The tranquil hush of Canterlot at night was rudely interrupted by a bolt of lightning; for the briefest of moments the streets were lit up as bright as the daytime, and the snow-capped mountain range which dominated the horizon reflected the branching streaks of electricity as they coruscated through the sky like the probing claws of some wild animal. Most of the city’s residents were happily tucked away in their beds at this late hour, though the resounding growl of thunder which followed probably would’ve startled even the heaviest sleepers into wakefulness. Some who had their wits about them might’ve noted that it was not a pegasi-induced storm either. Every now and then, places like the Everfree Forest threw some random bursts of magic into the atmosphere just to see what would happen. This magic had the habit of manifesting itself in the wider world of ponies as surprise storms or other climatological disturbances.
Those unfortunate few who were still outside for whatever reason when the rain came – they were primarily the young and the restless, seeking their thrills in one of the many underground clubs which infested the narrow alleyways off Canterlot’s more pedestrian thoroughfares – darted quickly about the tree-lined avenues, looking for shelter wherever they could find it: hiding under the canopies of market stalls or huddling in the doorways of closed shops, though a brave few souls simply gritted their teeth and tried to get to wherever it was that they had been going to in the first place.
Some might have called the sudden burst of heavy rain a blessing in disguise, particularly those who made their living working the land, after this summer having been one of the longest and hottest on record; apparently, somepony in the weather factory responsible for scheduling had made an error when filling out a timetable and their mistake hadn’t been discovered right away. There were a few exceptions, however.
One of those exceptions was a tiny unicorn filly, no more than six- or seven-years-old, who sat at an old wooden schooldesk with a darkly solemn expression shadowing the graceful, delicate features of her muzzle; it was all well and good for Twilight Sparkle to know intellectually that this storm was nothing more than the result of a random eruption of magic reacting with charged particles in the atmosphere – a simple electrostatic discharge that any moderately powerful unicorn could replicate easily enough – but when those bright flashes of light cast such ghastly shadows on the walls, and that booming crack seemed to shake the very foundations of the castle, her rational mind took a vacation, and all she wanted to do was huddle in a quiet corner with her legs covering her eyes and ears until it all went away.
As usual, because it was the weekend and she didn’t need to worry about being up early in the morning, she had been studying late into the evening; after much deliberation, Celestia had finally enacted a policy which allowed the most promising students from her School for Gifted Unicorns free and unfettered access to Canterlot Castle’s many libraries. In her innocence, Twilight hadn’t realised just how much of a burden she could be at times, having practically converted one of the tower rooms into her own private home away from home. On any given day, the cleaners would arrive to find it littered with books, notes scribbled in a bird-like, near-indecipherable hoof, equipment harvested from the castle’s own labs and the many alchemy shops to be found about town, and just sometimes, when Celestia allowed it, a purple and green baby dragon.
Twilight had wanted to care for Spike – Celestia had granted her the honour of naming him, and she still marvelled at being given such a responsibility – from the moment he was first hatched from his egg during her entrance exam, but she’d quickly come to realise that her mentor’s cadre of staff were much better-equipped to handle a fussy, fire-breathing infant. Celestia had promised that, once she was old enough to take care of both herself and the dragon, Spike would be released into her custody.
Normally, somepony would be on-hoof to tell Twilight when it was time to pack up her things and go home, but they’d so often found her with her tongue hanging endearingly out as she was buried up to the muzzle in some book or other, eagerly reading by the gently flickering candlelight, that they just hadn’t had the heart to kick her out. So it was that they’d installed a few more creature comforts to the room such as a small bed when she finally did keel over, though for the most part it was her habit to fall asleep at her desk with small pools of drool collecting around her mouth.
The few parts of her mind that hadn’t been scared witless by the storm realised that sleep was going to be an impossibility until the fusillade of noise and light outside came to a halt; Twilight shivered, though the room was quite warm, as her pretty mulberry eyes took in the radiant bursts of energy that seemed intent on rending the sky asunder. They were never exactly the same colour twice, cycling through the entire spectrum like a fussy artist intent on using every shade of paint on their palette. They were almost pretty, in their own way. Almost.
