All throughout the valley, the enemy fled as though the hound of Tartarus himself descended upon them. Like a blanket of mesmerizing colors, Equestria’s armies spread across the valley. The ponies’ cheers of jubilation confirmed to Celestia the bittersweet fact: the war had ended.
She landed atop an outcropping of rock, taking in the sight of her defeated foe. The once-mighty-and-terrible Queen Chrysalis lay in a crumpled heap. Her misshapen horn smoked from the magic she’d expended in combat. The image clawed at Celestia’s heart, as much for the knowledge that she was responsible for the pitiful state of her foe as it was that Chrysalis had forced her to this action.
Legs trembling, Chrysalis fought to stand. Her stomach barely escaped the ground before her hooves lost traction and she fell once more, the abrupt motion making Celestia flinch. Gritting her teeth, she set her legs to try again.
“Enough, Chrysalis. The battle is over.” Celestia placed a gold-shod hoof upon her shoulder.
Jaws snapped, nearly catching her hoof, but she jerked it back just in time. “The battle is not over,” Chrysalis snarled through her fangs.
A pang ran through Celestia at the wretched sight before her. “Chrysalis, please. If you continue like this, you will die.”
Chrysalis lunged, or at least tried to. Celestia looked on in pity as the queen fell back to her barrel with a grunt and a grimace. Even so, she spoke with fierce conviction. “Don’t act as though you care about my people! If you knew anything about us, then you’d understand why we always will be enemies.” With some effort, she managed to pull herself to her knees.
Chrysalis took a few gasping breaths. Slowly, she composed herself, her lips forming a thin, emotionless line in spite of the fire still in her eyes. Though injured and kneeling at the princess’s hooves, she managed to pull off an imperious, commanding poise. Her piercing gaze met Celestia’s.
“I won’t surrender. You’ll have to kill me.”
“Is that what you think of us?” Celestia sighed and shook her head. “I will not. Your death serves no purpose. We can live at peace if you would listen to reason.”
“Live as puppets, no doubt.” Chrysalis sniffed derisively and turned her face away. “I will not bow to your whim. You will end me, Celestia, or I will be seeing you again. The manner of that meeting will be much different, that I promise.”
Celestia frowned. What could drive the changeling queen to say such ridiculous things? The words were nonsense. Unless... “Do you hate us so much? We only want to help.”
“Help?” Chrysalis laughed, a hollow sound. “You would force your ‘help’ down our throats. We never asked for help.”
Celestia looked out over her army. As bright as any Cloudsdale rainbowfall, it spread beneath her like an ocean of colors. To the west, the last remnants of the changeling horde faded over the horizon as if they were shadows of night escaping the sunrise. Her eyes fell upon the valley once more. So many ponies. How many changeling bodies underneath?
Forcing her expression to harden, Celestia stiffened her shoulders and offered her hoof to Chrysalis once more. “No. We can be at peace. Equestria can help you rebuild.”
Chrysalis glared at the hoof as though it hid a dagger. “You, help us rebuild? You can’t even care for your own ponies, and you would try to care for us?”
Celestia pulled her hoof back slowly, furrowing her brow as she thought. She considered Chrysalis’s snarling visage. “Equestria is one of the most peaceful, developed, harmonious—”
“You can’t honestly tell me you are so ignorant!” Chrysalis jerked to her hooves. This time she held herself up, though her knees wobbled from the effort. She aimed a toothy grimace at Celestia, making the princess take a tentative step back.
At the motion, Chrysalis only seemed to grow more ferocious, her snarl driving Celestia a little further away. “You don’t pay any attention at all, do you? Your world, your ponies are wasting away. They linger in darkness, begging for you to save them, shivering in the cold under the icy glare of a pale moon. But you don’t notice any of that, do you?”
Celestia blinked a few times, her jaw hanging loose. “What are you talking about?”
“You really don’t!” Chrysalis stamped her hoof and bared her fangs. “It’s this level of ignorance that convinced me Equestria would be easy pickings. Have you any idea where you are? Or would you prefer to stay in a world of yes mares, sycophants and mindless worshippers?”
The sun seemed to throb in the sky, its motion matching the sudden, pulsing flame in Celestia’s chest. With horn glowing, she narrowed her eyes. “Take care with your words, changeling. It sounds dangerously as though you are insulting my friends.”
