A group of ponies gathered around a crypt, and of all present, Twilight Sparkle might very well have been the most emotional. When a story ended with death, she found it quite upsetting, and this was a story long in the telling. This story started when she had been a filly, it had been told over teatime, and now, all these years later, when she was now an adult, it had, at last, come to an end.
And what an end it was.
While Twilight glanced at her brother, she heard Luna say, “Dim… how strange I find it that you wish for the Darks to end, only for you to recognise Nadir as one upon the hour of her death.”
Of course, Dim sneered, and when Luna reached for him with her wing, he tried to pull away. She was bigger than him, stronger by far, and did not have a body ravaged by consumption. Every breath was a struggle for him, and even as he struggled to be free of her embrace, she pulled him close. Feeling a need for closeness, Twilight pulled both Shining Armor and Trixie Lulamoon closer.
“The stars will aid her escape,” Twilight said to those she held close, with her wings wrapped around their necks.
“At least Nadir’s struggle with the curse has ended,” said Shining Armor, seemingly distracted. “We’ve all wrestled with it in some way, each and every one of Luna’s stars.”
“Loneliness… madness… insanity… unimaginable suffering.”
Twilight found herself pained by Trixie’s words.
“I do not suffer from insanity,” Dim said, objecting to what was said.
“No, Dim, you rather enjoy every moment,” Luna replied in deadpan, without even a trace of mirth or humour to be found in her voice. “And you, beloved Grandson, you’ve ended the curse that has plagued us all and inflicted so much misery on so many lives.” Ignoring Dim’s feeble protests, she leaned in and placed a rather maternal kiss upon his cheek.
“The curse struck my wedding,” Shining Armor said as Luna lavished affection upon Dim, who didn’t seem to be enjoying it, not even a little bit. “And what a curse it was. If it wasn’t for Twily, there might have been a bad end. A terrible outcome to everything. Of course”—he sighed, a heavy sound—“Twily saved us all, as she tends to do.”
Surrounded by family and friends, Twilight found that she had questions. How had Celestia known about the Mare in the Moon if Sunny Sunshine hadn’t said much on her return? It was only now, as an adult, that Twilight had the presence of mind to ask such questions. Somehow, Celestia knew things, impossible things, and while Twilight was somewhat privy to her mentor’s secrets, Celestia still had secret ways and means.
“The curse drove me to walk the earth,” Trixie said, and it could not be discerned if she was speaking to herself, as she tended to do. “I was consumed by loneliness. The curse… despair… I ached with it. Not even power could satisfy and fill the empty ache. Twilight saved me too. Thank you, Twilight.”
“Don’t mention it, Trixie.”
“Nadir struggled with it too. She wanted a mother… family… she wanted to belong and be loved.” Luna squeezed Dim, sighed, and her head swayed from side to side. “I exploited that—”
“That wasn’t you,” Dim said to Luna, his voice soupy, raspy. He sounded as if he might drown with every breath he fought to make.
“But I remember doing it, Dim. I remember provoking her. Goading her to do terrible acts, and promising that she would be loved in return. I ruthlessly exploited that. That’s just the problem… I remember everything.” A tear ran down Luna’s cheek, resisted the tug of gravity for a moment, and then splashed upon Dim, who sneered in annoyance.
“Großmutter—”
“I’m not gross,” Luna murmured as more tears fell.
“Every time… you make that joke… I want to burn nations... and boil away oceans.”
“Well, don’t do that, Dim. I’ll be very upset with you.” Closing her eyes, Luna pulled Dim even closer somehow, and wept.
Twilight turned away; it was a private moment, at least it felt that way.
She looked at the grave marker, etched into the side of the grey granite crypt. Nadir Dark. Nothing else. How few would know the meaning of this name, or the importance of it. Acceptance. In death. Recognised and given acceptance by another Dark… perhaps the worst and best of all the Darks. Nadir… now dead, was now laid to rest in the Dark family crypt.
