The Seven Seals

by Lightwavers


The Sun Will Meet The Earth

So many had died, and still they came. Common sense dictated that beasts so fiery and independent would be just as rare as they were powerful. At the sight of a hoard of scales large enough to blot out the sun, common sense fell upon its sword in shame.

The dragons had come, and with a vengeance.

Celestia had prepared.

Dragon politics was an extremely secretive affair. Still, a pair of agents had managed to infiltrate the selection for the new Dragonlord, and found security lax indeed. The secret appeared to be a scepter that commanded the wills—or at least the loyalties—of the dragons.

In that light, their general secrecy about...well, everything was warranted. From what they ate in their native lands to how they conducted politics, it was all treated as information to be guarded without regard to cost. Celestia had eventually given up on cajoling a dragon into cooperation and attempted to hatch one of her own with eggs gained through less...legitimate sources. The unfortunate results of which she teleported into the sea. The last one went in the newly-started school for talented unicorns as a test for foals trying out.

There was a pain in her chest.

Her school, and the talented young foals who would be trying out this fall, wouldn’t see another year if the dragons got too far.

They had to be stopped. And like their secrecy, this too was a resolution Celestia would hold at any cost.

A resolution they had ignored.

I should have brought the sun down on them when I had the chance.

The thought flashed through her head, along with many others like it. A thought she would never act on. She’d ask Luna to help her with it later—

A green-eyed glare flashed her way. Luna snorted, then left the chamber. Eyes followed her out, all except Celestia’s, whose stare was frozen on the place her sister had stood. She’d forgotten. Again.

Years of aid without obligation, or caring without coolness—those were hard to disregard. Luna was a different mare now. She had poured herself into her studies without regard to anypony around her until her eyes constantly burned with green fire even when not actively using the new branch of magic she’d found, the one she’d called mental magic.

Dark magic would be more appropriate.

Magic wasn’t sentient. It didn’t think, or hurt, or feel. It was just a tool. But Luna had begun practicing right when she’d started becoming more and more distant. And the green eyes, the state of rage or fear it induced, the way it could prey upon an unprepared mind…

It was hard not to hate.

Celestia repaired the cracks in her mask. They were subtle, but still there. And it became easier and easier to feel an emotion the more she wore it. She wore her Calm like another might wear a hat they disliked, but was the only one that could be worn for a funeral, and there was a funeral every day

She made a noise. In another mare, it might have indicated a polite bit of upset, a barely held back expression of dissatisfaction with the amount of sugar in her tea. Here, from her…

Eyes locked on to hers, pointedly not looking in the direction of her departed sister. “Find the statue. Send the orders. Do. Your. Jobs,” she said, eyes still fixed on a point in the air formerly filled by her little s—by Luna. They were not the same pony.

Not anymore, she reminded herself forcefully.

She took a step forward, toward the towering double doors. They shouldn't have been there—she wasn’t that kind of pony. But she’d been persuaded—

She was distracting herself. Not anymore. She walked with slow but firm steps toward the doors. The ranks of ponies arranged to the sides broke and all but galloped out of the chamber, through side entrances, back hallways, some even deigning to lower themselves to use servant entrances that they otherwise would not have been caught dead near—she held back a snort—but none followed her example.

They closed behind her, grinding together in a sudden jolt, imparting a sense of finality she couldn’t shake.

“Luna.”

Her sister—her equal—stood at the other end of the pavilion, a curious emptiness to her gaze.

“I wondered if you’d come,” she said. Her words were soft, but carrying. Celestia’s ears still twitched to catch them.

Celestia gestured at the guards beside the heavy, ornate doors. “Leave us.”

They were too professional to show their relief. They lifted off, one after the other, the pegasus attempting to tangle the thestral’s wings as they left.

You could tell a lot about how Equestria saw something by how the guards reacted.

“Of course I—” Celestia began, matching Luna’s tone.

“—you didn’t before!” Luna shouted. Celestia flattened her ears and took an involuntary step back at the abrupt change in volume. The guards looked back, but the thestral succeeded in a nudge that was just a little too hard to be accidental, sending the pegasus spiraling down fifty feet before he could recover himself. “You didn’t before,” she said again, softly.

“I was busy.” The excuse rang hollow.

“Busy.” Luna took a step forward.

“Luna, please. I didn’t understand. How could I? The court—”

“—oh yes, your precious court,” Luna growled.

This was all going so wrong.

“Please. If you never listen to anything I say again—fine. But let us please, just once, talk. No guards. No court. Nothing but you and me.”

Her glare softened. Stance weakened.

Please, Celestia begged. If the stars were listening, then—please.

“The stars will aid in her escape.”

“That...what?”

“You said. When...before. You said.” Luna stared at Celestia. She was begging. Beseeching.

“I don’t—” Celestia stopped.

She remembered. Vividly. Luna had been a foal. Too young to remember. Celestia herself didn’t even remember her name. But she’d given her foals one last smile.

“The stars have come for me. But I’ll be back. Don’t worry. They will aid in my escape.”

Celestia didn’t know how she’d left. There had been a bright explosion of light, and then six gems that landed at her hooves. They were safe now. Luna knew about them, but didn’t ask.

They talked. It was gibberish. Madness. Insanity. And Luna would never know. No one would. Not if Celestia could help it.

“It wasn’t like this before. It used to be perfect. Now...dragons at our doorstep, sister. When is she coming back?”

Celestia’s jaw worked several times as she tried to give voice to her answer. “It… She… She never said.”

“Will she ever come back?” Luna said, the lost confusion of a foal plain on her face. Celestia’s heart ached at the sight. But Luna was not a foal. Not anymore.

“I don’t know, sister. I—” her breath hitched. “—I have been wondering the same.”

Her sister took the words at their face value. Nodded once. “I’m going to stop this war.”

“Luna! No, you can’t—”

“Either you do it, or I do.”

They gazed at each other. Celestia, yearning for her sister back. Luna at the edge of making a terrible, terrible mistake. “I can’t do that,” Celestia whispered.

Luna nodded. “I don’t blame you. It...hurts. But it is necessary.”

“No. No, it’s not. It’s never necessary. There’s always another way.”

“Is there? Is there really?” Luna asked.

It wasn’t for show. There was longing in her eyes. She didn’t want to do it either. If Celestia could think of something, anything…

Even as she searched, exploring every remembered avenue in a few too-quick seconds, Luna’s expression hardened.

“Please, let’s just talk about—”

They were the wrong words.

“We will talk,” Luna bit out, “when the war is over.”

She left.

Celestia looked after, helpless. Her sister—Luna could end the war in a few moments. It would kill everyone. Dragon, pony, griffin, every beast under the sun would die, if not in body, in spirit. Her creations could take any and drive them to utter madness within moons. Her preparation would be spent in ensorcelling them so they would only go where she bid, rabid dogs at tearing at an enchanted leash. If all went well, every dragon in the realm would die a slow, painful death. Their natural resistance to magic would only make it worse as they fought off the initial onslaught, falling to the next like a felled deer to a wolf. And if there was the slightest weakness to the enchantments, the tiniest extra strain of the leash...the dragons would not be the only ones driven to madness.

And Celestia couldn’t blame her.

But the sun would meet the earth before she condoned such actions.