At dinner, they had their worst fight yet, and both of them trotted away thinking that they were right.
...
Sunset Shimmer was sitting alone when Princess Celestia found her, which was exactly as expected. The dining area where Sunset Shimmer took all her meals was not exclusive to the Faithful Student, but simply a tidy little area that was one of many. The decor of a long table and identical, refined chairs of the same colors decorating the castle were spread with a large tablecloth adorned with various sun sigils identical to Celestia’s cutie mark. It was an area where castle servants took their meals. Since Princess Celestia could never justify isolating her Faithful Students or spoiling them so thoroughly with their own dining room, she had taken to having them combine their routines with castle staff centuries ago, at least where it was possible.
When Sunset saw Princess Celestia approach, she tensed up oddly, her posture stiffening proudly in a sudden jolt. That single scrap of evident pride was enough to make Celestia want to sigh already. Why must this one prove to be a firecracker of all the worst kinds of temperament? And what was it that caused Sunset to behave so darn oddly?
At least the broccoli that Sunset Shimmer was stabbing so harshly with her fork would be relieved.
“Good evening, my Faithful Student,” Princess Celestia said kindly as she sat down across from the young unicorn.
The servant’s chair groaning under the immense weight of the princess filled the room where Sunset’s response should have.
Sunset’s fork skidded across her plate, and she glared down at the remainder of the steamed carrots and mashed potatoes left there. They both knew that for Princess Celestia to dine outside of her usual roulette of locations — the gardens, her own dining quarters, one of the castle’s balconies, the formal feasting hall, among others during a ballroom celebration — was unprecedented.
At least, it was only unprecedented when Sunset Shimmer was behaving. The princess was quite adamant that whenever her Faithful Student did something just a smidge less than stellar, it was a time for a one-on-one talk. To express displeasure towards Sunset’s actions in front of other ponies was… deeply inconsiderate. One-on-one conversations and taking time together in these situations were the perfect way for Sunset to display her full range of temper without upsetting the staff — or embarrassing Celestia.
She had already received enough complaints and worried whisperings from her employees regarding smashed trinkets hurled by a temperamental little unicorn or the violent displays of pyromancy she used to weld her doors shut. Having to explain to the housekeepers and repair-ponies that she was already on the eighth replacement door was more bearable than letting any of her other ponies know that their ever-sweet Princess Celestia could raise her voice.
“You didn’t bring anything to eat,” Sunset Shimmer said eventually, staring at the empty air where a plate would have been.
Princess Celestia responded by smiling down more brightly upon her pupil, and folding her forehooves ever more primly upon the table. “I wasn’t hungry, little one.”
“I’m thirteen, Your Highness. That’s not exactly little anymore,” came the resentful, half-mumbled reply.
“All my ponies are bit ‘little’ compared to me, don’t you think?” Princess Celestia said instead, leaning forward slightly. It was the best she could do to spin Sunset’s ever-unwanted attitude into something positive.
Huffing, Sunset faltered in aiming her telekinesis at one, especially small carrot slice. The following screech that the fork made against the plate made them both wince.
“What have I told you about table manners before?” Celestia tutted. “My goodness, are you abusing a salad fork for your dinner? Didn’t we talk about these things before, hm?”
Sunset’s fork fell from her magic and clattered onto her plate. “Stop it.”
Those two words coming out through clenched teeth barely resonated above the sound of the abuse of Celestia’s poor silverware, but the princess drew back. She blinked multiple times, obviously momentarily stunned before resting a hoof on her chest. That single gesture reset her composure in a nearly mechanical manner.
“Sunny, we need to talk, and we need to do it now. Especially if you think that you can talk to your teacher that way. Good heavens, all you’ve been doing is quarreling with me. How do you think other ponies would feel if they knew you treated me this way?”
“It’s not like I ever see anypony else,” Sunset pouted, ducking her eyes away from the princess. The black eyeshadow she wore over them made it seem like they were being swallowed by darkness — it was exactly the kind of cosmetic choice that made Celestia wonder why anypony would wish to look so grouchy and unfriendly.
“And with that negative attitude, do you ever think about why? If you focused more on completing your assignments as I gave them and treating everypony with the kindness they deserve—”
Sunset’s jaw clenched visibly. Loudly, even.
This time, Princess Celestia actually sighed. “Sunny, don’t grind your teeth, it’s bad—”
“Everything I do is bad, isn’t it?”
