swept around her with an iron gaze.

Celestia eyed her opponents carefully. They were studying her just as closely. To the left were a minotaur, a griffon, two unicorns and a pegasus. To the right was a teenage dragon and three armoured earth ponies. Contrary to the rather decorative armour from her own world, the armour here was serious. The surface dully reflected burnished steel and brass. Each step forward brought the sound of clanking metal on metal. Celestia tried to ignore the ominous sound provoking mixed feelings about the situation she was in.

Instinctively she knew, if she tried to retreat, they would attack. For now, they were locked in a stalemate.

“While we are standing here,” she called out to the mob, “let’s have a chat.”

She hoped it wouldn’t be seen through as a thinly-veiled attempt to stall for time. She kept her tone casual and her posture as relaxed as she could, though the shivering of her left fore hoof threatened to undo her careful arrangement.

“We know the conditions of entry, Princess. It is all or nothing.” It was the dragon that replied, his eyes fixed with steely determination to win.

“It doesn’t have to be,” Celestia shot back. “You have a chance to walk out of this unharmed. I will even consider this competition moot. I simply wanted to talk to one of the competitors.” Even as she said the words, she knew it was a mistake by the way the atmosphere grew in tension.

“Everything relies on this moment.” The griffon that spoke tightened her claws as she flared her wings. “If I don’t win, there’s nothing left for me.”

Taking advantage of the distraction provided by the griffon, the dragon made the first move. In an explosive movement, the dragon dove towards her. Reacting instinctively, Celestia summoned a powerful shield that deflected the outstretched claw. Without missing a beat at the rebound, the dragon breathed fire, flaming directly at the breach. Celestia could tell the flames weren’t going to reach her, but she knew there must be something more to it.

Seeing the ploy for what it was, Celestia shot two bolts into flames, gratified to hear the sound of the two ponies charging through the flames sigh and sink to the ground.

The dragon grimly acknowledged his downed comrades, dragging them back hastily to a safe distance. Celestia didn’t pursue. She glanced to the side, but the other contestants were content with simply observing the first exchange of blows. It was a smart move, considering.

“Sleep spell,” Celestia replied, shooting a warning shot at the encroaching griffon. The griffon paused, and took a step back. She glanced at her companions and wisely stayed put.

The dragon barked a harsh laugh. “Only the first round and we face the Princess? What kind of joke is this?”

The dragon shook his head. “The Princess of the Empire wouldn’t make mistakes like this.”

Celestia simply sighed. “If that is what you want to think.” With a flash, she disappeared. The audience, even though some had seen this trick before, still gasped as Celestia appeared at the other end of the Arena, in an area devoid of participants.

“Say I didn’t make a mistake. What is the reason I would choose to come down here and participate?”

Silence greeted her as the disordered contested reoriented themselves quickly to face her.

“I don’t know!” the griffon shouted. “All I know is that I have to win, even if I have to fight Princess Celestia herself! Last one standing. That’s the rule from the beginning.” The griffon pointed to the words written along the sides of the arena. It was written in the Ancient Equestrian Script, one of the first languages developed for common usage among the three tribes when they united. It was in the form of a simple stanza ringing the arena. The translation was thus:

All those who enter in combat,
The one who stands above all,
Shall confer the right of ascension.

Although it had lost the flavour of rhyme and cadence, the script still vaguely confer its original intent. But the wording itself was ambiguous, so it seemed that the participants were interpreting it to their convenience. Ancient Equestrian Script words had different meanings in different contexts with even the order of the words mattering. One could surmise that the script was saying the last one standing, but really, the one who stands above all, could easily be translated to, the supreme conqueror. A title rather than a condition.

Was it really last one standing, or was the script something to mock the participants with?

Celestia glanced back at the guards who collectively looked tense, though not from being attacked. They seemed to be worried for her safety. If she were to win as the last one standing, wouldn’t it mean she would have to face her guards?

“If I were to do defeat the remaining contestants, what would the guard do?”

“Yield, of course. We could not lay a hoof on her Highness’ personage. We will submit.” Flitter glared at the guards around them. “I will make sure of it.”

The mob of contestants had also withdrawn to the other side of the stadium. They seemed to come together in agreement. Most likely they realised that the biggest threat was Celestia and that beating her collectively would give them a greater opportunity. If they decided to fight amongst themselves, they would suffer a defeat as Celestia picked them off one by one.