Of course, it could be said that Dim’s charity had more to do with disturbing and annoying the dead Darks. Twilight did not discount this. Nopony hated Darks more than Dim did, and he’d sent more than a few beyond the veil. By interring Nadir into the family crypt, Dim was disrespecting the Darks’ well-known snobbiness and tweaking their superiour haughtiness. This might very well be Dim having the last laugh.
Twilight found herself remembering that teatime so long ago…
Outside, there was a commotion; the sound of a carriage could be heard, hooves on cobblestones, and the clanking of heavy armor. More guests had arrived, important guests. Eager to see them, Twilight turned about in the small, cramped crypt, and waited for the door to open. There was another family who belonged here, another bloodline touched by the Darkness, Luna’s unwanted legacy.
The door opened and it was not Celestia who was the first to enter, as Twilight expected, but Sunset Shimmer. Sunny Sunshine. She froze in the door, wide-eyed, terrified, and… heartbroken. But a rough shove by Celestia sent the smaller mare barreling through the doorway, and a second later, Twilight saw her bespectacled counterpart from beyond the mirror pushed through as well. Yet another touched by the Darkness—almost consumed by it, in fact.
“Hello Sunset,” Twilight said, bowing her head. “And hello, Other Me.”
“I don’t know if I can do this,” Sunset said to Celestia as the big mare ducked through the doorway.
“Yet, here you are, doing this,” was Celestia’s warm, emotional response. “Don’t give up now.”
“I can’t face this.” Sunset backed into a wall, whinnied once, and seemed on the verge of tears.
“Yes.” The Other Twilight moved close. “Yes we can. Together. Just like we’ve faced everything else.”
Sunset’s wings trembled and the crypt was filled with the soft rustle of feathers. “No… I can’t do this. I can’t breathe in here. This hurts… so much… I can’t...”
Celestia, whose horn almost scraped against the ceiling, pulled Sunset closer, and doing so, she ignored the much smaller alicorn’s bleating protests. After a moment, Celestia pulled the purple bespectacled unicorn close as well, and she squeezed them both with her wings. Sunset’s protests turned to whimpers, and then, with a gasp, heart-rending sobs.
Again, this felt too private, and Twilight turned away.
At long last, it seemed, the embittered estrangement between master and apprentice had mended. All of this was too raw to organise into coherent thoughts, Twilight couldn’t make sense of this yet, and all she could do was muddle through this moment. Which, it seemed, everypony else was doing as well, so she was not alone.
Shining Armor was lost in thought, and Trixie, who leaned up against him, appeared to be as well. Luna was still weeping; it hadn’t let up in the slightest and Twilight found herself wondering how many more tears might fall. Dim was still sneering, but it wasn’t a hard sneer, it was more or less a sneer for the sake of sneering, and he sometimes offered his grandmother soft words of comfort.
Standing in a corner, Twilight found herself thinking of Nadir.
There was danger in exclusion and rejection. Twilight wanted her thoughts to cooperate, but they were far too jumbled to do much of anything with. Nadir wanted family, to be loved. To be wanted. Trixie too, wanted to be loved… to have a family. Shining Armor and Cadance’s wedding had almost succumbed to an invasion. Twilight herself had struggled with her friends. All of this went back to an estrangement between two sisters. A fracture, a curse, a division whose ripples were still felt today. Nadir was Luna’s distant relation and she had paid a terrible price for her grandmother’s iniquity. It didn’t seem fair, but it was what it was, and Twilight wasn’t sure how to feel about it.
“I took everything from her,” Sunset said, her words muffled by Other Twilight’s neck.
“You were influenced—”
“No, Master”—Sunset whirled away from Celestia and almost bowled Other Twilight over—“do not make excuses for me. Haven’t you learned anything? We… us… you and I… you did nothing but make excuses for me and I became more and more entitled. Don’t you dare try to shield me from the consequences of my actions! I don’t need that sort of harm in my life.”
Celestia seemed pained; Twilight held her tongue.
“I can’t even imagine the sort of hurt I caused… the pain… Nadir is gone and I can’t do right by her. There’s no way I can apologise or make amends.” Sunset’s fiery gaze fell upon Luna, and Twilight suddenly found herself afraid. “But cursed as I am with empathy, I can at least know the pain of another harmed by all of this.”
