Celestia crept out of the doorway of Twili—no, her—observatory. She took small, slow steps, as if doing so would delay the inevitable.
But, to her surprise, the city really wasn’t that bad.
A large part of her had expected this to be some cruel changeling trick, designed to lead her to her enslavement, torture, or demise in the most humiliating way. A smaller portion of her mind had simultaneously been thrust into overdrive, creating images of what Princess Twilight Sparkle’s nation could be; a system operated in a cruel and unwaveringly regimented manner in which everypony suffered unendingly until they took their last, quavery breath.
True, she had looked out of her window when she woke—but, one way or another, something was amiss. She couldn’t give out her full trust freely just yet.
But, despite the fact that she was now only as big as Celestia’s head and that she had spontaneously become a griffon, there was something about Luna that just set her mind at ease.
The sun was bright overhead, casting a blanket of light over the city. Celestia sighed as she felt its warmth tickle her coat and she let her posture relax ever so slightly, though her hackles raised momentarily when a particularly hot wave rushed over her.
She frowned and glanced up to the sky above, her eyes flicking over the sun. Though easily double as close to the land as normal, it did look normal, for sure—but Celestia knew it wasn’t. She couldn’t feel its unearthly pull on her magical core anymore, and when her eyes landed upon it properly she found herself blinded.
Her own sun never did that. Not to her, at least.
She shook her head and rubbed her eyes, before offsetting her gaze slightly so that she could see it burning in the corner of her vision. There was something unpleasant about this sun; something cold. She shivered. It just didn’t feel natural—as if something had been added to mask a more unpleasant effect.
A second wave of intense heat blew over her and Celestia hissed, her back hunched. It passed just as quickly as it had come, but when she glanced up this time, something terrifyingly wonderful met her eyes.
Plumes of fire burst from the sun in a mystifying display of light and heat, swirling dangerously around its core. Tendrils snaked and weaved through the air, merging together where they collided to form one massive ball of imposing and unrivalled energy. Then, with a small flash of white light, the solar flares tore themselves completely from the sun; they danced in midair as they drifted closer together, intermingling with one another with gentle caresses. And, just before they fizzled out into nothingness, something truly mesmerising happened; a massive dragon’s head, made entirely from the fire of the solar flares, flew across the sky in a fiery show of power, its maw opened wide in a silent roar before it simply faded into nothingness.
Celestia blinked quickly, her eyes wide and transfixed directly upwards on the sky. In all of her years—and she had seen more than her fair share, for sure—she had never seen such a breathtaking spectacle. But, when she finally lowered her head and looked about the city, she realised that not a single pony had stopped to take notice.
The little Luna-griffon fluttered up to her muzzle, landing smugly on her nose so that all Celestia could see was her immaculately feathered chest.
“You look like you’ve seen a ghost!” she squawked, her beak curled up at the edges in a snicker. “What’s up with you? Never seen the Daytime Drake before?”
Celestia looked quickly up at the sky, throwing the little griffon from her muzzle. Her ears fell. “The Daytime Drake?” she repeated, her gaze landing upon the spot where the flares had fizzled out. “That’s normal?”
Luna raised her eyebrows. “Well, sure,” she said, flapping her wings rapidly so that she zipped up into Celestia’s line of vision. “Don’t you remember the old mare’s tale?”
Celestia shook her head. “I’m afraid, sister, that it has slipped my mind.”
Luna sighed. “Wow, Tia. You’ve got pretty bad backlash, huh?”
“Have I?”
“Well, you normally read me that story every night before bed. Except last night, when you said you felt sick. Remember?”
Celestia frowned. “Yes?” she said.
Luna smacked a claw to her face. “You don’t, do you? You seriously don’t remember any of that tale? I don’t know a pony alive who doesn’t know it. That’s kindergarten stuff, Tia!”
Celestia was quiet for a moment before she let her ears fall more naturally. She hung her head in fake embarrassment. “Remind me?”
She may not have been a good actor, but the little Luna-griffon accepted it all the same. With a sigh she raised her claw and pointed up to the sky, saying, “Millenia ago, Princess Twilight Sparkle faced down against one of the deadliest foes known to ponykind: the meanest dragon ever to prowl this land. The horrendous Hellfire.
“Some ponies reckon he was once an ally of the Princess. Some ponies think that’s stupid and that he was always a wicked monster. But in the end he turned on her, and he threatened to swallow the entire world—“ Luna stretched out her claws as widely as she could, “—in his fiery breath!”
Celestia glanced as closely as she could up to the sun. “And Princess Twilight Sparkle imprisoned him in his own flames?” she finished, her ears fallen. Luna looked a little brighter at that.
“Exactly!” she yipped, her tail flicking happily. “Thank the stars, we can have some hope for you!”
Celestia laughed quietly, the sound tainted with a nervous edge. “It seems that way,” she mumbled, then looking away. “So, to the castle?”
The little Luna-griffon nodded stiffy. “Well, there or the tower or the dungeons,” she noted.