Tutting, Celestia shook her head. The gesture made her mane swirl and wave so that the bright, soft rainbow made Sunset Shimmer look that much more diminutive in Celestia’s wake. The chair groaned under her again.
“No, that has never been the case, my Faithful Student. You’ve done many very nice things.”
An odd, half-sniffling, half-moody sighing sound exited Sunset’s dramatically opened mouth. The gesture was painfully foalish to the princess. “Yeah? Like what, Your Highness?”
When Celestia saw that Sunset was moving her magic to pick up her fork again — likely to tap on her plate with unneeded impatience, as the little tween often did — the princess had to move quickly. She placed a hoof firmly on the fork, swiftly keeping Sunset from getting a grip on it before sliding it over to the side of the table she occupied.
“Well…” Princess Celestia began, folding her forehooves over the fork for good measure.
She kept her expression perfectly polite as Sunset bit back a scowl that was just so, so easily detected.
“See!” Sunset shrieked to nopony, an adolescent crack corrupting her outburst into something that sounded too pained to come from such a young filly. “I knew it! I knew it! I absolutely knew it! You always loved Cadance more—”
“Volume, Sunset Shimmer,” interrupted Princess Celestia with a chilly whisper.
Sunset Shimmer froze, eyes wide and fixed on her teacher’s unfaltering demure expression. She sank back into her chair with a slack thump that was far more befitting of a doll than a growing filly.
Her expression didn’t falter — making it the perfect chance to get a few words in.
“I’ve never wanted to fight with you. I can’t imagine a pony alive that does, my Faithful Student. But the reality is that you have an itty-bitty tendency to be impolite, unkind, and a very immodest streak. These are things that will pass with time, but I can’t foresee it happening until you have mastered a very important lesson.”
Why were Sunset’s withers shaking?
“Do you remember what the lesson is?”
There was that crooked, sloppy way Sunset tightened her jaw again. “N-no, ma’am.”
“I think it was one of the most important lessons I ever had for you. Do you remember when you were eleven, and you had, ah, a magical outburst for sending a Mother’s Day card to your grandmother? And we had to have a little talk about why you couldn’t give me those — about what I am bound by law to be to you and all my Faithful Students of the past? Why I was rightly confused when you gave me that card?"
Anger bled from Sunset’s face, twisting it into something vaguely forlorn. She lowered her ears and nibbled at her forehoof, unable to meet Celestia’s eyes. Her own cyan eyes seemed damp in the candlelight.
“Yes, Princess,” mumbled the little unicorn.
“Good,” Celestia continued with a gentle breath of relief. “Then you remember I had to tell you to swallow your heart, too. I think that’s a lesson that we’re going to need you to be revisiting more often. Taking out your angst over adolescence on me is not what I deserve, and I can see plainly that your emotions have started to lead you somewhere dark and lonely. Pride is a very dangerous thing, and I’ve never seen anything worse grip any creature’s heart. Please listen to me when I say that I don’t want it to grip yours too.”
Princess Celestia shot her student a measured, worried look, pleading for Sunset to look at her and see how worried her teacher was. She didn’t even bother to scold Sunset for biting at her forehoof, like she normally would.
With an uncharacteristic shyness, Sunset brushed a few locks of her mane away and raised her gaze. Her stare fell somewhere around Celestia’s neck.
Celestia’s thoughts were fretful — would Sunset see the light of benevolence that she was trying to shine for her? Would she hear even the most teenage, attitude-drenched half-apology she was owed?
“I wish you would let me feel loved,” Sunset said instead.
“I… I beg your pardon?” Celestia couldn’t will her mouth to close after the little gasp of those three words came out.
“Don’t look so surprised!” Sunset snapped, waving her forehooves in sudden, angry flaps. “Everypony else my age has friends and fun! All I have is you and you’re a freaking nag!”
Two, large white wings flared with a mix of shock and wound-tight anger on pure reflex. Three seconds ticked on by before Princess Celestia realized that they were her own. “Never in all my years d-did I think one of my own Faithful Students could d-dare say anything so hurtful…”
“YOU DON’T EVEN CRY WHEN I YELL AT YOU!” Sunset wailed, standing up and leaping away from her chair. Her jacket flared with the angry little jump. “NOPONY EVEN BELIEVES YOU CAN!”
“Monster!” Sunset screeched; her voice was hoarse with oncoming tears. “No matter all the things you say, even I can cry! You can’t even really yell at me! Why can’t you do it, huh?! Why can’t you just admit that you hate me? That you wanna see me gone?”
