//------------------------------// // Epilogue: Sequence Halt // Story: A Study on Chaos Theory // by Amber Spark //------------------------------// The snow drifted down in lazy flakes, but Princess Celestia couldn’t find it in herself to slip back under the patio umbrella. Philomena sat beside her on the railing, enjoying the sensation of the tiny flakes of white bursting into steam upon contact with her feathers. Only Raven remained beneath the umbrella, clipboard floating in a field of pale red magic. At least she had the sense to not stand out in the snow. “Princess…” Celestia didn’t respond. She watched as Sunset, Twilight and Moon Dancer triggered the Spire. She watched as Sunset’s friends touched the thin streams of Harmony that curled upward from the device. She watched as they spoke after, their expressions ones of wonder and awe. She watched as Sunset walked away. Raven finally joined her and peered down at the group of friends just as Sunset paused and looked up at the balcony. Celestia didn’t look away. She owed Sunset more than that. Then, her young student turned and disappeared into the castle. “Your Majesty, I am concerned.” “For whom, Raven?” Celestia asked. Her eyes slid back to the ground of friends. Moon Dancer gave Twilight a little nuzzle and Minuette laughed at something Cheerilee had said. “Both of you.” Celestia smiled wanly, though she didn’t turn away from the scene of camaraderie and friendship playing out below her. “You do tend to worry, Raven.” “I think I have good cause.” “I never said you didn’t.” Celestia twitched as a particularly cold snowflake brushed against one of her ears. “Tell me, Raven… when I am together with Sunset, what do you see?” “Your Majesty?” Raven shifted slightly, apparently surprised by the sudden change in topic. “What do you mean?” “It’s a simple enough question,” Celestia replied smoothly. Her eyes slid to the door through which Sunset had disappeared. “How would you define my dynamic with Sunset Shimmer?” Raven hesitated. Celestia couldn’t blame her. After all, the first answer likely to have come to her aide’s mind had rather far-reaching implications. As Coloratura tried to drag a protesting Coco Pommel out onto the ice, Celestia wondered if Raven would attempt to hide her instinctual reaction. After a long time, Raven finally said a single word. “Family.” Celestia smiled again. “You’re disseminating a little, Raven. We both know it. Speak your mind.” Raven sighed audibly. “Why are you asking this, Princess? It will only hurt you.” “Because I wish to hear it from the pony in all of Equestria who knows me best. Indulge me.” Raven didn’t seem happy about it, but she did indulge her. “When I look at the two of you, I see a mother and her daughter.” Celestia nodded slowly. Below them, both Coco and Coloratura went down in a heap. Philomena chuckled. “You’ve said as much in the past,” Raven pointed out. “I reminded you of it that night in the Equestrian Secret Service when we discovered the Cloudsdale Report.” “Indeed,” Celestia replied easily. “What do you think Sunset sees?” This time, Raven didn’t hesitate. “She sees you as the mother she never had. Somepony who accepts her for what she is, instead of what she should be.” Moon Dancer and Twilight joined their friends on the ice, much to Twilight’s consternation. “And therein lies the greatest irony of all,” Celestia replied. She shifted her wings and two sheets of snow slid to the balcony’s surface. “I accept Sunset wholeheartedly. Both because of who she is and because of who she will become.” “Then why are you staring at her friends like that, Princess?” Celestia paused. This issue must concern Raven a great deal for her aide to be so frank with her. Some might call her attitude disrespectful. Celestia knew better. “I have seen Equestria go through many phases. In days long forgotten, ponies often believed I could cure all their ills. Fix everything from mane loss to a stubbed hoof. When I was far younger, I wanted to. I wanted nothing more than to make life as easy for my little ponies as possible. But, to do such a thing…” Celestia shook her head, remembering the faces of those who had passed beyond. “Creatures cannot grow if they cannot learn. And there is no better teacher than failure.” Celestia let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding as Raven considered her words. “With all respect, Princess Celestia, I know all of this.” “Of course you do, Raven.” Celestia chuckled wryly. “But sometimes… it’s helpful to remind myself. Sunset has a hard road ahead of her in the coming years. I’ve said that the secret of Cloudsdale must be kept from her at all costs. But… now I wonder if my concern over her expected reaction to the Cloudsdale Report has… clouded my judgement.” “Regarding Sunset and Twilight’s relationship?” Raven asked. Celestia admired Raven for many things. One of them was her ability to speak to her in whatever manner Celestia needed at the time. While Celestia didn’t especially enjoy admitting it, sometimes she needed a direct approach. “Yes.” “With respect, Princess, you didn’t do anything,” Raven informed her. Minuette spun figure-eights around her friends, her peals of delight softly echoing through the snow. “Yes,” Celestia sighed. “Yes, I did. I allowed all three to remain under the false impression that the heightened emotions of the unified harmony magics were still upon Twilight and Sunset. As soon as I realized dear Moon Dancer’s feelings toward her oldest friend…” Celestia closed her eyes. She had felt the pain in her beloved student’s voice as she spoke of her fears. Of the healing power of time. Of doing the right thing. Every word had felt like a buck to the chest. “I knew what would happen the moment Sunset discovered it for herself,” Celestia said in a soft voice. “It was Sunset’s choice,” Raven insisted. “Even knowing that the heightened emotions should have