“I don’t know if cursed is an accurate description of your empathy, Sunset.” Other Twilight shuffled about, pressed herself against Sunset, and then went still. “Though I acknowledge that it must sometimes feel that way.”
“I think it can be said that you truly deserve those wings—”
“No, Master.” Sunset, her feathers ruffled, bristled at Celestia’s words. “That’s just the thing. I don’t deserve anything. I owe. These wings, I don’t deserve them at all. They’re penance. I’m going to spend the rest of my life trying to make myself worthy of them. But I’ll never deserve them. They’re not a reward… but a reminder. It pains me to be here, in this place, where my wings are visible, where I can see them. I’ve put a whole nother world at risk… I brought magic there. Equestrian magic. Her magic.” She pointed at Luna to emphasise her words. “I made a huge mess and I’m stuck cleaning it up.”
“You’ve become that world’s Princess Celestia,” Twilight said, saying her thoughts aloud without thinking about them, or how her words might be taken.
Sunset paled beneath her vivid coat, and for a second, it appeared as though she might faint.
“Oh…” Twilight suddenly felt self-conscious, and Celestia, Princess Celestia, was looking right at her with some unknowable expression. “Oh, uh… yeah… right. Um… well, let’s forget I said that, alright?”
“There is no forgetting that you said that,” Sunset said in a very Princess Celestia-esque manner.
Before more could be said, the door opened, struck Celestia, who wickered, and Spike pushed his way into the crypt. He hugged a huge bundle of flowers and somehow skillfully navigated his way through a maze of legs. When he reached Nadir’s grave marker, he put the flowers down, patted them once, and then stood there, having himself a good look around.
“Am I interrupting something?” he asked.
“Thank you for fetching the flowers as I requested, Spike.”
“Don’t mention it, Princess Luna.”
“When Dim arranged the funeral, he neglected the floral arrangements.”
“We Darks don’t do flowers.” Casting his sneer downwards, Dim set his withering gaze upon the offending foliage.
“I don’t want to be Princess Celestia,” Sunset Shimmer said in a weak, tremulous voice.
Pointing at her counterpart, Twilight said, “But… but… you have your Twilight Sparkle.”
“Twilight… shut… up.”
Other Twilight squirmed, and Twilight found herself feeling her counterpart’s discomfort.
“Honestly, I don’t think it is a good idea.” Princess Celestia’s voice was now filled with its usual confidence and poise. “While I encourage empathy, and I think your desire to know my sister’s pain is admirable, I’m not sure if you should. And whatever you do, under no circumstances are you to touch Dim.”
Suddenly fearful, Twilight remembered the squid-headed creature that had touched Dim’s mind. “Yeah”—her voice was far squeakier than she would have liked—“touching Dim is ill-advised. He’s a living prison for the curse. Sunset, stay away from him. I’m pretty sure that the Darkness has a score to settle with you, Sunset. With all of us, no doubt.”
“The Darkness was right to fear me,” Dim muttered in a wet, raspy utterance.
“Princess Luna… I already know what others do not.” Gently pushing Other Twilight aside, Sunset stepped forward. “I know what you endured… well, I have an idea. This is suddenly more complicated than I anticipated.” Undaunted, she continued, “I know what you suffered on the moon… the constant struggle for air… suffocation… strangling… a thousand years of fighting to draw breath. I still dream about it.”
“I’m so sorry,” was Luna’s reply.
“Don’t be.” Sunset smiled, and it was like the sun parting dark clouds. “We share an understanding, you and I. As awful as it is, I don’t regret it.”
“Friends share pain with one another,” Other Twilight said. “Sunset knows my pain as Midnight… and she and I… well, every time we touch one another, it’s something we have to endure, but that doesn’t mean that we stop touching each other, no…” Her glasses fogged over, her face turned several shades of purple darker, and unable to continue, Other Twilight stood there, licking her lips. After a few awkward seconds, she let out a strained whinny, and then retreated back into the corner, where she stood, blushing furiously.