“Oh Sunset,” Celestia murmured, completely aghast in tone and expression, “why would you ever say such a thing? I would never wish harm to come to you or anypony that I care about.”
“You don’t care about me at all!” Sunset jumped up and let her forehooves fall upon Celestia’s prized marble floor with a hard stamp, causing the latter to flinch. “Ever since I was nine you’ve… you’ve made me feel like a gods-damned tissue!”
“Please,” Celestia pleaded, folding her wings neatly, taking care to reach no hoof outward. Sunset’s tantrums had resulted in more than just surges of emotions in the past — and Celestia had gotten more than just burns to her emotional state. “Please don’t do this to me again. What is it that you want from me? Surely there is something I could give you? Do you want more extra credit assignments — heavens know you love those. What about another arcade pass? More concert tickets? How about extra new clothes the next time the guards supervise one of your shopping trips? You can have any gift—”
“Just throw me away already!” screamed Sunset with all the rage her tiny body could muster. Hot, angry tears were spilling down her face at last and her makeup was falling with it, in villainous, smudged waterfalls of black that streaked down her face.
“I will do no such thing to anypony, most certainly not a filly under my care—”
“But you don’t care about me at all!” Sunset shrilled again, stomping one hoof as loud as she could. “You hate me and you said it yourself: I could graduate when I’m thirty and I don’t care about what your stupid Faithful Student contract with grandmother said! I won’t ever let you keep me that long! I don’t care if you’re a goddess, I hate you!”
Genuine pain wove through Celestia’s expression, and it took too much of her might to swallow it down, to shove her heart back down where it belonged. “I-I’ve never hated you, little one. That’s wrong—”
“OF COURSE!” came Sunset’s next ear-piercing shout, one that continued even after Celestia cast a noise-suppressing spell. “I’m still the one that’s always wrong! It’s never you! It should be you forever and ever! You make me feel like a crazy pony and one day I hope I never ever see you again!”
“Sunset, you don’t mean that—”
“YES I DO!”
Swallowing, Celestia’s next words came out soft and smooth compared to Sunset’s broken screams. “You can’t mean that—”
“I do, I do, I do!” wailed Sunset, a sob between each reiteration. At last, cyan light was starting to swirl messily upon her horn, whether the little filly realized it or not. “I wish that you were wrong like everypony else! I wish you weren’t mean and cold and perfect! You kn-kn-now what, Princess?”
“What?” Celestia whispered, fearful, and chilly. “What more hurtful things could you have to say to me?”
“When I first hugged y-you, I thought you were cold then t-too!” Sunset sniffled harshly, wiping at her messy muzzle with her sleeve. “And you didn’t even cry with me when we got the letter that grandmother had to move into an old pony home!”
“I gave you all the condolences I could—”
“PONIES GO TO DIE IN THOSE HOMES!” came Sunset’s wailing interruption, and Celestia’s posture stiffened when a plate hanging on the wall started to shake. All of Sunset’s stomping was bound to attract some attention sooner or later, even if nopony heard anything. This was still a general servant’s room. "You don't get to die, so you wouldn't know what it f-feels like!"
“Sunny, if you want to visit your grandmother again, we can have that arranged. Why don’t we go to another room?” Celestia kept her words phrased as a question, but Sunset Shimmer should know by now that there was no question, and certainly no option to refuse, those words.
“I wish grandmother was a goddess and you weren’t!” blurted Sunset furiously. "You should be a pony like the rest of us instead of an everlasting Alicorn! My grandmother shoulda been the born-special one 'cause she deserved it and you don't! See, how do you like being told that now? Huh? You don't like it when somepony tells you that you shouldn't deserve things! Why do you do it to me?"
“No,” Princess Celestia whispered forcefully, inhaling sharply, “you don’t mean that at all. Nopony would. Before you say anything else you regret, we need to go to another room. Now.”
“Nu-uh,” Sunset insisted stubbornly, bringing her forehooves down in another stomp. “I mean it; I mean it so much, Your Highness. I mean this more than lessons and birthdays and—”
“You don’t know the meaning of the manipulative heresy you wish upon me, not fully.”