From their constant vigilance, they were probably both surprised and grateful that Celestia hadn’t made a move as of yet.

“Hail,” she called out. It was an archaic way of parlay. She wondered briefly if this still applied.

The participants stiffened and turned around warily, seeing if anypony dared make the first move.

“Hail,” the griffon called out in reply. It seemed the griffon was put in charge of being the leader, as the dragon was tending to the other two ponies. Throughout this whole exchange, a light murmuring had been flittering through the crowd, but the noise cut out as the mood turned anticipatory.

“Another?” The griffon raised an eyebrow and sat on her haunches, throwing a claw out. “What is it this time?”

“I’ve scanned the writing on the walls and there is another way other than last one standing.”

Celestia pointed at the writing. “Though the second line suggests in a way that it is the last one standing, it doesn’t specify how.”

The griffon creased her brow. “Well the accepted way is through combat, isn’t it?”

Here Celestia smiled. “Twilight,” she called out, “what was the original intention of the war games?”

She heard fumbling of the megaphone before Twilight answered her in a surprised voice. “To demonstrate the talent and abilities without having to go to a real war.”

Celestia nodded as the crowd started buzzing in a fashion that reminded her of poking a bee hive. Certainly, she was doing that now.

“And is it specified anywhere that there was a specific method for doing so?”

Celestia turned back the assorted participants. “So, there are many options to winning.”

“So, what does that have to do with our situation? The only choice is to fight.”

Celestia shook her head. “Like a real war, there are several methods that don’t require battle. Don’t you know?”

Taken aback, the griffon, dragon, not to mention all the ponies in the crowd, were staring at her in flabbergasted amazement. Celestia assumed that the reaction was more because it was the last thing they thought Celestia would say rather than the fact that there was a bloodless way to win.

The dragon tapped his claw on the arena’s tile slab. “How is it possible to use diplomacy in a combat situation?”

Celestia laughed, the clear sound carrying across the Arena, stunning both participants, guards and audience alike. “We’re talking right now, aren’t we?” Her voice lowered, and her expression settled into a serous countenance. “Let’s review our options. We can fight and you may win or you may lose.”

“Though I haven’t been in combat for a while, I’m fairly sure I can cause some participants to drop out.” Celestia lifted an eyebrow and waited calmly for a response.

“The second option is to surrender. Give up like my guards did and offer your head to me.” Even putting on a brave front, the words were sickening for her to say. She managed to erase the disgust creeping over her face, though.

The griffon and the dragon shook their heads. Failure was not an option. In the silence, the other participants noted the breakdown of negotiations and readied their stances. Celestia waited a few seconds longer before proposing the final option.

“There is one last option. Let’s form an alliance.” Celestia grinned. “With no enemies to fight, there is no one to stand above one another. We are all elevated to the same position.”

“Ever heard of the concept of a Federation?” Celestia cut in. “Alliances bound together as many voices forming the one unified directive. We are one, but we are many. In some ways it is like a nation.”

The griffon and the dragon nodded their heads. Each tried to lock eyes with her, searching for guile within, but Celestia was not lying and her demeanour exuded the aura of openness and calm befitting of a ruler of Equestria. It was a stark contrast to the Celestia that domineered over her subjects, the one who led the Empire in the first place. Mistrust was slowly being replaced with hope…

The unicorn reddened as the gazes of all present were trained on her. Despite being uncomfortable being the centre of attention, the unicorn stiffened her lip and strode forward.

“We all have something to fight for. I know you need this, whether for fame, money, power, whatever was promised to you. She is tricking us into accepting defeat. After all, the prize is one request to highest ruler of the land—” she gestured to Celestia “—how can you divide this among the many gathered here?”

What? All at once, her plan crumbled. Frantically, she factored in the singular prize.

“But what if we want different things? What if a wish conflicted with another? What will you do then?” The unicorn shook her head. “There is one wish that I have to grant, no matter what.” Her horn glowed menacingly. “I will win the right in the end.”

Again, she was cut off. The unicorn glared with such menace that Celestia was taken aback.

“There is no compromise. I cannot lose here.” Her gaze swept around to the remainder of the participants. “You all have a reason to enter. There is no going back.”