faded, I believe she would have made the same choice.” “I have little doubt she would have,” Celestia conceded, opening her eyes once again. “But I forced her to walk that path with my silence. And now…” Celestia’s eyes drifted from the frolicking friends to a shadow of a unicorn in the doorframe below her. “I had a choice, Raven. In one hoof, I had the happiness of one member of my family. In the other, I had the salvation of another. And we both know how many will pay the price if she is not saved.” Raven didn’t seem to have a response to that. Ironically, Philomena did. She let out a couple soft chirps and Celestia glanced at her beloved companion. “You are right, Philomena. After, that happiness can be restored. And yet, I fear my actions to ensure Sunset remains on the path just may be the very thing to drive her from it.” “You can’t know that,” Raven said quickly. She shifted uneasily beside Celestia. “Sunset is one of the strongest ponies you’ve ever taught. She’s become a completely different pony from the one you took on all those years ago.” Raven paused for a long moment, as if considering her next words carefully. “In truth, Princess, I had feared she would slip into darkness long ago. I was wrong.” “I did not save her from that fate.” Celestia watched the six friends play, laugh and live on the small frozen lake below. She wished she could join them. “Her friends did that. And my actions—or inaction—may have just drove a wedge between them all.” “You can’t be sure of that, Princess.” Finally, Celestia looked up. She peered through large black glasses and into the worried brown eyes of her aide. Spots of snow dotted her brown mane and red cravat. Real fear burned behind Raven’s eyes. Fear not only for Sunset, but also for Celestia herself. A faint sense of warmth reignited in her chest at the sight, though it did little to quell the cold that had burrowed into her bones. “Sunset has surprised me before,” Celestia said, placing a comforting hoof on Raven’s shoulder. “She may yet surprise me again. At this point, any action I could take would make the damage irreparable. As I told Sunset, I make mistakes. I am unsure if this was truly one of them, but I will not make it worse. They must decide their own fate. Their hearts are their own and they deserve to follow that path, wherever it may lead.” Celestia’s eyes returned to the shadow in the doorway. “I’ve interfered enough as it is.” “So… what do you intend to do?” “The only thing I can do, Raven,” Celestia sighed. She allowed a little of the melancholy in her heart into her voice. Raven deserved as much. “Be there for them all. No matter my feelings on the subject, the stakes have not changed. If Sunset Shimmer fails…” Raven nodded slowly. She knew the cost all too well. A bit of snow fell onto her glasses, forcing her to take them off to briefly clean them. “Is there no other way? I know there is little time left, but if something were to happen to Sunset…” Raven trailed off. She didn’t seem inclined to finish her sentence. Celestia was grateful for that. Celestia took a deep breath and looked out over the snow-wreathed city of Canterlot. Her home for the last thousand years. The beautiful white structures, the golden spires, the colorful banners… all frosted white. The very city itself was a testament to the Princess of the Sun. She wondered what it would look like if she hadn’t been alone for close to a thousand years. If she hadn’t manipulated certain things. If she had stopped certain myths from getting out of hoof. If she hadn’t taken certain steps to protect the memory of her family. She looked forward to the day when she saw her family again. She also dreaded that day more than any other. Celestia looked up through the clouds. Though none could see it, she could feel the Moon up there. In her mind’s eye, she could see the shadow. Then, Celestia’s eyes fell onto Twilight Sparkle. “I do not know,” Celestia admitted. “The pictures we saw seem to indicate that there is another way, but I fear that path is closed to us. I once told them never to sacrifice the present for a questionable future… but our future is anything but questionable.” She let out a low, long sigh. “I must proceed as I believe is best. Just as Sunset did.” “Princess, I didn’t mean to imply—” Celestia waved away Raven’s objections. “All I mean to say is that Sunset is our best hope.” “But, Your Majesty, if you are to prepare her, you will have to interfere.” Raven said. She frowned and used her magic to brush away some of the snow from her mane. “You can’t have it both ways.” “A forced spark will never work,” Celestia reminded her with a sigh. “It is as true for love as it is for Harmony. Sunset must walk this road without me forcing matters. She must take her place naturally. I will continue to try and guide those steps… but in the end, it will be up to her.” Raven looked toward the doorway in the palace as snow began to fall in earnest. Even Celestia could barely make out the shadow in the doorway now. “And what if you’re wrong?” Raven asked in a voice muffled by the blanket of white all around them. Now, she did not speak as an aide, or even as one of Celestia’s subjects. She spoke as a friend. “What if… your actions have driven her from that path?” To hear anypony address her as a friend was a rare gift. From Raven, it meant so much more. It was a gift Celestia treasured with all of her heart. Even if that heart twisted at the words. She closed her eyes and fought down the small knot in her throat. Licking her cold lips, she managed to keep any trace of the tremble in her heart out of her words. “Then I pray she one day forgives me. Both of them.” Celestia offered Raven a brittle smile—one she knew did a poor job of hiding the unshed tears in her eyes—then turned her gaze back to the doorway where the shadow of Sunset Shimmer had been watching her friends. The doorway stood empty.