Twilight hefted a sigh into the room; when she was anxious, she liked to read or find some other way to distract her mind from her problems, but when the source of her anxiety was something this big, this fundamental, getting any sort of respite seemed like an impossibility. She wanted to crawl into bed and pull the covers over her head, but that wasn’t going to happen either. She was at an impasse. Unless some new element was introduced to the dynamic, unless the parameters of the situation were altered, then there was nothing to be done but wait things out in silent terror. With a wry smile, Twilight recalled how her lecturers at school had often complimented her on her problem-solving and analytical skills.
This thought was quite violently shoved aside when the room filled with an effulgent white light so harsh that it persisted even when she closed her eyes; recoiling and putting a foreleg up against the glare, Twilight heard the hideous boom as if it were happening right next to her head and she almost jumped out of her skin. Her heart sank. The storm was getting closer. Indeed, it seemed to be right above the castle now. Part of her wanted to investigate, to see if that last bolt had done any damage to the town below, but another, larger, part of her wanted to find the most heavily-fortified place imaginable and barricade herself inside it until this was all over. Somewhere with thick walls that would drown out any sound, preferably.
Some morbid sense of curiosity drove her in the direction of the window all the same, and she was just about to put her eyes to the sodden, fogged-up glass when yet another furious cannonade rang out; Twilight shrank back, letting out a yelp of fright, and tripped over her own awkward, spindly hindlegs in the process. Her rump collided painfully with the dull stone flooring and she rubbed at the tender spot whilst snivelling pathetically. Somepony must’ve heard her because the next thing she became aware of was a light brown muzzle looking down at her. It was heavily wrinkled and an expression of sympathy was carved into its aquiline features.
“Miss Sparkle,” said the attendant that Twilight nervously identified as Dapper Bristle, one of the many staff-members charged with running errands and caring for the needs of the castle’s guests. Said guests were usually visiting dignitaries and heads of state, however, not whimpering fillies who really ought to know better by now. “May I ask what it is that you’re still doing here at this late hour?”
With a foreleg, Twilight wiped away at the snot and tears streaming down her face, and hurriedly said, “I’msoincrediblysorry,butIwassocaughtupinmyresearchthatI-”
“-Miss Sparkle, if you could stop and take a deep breath.” Holding up a hoof to cut off her babble, Dapper Bristle found himself having to suppress a grin. Twilight Sparkle’s reputation as an adorable menace was the stuff of legend amongst the castle’s staff. Whether she was more adorable or more menace tended to depend on how charitable you were feeling that day, though. “Start again when you’re ready.”
Collecting herself, Twilight did as Dapper Bristle had instructed. Feeling an iota more composed, she said in a more measured cadence, “I’m sorry. I know I’m causing problems for you and the others by staying here so late, but um, I really thought that I was getting somewhere with my research and there was this new experiment that I wanted to try out before going home, so I just couldn’t bring myself to stop.” Lamely, she looked down at the floor. “Am I going to be in trouble with Princess Celestia, sir?”
Taking a quick look around the rather small confines of the tower room, Dapper Bristle replied kindly, “No, of course you aren’t in any trouble, but-” another fork of lightning blazed and Twilight made a noise in the back of her throat “-perhaps you would be more comfortable in one of the guest quarters downstairs, where it’s closer to the ground?”
Twilight nodded vigorously, a wide smile breaking out on her muzzle as she got up on to all four hooves. “Yes, thank you, Dapper Bristle, I’d love that!”
