There comes a time – there always comes a time – when children no longer need their mother quite so much. When lifelong bonds, undimmed though they might be in the heart, become physically distant and worn. When the last hand is clasped in friendship, the last heroic adventure comes to a close. When the lines on the face are no longer pleasant signs of maturity, growing longer and crisscrossing until one becomes old, and then, ‘too old.’
Celestia was never a creature possessed of vain dread. She approached her future as she did her troubled childhood, with acceptance and quiet understanding that they were part of the story, part of what made her Celestia.
Goodbyes had come and gone. That was the way of things. Yet a part of Celestia’s long sunset which was emphatically not the usual was the goodbye to herself, in a way somehow both literal and otherworldly.
A stranger would have found it bizarre, surreal. An old woman in her old house, filled with the pictures and knickknacks which aged folk naturally amass, sharing tea with the herself of years gone by. Princess Celestia looked no different from that evening when they first met. When she appeared naked on their porch, smiling with oblivious joy at seeing her old student safe and protected. Someone must have explained human taboos to her in the meantime, for all the visits since she had been clothed. And young.
The meeting was as pleasant as ever. The princess was always so wonderful, and it took Celestia some years to see the real joy in her heart when they talked of Sunset, of Sunny, of herself. They were not so different after all, both a lover of life and love, of hot tea and crisp autumn.
But nor were they the same. The mirror who was no longer the mirror.
There would be no more visits after this. Celestia’s long walks could now barely take her to the porch swing. It was the princess who poured the tea and brought out the crackers, for it was just so much work now for Celestia.
A lovely chat, as always. And then the sun began to fall, and the time came to say goodbye. She fancied that she saw understanding in those bright pink eyes, still youthful despite all that laid behind them.
The vision blurred. Celestia dabbed at her tears.
“You’ll check in on Sunny and Sunset, won’t you?”
She looked again with a dried gaze to find Celestia staring back blankly, wearing a confused expression.
“What do you mean?”
Celestia sighed, though could not repress a humored laugh. The good princess did have her blind spots, didn’t she?
“I’m old,” Celestia said. She pointed to herself, the silliness of it all giving her strength to say the quiet part out loud. “I’m dying. That’s what happens to us mortals. This… this is goodbye, Princess. Thank you for being a part of my life.”
“Oh.”
The princess blinked and blinked again. A vague, polite befuddlement hovered around her smile.
She sipped. Celestia sipped as well, silently annoyed.
The princess lowered her cup. “Why don’t you just come to Equestria?”
Now it was Celestia’s turn to look confused. “What do you mean?”
“You’re not mortal in Equestria. Well, not functionally, it’s a bit complicated. And Torch could live for thousands of years, bring him. By alicorn standards you’ve barely matured.”
Celestia set down her cup. “But I’m not an alicorn.”
Princess Celestia looked at her very curiously, and Celestia glimpsed once more a mirror of herself. Both felt they were explaining something obvious. “Yes you are. In Equestria, of course.”
“Am I really? I’m not a princess or… magical prodigy or so on.”
“No, but you are an alicorn. We all saw.”
“Isn’t that just because I’m your mirror?”
“So?”
“Isn’t there something to it?” Celestia squawked. “A test? Worthiness?”
“Why do you see me in the mirror and not yourself?” The princess gave a deep sigh, smiling patiently. “In your life of tireless protection, you’ve saved hundreds or thousands, perhaps your whole world. Who can possibly claim you are not worthy? That the fate or coincidence which made you my twin was not just and true?”
“It feels like cheating,” Celestia confessed, wringing her pale hair. “Others have also done great things, better things. Why should I live?”
“Why should you die?”
The question caught Celestia off-guard, and she turned to wit. “Because I’m old?”
“Age is perspective,” Princess Celestia said. “A dog is old at sixteen, a human at ninety, an alicorn… well.”
She touched Celestia’s wrinkled hand, wrapping around where it held the teacup. Her eyes – so bright and full of love. And so old.
The words came quietly. “I should like to not have to say goodbye. I should like to remain your friend for many long years to come – and I shall, no matter what happens next. I know life can be burdensome. The hereafter, I am told, is a place of peace and happy reunions. But if you will permit me to tempt you...”
She waited to finish until Celestia gave a nod. “What would you do, if you could start again? No less wise or experienced, but with a clean slate and full life before you?”
Princess Celestia pulled back her hand slowly, yet its warmth remained. “As you desire: goodbye, Celestia. My twin, my friend, my precious family. Goodbye for now, for we shall meet again no matter what you choose. You are loved, and shall be loved forever.”
She stood, then collected and washed the dishes.
As she went to leave, Celestia spoke.
“A teacher.”
The princess looked to her. Celestia stared out the window, where autumn leaves were starting to fall.
“I would be a teacher. Like how they are supposed to be. No screens, no inane bureaucracy, no machine-like shoveling of students from one grade to the next. Not a principal, not a hunter. A simple teacher in a simple little schoolhouse, helping children learn to be curious and kind.”
It was not long after that a car pulled into the Canterlot High parking lot. Two old women hobbled out, leaning on each other as they approached the statue.
“I can’t believe you were just silently waiting for me to suggest it.” Celestia grumbled, her breaths tight and uneven. Without the other balancing her she could never walk this far.
“You know me, I’m a follower.” Luna chuckled. “I figured you had a good reason for staying, and… I wouldn’t want to go without you. I’ll fly and explore, and learn from my twin to shape the stars. But I want to be home in time for dinner each day with you.”
No one watched them depart into the portal. Their goodbyes had been said, and their goodbye-for-nows. Sunset and Sunny would follow in their own time, if they chose. Perhaps others? Who could say? The universe held terrors, yes, but also wonders both grand and subtle.
They emerged as young alicorns, hale and healthy and full of potential. Ponies greeted them with tears and warm embraces on the other side. Some were alicorns, some not. Some were familiar, others would become wonderful new friends.
The mirror shimmered behind them. Princess Luna gazed curiously, while Celestia beamed and rustled her feathers.
“Torch is coming, too. My husband. I figured we–”
At that instant, a 100-meter tall twin of a dragon lord emerged fully into the room. The entire left half of Twilight’s castle exploded outwards, sending confused ponies sailing through the air. The princesses flew into action, catching them and shielding the debris, while the retired principals plowed gracelessly into the ground. Booming apologies and questions, Torch stumbled, tripped over the battered wall, and collapsed face-first onto his wife and her sister.
They were all fine, of course. And even in those moments they knew this was only the first of many adventures to come.