Another huffing laugh from the queen. “Friends? You have no friends.”
“Enough!” Celestia’s aura wrapped about Chrysalis’s muzzle, clamping it closed. She offered no resistance. “It is clear to me that you won’t consider my offer of peace. So be it. For your arrogance and bigotry, I hereby sentence you and your kind to exile in the Western Badlands. Make no attempt to return, Chrysalis, or I will deliver upon you the full wrath of Equestria.”
The monarchs held one another’s gazes, Celestia determined to show her conviction and Chrysalis with a scowl upon her lips. Slowly, the yellow aura faded from her muzzle. The changeling queen stepped back, then turned away. “You are as guilty of willful ignorance. Remember that for our reunion.”
With that, she launched from the outcropping. Her wings buzzing, she struggled to remain aloft as she flew west at a sluggish pace. Celestia watched her carefully, pondering the parting words. But the threat was over. Perhaps they were only the angry words of a defeated spirit, seeking to claim one tiny victory. She would let Chrysalis have it. Goddess knew she was hurting enough after this defeat.
So many changelings… The cold claw of guilt clutched at Celestia’s heart. What I did, I did for the protection of my subjects. The thought sounded hollow in her head.
As Chrysalis’s form became little more than a dot on the horizon, the Equestrians below raised their voices in cheer and praise for the Sun. Celestia looked upon them at last, standing tall over the valley. Every single pony, mare and stallion, fell to their knees and bowed before her. The Princess of Equestria smiled. It lasted only until a biting heat made itself known to her back. There came the crash of hooves on rock and the crackle of flame. Holding in a groan, she turned around. “Greetings, Mother.”
The alicorn’s dragon bone armor scraped loudly to accentuate her fearsome appearance. Already nearly Celestia’s height without the armor, she had the look of a giant bred for battle. The ethereal flames of her mane and tail waved as though in the midst of a storm. Her pale red face, half-hidden behind a visor made of teeth, turned to examine the distant horizon where Chrysalis and her remaining followers had disappeared. Her breastplate, made from a dragon’s talon, appeared to clench around her shoulders with every heavy breath.
“You let her go.” Her words, though quiet, contained as much fire as her mane.
“It was never my intention to kill her.” Celestia stood tall in the face of her mother’s scowl, now aimed her way. “We cannot simply kill their queen every time they rise against us. It serves no purpose.”
Those pink eyes narrowed. Celestia refused to let her know how much they stung. Steam rose from her mother’s mouth with every breath. “When you told me you intended to do things differently from your father and me, this is not what I hoped for.”
At that, Celestia could only smile. “You don’t know how good that is to hear.”
Her mother bowed and shook her head. When it came back up, the flames of her mane and tail had calmed and there was a hint of sadness in her eyes. “You are your father’s daughter, Celestia. I don’t approve, but I suppose it is no longer my decision to make.”
“I appreciate your patience.” Celestia approached, pressing against her armored shoulder and somehow not shuddering at the feeling of bone against her coat. “The war is over. That’s enough isn’t it?”
“And when Chrysalis returns with another army?” her mother asked, not so much as budging at the display of affection.
“Then perhaps she’ll remember this day and be more open to negotiation.”
A moment of quiet passed between them, but at last she felt her mother relax. After pulling off her tooth-decorated helmet, she softly nuzzled Celestia’s neck. “I hope you are right. And if not, I’ll still be here to give that overgrown bug a proper kick in the flank. In fact, I reserve the right. It’ll be fun! You, me, Chrysalis, swords and spears and fireballs. A proper mares’ night out.”
Celestia wasn’t sure whether to giggle at her mother’s jovial tone or lecture the mare for her violent intentions. Knowing the latter would amount to nothing, she settled for the former. Separating from her, Celestia nodded. “Very well. If Chrysalis decides to come back for war, I’ll let you handle her.” She frowned before hurrying to add, “You will give us a chance to determine her intentions before launching an attack, won’t you?”
“Always with the stipulations,” her mother groaned, rolling her eyes. “You nag almost as well as your father, you know that?”
The sound of flapping wings and somebody landing nearby interrupted Celestia’s rebuttal. The two turned to find a trio of griffons bowing before them. Representatives of the token force supporting Equestria, they bore heavy armor that no pegasus could lift, slate grey and rattling. The one in the lead, her feathers bright blue and the fur of her head brown, rose and smiled. Her armor did little to mask the black ring of feathers and fur where the two met. “A battle well fought is a battle well lived, as we say back home.”