“O-one day,” Sunset hissed, seething as her horn brightened with an uncontrolled bud of magic, “I hope you know what it feels like to lose somepony. To have somepony you love never ever be there again. ‘Cause I can look in your dumb blank eyes and see that you have no idea what I’m talking about! You know nothing about what I feel like, or what it’s like to lose others and feel alone or have everypony h-hate you so, s-so, so m-much like you make everypony hate me — BECAUSE YOU HAVE NEVER HAD TO LOSE ANYPONY BEFORE! I HOPE YOU LOSE EVERYPONY!”
“Oh heavens, no!” gasped Princess Celestia. “Stop it! Stop it at once, Sunset Helia Shimmer! You have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about!”
“I HOPE EVERYPONY AND FRIEND YOU EVER HAD LEAVES YOU AND HATES YOU AND TELLS YOU THAT YOU’RE MEAN AND CRAZY TOO!”
“You want to see me yell?” Celestia said, voice stony and level. “Well, I’ll give you no such pleasure. But all you need to know is that after tonight, I don’t think you’re going to need a return ticket the next time you go on an airship ride to Tall Tale, and you certainly won’t be needing any of my guards to accompany you.”
Pausing, Sunset gave Celestia a look that was just so stuck between blank and absolutely incredulous. It was frozen in the way one would expect as if — heavens forbid and banish the thought — somepony had struck Sunset Shimmer of Tall Tale.
“Maybe if you’d ever lost somepony, you’d know how to love them!” was Sunset Shimmer’s last caterwaul before she scrubbed a foreleg at her tear-stained face again and ripped the door open with a burst of cyan sparks.
All that left was Princess Celestia to stand and smell the smokey residue of Sunset Shimmer’s magic, her barrel tight with heaving breaths she would show nopony and all the stories she would never tell.
...
Twilight Sparkle’s hoof rapping at Princess Celestia’s door grew louder. The sound was a splinter in her latest migraine as she tore her eyes from the cramped scroll she had to preside over. The inky lines blurred as she shifted focus, the dull ache before her horn replacing the concern of shipping treaties between Equestria and Colthuacan. She trotted to the door, twisting its sleek golden handle with a press of her forehoof. Standing in the doorway, small and scrappy in the dim colors was the quivering shape of Twilight Sparkle.
The filly was sniveling and shivering in the hallways, no doubt because it was long past sundown. Celestia was incredulous at the sight. Her maids had told her that the filly’s room had been checked and that she was in bed with the lights out hours ago. For Twilight Sparkle to be up past her bedtime was to break the routine she kept more religiously than Celestia’s thaumaturges aided in Summer Sun Celebrations across Equestria.
“Twilight Sparkle,” Princess Celestia said, voice worried, “why aren’t you in bed?”
Ducking her eyes, Twilight held her head in the closest imitation of a solemn bow she could manage. She mumble-squeaked something in the stumbling tone expected of such a shy filly — one that the princess was struggling to learn to decipher. Her tail swished clumsily, covering her blessed cutie mark for a moment. That cutie mark was what Celestia needed to see every day, since it was the seal of perfection on a filly that was only otherwise remarkable in her capacity for her tabula rasa personality and devotion to all that a young mind would perceive as heroic.
“What was that, my Faithful Student?”
“Ican’tsleep!” Twilight stammered out, the words coming in a dutifully delivered, if jumbled burst.
Truly, that sense of duty was ever-remarkable; even Princess Celestia’s adult students of many decades took so much time to cultivate such pleasantly responsive temperaments.
“Why is that, Twilight? Did your night-light go out again?” Princess Celestia meant the question earnestly, but part of her knew that there was something amusing about the situation. If somepony had told her even three years ago that the next Faithful Student she picked would still need a night-light, she would have had quite the chortle.
“Y-yes,” Twilight said, shuddering so that her whole little body shook like she’d been left out in the cold. “It’s s-so scary, Princess!”
Celestia blinked. “I beg your pardon, Twilight. Is there something in your room?”
She almost wanted to ask if she should find some night shift member of the royal guard to go humor Twilight’s probably foalish worries. Not even three weeks into her time at the castle, and Twilight Sparkle had made color-coded crayon maps detailing the distant walk to Celestia’s many chambers throughout the day and sloppily scribbled faux biology papers on the things she felt lurked under her bed. The princess was already considering paying two particular guards extra for how much she’d sent them to accompany Twilight on such diversions.
