Whiskey leaned against a lamppost, assuming an easy and contented slouch. He was bone tired, and more than a little confused about what had happened in back in the Everfree. Messages to the Whitetail beacon and been jumbled even before they stopped coming through entirely. Then there'd been that light, which left him feeling warm an fuzzy all over.
Later, Stonewall had come back with bad burns down his side, and didn’t have time to give a report before being taken to a hospital. And he was resigning, for reasons Whiskey wasn't yet clear on. And then Lieutenant Shining come back with a face like a thundercloud even though talk among the privates was the 'corn had made something of a hero of himself. And then Shining's sister had taken him aside, and afterwards, well, he still looked like a thundercloud, but less like one that was actively going to explode at any moment.
Still, the Sun now hung there in the sky exactly where it should be, so Whiskey was content that all other matters could work themselves out in due time. Preferably after about twenty four hours of solid sleep.
The ponies on the Canterlot main street had even less idea what was going on, it seemed. Whiskey smiled to himself while he watched them. Pegasi gathered in on the rooftops or hovered in the air. Always had an advantage, they did, when there was something to be gawked at. The ‘corns and the earthers had to be content with their positions in windows and the streets. He even thought spotted a monocle drop from the face of some well dressed fellow.
The city was uncertain. Ponies milled about, unsure if they should still be going to work, school, or preparing for the end. In the streets, little knots of ponies gathered outside of houses. More than a few were neighbours, Whiskey reckoned, talking to each other for the first time in years. The city had woken from the comfortable routine of daily life. This was a day it would remember.
“Warms yer heart, doesn’t it?” Whiskey said to his companion, stretching his neck to get a better view of the carriage at the centre of everypony’s attention.
“Maybe,” the stallion replied. “But I think we got very lucky. And I foresee many problems ahead of us. For a start, the interruption in sunlight is going to cause us problems with the weather schedule.” He paused, thinking. “But that’s nothing next to the diplomatic situation. Do you know how many treaties we just violated? I do. It’s seventy six; Equestria has a Treaty of Dawn and Dusk with practically every nation it has ever had diplomatic relation with. And even accepting that, then there’s this new Princess Luna. I have no idea what to do about that or how she’s going to affect things, and…”
The stallion trailed off, possibly because Whiskey was chuckling to himself. “Only you, Quill, could take a day like today and poor cold water all over it.”
Quill let out a little grunt that was probably supposed to be dignified. “These things need to be thought about, Captain.”
Whiskey decided to leave the unicorn to his own devices for a moment, as the carriage was passing by. Smiling, Whiskey doffed his helm, straightened himself up, and gave the Princess his best salute. Well, the two Princesses now.
The Princess was on the royal carriage, seeming as radiant as always. Whiskey knew better. There was a slight glassiness to her expression that told him her mind was anywhere but with the crowd. Next to her was the pony who was causing the most commotion. A winged unicorn with a sky blue coat and turquoise eyes. That must be Luna. Luna's eyes darted in every direction at once, bewildered, as if she didn’t know what to look at next.
Whiskey blinked a few times. His eyes had gone all watery.
“Still…” Quill said, “even though it means more work, and more complications for Equestira, I am glad that things have turned out the way they did.”
Whiskey stared at Quill, whose face was still completely straight.
It was too much. His smile broadening even more, Whiskey lopped a foreleg around the Adviser to the Realm and squeezed into a one-sided hug, finishing by patting the other stallion on the back.
Quill, for his part, shuffled about uncomfortably, and brushed himself off. “So, Captain,” he said as the carriage disappeared from view, “I suppose that is that.”
“I suppose yer right there.” He turned to Quill. There was one last thing he had to say, and it was important. “Quill, go home and see yer family.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Go home early and see them, Quill, I mean it.”
Quill at least had the decency to look at his hooves. “I suppose I can manage that after we sort out—”
“I mean it Quill, Equestria is bigger that you, it’ll keep going without you. Yer family? Not so much.”
Quill was silent for a moment. “Oh, very well,” he said at last. “And you, Captain?”
On any other day, a pony saying that would have gotten a dirty look. Whiskey was amazingly good at them, if he did say so himself. Not today though.
“Yer know Quill, after seeing them, five years…” Whiskey glanced at the corner where the pair of sisters had vanished from view. “I know it ain’t going to be easy, and it’s never going to be the same, but five years…
“Five years ain’t seeming so long any more.”