“You can’t turn it off, can you?” Celestia asked of her former student.
“Master… there is no conceivable way for me to answer that with my dignity intact.”
“No, I suppose there isn’t.”
“That isn’t a hands-off activity—”
“Luna, please, this is a funeral. And here I thought it would be Dim that would disrupt everything.” Frowning, Celestia shook her head while both Other Twilight and Sunset endured an awkward moment.
Almost defiant, Luna stood a little taller, and her horn sparked as it scraped against the granite ceiling. “As I was trying to say, that isn’t a hands-off activity. But to be willing to face such pain with each encounter is admirable. Sunset… I am glad that you are strong enough to overcome such turmoil.”
“Th-thank you.” Sunset’s eyes glazed over with tears. “It is a struggle. Sometimes, I want to be far, far away from people, so I don’t touch them. I find myself retreating from the world. My friends pick me up, dust me off, and keep me going. I don’t know how they do it. Every aspect of my life is touched in some way by this empathy. I wish… I wish I had it when I first met Nadir. Perhaps I could have helped her. I wish things could be different, but… my past has made me who I am today… and I rather like the person I’m slowly becoming. It’s hard, though.”
“Cadance is an empath. It is hard for her, sometimes.”
“That’s funny,” Sunset said to Shining Armor. “I was envious of Cadance, and of her power. Now that I have it… well, I won’t say that I don’t want it, but I will say I have a new respect for her. Where is she, anyhow? She couldn’t make it?”
“Skyla and Flurry are both sick,” Shining Armor replied. “One of us had to be there.”
Trembling, Sunset approached Luna, and Dim respectfully retreated, free at last from Luna’s wing. Sunset and Luna met just in front of Nadir’s marker, the spot where Spike had placed the flowers, and Twilight, almost overcome with anticipation, eagerly awaited for this moment to happen.
“I have wronged you,” Luna said. “Forgive me.”
“You know, just now, I almost said this wasn’t your fault… but… you and I… we share similar circumstances. We were both influenced. Celestia protected both of us… tried to shield us from the consequences of our actions. She made excuses for us.” Sunset swallowed, a hard, painful sound. “We both understand that the blame rests solely upon our own actions—”
“And poor decisions,” Luna added.
Twilight’s vision blurred over with tears, and she felt the soft prickle of Spike’s claws as he gripped her leg. A funeral was a strange place to come together, or maybe it wasn’t. Maybe this was the best time and place to put the past to rest. Just one more body committed to the ground.
Sunset turned her head to look at Nadir’s marker. “We can never be normal.”
“We’re stuck being weird.” Luna too, turned to face the final resting place of Nadir Dark.
“We’ve done irreparable harm.”
“My actions cursed my entire bloodline and brought them ruination.”
“I brought magic into a world that had none, and I don’t know what will happen.”
“The curse I wrought escaped this world, and lept into another.” Luna frowned.
“Yeah, that’s my fault.”
“Our fault. We did that.” Luna wickered a bit, her wings rustled against her sides, and her eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “I have a bossy big sister that has done everything in her power to shield me from the consequences of mine own actions… but she needs to step aside so I can clean up mine own mess.”
“I had a bossy big master—”
“Oh, please, both of you.” Though her words were firm, Celestia seemed troubled.
“We both wanted our moment in the sun,” Luna said while facing Sunset. “We were not content to be ourselves. I don’t know about you, I can only speak for myself, but I wanted to be just like the pony I admired most. I felt inadequate, weak, and could only focus on my shortcomings. Admiration became poisonous envy, and this soured my love and affection, turning the sweet wine of affection into bitterest vinegar.”
“Me too.” Sunset slumped and her wings drooped. “Me too.”
“While it might be easy to blame Celestia for this—”
“The fault rests entirely upon our shoulders,” Sunset said, finishing Luna’s sentence.
“Indeed, it does. It hurts to say, but it does help drain the wound.”
“Yeah.” Sunset nodded. “You and I, we’re like two peas in a pod.”
“Yeah”—Dim’s sudden interjection had a chilling effect—“two shrivelled, blighted peas that nopony wants.”