“Dobriy den’, Ambassador Sposoba.” Celestia approached, raising her hoof so that Dova could bump it with her fist. “I hope the squadrons King Grover sent us didn’t suffer many casualties.”
“A few. Maybe half? But that’s what griffons live for,” Dova replied pleasantly. “We are only proud of their service. Congratulations are in order, I believe.”
It took some effort not to frown at Dova’s seemingly casual dismissal of the lives lost, but Celestia managed it. “I suppose so. The battle is won and we can go back to our peaceful lives.”
Dova scoffed, her feathers ruffling as she clawed the stones beneath them. “Yes, back to living in mansions, listening to stuffy nobles argue over trivialities, and doing mountains of paperwork. Excuse me for not leaping for joy.”
Celestia’s mother appeared next to her, grinning from ear to ear. “Not so fast, Ambassador! I’m holding a proper feast in honor of my daughter’s victory and wouldn’t dream of leaving you out. Why not help me? I’d love to experience some of Grypha’s brand of merriment.”
The griffons’ eyes lit up in unison, and Dova laughed raucously. “Now that’s what I like to hear! I’ll take you up on that offer, Your Majesty, and see if an alicorn can outdrink a griffon.”
Listening to all of this, Celestia barely kept her smile in place. How could they rejoice? She turned her eyes to the valley below, where already the Equestrian Army was hard at work cleaning up the bloody mess of war. So many ponies not coming home to their mothers, to say nothing of the changelings who had died for nothing.
“Don’t let them get to you.” The voice was aged, but strong. “The griffons have a strange culture.”
At Celestia’s side stood Starswirl, his now-famed cloak and hat singed from what she could only assume was some fended-off magical assault. His long beard was grey with dust and dirt from a few days’ hard fighting. She smiled at his wrinkled face. “It is good to know at least someone shares my feelings on the matter.”
“Somewhat.” He eyed her mother and Dova, eyebrows raised in an expression of deadpan annoyance. “Griffons will be griffons, and your mother is more like a griffon than most ponies.”
“Mother wouldn’t resort to assassination.” Putting the unpleasant topic away, Celestia turned her attention to more pressing matters. “Have we a tally? Were the losses grave?”
Starswirl shook his head before spitting on the ground. “Not at all. Changelings can’t fight for shit, that’s why they usually resort to deception and disguise. The griffons lost so many only because of their reckless tactics. Chrysalis must have been insane to attempt a direct confrontation like that. Or stupid.” He peered at the nearby griffons, rubbing a hoof through his beard as he did. “Speaking of, we should start scanning.”
Following his gaze showed nothing out of the ordinary… for griffons. They were all laughing, apparently at something her mother had said. “Scanning?”
“For changelings, what else?” Starswirl grimaced and cast a long, unpleasant look at the army below. “We don’t know that all the changelings retreated. Odds are good some have infiltrated our forces during the battle. We’ll need to start checking civilians, too. I’ve already issued orders for the army.”
“Absolutely not!” Celestia met his look with a glare. “The army I can understand, but we will not put the citizens of Equestria through that. At best it will lead to paranoia, at worst a witch hunt.”
Her mother poked her head between them, eyes alight with humor and mane crackling with energy. “What’s this about witches?”
Starswirl waved a hoof at Celestia. “Your daughter seems to find the prudent effort of identifying changelings amongst the civilian population in poor taste.” He cast his glower at the nearby griffons. “I hope she’ll at least let us scan the more obvious threats.”
“Good old Swirly, always fretting.” Celestia’s mother shoved his hat down over his face, grinning. “You should relax a little, let your beard down. We just won a war, for my sake!”
“Thank you, Mother.”
“Don’t thank me yet.” A bone-armored hoof waggled in front of her muzzle. “We’ll have to have a serious discussion about it later, and we still have to scan the ponies in the army. Hey, Swirly, why don’t you get that started so me and Dova can get to drinking sooner rather than later?”
Pushing his hat back into place with a growl, he replied with a dour “At least we can agree on that much. Ladies.” He gave a quick bow before turning around and marching off, grumbling under his breath.
