As soon as she awoke, Celestia sprung to her hooves, her heart pounding heavily in her chest. She flared her wings in mid-leap and sparked a spell upon her horn—and then she opened her eyes.
White! All she could see was white! She was blind!
Something heavy, and yet somehow still incredibly soft, ensnared her. She gasped, desperate for air as the wrap choked her, smothering her muzzle. She flailed, all of her grace—mastered over centuries—abandoning her in a primal fight for survival.
And then she fell.
Celestia grunted when she landed on the floor, a quiet thud making her bones shudder. She heaved and shook herself quickly, finally feeling whatever casing she had been trapped in break open. She fell free from its grip, tumbling out onto the floor with all the poise of a newborn foal.
Instinctively she clenched her eyes shut, holding her breath. Her ears flicked, but everything was deadly silent. And, even without seeing, she could tell that it was bright.
Too bright. Artificial.
But no attack came yet. Shrugging aside the rest of her prison she gave a slow exhale. Then, after a moment of hesitating, she opened her eyes, ready to face whatever horrors were awaiting her.
But she was alone. And, more specifically, she was lying in a mess of blankets and pillows on the floor of the old Canterlot observatory.
“What the…” she whispered, glancing about herself with growing unease and uncertainty. “Is this some sort of mind game?”
Shakily, Celestia rose to her hooves. She must have hit her head when Chrysalis had struck her; everything looked and felt so big. And yet, ironically, she herself felt oddly short. Her legs felt so much heavier and lumbering than she was used to.
She had definitely hit her head.
She rose her hoof slowly to pat her mane over, checking for any injuries. She couldn’t feel any pain, sure, save for a slight twinge at the back of her head. That was fine—but, she then realised, that wasn’t necessarily a good thing. The painless injuries were often the worst.
Her horn was there, intact. Okay, that was important. Her ears were fine, too, and when she glanced down at her leg there was no blood.
Wow. Her hooves looked positively swollen. Had Chrysalis poisoned her with her venom?
Did changelings even have venom?
A worry for later, she noted.
With a quick shake of her body, as if to rid herself of any unpleasant substances that may have clung to her fur, Celestia galloped quickly to the window. She snorted and shook her head. She then stood up on her rear-hooves so as to peer outside. She had no idea how long she had been out for; it was quite possible that Canterlot had already been taken by the changelings.
Celestia had been prepared for whatever sight might meet her, she had thought. She expected to see changelings raining from the sky in fiery green flames. She had expected to see mares and foals huddled behind trembling stallions, with readily waiting changelings surrounding them. She could easily imagine how Chrysalis’ soldiers would look; they would be standing there quietly—terrifyingly so—with their wings buzzing and their snake-like tongues flitting over pearly fangs.
The one thing she hadn’t been expecting was normality. The city, in all of its grandeur, looked absolutely fine. Ponies milled about as they always did—though they were perhaps a little less talkative—and got on with their daily lives. It was as if there had been no attack in the first place.
The changelings would have attacked, surely? With Celestia out of the way, presumably imprisoned in this room with nought but books and her thoughts, would Chrysalis not have immediately ordered her drones to reveal themselves and take the city? Take its ponies, too? For these individuals certainly didn’t look as if they were being fed from; drained of all emotion to the point of merely being cowering shells.
Or was Chrysalis being more subtle, this time? Had she integrated her changelings with society to feed from the sidelines as Celestia had suggested? Surely not; where was the grandeur in that?
Because if Celestia knew anything about Chrysalis, it was that she lived to show off. Everything she did was for appearances—to instil fear into every creature that laid eyes upon her or her swarm.
Celestia frowned. She had to get out of this prison. But how—unless…
She reached her hoof up gingerly and tapped her horn. Indeed, as she had hoped, there was no ring there; the Queen had been reckless! Chrysalis had put a magic dampener on Luna’s horn but must have forgotten to do so for Celestia in her glee after defeating her oldest nemesis! A major flaw, if ever there was one!
Celestia giggled quietly and tapped her hooves. Oh, the naivety of it all!