It was truly so much more than Celestia was ever used to, not that she could say that. Managing such a young special needs filly and having to raise her famulus drake on the side until they could be trusted together had Celestia out of her depth. Usually, the few Faithful Students who had done the dragon egg entry test were pulled from her Gifted Unicorn school when they were not just of an age to have minimal supervision in famulus training, but had become used to it. Twilight Sparkle was no such case, and she still sucked on her forehoof according to the maid that was sent to rouse her for lessons each morning and help draw her baths.
“Kinda,” Twilight squeaked, doing a fidgety little tippy-hoof dance. “Please, Y-your Highness! You need to come quick!”
Princess Celestia nodded, keeping her expression unreadable. If Twilight Sparkle was this worried, it was likely more than her misplacing a quill or struggling to sort the subgenres of her textbooks by whatever the latest system was. Last time, it had been based on which ones had the most mentions of the Pre-Classical Era in their indexes. Princess Celestia had done her best to live the ‘fake it until you make it’ mantra while the filly had explained her struggles with the system.
“Come along, Twilight.” Princess Celestia lit her horn with a soft bud of gold and began the slow stroll down the hallway. “I’ll come with you, and we’ll find just what it is that scared you so.”
Perhaps a mouse had managed to get past the staff, or Philomena had played an unwelcome prank. She really had to sit that bird down and explain that she spent ‘too much’ time with Twilight not because she loved Twilight more, but because ‘Mena had to understand that Twilight was marked to be her Spark, her one and only shot. If Twilight Sparkle were not exactly as she was needed when the time came, the world would pay for… somepony’s mistakes. The jealousy of birds aside, one thing Philomena could understand was that Twilight Sparkle was a filly who needed her hoof held for more than just her age, and that she had so many of the signs that marked Celestia’s neurodivergent Faithful Students in the past, with a diagnosis to solidify things.
Eventually, Celestia tired of trying to coax poor, nervous Twilight back along the long path she came. Shadowy flights of stairs, wide empty corridors, and looming doorways had become immensely sinister to the little filly during the night. Without her purpose of seeking her goddess, it fell to the princess to will her Faithful Student along. With Twilight Sparkle placed high upon her back, she enveloped them both in the yellow glow of a teleportation spell.
…
The doors to Twilight Sparkle’s bedroom chamber had been left wide open. This, of course, could pose its own frustrations. Already, Princess Celestia felt the most distant echo of it creeping in the back of her thoughts. What if Twilight Sparkle had seen some pest, like a mouse or spider? Both of those things were best done away with, knowing what harm they could bring to helpless little fillies like Twilight.
Keeping her expression relaxed, Princess Celestia levitated Twilight down to the ground and placed her upon the floor delicately. “Now little one, why don’t you show me what has upset you so much, hm? When ponies tell you not to let the bedbugs bite, you know that this isn’t what they meant, right?”
“There are bedbugs?” Twilight yelped, jumping up so that her hooves touched the ground again in a fearful clatter. “Ohnonono, I didn’t know there were bed bugs t-too!”
Her student’s voice cracked so highly upon the last stammer that Princess Celestia was glad for Twilight’s social obliviousness.
Did her parents really never tell her that before? “Ah, it’s just a figure of speech, my Faithful Student.”
The filly’s frantic motions stopped immediately. She held in her breath, looking up at Celestia with puffed-up cheeks and wide, horribly confused eyes. “Figure of speech?”
“There are no bed bugs.”
“Then who is biting, Princess?” One purple ear twitched.
“Nothing and nopony will bite you, Twilight. I’m here to protect you, remember? Like your brother would.”
Twilight still stared up at Celestia blankly.
“It’s a joke, Twilight,” Princess Celestia said at last. In dealing with Twilight Sparkle, the phrase had become one of the more common ones in her arsenal.
“Ooooh?” Twilight cocked her head to the side. “Ha-hah?” she offered, unable to read her mentor’s face.
“Yes,” the princess said, “ha-hah. Bed bugs are funny. Perhaps tomorrow we can find a book on one if you do well in your lessons. Now, let’s go find what scared you so much. Do you think it’s still going to be in here?”
Celestia watched Twilight carefully. The filly was hanging on her every word more than usual, ears pricked forward and absorbed in the slightest movement of her teacher’s. Relief was starting to find its way into untying the knot that had been building up in Celestia’s chest.
Twilight’s stare was back to its usual shiny and button-blank watchfulness with so little fear left as she slipped into a passive listening state.