As they descended an ornately filligreed spiral staircase, Dapper Bristle, mostly in a bid to keep Twilight’s mind off of the storm, asked her how her studies at the School for Gifted Unicorns were going; while he couldn’t pretend to understand even a tenth of what she was saying – probably the only other pony who could keep up with her excited pontificating was Celestia herself – she seemed happy to have a willing listener in addition to keeping her attention firmly away from matters outside. From what she told him, Dapper Bristle rather got the impression that she didn’t have a lot of friends and he wondered why. Yes, she could be a little thoughtless at times, but from the few interactions he’d had with Twilight he knew her to have a heart of gold.
Eventually, after what seemed like hours but had, in fact, only been a matter of minutes, Dapper Bristle brought Twilight to one of the many small, but well-appointed suites that were normally used to house the retinue of travelling royalty and the like; there was a simple, comfortable-looking bed, a vanity table, and a wardrobe that would usually contain a selection of finest fashions from around the world, but at this moment in time – with no guests expected to be in residence for some time – was empty. For Twilight, however, the most important feature of the room was the little en suite. Her stomach had been rumbling ominously for a while now, and she was sure it was nothing to do with being hungry. Batting at the ground with a foreleg, Twilight asked coyly, “Um, sir, would you mind if I ask a favour of you?”
“Certainly, Miss Sparkle, what can I do for you?” Dapper Bristle asked, fixing her with an expectant look.
Reddening slightly in embarrassment, Twilight averted her gaze shyly and she mumbled out a few words.
“Sorry, I didn’t quite catch that. You’ll have to speak up.”
Gritting her teeth, Twilight tried again. “Would you be able to stay here with me, just until I fall asleep?” She looked up at him, her mulberry eyes wet. “I’m scared of the storm, sir.”
Thanks to the reinforced glass used in the construction of the suite’s windows and the sturdy walls, it was a lot less noticeable than it had been in the tower, but one could still hear that low predatory bellow of an animal stalking its prey if they listened hard enough. “Well, that’s certainly understandable. I can’t recall one like this for ages now,” replied Dapper Bristle thoughtfully. “I’d love to be able to grant your request, but alas, there are many other tasks to which I must attend.” Clocking the expression of defeat crossing Twilight’s muzzle, he quickly added, “However, I may know of somepony who tends to be awake at this hour and could probably use the company, too. Would you like me to fetch them for you?”
Eagerly, Twilight said, “Oh, yes, please!” She wiped away her tears as best she could, determined to make a good impression. “And thank you so much for your help tonight. I’m, um, I’m really sorry to have been such a bother when you have so much work to do.”
“Your apology is most unnecessary, Miss Sparkle,” said Dapper Bristle, not able to resist the impulse to ruffle Twilight’s mane. She giggled as he did so. “We’re here to help all who reside within the castle-” he grinned as he headed toward the door “-whether they’re supposed to be here or not.”
Twilight, now that she was alone for a moment, sat at the vanity table and looked at her unkempt reflection in the mirror with some distaste; using the box of tissues provided, she tried to clean up as much of the snot and tears clinging to her as possible, then did her best to sort out her frazzled mane. She wasn’t one for going out of her way to look pretty, but if some unlucky pony was going to be lumbered with the task of foalsitting her, then she at least wanted to be presentable for them. Trying to get those darned stripes to line up properly always took ages, though.
She almost fell out of her chair when a hairstyle that was probably even more of a nightmare to deal with appeared in the mirror.
“Princess Celestia?” Twilight said, turning quickly in her chair, her mouth agape in wonder.
Celestia made a quiet, dignified entrance, the ghost of a smile playing at the corners of her muzzle. Her glittering, ethereal mane, even devoid of any wind, still undulated this way and that obeying its own strange laws. Trying to keep track of its many perturbations was a recipe for making oneself quite nauseous. “Good evening, Twilight,” she said in her customary melodious tone. It was as warm and as inviting as a spoonful of honey in a mug of tea. And every bit as sweet, too. “Dapper Bristle tells me that you’re having some difficulty in falling asleep because of this terrible storm.”