Celestia paused mid-stride. “Pardon?” she asked, her hoof slightly elevated and twitching uncertainly. “Does Twilight Sparkle not conduct her business in the castle?”
Luna hissed and shot forwards. She clamped Celestia’s muzzle shut tightly and threw her gaze around quickly. When she saw nopony was around—she seemed not to mind the presence of a haggard, dirty and underfed pegasus mare, whose skin hung from her frame in useless rolls—she sighed. She then looked up at Celestia and said, “Do you want to get yourself killed?”
“What?”
“You fool!” Luna cried, ruffling her feathers and fur in indignation. She then whispered coldly, “It’s bad enough that you forget the word ‘princess’ in private! But in public? You’re pretty much just calling for a rebellion!”
Celestia’s back arched. “I— What? A rebellion? Of course not! Why would—“
Luna’s eyes narrowed. “You missed her title. You know how she’ll take that; she’ll think you’re, like, denying her authority! Seriously, Tia! I know you’re a powerful unicorn and all, but if you went horn-to-horn with the Princess, you’d be blown to smithereens before you could even light your magic!”
Celestia swished her tail sharply so that it struck her side. “Of course,” she said eventually, hanging her head. “I should know better.”
Luna snorted and folded her claws. “Too right you should!” she snapped, her voice suddenly louder than before.
Celestia looked up in shock. Her eyes were initially wide before they narrowed, looking the little griffon over skeptically. Luna, meanwhile, suddenly froze and gave a panicked squawk; she shot to the ground, suddenly plastering herself there as if hoping it would swallow her up.
“Oh my gosh!” she squeaked, shrinking into a tiny ball. She unfolded her tiny wings and wrapped them around herself defensively, each movement slow and careful. “I am so sorry! That was totally out of line, I shouldn’t—“
Celestia shook her head quickly. As gently as she could, she tilted the little griffon’s head upwards with a hoof to face her. Luna only clenched her eyes, refusing to look. It was with a sigh that Celestia then—to some distant cheers that sounded remarkably like, “teach that runt its place!”—snagged the skin of her neck with magic and hoisted her up into the air. As gently as she could, she then forced the tiny griffon’s eyes open.
“I’m not mad,” Celestia said, smiling as genuinely as she could. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I was just surprised, that’s all.”
Luna whimpered. “I deserve to be punished,” she murmured, looking away. “So why aren’t you? What’s wrong with you?”
Celestia raised a brow. “Yes, you yelled at me, but I’m not going to punish you for it,” she said, though she did realise as soon as she had spoken that, if this had been her Equestria, then her guardsponies would’ve drawn their swords by now. They wouldn’t have struck yet, though. “Why would I?”
Luna looked thoroughly baffled, her face crinkled in deep thought. “Because I’m a griffon,” was all she said, as if that was perfectly self explanatory.
Celestia opened her mouth to question Luna’s words, but one look at her trembling body quickly silenced her. A topic for another time, she assumed. Instead, with as large and warm a smile as she could muster, she said, “We’ll worry about that later, sister. We really shouldn’t be late for Princess Twilight Sparkle, now, should we?”
Luna sniffed and looked cautiously up at the mare, still dangling in midair by the skin of her neck. “I suppose not,” she mumbled, flailing awkwardly in midair so that she could slip away from Celestia’s gentle hold. When she had freed herself, she then quietly began to flutter forwards, each flap of her wings much more feeble and unenthusiastic than before. The feathers almost appeared to drag with each beat.
Following after Luna slowly, Celestia found that she was suddenly much more aware of little details. No longer distracted by the excitable griffon’s rabbiting, she felt and saw more than she had done at first. She noted the way the air fell heavily upon her back and shoulders; how a slight hum reverberated in her ears from seemingly nowhere; the murmured moans of young trees, creaking and groaning when a light breeze swept softly over their branches; and the way that the plump blades of grass which decorated the sidewalks, though bright green and vibrant, seemed to droop and sag under their own weight.
She was not left to her musings for long, though. Only a few minutes later, Luna fluttered to a stop outside one of the most heart-stopping structures Celestia had ever seen. A gigantic wall of ancient, gemstone-bearing rocks loomed over her, obstructing her view of what lay beyond. Massive towers, built in such a way that they looked almost perfectly like spears, were built into the bulwark; they shot straight up towards the skyline, as if they could pierce the heavens above. A massive drawbridge, embellished with priceless jewels and works of artistic mastery, bore down menacingly upon the pair.
Celestia couldn’t help but let her mouth fall open. This castle was created with just one intention in mind: to show off the sheer power and wealth of the pony that owned it.
Her own castle had been astounding. But this…
Princess Twilight’s castle would have made Celestia’s look like a crumbling old town house.
Luna didn’t seem as fazed at all, though. She made her way up to a small and rather uninspiring wooden noticeboard which was propped against a small post, her eyes scanning it rapidly. The writing on the roll of parchment was minuscule; she raised a claw to help herself keep on the correct line. After a few seconds her body then slouched and she sighed, tapping the text in one particular spot.