All at once, the mood changed. What had been a vaguely conciliatory mood now blackened into a suspicious silence. Celestia tried to think of something, anything, to overcome this twist of fate. Around her, the gazes of the participants slowly lost their passive demeanour. Some turned hostile, some turned regretful, but all were once again showing the resolution to do the unthinkable.

Celestia strained her mind for an answer to this oncoming dilemma. Her mind was drawing a blank. Bitterly, she realised that she could only stall for a little more time. Again, she tried.

The unicorn twisted her lips, but was forcefully dragged back by a hulking minotaur that stood off to the side. Her reasonable attitude had bought her a little of their trust, but not much.

A minute. That seemed to be what she was worth. All her staying power, all her experience, all of her summed up to this moment. A minute. A minute wasn’t long, but a minute would give her time to think of something.

How could she convince those gathered here that violence wasn’t the solution? They all wanted a wish badly enough to put their lives on the line.

Celestia could feel the seconds pressing down on her. There didn’t seem to be a time limit, but the crowd and the mob of participants were beginning to become restless. Celestia instinctively knew that it wouldn’t go well if she stalled too much. Around her, the crushing feeling of unbridled bloodlust permeated the air. Everypony was waiting for it. They wanted to see somepony hurt.

Celestia could rapidly feel the control around her fading. Her guards were tensing up, reacting to the perceptible increase in danger. The participants dropped into a readying stance. The first round of attacks had just been probing. They were now going to seriously try and hurt her. No matter the difference in the strength, if Celestia failed to meet the attack with the same resolution, she herself will be injured.

She had no choice, the Arena was a situation that bent belief of a peaceful resolution out of the way in favour of brutality. Celestia didn’t want to fight. She didn’t want to hurt another being. Thus, she needed to put her thoughts into action and show them the way.

“If I can’t reason with you, I will seek to meet you on your own terms. If I cannot find another solution and the only way is to fight, then I will defend myself.” Celestia swept her flinty gaze amongst the steely participants. Sparks almost seemed to fly off each fighter in this roiling cauldron of oil.

Celestia’s horn lit up as a searingly bright circle of light sprung up around her guards and herself.

“Cross this point,” she declared in a clear, uncompromising voice, “and you will regret it!”

It could have been a hoof full of seconds. It could have been minutes. The tension stretched the time beyond recognition as everyone in the vicinity watched with bated breath. The thick taught mood was mixed with the muddy impressions of bloodlust and violence on the brink of sweet, suffocating release.

Contradictory emotions welled up within the alicorn as she stood tall, proud and confident. Inside, she was cose to panicking. Even though these were not technically her subjects, she could not pull her thoughts away and detach herself. These were not her enemies, these were living beings warped under the pressure of their savage world, they were reasoning beings that were almost convinced… but were not due to her own failure.

How is it that so often she would sail through the meaningless vagaries of everyday life and numbing governance and politics, but when it came to these explosive situations her actions merely resulted in life being torn to shreds? It was the same, Luna, the changeling invasion, Discord… everything was her fault. Everything had fallen because of her inability to discard her reservations and embrace the resolve to fight.

The minotaur charged, nostrils flaring with the heat of the moment, eyes locked onto target with a vicious kick aimed straight to her face. Celestia dodged the attempted blow with a low duck and poised herself with a spell waiting in her wings.

A localised gale popped into existence and with a powerful sweep, the minotaur was sent flying, crashing into a surprised earth pony trying to bring up the rear. Before Celestia could catch a breath of respite, the dragon breathed flames causing her to reflexively shield herself with a barrier, just in time to catch the hooves or a madly driven pegasus that had dove from above.

Gritting her teeth, Celestia pounded the ground, sending power into the ground and bringing forth a crackling shockwave of power that slammed into her opponent’s encirclement.

Dazed and confused the front-liners stumbled back as others advanced. With their teamwork, Celestia bitterly observed, the participants had achieved the unity required to suppress her. Of course, her guards stood by watching, but they saw no need to step in. In fact, the captains surmised that stepping in would hinder rather than help the alicorn, and though she knew this, Celestia felt a small pang of loneliness in facing her adversaries on her own.

Why couldn’t they just come to an agreement in the same way they marvellously performed in concerto?

While lost in her disappointed reverie, she almost didn’t react to the surprising appearance of a hoof diving towards her chest!