Celestia watched him go, glad for his persistence. She might not like his proposal, but his diligence in the safeguarding of Equestria was always welcome. Still, it would be nice to have him back in his laboratory. That stallion won’t be happy until he’s pressing the boundaries of magic again. Soon, old friend. Soon.
Soon? Why did it feel as though there was something wrong with that concept? Starswirl belonged in a lab, that much was obvious. And yet the thought of him going back to that tower in Canterlot Castle left her feeling… unease, like a shadow loomed over her. Were she the superstitious type, she might think she was having a premonition.
Dova’s voice interrupted her train of thought. “Is something wrong, Celestia?”
She turned to find her mother and the Ambassador watching her with matching expressions of concern, or as matching as a griffon and an alicorn could achieve. “Wrong? No. It was just a feeling.”
Her mother cocked her head, then looked to the retreating form of Starswirl. “He’s a little old for you, isn’t he?” She paused, brow furrowing. “Or too young? Mortals are strange like that.”
Another peculiarity struck Celestia as she observed her mother and Dova standing side by side. It looked… odd. Abnormal. She tried to get a hoof on why. Was it her mother’s unusual armor? The size difference? She wasn’t sure, but the feeling wouldn’t go away. It was as if some deep part of her thought it wrong for Dova and her mother to ever be seen together.
“You look troubled, Your Highness.” Dova ruffled her feathers in clear agitation. “I apologize if our behavior seems uncivilized to you, but is it because of the losses?”
“Probably.” Celestia’s mother approached, worry painted across her features. She gave Celestia a nuzzle on the cheek. “Look, you’ve done what you needed to do. Why don’t you head back to Canterlot, spread the good news. Your father will appreciate it, and you can get away from all… this.” She waved a hoof over the valley.
The suggestion had its appeal, but Celestia hesitated. “But what of this celebration of yours? Wouldn’t it be appropriate for me to make an appearance?”
Her mother swelled up to her full size and spoke with bombastic pride. “And celebrate the death of your foes in glorious, gory battle while drinking the finest wines in a toast to your fallen soldiers! Revel in the victory, tell stories of battles of long past, flirt with the hunky studs in armor, and offer up cheers for battles yet to come!” With a raised eyebrow and an expectant frown, she asked, “Does that sound very fun to you?”
Celestia sighed. “No, though I’m sure it does to you.”
“Exactly, my point has been made.” Her mother smiled in that soft manner she so rarely offered. “Go home, Celestia. Relax in your own way. I’ll take care of the rest. I may be retired from rule, but that doesn’t mean I can’t handle a few duties now and then.”
“Like defending Equestria’s honor in a drinking game,” Dova added with a sly grin.
“Yes, like that.”
Smiling at the two of them, Celestia found her willpower fading fast. “Oh, alright. Since you twisted my wing over it.”
“Good. Give your father my love, and assure him I won’t be enjoying any of the young delicacies that’ll surely be on display tonight.” She turned to leave, but stopped with wings half-opened. “Oh, and Celestia?”
Looking up, Celestia was met with that warm smile once more. “Yes, Mother?”
“I’m very proud of what you achieved today.”
Her heart swelled, rising in her chest as the griffons and her mother rose into the air on beating wings. The strange and inexplicable concerns faded from her mind at the pleasure that simple statement brought her. The worries of the last few hours didn’t seem so burdensome anymore, and it was with light hooves that she turned for home. She let the feeling buoy her spirits as her wings carried her from the valley.
It was only a few short hours from sundown when Celestia began her approach of the Lonely Mountain. Her ears perked to the sound of cheers in the city of Canterlot, signaling that her return home had been noted. A flash of color filled the air in a brilliant eruption, followed by another, and another. Fireworks, aimed so as to not impede her progress.
The colorful lights were reflected in Canterlot Castle’s polished surfaces, bathing the majestic towers and bridges in rainbow hues. The sight brought a fresh smile to her lips. It seemed everypony was eager to celebrate. And why not? The war was over. Better to celebrate peace than death. The thought made her shiver, and she did her best not to think of the revelry going on back at the valley just then.
She aimed her descent for the castle gardens, landing lightly among the great trees and flowers that remained brilliant even this late in the day. She had barely folded her wings before noting a figure emerging from the castle out the corner of her eye. Distance made it hard to identify, but when she turned her head to get a closer look, the pony disappeared. The sight, or lack thereof, filled her with a renewed warmth.