“Princess Twilight Sparkle’s here, in the castle,” she said when she turned back to Celestia. “At least that’s okay, right?”
Celestia nodded. “Yes, you’re right,” she said, smiling through her confusion. She stepped closer, then squinting at the tiny words scrawled on the paper. “Luna… How on earth can you read this? I would need a magnifying glass!”
The little griffon laughed slightly and turned to Celestia, rolling her eyes with a little of her previous sparkle. “Well, I have pretty much done this since the day you hatched my egg, so I’ve kinda got the knack for reading Princess Twilight’s teeny-tiny text.”
Celestia giggled. She stopped abruptly after a short moment, though, suddenly realising something that she hadn’t previously realised.
She hadn’t genuinely been happy since the start of the war.
Luna beamed at her, suddenly calm again. “So,” she said, nodding towards the drawbridge as she perched herself on Celestia’s back quietly. She stretched out a wing lazily and then finished with, “into the castle?”
Celestia nodded once. “Yes,” she said quietly before glancing up at the drawbridge. When Luna made no attempt to move or otherwise encourage her, she then said, “How do we get in?”
Luna rolled her eyes again. “It’s a feather key,” she said, as if such were obvious.
Celestia frowned. “I’m a unicorn,” she said. “I haven’t got any feathers.”
Luna outstretched her wing further, flapping it twice. “Well, duh. Why do you think so many unicorns keep griffons?”
“Oh,” Celestia said. She cringed, looking at the tiny feathers that the griffon seemed to be offering up. “Are you sure?”
Luna sighed. “Of course! There’s no other way in, so I haven’t really got a choice anyway.” After a few moments of silence, she then huffed and turned her head, clasping a single feather between her beak and yanking it out with a muffled squeak. She then held it out tenderly, a small tear running down her cheek whilst she said, “Here ‘oo go.”
Celestia looked down to the pathetic, midnight blue feather. She cringed, but still took it ever so carefully in her aura. She floated it over to the drawbridge slowly. With a small gulp, she then pushed the feather into the lock and turned it—and the drawbridge gave a massive hiss. A rush of air pummelled her as it opened, and she barely had time to leap back before it fell with a boom, exposing the entrance to the castle building itself.
There were a few moments where Celestia merely stood still, heaving for breath as she eyed up the bridge cautiously. Finally, she then managed to say, “Okay, then.”
The little Luna-griffon landed back atop the unicorn’s back quietly, without so much as a grumble. All the same, she immediately got to work with pruning and straightening her remaining feathers. Thank the stars her plumage was generous; a sicklier griffon would’ve looked poor to lose even the one feather.
Celestia shook the unnerving thought off, trying not to think too much on Luna’s passing comment of “unicorns keeping griffons”. Stifling her own shudder, she instead turned to face forwards and rose into a very gentle trot, gliding across the cobblestone and up to the castle’s main doors.
It was now time to meet Princess Twilight Sparkle—and a massive sense of ice-cold dread washed over her. Because this wasn’t her Twilight. This was a different and completely independent mare; a mare who had likely suffered through the same hellish millennia as she, herself, had done. But where Celestia had had an extensive support network, it seemed that Princess Twilight Sparkle had been completely isolated and alone, left to work through her grief and to run a whole country.
And that was enough to drive anypony to insanity—let alone someone who already struggled with stress and anxiety.
Celestia shook her head to clear it of such thoughts and raised her hoof to the oak front door of the castle, pushing it open. It swung easily, as if there was absolutely no resistance. But, when she stepped hoof inside, she soon found out why.
Upon entering the castle’s atrium, the doors slammed shut behind her and she found herself suddenly stuck to the spot. She stared blankly at the hologram of a scroll which had appeared before her, a quill hovering next to it. At the very top a bold, underlined countdown ticked by, coloured in bright red letters which read, “provide your passcode”.
Twenty…
Nineteen…
She looked around quickly, surveying the room. It didn’t look so different to the atrium of her own castle, at least, although the stained glass was a lot less varied.
Ten…
Nine…
Eight…
With a sigh, Celestia reached out and took the quill in her hoof, amazed that a hologram could be handled in that manner. She then raised the quill upwards between her teeth, waiting for some sort of instruction from Luna. But none came, and when she turned her head backwards and shook it, a sudden paleness drained the colour from the griffon’s feathers.
Two…
One…
Zero.
The scroll vanished with an audible pop, dissolving into nothing. And then, just as Luna squawked suddenly and shot up into the air—only find her legs ensnared by metallic chains—four more holograms burst into life from each corner of the room. The pixels morphed and formed so that they made four perfect copies of massive, large chested stallions with the power to snap her legs clean off if they so wanted.
The holograms raised a foreleg, waiting patiently. And then, all of a sudden, massive spears formed in each outstretched hoof.
And then they began to move.