Just to check, she lit her horn and focused on the book which lay on the bedside cabinet. Encasing it in her magic, she carried it through the air to her muzzle. It took a little more effort to lift it than she had expected—it felt more like a boulder than a book—but she had only just woken up. Her magic reserves were probably depleted.
A wave of unease rushed over her. That was the reason for this weakness, was it not?
Celestia shuddered. She didn’t want to think about what would occur if something had happened to her powers. A weak alicorn princess was of no use at all.
Celestia shook her head quickly. Now wasn’t the time to think on that; there was a tyrant changeling queen to find. But the first matter of business? Remembering where the door to this place was.
With a confident smile on her face, though it was entirely fabricated and false, Celestia trotted bouncily out of the old bedroom and straight into the main landing of the observatory. Momentarily she was struck by just how many books there were; she hadn’t remembered the place being this big. How had Princess Twilight—way back when she had been Celestia’s own student—managed to read all of these?
That filly had been a strange one, back then. Not that she was much less odd now, though her curiosity was always endearing. There were certainly worse traits to have.
Spying the door, Celestia approached it slowly and sparked a spell up on her horn, just in case. Doing so made her vision blur momentarily, but she tried to ignore that; using advanced magic was probably just more strenuous than usual after what she had been through. That was it. She smiled and stomped a hoof. Nothing was wrong at all. This was fine.
With a deep breath in, Celestia rose her hoof just above the door handle. She tapped it gingerly; one could never be too careful when it came to fighting the changelings. When no immediate backlash came, she then sighed and grasped the knob, turning it once.
The door slammed open just before she could pull it. With a yelp Celestia jumped to the side, the wood smashing into her flank. A cry was torn from her throat, the skin around her cutie mark suddenly throbbing painfully.
“Argh,” she groaned. Her rear legs buckled beneath her weight and she found herself laying sprawled out on the floor. Just at that moment something small and blue zipped in through the doorway with a screech, tumbling through the air as it fought to regain some control. The thing then smashed into the wall opposite the doorway and yelped, falling to a crumpled heap on the floor.
Celestia frowned and raised an eyebrow, charging her spell a little more. This thing was pathetic, but she couldn’t be too careful; a changeling could go from feeble to ferocious in a blink.
“Are you alright?” she asked slowly as she stood unsteadily. She fought to keep her rear legs under control; a changeling foe didn’t need to see her weakness.
The little blue thing—a griffon, or so it appeared—stirred and grumbled, rolling around on the spot until it managed to sit upright. It then raised a tiny paw and licked it, whining quietly whilst it smoothed back the feathers on its head. It then opened its tiny wings, still whimpering, and began to nuzzle them quickly, a blush on its cheeks as it straightened out a few crooked feathers.
“Sorry, Tia,” it mumbled, standing up just as unsteadily as she. It shook quickly, dust flung from its fur and feathers. “You opened the door just as I was about to open it too.”
Celestia raised a brow. She sparked her horn dangerously. It was only for show, but the griffon squeaked and recoiled slightly anyway. “Hey, hey! Wait! What’d I do wrong? You said I was allowed to preen in here!”
Celestia frowned. The sparks dissipated. “What?” she said involuntarily, raising a hoof. “You… huh?”
She blinked a few times, her mind reeling. After a few seconds she then noticed how her mouth was hanging open stupidly and how her ears had fallen halfway and took a deep breath in, regaining her composure. Inevitably her wings had fallen to the ground as well; she quickly made to pull them back to her side.
Wait.
Oh, no.
Celestia hissed and flung her head behind her, just about able to see her back. Her distinctly featherless back. And she screamed.
“Woah!” the little griffin cried. It zipped up into the air and shot towards Celestia, proceeding to grip her cheeks with its claws. It stared straight into her eyes, unblinking. “Hey, hey, it’s alright!”
Celestia shook her head and recoiled. “No! No, no, no!” She snorted and bucked, throwing her head frantically. “No! No!”
The little griffon hissed as Celestia’s horn brushed against its chest. “Hey, cool it already!” it squawked, dodging an accidental blow by mere hair lengths. “What’s gotten into you?”