It was exactly what Celestia was wishing for, since if Twilight had started to insist that something was more of a ‘somepony’ then there would be much alarm to be raised. The castle had various areas that were sanctuaries protected with divine magic, most notably the rooms containing treasures, artifacts, and historical texts. The bedrooms of her and Twilight were the most warded rooms in the castle. Aside from them being impregnable, if an unwanted pony had managed to get in the castle, Celestia would do anything in her power to ensure they were eliminated. Her Faithful Students had not seen their lives threatened in centuries, and the princess was not about to see that record broken.
“Y-yes, of c-course! P-Please, come here, P-Princess Celestia!”
The princess allowed herself to passively heed the words of Twilight Sparkle, stepping into the bedroom after the filly. She flicked on the large overhead lamp, and heard the magic come to life before the room was bathed in the white glow of the glass-housed werelight. So little looked out of place. All the blankets were folded. Every scientific poster hung where it had to. Only one stray juice box stood out, for it hadn’t been thrown away. Otherwise, all Twilight’s textbooks were stacked and every bookshelf had its items replaced, save for the beginnings of a bookfort in one corner.
The room was oddly sterile for a filly in many ways, but that was what was to be expected of Twilight Sparkle. Everything about the minimal decorations that Twilight enjoyed was the exact opposite of when the room had belonged to Sunset Shimmer, who craved messy and unfortunate expressiveness. Thankfully, the arrival of such a sweet little child such as Twilight Sparkle had finally given the princess a reason to unlock the old tomb of a bedroom, gut it of any sign of the previous residency, order a remodel, and ensure a new resident was at home.
Giving one last sweep of her gaze around the room, Celestia at last found something out of order. Right next to Twilight’s wide toy chest — one of the few signs that she was a child — was the door to the small parlor and study room next door. That was ajar, when Princess Celestia knew that it was supposed to be closed each night, lest Twilight creep in and start flying through her bonus point assignments when she was meant to be sleeping.
From the doorway to that smaller area, Princess Celestia heard the cool sound of the night’s wind. She looked to Twilight, who was clutching the long leg of her princess and hiding from the sound.
“Did you leave the window open?”
Twilight nodded, whimpering.
Celestia tutted, absentmindedly patting the filly on the head. Of course, leaving the window open in the one room that had it would frighten her. The night was filled with all kinds of scary sounds, and being so high off the ground would mean Twilight was subjected to all kinds of horrid high-speed winds. She probably heard a strong gust of wind that woke her up.
“Come now, let’s go close it together. I could use your magic to help me.”
She really didn’t, not when Twilight Sparkle’s magic was a bonfire compared to the crumb of other unicorns her age — because that bonfire was not something that could rival the galaxy of power Celestia had. She just didn’t want Twilight to feel excluded.
“O-okay, t-thank you, Princess Celestia.”
With that said, Princess Celestia let the little filly scuttle after her, and they entered the parlor together. Twilight Sparkle’s desk area had indeed been disturbed somewhat — a mug of quills had their contents knocked over by the wind. Two long silk curtains trimmed with golden lace designs fluttered in the chilly wind that was pouring in, dancing an eerie, ghostly duet.
Had Celestia’s long, rear legs been her neck, then Twilight Sparkle would have been strangling her. Such was the might she was using to squeeze at her teacher’s form. Turning around, Celestia stared at the little purple filly so determined to remain and cower in her shadow.
“Now that we’re here, I would like you to show me what it is that had you running to my office at such an intolerable hour. It’s almost nine-thirty, you know. That means little fillies like you should be in bed.
A faint sniffling sound reached Princess Celestia’s ears. Then, she felt it — a faint, sudden noise so high in pitch followed by a damp sensation in her tail. Cold needles of dread prickled down her pack — poor Twilight Sparkle had sneezed fearfully right into her tail.
Too many lifetimes of politicians made it so that Celestia could know all the exact moments to swallow her heart. This was one of them, and she managed to force the feeling of frustrated horror down her throat all too gracefully for her own good. Let snot drip down her tail, when all this was said and done, she would bleach her coat whiter than it already was. If that was what it would take to get it clean again, that is exactly what she would do.
Heavens above, thank goodness she had never had any foals.
Only a second later, and Twilight was trotting right over to the window. It clearly wasn’t because she was no longer afraid — one could clearly observe a tremble in her gait — but for some other reason.
Celestia had to blink before she realized that Twilight had heeded her teacher’s words automatically not because of bravery, but because Celestia hadn’t asked.
“There!” squeaked the little filly. She pointed one stubby foreleg outside, where dark clouds were curling around the shadows of neighboring spires. “Look out there, Princess!”