----
Luna waited for her in the Hall of Dusk and Dawn. Celestia ached to go to her. The scant time they’d had on the chariot ride back to Canterlot was not enough. Celestia ached to go to her, and perhaps feared to just as much, but there was one apology she had to get through first. The princess in her demanded it.
Slowly, she raised a hoof and knocked on the door of Twilight’s tower and waited.
From within there came a quick pattering of feet and the door popped open to reveal Spike.
“Oh, hiya, Princess. Here to see Twilight?”
“Indeed, if that wouldn’t be too much—”
“No trouble at all Princess,” Spike replied quickly. “Twilight, somepony here to see you!” He called back into the tower, then, without waiting for an answer, he scampered away with an excited: “Alright, break time! I’m getting me some ice cream.”
“Spike!” An indigo maned head popped through the door, beside which hovered an unrolled scroll. “Spike! What was that? You can have ice cream after we finished packing—” Twilight’s eyes widened in surprise and she hastily assumed a smile that looked physically painful “—Princess Celestia!”
“As much as I appreciate the sentiment, I’m afraid you cannot take me to Ponyville, Twilight Sparkle,” Celestia said, the good natured tease slipping out before she could think better of it. As of today she had no right.
“Oh, er, sorry, Princess,” Twilight said, but Celestia just shook her head and waved her back into the room with a wing.
The tower was a mess. Half the shelves were bare and the actual carpet was buried under a think carpet of literature. Celestia leaned over to look at the scroll and was was unsurprised to see it was a checklist.
“Twilight, are you packing books?” she asked.
“Just the essentials, Princess.”
Celestia paused a moment, unsure of where was safe to step next. She was forced to leave her forehoof dangling in the air.
“Twilight, I did mention that the Mayor was happy for you to move into the Ponyville Library full time, if that is what you wanted?”
Twilight glanced at the room, up at Celestia, then down at her hooves sheepishly. “Maybe I went a little bit overboard?”
Celestia smiled down at her student. “If you ever find you are missing a book, or anything really, just send for it and Canterlot will see that you receive it.”
“Thank you, Princess,” Twilight said, as nearby stacks of books began glowing magenta as they lifted themselves up to clear a proper place for Celetia to stand. “So, what can I do for you, your majesty?”
“I’m not here for that, not to ask something of you,” Celestia took a deep breath, and was suddenly unsure how to continue. “Twilight, I’m here to apologize.”
The floating stacks froze in place. Twilight turned from her work to face Celestia.
“Apologize, Princess? What for?”
“I...” Celestia resolved to simply get it out all at once. She had never been very good at this sort of thing. “I should have trusted you and your new friends from the start. You should have gone into the Everfree with an army at your back and a princess at your side. No, you shouldn’t have had to worry about any of this at all.”
“Princess?”
“I very nearly mishandled everything. Everything could have gone so wrong, even more wrong than it did. I would have led you all into danger. I—I thought to use you as tools, ask you only at the last moment when no reasonable pony would say no. Because I wanted Luna back so badly.”
The words slowed down, as Celestia stared into Twilight’s uncompehending eyes. Slowly, the piles of books lowered themselves to the floor.
“You didn’t let me, Twilight,” Celestia continued. “You were brilliant out there. Somehow you were always three steps ahead. But I thought about it, I planned it. I—” Empty skies, she was bad at this! “—I am sorry for that.”
She bowed her head. Silence. Resigned she looked up and prepared to leave.
Twilight’s mouth was hanging open and one foreleg was idly rubbing the floor.
“Um, I, yes,” Twilight said. “Um, what I mean is, I forgive you? If there is something to forgive, I mean. Which there might not be, but I’m not sure. Oh cripes. Should I start again?”
“Twilight?”
To Celestia’s surprise, she stepped forward and gave Celestia a repeat of the this morning’s nuzzle, although it was a few steps more awkward. “I forgive you, Princess,” Twilight said, having gathered herself. “But could-ya perhaps run that all past me again?”
Twilight’s horn lit up and a pair of pillows floated over. Wordlessly, Celestia lay down on hers and a moment later Twilight did the same. After a moment to collect her thoughts, Celestia relayed the events of the last few days as Twilight’s eyes slowly widened. She was concise, sticking to the important details: there had been a sane plan she had discarded, one that would never have involved Twilight; she had meant to put innocent ponies into danger, however slight; she had meant to use Twilight, and, worst of all, everything had gone wrong.