Feeling her cheeks flush bright red once again, Twilight exhaled sharply. It was bad enough that she was going to be the butt of the castle staff’s jokes from here to eternity, but having her mentor know that she was nothing more than a big scaredy-pony was a whole new level of awful. There was still a lot of night to go, too. Maybe, just for an encore, Discord would break free from his stone statue and wreak havoc.
“Twilight, are you okay?” It was subtle, but the royal affectations seemed to have deserted her voice entirely and she was speaking now with an almost motherly concern. “I understand that you might be frightened of what’s happening outside, but I assure you that’s nothing to be ashamed of.”
“Isn’t it?” asked Twilight, a little more angrily than she’d intended. She was angry at herself, not Celestia, and she jumped down from the vanity table, padded over to the bed and let her head drop into her hooves. “I could tell you exactly why that storm is happening. I know I’m safe in here. But I’m still scared all the same. That’s not normal for an intelligent pony, surely?”
“May I sit down?” Celestia said, gesturing with an elegant, golden-shod hoof to the empty space on the bed.
Twilight nodded.
Taking up a position next to her student and favouring her with a tender smile, Celestia said, “Life is full of fears. Some of them rational and some not so much.” Her purple-hued gaze flicked in the direction of the window just in time to catch it light up bright white for a moment. “These storms contain vast power, they are beyond the control of mere ponies, and that makes them worthy of our respect. Even the weather pegasi, whose very job it is to create tempestuous conditions such as this, would be afraid of them. Even some grown-ups, too.”
With a frown creasing her muzzle, Twilight looked up at Celestia. “Are you saying that you never stop being afraid of things?” She couldn’t imagine that. Surely the whole point of getting older was that you stopped worrying about stuff, especially silly stuff like this?
“Even if you live to be as old as I am, no,” replied Celestia, “you never stop.” Gently, she began to stroke Twilight’s back. The knotted muscles in her spine loosened up somewhat, but it was easy to see that she was still tense. “And that’s a good thing, too. Fear exists for a reason: it’s a teacher, and it’s lesson to you is to never, ever think that you’re so powerful and so smart that you can wade into any situation without preparation. If you ever forget this important lesson, you’ll become arrogant, and you could become a danger to yourself and others.”
Twilight considered her words; she wasn’t sure if she believed them entirely, but she did at least find herself a bit more relaxed. The massage was helping and she let out a happy little moan as Celestia’s expert hoof undid the tightness in her back. Finally, she allowed herself to succumb to her tiredness and lay down, head against the fluffy pillow, stifling a yawn as she did so. To Twilight’s astonishment, Celestia joined her, and wrapped her powerful but dainty forelegs around her body. “Celestia?”
“Hm?”
“I’m sorry for being so silly,” Twilight said quietly, closing her eyes so that her tears wouldn’t stain the doubtless very expensive pillowcases. “You probably have a thousand far more important duties to be getting on with and instead you’re stuck here with a chicken like me.”
“Fear is never silly,” Celestia replied seriously, embracing Twilight closer to her until her back was flush with her chest. Her heart was still racing, but the proximity and warmth seemed to be taking the edge off of her tension at last. She used her flowing, diaphanous tail to make an impromptu duvet for them. “If anypony ever tries to make you feel small or stupid because you admit to being afraid of something, that’s only because what they fear is being seen as weak and vulnerable in front of others.” After a moment in which the only sound was that of their breathing beginning to sync, Celestia said, “May I tell you something, Twilight?”
“What is it?”
“I’m afraid of storms, too.”
Wriggling in Celestia’s grasp so that she could face her, Twilight studied her mentor’s face. “I still can’t imagine you being afraid of anything, let alone this.” She frowned. “Can I ask why?”
Celestia shifted slightly on the bed so that she was more comfortable. Her expression became one of wistful melancholy and her breathing slowed down slightly as the memories from years ago washed over her. Twilight couldn’t help but think of the look as being one of immense sadness. Sadness tinged with regret. “Um, if you don’t want to tell me, that’s fine,” she said hurriedly, realising that she might have overstepped her bounds here. She patted Celestia’s foreleg with a hoof, hoping that it might offer some small modicum of comfort to her. “If you do, I promise to keep it a secret, though.” It was a moot point, Twilight knew, since she didn’t have anypony – other than her brother, that is – to tell any secrets to, anyway.