And once the princess had trotted close enough to the window, she did. She stuck her head right out the window so that most of her mane spilled out with her. The hardwood of Twilight Sparkle’s desk pressed into her skin, ending right below her knees.
“My goodness, little one. Just what is it that I’m supposed to be looking for? Can you really not sleep because of some clouds? You went in here just to gawk at the clouds… because your night-light wasn’t working?”
“Nonono, Your Highness! You hafta look up!”
“Twilight, we’ll go back into your bedroom and fix your night-light right away. That I can do. But you really mustn’t overreact so much when the only thing out here is the moon—”
“Y-yes!” Twilight yelped. “The moon! The moon!”
Pulling her head back inside, Princess Celestia trained her gaze blankly upon her pupil. “Twilight Sparkle, it is normal for the moon to be that close. You’re up in these towers with me now. It’s going to look closer, I’ve raised it enough to know where to put it. Fillies your age are normally afraid of how close it looks…”
Twilight made a small, shameful nicker, kicking her hooves at the floor sullenly. She rubbed at her snotty muzzle with one of her forehooves.
“...and most fillies your age are afraid of the dark too.”
“The night is just so scary,” Twilight whispered, “and that s-shape it has is just s-so m-mean and ugly.”
“I know it is, Twilight. But there’s no getting rid of it.” Celestia sighed. “It’s been there forever, even when I was much younger.”
“Really?” Twilight asked, awestruck, moving toward her mentor again.
The princess nodded, letting Twilight wrap her unfortunately grubby forehooves around one of her rear legs again.
“Yes,” Celestia lied. “There is no use fussing about craters in the moon.”
Twilight blinked reverently up at Celestia, her eyes brimming with more adoration than Celestia had seen from a foal in a long, long time. “I heard one of the maid’s daughters say there is a big, mean nightmare that lives in the moon, and those ugly beasts like that are why we celebrate Nightmare Night.”
It had been far too many years for Celestia to feel hatred toward that wicked slur. She smiled more brightly and widely down upon Twilight Sparkle instead.
“Oh, my dear little Twilight Sparkle. The next time you hear something that silly, you may tell that filly she is full of pish-posh. There is not a single soul that lives in the moon, and anything you hear is simply made-up tall tales to keep fillies like you in bed at night. Do you really think it would be logical for there to be any magical beasties there? Where no little critters can breathe?”
Twilight pressed her cheek into Celestia’s leg, consider this. “Nu-uh! Nothing can teleport that far! There’s no science to it! No spell can do anything to the moon…” She tilted up to look at Celestia again, “...nothing except the gods,” Twilight finished breathlessly.
“Exactly!” The princess affirmed, braying a giddy laugh afterward. “And I assure you, Twilight Sparkle, that I have never lost anything upon the moon. Now, with that hogwash all done with, why don’t we get you cleaned up and back in bed. I think that somepony had a night-light that needed fixing, and that somepony was you!”
She risked patting the filly on the head one more time. Twilight was in dire need of a washcloth, and often got overstimulated if booped at the wrong time.
’Sensory issues’ her parents had explained.
“Twilight, do you know what a telescope is?”
“Nu-uh,” Twilight said, shaking her head so that her bangs whipped with the gesture, “are they pretty?”
“Well, they’re something sort of like a firefly lantern. My little ponies use them to fight the darkness. Lots of scientists use them. I think that you would make quite the little astronomer if you could get over that fear.”
“Wow, Princess! That sounds amazing!”
“Yes, I’m sure we could get an astronomy tutor to help set one up. I’m afraid I only could teach you the basics. Somepony else will have to help you pick one out. I’m rather surprised that none of your books don’t have any in them.”
“Oh no, I guess I wasn’t paying attention!” squeaked Twilight fretfully, hopping towards the door.
“There’s no need to fret, little one. You won’t have any tests on the stars.”
“Aww,” Twilight pouted, giving one last exaggerated hop out of the studying parlor. It was exactly in tune with the sound of Celestia slamming the windows tightly shut once more.
They left that room without a care, and Celestia didn’t think to look back when she closed the door behind her. In that time, Princess Celestia had learned a valuable lesson of her own: no matter the situation, regardless of the stakes, and no matter her own feelings… Twilight Sparkle did exactly as she was told.
Perhaps there was nothing that would ensure her future more than that — the obedience necessary for faithfulness.