Celestia wheezed. “My wings! Where are my wings!” she yelled, panting.
The little griffon frowned. “Tia, you’re a unicorn. You don’t have wings. You know, basic biology and all that?”
Celestia’s eyes widened to the size of dinner plates. “Of course I have wings! I’m an alicorn!”
she cried. She stomped her hoof loudly. The little griffon cringed.
“No, you’re… You’re a unicorn, Celestia. There’s only one alicorn in Equis, and that’s Princess Twilight Sparkle.” The little griffon slowly drifted closer. “Are you ill or something?”
Celestia gasped. “Only one?” she breathed, suddenly quiet. She then stared directly at the griffon and said, “What about Cadence? And Luna? Where are they? Have they lost their wings too?”
The griffon fluttered backwards. “I honestly don’t have a clue what you’re on about,” it muttered. “Who is Cadence? And, uh, no, I’m pretty sure I’ve not lost my wings.” The griffon raised a paw and pointed to her frantically flapping feathers. “See?”
Celestia fell to her rump once again. She placed a hoof on her head and shook it. “I’m dead,” was all she said to start with. She then hung her head and finished, “I failed.”
The griffon's beak crumpled. It landed cautiously next to Celestia, inching closer. “What?”
“None of this makes sense,” Celestia murmured, before she raised her head and pointed an accusatory hoof at the griffon. “I mean, look at you! I’m just casually chatting with a changeling about how I’m suddenly a unicorn and you haven’t even attacked me yet or anything! This doesn’t make sense! Therefore, I must be dead.”
The little griffon poked her shoulder with a claw. “Uh, I’m a griffon, Tia. Always have been. Not a changeling,” it said. “And you’ve always been a unicorn. Nothing’s changed there either.”
Celestia raised her head. “How can this be happening?” she murmured.
The griffon padded around to Celestia’s chest, its blue tail flicking idly. Its feathers, the deepest of blues, were slightly ruffled. It was then that Celestia noticed something that she had previously missed; though somewhat hazy and unclear, the jet-black fur of the griffon’s flank—slightly obscured by its feathers—looked exactly like Princess Luna’s own markings. In fact, when she looked a little more carefully, she could have sworn those stray white hairs looked somewhat similar to a crescent moon.
“Luna?” Celestia breathed, suddenly feeling lightheaded. The little griffon’s head shot up, a twinkle in its eyes.
“Finally, you say something that makes sense,” it said with a quiet laugh. It clapped its claws and smirked. “Yes, that’s me. Good job!”
Celestia tapped her hoof against the floor. “You’re Luna,” was all she said.
“Well, you named me,” the little griffon replied with a snort. “Back when you hatched my egg, remember?”
Celestia tapped her hoof again. “I hatched your egg,” she repeated. Her voice grew steadily quieter as she spoke.
“Uh, yeah.”
“Right. Of course.”
Pony and griffon stared at each other quietly, turquoise eyes meeting pink unblinkingly. After a few moments of awkward and terse silence, Celestia then turned away and sighed. She raised a hoof, rubbed her forehead gingerly then whispered, “So, Luna… You say Twilight Sparkle is the Princess, correct?”
The little Luna-griffon frowned. “Well, yes, of course—” she began.
“And she’s the Princess of…” Celestia then continued, raising a hoof and twirling it slowly in the air. Luna frowned at her.
“Well, magic, of course,” she said slowly, her eyes flitting over Celestia’s body. “She’s your mentor and teacher, Tia. You really ought to know this stuff.” Momentarily the griffon’s eyes darkened. “It’s probably illegal not to know it.”
Celestia gulped but forced a smile. “Of course it is,” she said, her ear flicking slightly and her eye twitching. Her eye twitched. “So, who controls the sun and moon?”
The little Luna-griffon blinked once. “You’re really starting to worry me, y’know,” she said.
Celestia blushed. “Just refreshing the facts!” she said with a nervous chortle. “I mean, I’m—ah—making sure you know these things. As you say, it is illegal to not know so.”