“You fought Thuban?” said a rather incredulous Twilight when Celestia finished. “As in, Alpha Draconis?" She blinked. "I’m–I’m never going to be able to look at the night sky in quite the same way again, am I?”
“I suspect not,” Celestia said, managing a wan smile. “The one thing I will never forgive myself for was risking Equestria, I don’t think I can ever be forgiven for that.”
“Princess...”
“No, Twilight,” Celestia said. “I know what I did, and what it would cost me. I don't need to make any anouncements today, or this year. I'm sure, In time, Luna will make a better ruler than me.”
“Well, maybe abdication would be appropriate if you had been reckless and foolish,” Twilight said. “But maybe it wasn’t foolish, but brilliant. Risky, true, but brilliant.”
Celestia regarded the pony in confusion, looking for the innocent filly from the maelstrom of purple and was surprised to find she wasn’t there anymore. In her place...
“Well, a smart, by-the-numbers, kind of pony might tell you that fighting Nightmare Moon a second time with the Elements of Harmony would be the safe option just because it worked before.”
Or the kind of pony who had become so weighed down in responsibility, she no longer took risks, forgetting that there was no such thing as a riskless option.
“But a really smart pony,” Twilight continued, “one who, say, got a little too obsessed with playing Go when she was a foal, would tell you that if you always open your game in the same way you just risk being predictable and getting outmaneuvered. Because it sounds to me like Thuban was prepared for you doing exactly what you did last time, and if you had done that, we might all be having to get used to living under eternal night about now. Instead, you hoodwinked him good.”
Celestia was vaguely aware that her mouth might just be hanging open. She shut it.
“Now, about the using us like tools and sending us into danger part? You said you were going to ask us, right?”
“Well, yes,” Celestia replied, “but no reasonable pony would have said no.”
“Because it would have been perfectly reasonable to say yes,” Twilight countered. “And you thought and planned a few things that weren’t good?”
“Yes, I did.”
“But did you actually do them?” Twilight asked.
“No but...”
“Then how do you know for sure you would have done them?” Twilight said. “If they really were bad, I don’t think you would have. And about the army?”
“You should have gone into the Everfree with a full complement of guards, properly equipped,” Celestia explained.
“Well, um, not that I don’t appreciate that, don’t think that would have worked out very well, Princess,” Twilight said. “Call it a feeling,” she added, glancing at her Mark, “but I think it had to be just us and the Everfree Forest. Remember: magic is as magic does, like they say.”
“I—” Celestia began her next protest, she was interrupted by a stray thought. “Twilight Sparkle. Did you just give me a lesson on magic?”
The unicorn let out a strangled, choking sound as her mouth began to move about wordlessly.
“Er, Princess, what I mean is—”
“Twilight Sparkle. I think you just gave me a lesson on magic.”
Mentor and student simply stared at each other, and for a moment Celestia found herself feeling as awkward as Twilight looked. Then, as one, they began to laugh, Twilight giggling and Celestia’s laugh being more rueful.
The weight of the prior days, months, and years, at long, long last, began to lift.
***
The door closed behind Celestia, leaving them alone. Even the Auspex Harenae had been shooed away, as technically illegal as that was. Between the celebration in Ponyville, their return to the palace, and her apology to Twilight, this was the first moment she had gotten to be alone with Luna.
She was here; her sister was really here. Not as phantom or as a memory. She was, truly, finally, here. Real.
Luna.
She stood in front of the circle of sandglasses, her expression unreadable.
I kept them. Everything. The sandglasses, the laws, the Auspex. I vetoed every change and amendment they proposed to the cycle, every little appeal for more daylight, until they even forgot such things could be changed.
She looked so small. Was her face different? Had Celestia become so used to looking at the few surviving portraits that she had forgotten what her sister really looked like?
Their gazes met. Celestia had no words. What could she possibly say? Her mouth hung open.
Neither moved first. Some signal passed wordlessly between them and before there had been time for any thought they both crashed together in the space halfway between where they had stood. Celestia’s forelegs wrapped themselves greedily around Luna as her sister’s did the same.
I shall never love the night. It is all that I am not. Dark, menacing, alien. And you, in turn, shall never love the day. This is a thing that comes between us. That shall always be the truth, until the end of days.
Her head fell over Luna’s shoulder and she squeezed fiercely into the embrace as tears flowed freely.
Then let it be the smallest of truths. The most trivial. Let it be a single footnote in the library of us.
I shall never truely love the night, but I shall always love you.