Instinctively, Celestia lashed out with her own hoof as she automatically countered the attack. Too late she realised it was the unicorn that had cast an illusion to sneak close to her. She hadn’t the time to think as her defence tore into his shocked features.

In that small moment of adrenaline and rage, horror washed through her as she pulled back. At her hooves was the twisted form of a pony that had been so eager to dive into battle. Looking around she saw the contestants staring at the body, frozen like her. It was the first time she had unleashed a lethal blow.

The unicorn, struggling to pull breath into his collapsed lungs, gazed in abject terror not of only Celestia but of the primal fear of encroaching death she represented as she approached.

Various thoughts swirled in her confused mind, but one dominated above them all.

Luna and Celestia looked up, eyes reddened from exhaustion. In contrast to the liberated look plastered over Twilight’s features, the two sisters, in circumstance more than reality, took in their respective expression and stared somewhat dully at Twilight.

“What?” Luna managed to get out. There was no trace of her bearing as Princess, simply the words of a bone-weary regent that needed sleep.

Twilight frowned at the less-than-enthusiastic response. She looked out the window.

“It’s…” Celestia’s eyes widened. “Much too late for the sun to rise!” She flopped out of the bed covered in books and documents and dashed out of the door, the hinges almost popping out of their sockets as the door slammed with enough force to wake a slumbering dragon.

Luna and Twilight looked at each other for a full five seconds and snorted with laughter.

“To think, I began the day doubting what you would say, Twilight Sparkle!” Luna exclaimed between snorts. “Paperwork indeed has its merits!”

The doors opened again. “Twilight I forgot the legislation!” She took the papers from her hooves. “Thank you, my dear student!” Then she left.

Luna raised an eyebrow. “Methinks the poor mare is addled without sleep and misbegotten the fact of your wings.”

Twilight stuck her tongue out at Luna, for once, forgetting she was a Princess. She couldn’t help but smile anyway.

The dream faded away as Celestia awoke, disappointed. It was indeed a dream. Twilight laughing with her? Her sister making merry with her so familiar? Such an event had never occurred and might never will. Underneath was the soft silk of a bed, overhead was a familiar canopy, but only in shape, the colour scheme was a horrendous black and red.

The sheets felt like an irrepressible weight. Without Twilight, she was sad to admit, she could not traverse back to her universe. The books she had requested decorated the table in opened form, resembling a field of flowers, but with literature and paper rather than petals and stems.

All night, for several nights, she had attended to the books, trying to discern a clue that would let her reach for her home dimension. But magic here seemed not to progress so far, and though she was an accomplished caster in her own right, the extent of her knowledge and vast skills were dulled by the ages through disuse. Her mind was filled with governance and politics rather than the academic pursuit of her youth and she envied Twilight’s memory. That enthusiastic mare could probably recite those texts back to her, in reverse.

Though she had no need to raise the sun, the instinct always came to her. She wondered how the sun moved in this crazy universe, but decided it wasn’t worth pursuing. There were other matters more important to consider. She needed a way to get back, but the books were leading her nowhere. The only thing she could think of was to somehow get in contact with a human… but they were not to be trusted.

When she got back, she would resolve to make Twilight call her by first name. How the title wore thin after so long. Especially in this alien world. She admitted she was a princess. She admitted that her duties would lead to a certain distance between her and her subjects. The title was a part of her and yet she yearned it would not be. She realised wearily that this world’s Twilight was waiting for her reply. She forced an antipathetic smile.

“Yes, Twilight, you don’t need to knock. There’s nothing I would be doing that I would consider important enough to warrant that.” The statement came out a little more snippy than she intended and immediately she curbed her unruly ire with mortified guilt. “Sorry, Twilight, I guess… I guess I haven’t been getting enough sleep.” That much was true. Even if she didn’t occupy her time with magic, the nightmares would come, robbing her of what little strength she had left.

Twilight glanced at the desk. She opened and shut her mouth, waging an internal debate that Princess Celestia recognised all too well.

Celestia smiled at her—former student—attendant. “I’m fine, Twilight.”

Twilight’s face was etched with worry. “With respect, you are clearly not, Princess. I urge you to rest.”

Celestia had already made her way to the table. “I make the same offer as I did the last time, Twilight. You’re welcome anytime.”