Approaching the place where her father disappeared, she turned her head away. Once again, he came into being in the corner of her eye, now much closer. He was a midnight blue stallion with a mane the green of the sea, which swirled in an endless current like water. He gazed upon her with bright eyes that seemed to glimmer with their own light, but it was his warm smile that melted her heart. Once close enough, she turned her gaze forward and pressed against him, their necks intertwining tightly. “Father. It is good to see you.”
She stepped back to take in her father, but could not. When she tried looking upon him, all she could make out was… an outline? A shadow? A mirage like those formed from rippling heat off a brick road? Celestia still hadn’t discovered an appropriate description. She smiled and shrugged. “Not that I can.” She shifted her head until he was again in the corner of her eyes, and suddenly he was as solid and real as any pony she knew.
He examined her closely, perhaps in search of signs of injury. “Not so good as it is for me to see you, child. You appear unharmed. I take it this means good news?”
“The battle, and the war, is won. And yet…” Celestia’s smile disappeared like a blown-out candle flame as she turned her face to him, reducing her father to a trick of the light once more. “I failed, Father. I thought Chrysalis would see reason after this, but…” She bowed her head, eyes on the grass. “All those changelings. It shouldn’t be necessary. If only she would have accepted my offer. Now she’ll be back, and more changelings will die, all because I wasn’t good enough.”
He said nothing for a time. But then his hoof touched her chin. It raised her head up, and while she could not really see his face, she knew he was looking in her eyes. For once in her life, her inability to see his expression acted as a boon; to imagine his disappointment was bad enough.
And yet his voice came out as gentle as a breeze. “Celestia, my dear daughter. Please, do not blame yourself. The changelings have always been averse to Harmony, and Chrysalis is aggressive even by their standards. As much as it pains me to admit it, I do not believe any pony, no matter how skilled a negotiator they may be, could reach that poor creature.”
Her eyebrows rose. “Not even you?”
“Not even me.”
In truth, Celestia doubted his claim. Her father could negotiate with any creature and come out with a peaceful resolution. She’d longed for his aid in talking with Chrysalis before the war, but he didn’t retire just so she could call him back to work every time something like this happened. She had to learn.
She’d failed in her duty to Harmony, but perhaps she could learn from this. “Chrysalis will be back. That’s what Mother said. She was right, wasn’t she?”
The shift in the ether was familiar enough to be recognized as a nod. “Yes.”
At that, Celestia raised her head high and squared her shoulders. “Next time. Next time, I will find a way to make her see reason.”
A bit of merriment entered his voice. “That’s my girl. It’s a problem to be resolved at another time.” He turned so they were side by side, his face once again clear in her vision thanks to the angle. The tension left her shoulders at his smile, and the feel of his wing on her back eased a weight she hadn’t noticed before. “For now, relax! Take pride in knowing you have led Equestria to peace. We should enjoy this time to the fullest.”
With a warmth in her heart, Celestia nuzzled him beneath his chin. “Thank you. Somehow you always know just what I need to hear.”
“What kind of father would I be otherwise?” He chuckled and guided her to the door. “I take it your mother remained behind to celebrate the glorious victory?”
“Something like that.” Celestia let her eye roll explain her opinion on the matter. “She sends her love, and promises not to get too frisky with the soldiers.”
“That’s your mother, ever the party animal.” His grin broadened as he looked to the fireworks still erupting overhead. “How about we forget about that for now and focus on enjoying the festivities? You’ve earned some relaxation.”
Leaning heavily against him, Celestia delighted in the feel of his wing wrapping about her withers. For the moment, she didn’t have to think about how many changelings had died today, or keeping an eye on Starswirl to keep him from overstepping his bounds. “I would like that very much.”
Tomorrow. She could fret over Chrysalis’s eventual return tomorrow.
Celestia stepped out of the bath, taking the time to stretch languorously and moaning as the last taut joints popped. The final hours of her day had been spent indulging her ponies' impromptu festivities. This included at least five servings of food, not counting desserts. At least it hadn’t been raucous; she was reasonably certain her mother and Dova would be at it until dawn.