Eyes narrow, Luna’s expression turned deadpan.
“Power means not having to respond,” Sunset said to Luna.
“But that cannot go unanswered,” was Luna’s reply.
Before anything else could be said, Sunset raised her hoof, and placed it upon Luna, touching her breast. Twilight saw Sunset’s eyes go white and a curious magic could be sensed in the air. Luna’s face was a mix of sorrow, pain, and relief. In need of comfort, Twilight sat down upon the cold stone floor, pulled Spike close, and gave him a squeeze. He didn’t need to be here. Nadir meant nothing to him. Spike had come because Twilight needed him—and she would always need him.
It occured to Twilight that Sunset might have needed a Spike.
“Twilight, are you alright?” Trixie whispered.
“I’ll be fine,” she replied, and it occurred to her that Trixie might have needed a Spike too.
“So, we’ve gathered together to lay the Empress of Teatime to rest—”
“Dim, I will not abide you mocking the dead.” Feathers ruffled, Celestia cast a cold, imperious glare in Dim’s general direction.
“I’m not mocking.” There was nothing meek in Dim’s reply, and he was utterly fearless in the face of Celestia’s displeasure. “This is far too serious a subject to be mocked.”
“You just mocked my sister during a tender moment—”
“She expects it. Demands it. We understand each other, she and I. Are we not an affectionate family, she and I? Do I not do her bidding out of a sense of familial obligation?” Dim’s thin, frail body was wracked by a dreadful sucking cough, and when he continued, his teeth were flecked with blood. “We are family. Drawn together by blood. By suffering. The curse that has afflicted all those with the merest hint of potential. It ignores most of us, finding us to not be worthy, but those of us of Luna’s lineage who show the merest hint of being exceptional—”
He coughed again, wheezed, and then stood there, fighting for air.
“—the curse claims us. But the curse only claims the worthy. It is too haughty and arrogant, too finicky, and it ignores the common and the mundane. The very fact that the curse so thoroughly consumed poor Nadir is proof that she was a Dark through and through… one of Luna’s stars. She was one of us. The seeds of madness found fertile soil. Nadir’s lunacy was evidence of her birthright. She was, and will forever be, the Empress of Teatime. And with every cup poured, I will remember her. I will remember all of us so touched, and Celestia, if you were as wise as you are old, you would do well to do the same.”
In shock, Twilight tried to process Dim’s words.
“It appears that I was mistaken,” Celestia said in what sounded almost like an apologetic tone.
“You’ve been mistaken about a great many things—”
Luna, who had embraced Sunset, said, “Dim, there’s no need to rub it in. Do not mock my sister.”
“Very well. Ich werde dir gehorchen.” Wheezing, Dim further retreated and went silent, save for the sound of his laboured respiration.
“Are you well?” Luna asked of Sunset.
When Sunset did not reply, Luna’s lips pursed with concern. Wrapping her wings around the smaller, violently sunny alicorn, Luna pulled her closer, and for the first time, Twilight noticed that Sunset was weeping. Such a thing was expected, yet it was still a shock to see for some unknown reason. Quite overwhelmed, Twilight tried to piece together everything that had been said in such a short time, so much of which was worth remembering.
At long last, Sunset spoke, and each word was a ragged, pained effort. “He’s right. We should remember Nadir. With every cup poured. She was, and forever will be, the Empress of Teatime. And no, I’m not well, but I do appreciate your concern. Thank you for sharing with me, Luna. It’s a lot for me to unpack, and it is difficult to take in, but I am confident that I can take what I’ve learned and use it to make myself better.”
“Nadir associated teatime with family and togetherness,” Luna said, closing her eyes and leaning against Sunset. “The Darkness offered her eternal teatime… Nadir’s heart’s most fondest wish… eternal family togetherness. She wanted to belong. I remember worming my way into her mind and exploiting her simple, heartfelt needs. She didn’t start out evil, but I made her that way. I thoroughly corrupted her and twisted her every desire. And like a filly hungry for her mother’s affection and approval, Nadir did every dark thing I asked, even if it disturbed her. It is just one guilt among many.”