Celestia knew exactly why. For if Twilight sat down, then she was admitting to herself that she believed in Celestia’s story. Sitting down was betraying her own convictions and enabling Celestia’s delusions in her opinion. She could not stop her though, and they both knew Celestia, at her present state would not order her to help. Instead, this stalemate of sorts had arisen, something that Celestia loathed, but knew would happen.

Twilight would not sit in the chair until she was convinced of the truth, but Celestia had no evidence. The only recourse was a wearying battle of wills. Celestia, Twilight and Luna were all embroiled in it and her stamina was flagging, she knew. It was not physical, but mental, it was an isolation that was keenly felt by Celestia.

Celestia knew this isolation well, she had experienced it for well over a thousand years. What were a few days more?

But this was different. It was her family and friends that resisted. The ones closest to her. The one able to cut the deepest with the kindest intentions. It were they that were her opponents. This torture was in conflict with the keening desperation she had resolved in her heart to return to her world. If she gave up, she would be swallowed by this universe.

She could feel her sense of urgency weaken ever-so-slightly when she participated in stately affairs. So she ceased them. She could feel her resolve dissolve under the pressure of her dependent ponies, so she excluded them. She couldn’t fight her friends and family… so she wouldn’t permit them to pose their case.

Twilight was bound by unwavering loyalty to her princess. She was asked not to convince her. If Celestia was honest, she practically begged. Luna and Twilight were torn between her heartfelt request and their desire to save her from the precipice of her imagined madness.

With each passing day her doubts grew. No longer had she seen Benny or Agatha. It had been weeks. After the war games, Celestia had stopped governing. Simply stopped. She was done with this world. She was done with their barbaric practices. She would not fulfil duties that were against her moral convictions.

She didn’t want to say to Twilight and Luna that she feared she would be taken, like during the war games, to hold that rush of power and say that she enjoyed it to some extent. That awful, despicable, feeling of arrogance, hatred and power that had once cost her a thousand years of her sister’s life.

She was aware of the argument that her rational mind made to absolve her of guilt. It would be so simple to discard her perceived duties to the subjects of this world. After all, they were not really her subjects, but the subjects of her counterpart. It was a tempting resolution that would absolve her of responsibility… so her seductive processes led her to think.

But that was wrong. That was horrifically wrong. To discharge herself of responsibility to her citizens would not discharge herself of her actions. There was no doubt that she hurt a pony, one that she had resolved to talk out of violence. What hypocrisy, what hubris, what self-conceited vanity to even entertain the notion that she wasn’t accountable to morals in a different world.

If not to remember the mare she was to be, but also to return as the mare she used to be. Celestia wanted to come back to Equestria, her Equestria, as herself, as she left it. She could only imagine what expressions her own world’s Twilight and Luna would make if she had changed, and all for the worse.

Twilight twitched from her vigil in the corner of the room. Though she made not a sound, her silent disapproval was steadily eroding the tired alicorn’s forbearance. It was this constant presence that took her every ounce of willpower to retain her composure. She could not be angry at Twilight. After all, she was doing this with misguided intentions, not malicious intent.

Celestia wondered if Benny was watching, amused at the enduring strain he was weighing on her own psyche. She wondered if he was laughing.

The events of the Arena came flooding back to her. She had the determination to stand there, without fighting. She told herself she would stand alone, only dodging or parrying. That was what was intended, but in a miscalculated move, she lashed with a counterattack that was meant to be a block. Hooves shaking, she brought them to her face, she could still feel that sickening crunch as the pony’s ribs gave way and he tumbled to the ground with a choked cry…

It had been a crushing defeat, the other side had yielded. She had won, and the taste of victory had turned ashen in her unworthy maw. She had stumbled away from their nauseating cheers and cries.

“Princess, you need a break.” Twilight gestured to the door. “Everypony is waiting.”

Celestia blinked. “Where is Luna?” She hadn’t seen—her sister—her co-governess for a while.

Twilight bit her lip, she was clearly reluctant to discuss the matter. Finally, she sighed. “Princess Luna is afraid. She fears she may say something wrong and cast you further into madness.”

Celestia blinked. She realised she had said the last statement out loud. She considered for a very brief, almost fleeting moment to resist, but the very thought was washed away from the warm look that Celestia was given from her kind attendant.

Takes The Cake

by sunnypack

17 - Sweet Pea