Celestia certainly had fun, thanks in no small part to the encouragement of her father. Enough fun, in fact, that she began to wonder when the ball would drop. In the past two centuries, any time she allowed herself to relax and be carefree, something would come along to remind her that such things weren’t for her. As she dried off, her mind went over all the possible issues. There was… was…
She stared at herself in the mirror, half her face hidden behind the motionless towel. Slowly, her eyes widened. Nothing. She could think of nothing. But… there had to be something, hadn’t there? What was she forgetting?
She stared at the pale walls. Her heart rate rose with every slow breath. She felt… something. As though an inexplicably foul presence was worming its way through her head. A warning? Perhaps a warning, but a warning from what? Her eyes darted about the room, seeking answers that refused to appear. She needed… needed to...
Celestia threw her towel aside and hurried out the door and into her chambers. They were spacious. Too spacious. Why had she never realized how big this room was? It seemed downright silly for one mare to have so much room to herself. Too big, far too big, it was—
She shook herself, and the moment of panic faded like water drying off. Through the window she saw the sun on the horizon, beckoning for her to lower it. The world was peaceful, disturbed only by a padding sound. It was so quiet, it took a moment to recognize the sound as hoofsteps on carpet. She turned to find somepony lighting the candles in her room.
“Oh, you’re out,” said Twilight Sparkle, offering a warm smile. “I was going to knock on the door and remind you of the time, but figured you’d earned a bit of relaxation. So what if the day lasts a few minutes longer, right?”
“Twilight? What are you—?” She shook her head with a sigh. “I can light my own candles, you know.”
Her prized student ducked her head with a sheepish smile. “Yes, but I wanted to see you. I mean, you’ve been gone for over a week. I...” Pink invaded her cheeks as she averted her eyes. “I missed you.”
“Oh, Twilight.” Celestia pulled her closer with a wing, pressing her to her side. She gave her a light nuzzle. “It wasn’t all that long, really.”
“It was very long,” Twilight corrected. “I had to spend every night chewing my hooves, wondering if you were going to come back whole. Or at all.”
Celestia took a moment to study Twilight. She saw bags beneath those young eyes, which pierced her with more force than any dozen of Chrysalis’s war spells combined. An image swam into her mind of Twilight staring out her window, watching the skies with a hoof between her teeth, waiting for news. How frightened she must have been.
Celestia squeezed Twilight with her wing, smiling at her student’s contented sigh. “I apologize for worrying you. But it’s over now, Equestria is at peace. And—” she bopped Twilight on the muzzle “—we can get back to our lessons.”
“Oh, yes!” Twilight all but bounced back, her face rivaling the sun for sheer brightness. “I can’t wait to show you, I’ve been doing a research paper on magical ethics involving Starswirl and the zebra alchemist Preferential. I’m very interested to hear your thoughts on how the latter descr—”
“I’m sure your findings are very interesting,” Celestia said before her overeager student could turn blue in the face from a lack of oxygen. “But I am afraid two things hinder your progress. First, I still need to lower the sun.”
Twilight blinked, mouth hanging open mid-word. Her eyes flicked to the window and back before the pink invaded her face once more. “Oh. Right. Of course. Better get to that. Sorry!” She bowed her head a few times with a smile.
“And, to be honest, I have had a… tiring day.” A yawn struck Celestia at that very moment, emphasizing her point. “But I promise, tomorrow I will devote all of my free time to you, and only you.”
Twilight’s eyes lit up. “Really?”
“Absolutely.” Celestia grinned at her student before turning to the window.
“Oh, thank you, Princess! Thank you so much!”
Chuckling at her foal-like enthusiasm, Celestia paused on the balcony and turned her gaze to the sun. Her magic called out to the great orb, and it responded with its pleasant, warm music. Something felt odd, however. Celestia couldn’t place her hoof on it, but the Song of the Sun didn’t have its usual… usual what? She frowned, eyeing the heavenly orb with mild curiosity. It was almost like it was disinterested in the connection they shared.
Nevertheless, it answered her call. Within seconds, the sun had dropped below the horizon, painting the sky in beautiful oranges and reds. The light glimmered off the spires and bridges of Canterlot before fading away to the cool violet of twilight. Celestia let her hold on the sun linger, still puzzling over what seemed so wrong about it. But she could delay no more; the sun disappeared, and the night began. Celestia sighed and released her grip. Maybe it was just her weariness catching up with her. Leading armies, battling changeling queens, and then to follow that up with a party?
Twilight was at her side, gazing out at the darkness. “Beautiful as always.”