“I desperately wanted my mother’s approval,” Trixie said. Then, closing her eyes, she leaned against Shining Armor, sighed, and a large, visible lump moved up and down her throat several times.
Still embracing Sunset, Luna pulled away a bit, turned her head around, and focused her stern stare on Dim, who stood wheezing in the corner. “That’s why you did this. This is why you sent out invitations and called us together. You wanted to give Nadir a moment of family time, even if only it came at the end of her life. Dim, you show such sweetness at times.”
All Luna got in return was Dim’s unpleasant, abrasive snarling.
“So why are we here?” Spike asked while Dim went overboard with his theatrics.
“What do you mean, Spike?”
“Well, Twilight, why are we here? If Nadir, the Empress of Teamtime, wanted to be remembered, why are we here in this crypt? Shouldn’t we, I dunno, be having tea? Together? As a family?”
“Oh, Spike… what would I do without you?” Twilight squeezed her dragon so hard that his eyes bulged from their sockets.
“Tea sounds good. Trixie could go for tea.”
“If all of Luna’s stars gathered around a table for tea,” Shining Armor began, “would that make us a constellation?”
Luna’s head swiveled around rapidly so that she might look at Shining Armor.
“Tea sounds lovely,” Sunset said, sniffling just a bit. “Celestia, I would love to have tea with you, again, like the old days, if you’ll have me. But I can’t stay long. I have a world to protect. An endless number of lives all depend upon me, and I must be there for them.”
“Sunset, I would love to have you.”
Peeling herself away from Luna, Sunset turned to face the grave marker that bore the name of Nadir Dark. Reaching up, she touched the name, went still, and a look of sad disappointment crept over her face. Twilight wondered if Sunset expected a flash of insight, a touch of empathy perhaps, some means of closure.
“I am sorry, Nadir. For everything. There are no words to express my regrets. You deserved better. Celestia sent me to help you, and I failed to do that. I failed to do a lot of things, actually, and I’m trying very hard to make up for these failures now. I wish I could earn your forgiveness, but you’re gone, and I can’t. Since you’re gone, I guess I’ll have to go with the next best thing, and that is doing right and forgiving myself. It’s hard, Nadir. Easier said than done.”
Then, shuddering, Sunset leaned against Luna once more and said, “I’m ready for tea.”
Luna too, paid her respects. “Goodbye, Nadir Dark. You deserved a better grandmother. You deserved a better family. You deserved a lot of things. I can’t fix what’s broken, but I’m trying to make a better future.”
Bowing her head, Trixie said, “I didn’t know you, Nadir, but I think you and I might have had much in common. Goodbye, Nadir Dark.”
Shuffling out of his corner, Dim seemed to bring the darkness with him as he approached the grave marker, and Sunset backed away as he approached. Standing beside Luna, he said, “We met in an asylum, in the Crystal Empire. I learned your story bit by bit. I visited you often, and we spoke a great deal about family. About the Darks. I confessed many things to you… things I’ve done. Awful things I’ve done. And there were times when it almost seemed like you might wake up… respond. I had hopes. But on our last visit, as I held your hoof and spoke to you, while I waited to see if there might yet still be some sign of life within you, you died rather suddenly. I still don’t know how I feel about it. Was it something I said?”
Head swaying from side to side, he concluded, “It was probably something I said. I’m sorry. Goodbye, Nadir Dark. Go now, beyond these mortal troubles, and be free.”
“Dim”—Luna’s voice was thick and husky with concern—“are you alright?”
“No.” His response was a reedy, nasal whine. “I just became a father. I’m slowly wasting away with consumption. My body is the prison of an ancient, unfathomable evil set on consuming those who share your blood. I’m still grieving the loss of dear friends, now departed. Now… this.” He gestured at the grave marker with his hoof. “I felt like I was making progress with her. I don’t care what Cadance said. There was progress.”
Leaning close, Luna tried to offer comfort. “Dim, you were making progress—”
“No.” He stomped his hoof and when he did, a thin tendril of shadow rose from his back. “No! Don’t tell me otherwise!” Darkness seemed to coalesce around him and the light visibly distorted, blurring his shape and form.