“It wouldn’t be fair if I brought it up, then didn’t tell you about it, would it?” Celestia said with a slight smile. Her voice went dreamy and distant as she spoke, “It was on a night very much like this one that my beloved sister, Luna, was-” she hesitated “-taken from me. Whenever there’s a storm, I am reminded of her disappearance.” She didn’t like to lie to Twilight, but she was still very young, and she didn’t need to hear the whole, unvarnished truth of what had happened between them just yet. Certainly, that ferocious fight which hadresulted in the destruction of their old castle back in the Everfree Forest had felt like a storm at the time. Just when Celestia thought that she didn’t have any more tears to shed over the incident, a single one rolled down the elegant alabaster curve of her cheek. “Perhaps, somewhere in the back of my mind, I believe that it will be on a night like this that she will also be returned to me.”
For a long moment, Twilight wasn’t sure what to say; she knew that she’d be absolutely devastated if something similar happened to Shining Armour, and she was both impressed at Celestia’s steely resolve in continuing on without her sister and saddened that she’d had to endure something so overwhelming. “Thank you,” Twilight eventually said, her voice filled with compassion. “I, um, I appreciate you trusting me with something like this.”
“You’re quite welcome,” said Celestia.
“I hope that Luna does come back some day. If she’s anything like you, I’d love to meet and get to know her.”
“Actually,” Celestia said warmly, “she was a lot like you.”
“She was?” In school, she had been told my her classmates on more than one occasion that there was nopony in Equestria who was like her. From the way in which they’d said it, Twilight got the distinct impression that it was not meant to be taken as a compliment either.
“Mm-hm.” Celestia nodded, nuzzling gently against Twilight. “Very smart. Very powerful. A trifle tactless at times. Maybe a little bit unaware of just how truly special and talented she was. Maybe I should’ve ...”
“Should’ve what?” asked Twilight with an inquisitive gaze. Despite Celestia’s grief, she still wanted to know more about this pony she supposedly resembled.
“I should’ve made more of an effort to tell her what I’m going to tell you now, Twilight Sparkle: you are a brilliant young pony who has a bright future ahead of them. You can achieve absolutely anything if you put your mind to it. I’m proud of everything that you’ve been able to accomplish so far, and I’m even prouder to know that this is only the beginning of your journey.”
Twilight couldn’t find the words, so she merely settled for giving Celestia the tightest hug that her tiny muscles could deliver; warm feelings flooded her heart, and she’d never felt closer to her mentor than at this moment. Celestia, for her own part, reciprocated the embrace but in a much gentler fashion. There were very few beings in Equestria who could escape unscathed if an alicorn were to bring their full might to bear on a situation.
“Ever since the exam,” Twilight said, her voice partly muffled by Celestia’s breast, “I’ve felt slightly … unworthy of being your student, Princess. I try so hard to impress you, to be the best at everything, and I never feel like it’s enough.”
“Don’t try so hard, Twilight,” Celestia replied softly, “just be you. That’s all you have to do to impress me.”
In the warm clasp of her mentor, Twilight was finally able to put the storm out of her mind and fall into a gentle, dreamless sleep. Knowing that Celestia felt this way about her, knowing that she was on the right track to fulfilling whatever it was that destiny might have in store for her, provided her with an enormous sense of relief.
Only much later did Celestia, likewise, drift off, but in the comforting presence of Twilight it was almost as if a weight that had settled on her withers had finally been lifted and a feeling of peace washed over her. Something that she hadn’t had since she’d been a lot younger.
Not since a night very much like this one when Luna had held her close while she’d been cowering under her covers. “You don’t need to be afraid of the dark, Celestia,” she had said lovingly, “not while I’m here to protect you.”