“Yes, beautiful.” Celestia started to smile… and then she heard something. It was birdsong, but not like any typical birdsong. It was more melodious, more… constructed. It sounded less random than what she would normally associate with a bird. She craned her neck to gaze at the gardens just beneath her balcony. What she saw made her smile. “Of course.”
It was a Seashore Nightingale. The bird was resplendent, its feathers the dark purple of that same twilit sky, and glittering as though sprinkled with stardust. Larger than its local brethren, it bounced about on a tree limb as if it were dancing, its wings flapping exuberantly. After a few seconds, the bird launched into the air, followed by a glimmering trail of sparkles that descended like falling stars.
The nightingale alighted upon the balcony railing, not four feet from where Celestia stood, and continued its playful song. She listened intently, her ears steadily perking. It was said that the Seashore Nightingale’s music took one back to the ocean. True to the legend, Celestia found herself envisioning the beach.
And suddenly, she was there. She stood upon the shore, hooves sinking into soft sand. The waves lapped in a gentle rhythm, and before her, as far as the eye could see, lay the ocean. She gazed upon it, the nightingale’s song ever in her ears. It was a beautiful sight, but also…
Celestia’s breath hitched. Something pressed against her mind. A threat? A warning? A plea? She could not tell. Whatever it was, it held her heart in a soft grip. Why? If she didn’t know better, she’d think the bird’s song was calling to her, encouraging her. Encouraging her to do what? Something happened today. With the battle, with her mother, with Dova. Many more somethings. But when she thought back, the specifics blurred and twisted. Try as she might, Celestia couldn’t recall the source of her sudden unease. But when she looked at that nightingale...
“Go on, shoo! Leave the princess alone.”
The spell ended. Celestia was back on her balcony, watching as the nightingale fled Twilight’s waving hooves. Regaining her bearings, Celestia watched the bird disappear into the garden.
“Sorry,” Twilight hurried to say. “I didn’t know they’d imported a nightingale. It’s a surprisingly assertive bird, isn’t it?”
She looked down at her student, her mind abruptly void of thoughts. It took several seconds for her to squeeze one out, and she felt compelled to give it a voice. “You didn’t have to frighten it off.”
Twilight flinched, her ears folding back as she chewed her lip. “I know. But you were looking at it, and you seemed so sad. I just wanted to help.”
Sad? Had she felt sad? Celestia couldn’t recall. But now that the moment had passed, she was reminded of her earlier thoughts. She looked to the night once more, a soft frown on her lips. “Twilight… has anything bad happened lately?”
“Bad?” Twilight’s brow furrowed. “Um, not really. Were you expecting something to happen?”
“No, I just… have a feeling. A feeling as if I’m missing something important.”
“I see.” Twilight rubbed the side of her head with a thoughtful expression. “I can’t imagine what that would be. Maybe you’re just tired?”
“Maybe.” Feeling a little more at ease, Celestia turned from the balcony and returned to her room. “Perhaps things will be clarified in the morning.”
“That’s the spirit!” Twilight all but bounced after her, grinning from ear to ear. Celestia was tempted to ask why her student was acting half her age, but chose not to dwell on it. She was probably just thrilled the war was over.
“Everything’s perfect now,” Twilight insisted. “Or it will be the moment we get back to my studies!”
Yep, there it was. Celestia smirked and turned to her student. “That may be, but those studies are waiting for tomorrow.”
“Of course.” Twilight beamed up at her… and didn’t move.
An eyebrow arose. “I intend to go to sleep now, Twilight.”
“Well, yes.” Her student’s expectant expression didn’t fade. She appeared almost hopeful.
Celestia stared at her blankly. “You may leave now.”
“Hmm?” Twilight seemed to be processing the suggestion. Then she flinched and tried to put on a reassuring smile, but her folded ears betrayed her. “Oh, r-right. I mean… right. If you’ll excuse me then, I’ll just, uh, go. Good night, Princess.”
“Good night, Twilight.”
Celestia watched her walk away, pondering her student’s sagging shoulders and sudden loss of energy. The pony was outright dragging her hooves. She understood Twilight was excited about learning, but this seemed a little much.
Yet, as the door closed softly, Celestia shook her worries away. She was just imagining things. There was nothing wrong, nothing at all. She would sleep, and everything would be clear come morning.