Spike shivered so hard that his teeth clicked together.
“Is… he gonna be okay?” Other Twilight asked.
“He’ll be fine,” Luna was quick to reply. “Nothing to worry about.”
“I know that magic,” Other Twilight said, her voice thin and frightened. “I know what it did to me. He can’t possibly be okay.”
Shining Armor, stepping forward, was quick to offer reassurance. “It’s fine. Whatever it is… it… that thing… is deathly afraid of Dim. The curse is over. Done for. Finished. It has no power. When the Darkness encountered Dim, things did not go well for the Darkness. We have nothing to worry about.”
“Shiny—”
“Twily, I’m still trying to convince myself.”
“I’m going for a walk,” Dim announced, and then his corporeal form collapsed into a puddle of darkness, which poured through the cracks in the floor and vanished.
“I think he needs a hug,” Other Twilight remarked. “I know I do.”
Head low, neck bent, crammed into a compact crypt intended for little ponies, Celestia pushed her way through the crowd, her immense bulk and mass easily knocking the smaller, less dense beings aside. She stood with her nose almost touching the grave marker, and Twilight could see that her mentor’s eyes were sad.
“Nadir…” Celestia’s low whisper caused silence to drape over the crowd like a blanket, and she stood there, stuck in a pause for a short time. “Nadir, I wish I could think of something meaningful and sincere to say. I failed you, just as I have failed so many others. But this should be about you, and not about my failures.” She struggled to keep going, but something gave way, and her eyes closed. “I am at a loss for words. I’m sorry. Goodbye, Nadir Dark, Empress of Teatime.”
Sunset moved rather suddenly; Twilight saw cunning in her eyes, something akin to treachery, an expression that she hadn’t seen on Sunset’s face in quite some time. A part of Sunset she thought abandoned. It was the same treacherous, sneaky expression worn when stealing the crown, the Element of Magic. It was so alarming that Twilight felt her breath catch in her tight throat, and when Sunset pressed her hoof against Celestia’s cutie mark, Twilight thought for sure that she might faint from the tension.
As with Luna, Sunset’s eyes went white, her body went still, and she froze, becoming a fuzzy statue. Celestia’s face became a blur of emotions, all of them happening rapidly, going from alarm, to concern, to fear, then to worry, and so many more… until at last, the only thing that could be seen upon her face was agonised heartbreak.
“No…” Celestia’s voice cracked. “Sunset… no… you foolish, foolish filly. What have I told you about being sneaky?”
Whipping out her wing, Luna waved it in front of Sunset’s eyes, but there was no response. “Will she be okay?”
“No.” Celestia’s eyelids seemed heavy, and her eyes sad. “No, she may never be okay again. But as the guardian of her world, perhaps it is time that she learned the burden of being me. She was bound to learn sooner or later. The hard way, no doubt, because that is all she understands, the hard way. But she had to sneak up on me and catch me unawares. A great many lessons were learned all at once. What am I to do with you, Sunset?”
“Sunny?” Raising a hoof, Other Twilight clumsily waved it in front of Sunset’s eyes.
“All of my pain, all of my experiences, all at once. She’s going to need a cup of tea that a spoon could stand up in.” Celestia’s voice turned deadpan mid-sentence. “Foolish, foolish filly. What were you thinking? It was bad enough you touched Luna. Wasn’t that enough punishment for one day? And of all the places where you might’ve touched me, you had to touch me there. Now you will understand what it means to have a sun mark, you foolish, foolish filly.”
“Apparently not,” Luna remarked with cool calm. “She seems checked out.”
“Shining Armor, please, carry her out to the carriage.” Celestia gave the command with practiced ease. “As for the rest of you, come, let us gather for tea, and leave this place. It’s giving me such a crick in the neck.”
“But… Sunny has a sun mark,” Other Twilight said, pointing at that spot. “Right there.”
“Yes,” Celestia replied, “and at long last, I suspect that she is ready to face her destiny…”