Luna’s frown deepened. She was quiet for a moment before she then said, “Well, the unicorns control the sun, obviously.”
Celestia smiled and nodded once. “Of course, of course,” she said, beaming unsteadily. “Well done. Good job.”
Luna scowled. “You’re lying,” was her response after a momentary pause. “You know Twilight controls the sun and moon. You’ve watched her!”
Celestia’s smile fell faster than a brick through the air. “R-right,” she murmured. She took a slow step backwards. Luna followed immediately. “I just… I’ve got this really bad headache, you know? And I just… I can’t think straight.”
Luna was quiet. Her eyes then shot wide and she said, “Oh,” as if realising some massive secret. She then fluttered up to Celestia’s cheek and said, “The magic backlash has returned, hasn’t it?”
“I...”
Luna shook her head and raised a claw. “Hey, don’t sweat it. Powerful unicorns get it all the time! This just means you’re improving!” she chirped. She then let her head fall into her claws and shook it, sighing. “I just can’t believe I didn’t see the symptoms sooner! Dizziness, confusion, sudden memory loss and a weakened magical aura! It’s so obvious now!”
Celestia rubbed the back of her neck slowly with a hoof. It was so much easier with wings. “It is?” the asked quietly.
Luna nodded eagerly. “Yep! You have all of the symptoms and you’ve been growing so much stronger recently! With all the magic in the air, you were bound to get it properly at some point!” She beamed and nuzzled Celestia’s cheek gently. “Seriously, it’s alright. You just need some time off. Somewhere a little less… magical.”
Celestia frowned and raised her head. So that was what the ominous weight was: magic?
“Yeah, that might help,” she whispered.
“Of course it will!” Luna then squeaked. She flew into the air and zipped about excitedly. “Oh, imagine, won’t it be nice to move away from the city?” She froze on the spot and shook her head. “No, Luna, no! Focus! This will be a purely recovery-based trip. No sightseeing!”
Celestia sighed. “Right,” she whispered, frowning.
Luna crashed into her shoulder and clung on, before heaving herself up onto Celestia’s back. “Exactly!” she confirmed with a squawk, She then shot over to the door and heaved it open, a massive smile upon her face. “And good timing for that idea, too! The princess will have finished with her consultations in a few minutes too, and you know as well as I do how strict she is on timings.”
Celestia’s ears fell. “I can imagine,” she murmured.
Luna frowned. “Huh?”
Celestia hissed at the slip up and shook her head quickly. Her ears batted against her neck as she did so. “Nothing,” she quickly said. “We had better be quick, now, though. Like you say, we both know how… strict the princess can be for timings.”
Luna giggled quietly, her wings flapping quickly from her seat upon Celestia’s shoulder. “Don’t be silly! You know that Twilight has no other engagements after two o’clock! Not ‘til five, anyway. That’s her rest time, silly!”
Celestia frowned. “Remind me why we’re interrupting her rest break, then?”
Luna rolled her eyes. “Because that’s the only time you’re allowed to visit her?” she suggested with a snort. “Come on, let’s get going.”
Celestia was quiet for a moment before she sighed and nodded. “Yes, you’re right, sister,” she said. When she turned to leave, though, she realised Luna didn’t immediately follow. Instead, a tiny whimper met her ears. She spun immediately, a newfound panic flooding her body—but everything was fine. There were no evil changeling queens here, trying to steal another version of her sister from her. Rather, the little griffon merely fluttered quietly in the air, tears rolling down her cheeks.
“S-sister?” Luna whispered, her voice wavering. “You’ve never called me sister before…”
Celestia cursed under her breath. “Have I not?” She beamed. “Well, I’m starting now!”
Luna’s confused frown morphed into a wobbly smile. She then fluttered up to Celestia’s cheek, nuzzling it with her beak gently; cautiously.
“Thank you,” she finally whispered, letting out a tiny breath. She stayed like that quietly, and probably would have continued to do so had Celestia not pushed her away after a few silent seconds.
“Well, you’re welcome,” she said, trying to hide the frown of confusion on her muzzle. “So, to Princess Twilight Sparkle, then?”