“It certainly doesn’t look like much,” Rarity murmured in a low voice.
“Well duh, it’s not like it’s meant to look pretty. It’s a castle,” Rainbow Dash retorted, the prodigious flier barely looking her way as she hovered along. “They’re supposed to be all big and rock-y and stuff.”
“All I’m saying is that function and form are not mutually exclusive,” Rarity huffed.
“Yeah! Look at Sugarcube Corner,” Pinkie piped. “It’s super pretty and tasty. Oh, and it has room for stuff, like my room, too!”
“Uh. The Corner isn’t actually a gingerbread house. You can’t eat it,” Dash protested. “...Can you?”
“Not really,” Pinkie giggled, poking Dash in the side so hard the pegasus had to flap her wings to right herself. “But sometimes you’re just in the mood for some brick and mortar with custard, you know?”
“No?” Rainbow Dash asked.
“Girls, please,” Twilight Sparkle sighed, feeling her brain leak out from her ears. “We’ve been planning this for a over week. Add to that three days on the train to Nettlestead and the better part of today on hoof—”
She paused. All eyes were on her. Three pairs of eyes creased in various states of concern or curiosity. It was impossible to tell whether they were as frazzled as she.
“And what?” Rarity asked.
“And if I’m already going crazy before we’re even past Equestria’s borders, then this isn’t going to go well,” Twilight finished lamely, staring straight ahead. Once past Appaloosa, the train were the beginning and the end of signs of civilization, and the small village of Nettlestead was barely deserving of that title. The dirt road they followed was overgrown in places, covered in the dry grass of southern Equestria where the snow had yet to fall. Until they had spotted the fortress nestled between the red hills ahead, it was easy to believe they had left Equestria already; back in Ponyville, heavy snow was scheduled for three days a week at the least.
After Rainbow Dash had come to her, the decision to go after their friends had been an easy one. She wasn’t alone, and even Rarity and Pinkie Pie had been eager to throw in with them. Now that they closed on the border fortress nestled in the Macintosh Hills, she felt doubt and fear in equal measure with relief. No more worrying and wondering. No more asking herself whether or not she could have done something different.
No more staring at the unopened scrolls from Celestia wondering what the princess wanted to say to her.
“My apologies,” Rarity muttered. “But next time, maybe you can be the one to share a coach with Pinkie Pie. She keeps talking in her sleep, and I’m already suffering under having to limit my accessories for this journey.”
“Aw. You don’t need tons of brushes and silly things to look pretty,” Pinkie protested, drawing a smile from Rarity.
“Whatever,” Dash opined. “Are we there yet?”
Twilight rolled her eyes and kept walking. The traveller’s guide she’d found was very strict in suggesting that nopony carry more in their saddlebags than they truly needed, and limiting her friends to sensible travel wear and supplies had been as much work as the rest of her preparations put together. Onwards they marched, the dry and yellowed shrubland still opening up as they closed in on the border of the hillscape ahead.
In hindsight, packing had been the only real challenge. Ever since Twilight arranged for Cheerilee and Lyra to take turns checking up on the Library in her absence, she had been waiting for the problem. She’d been waiting for something to go wrong. It wasn’t as if though she considered herself particularly cynical, but aside from saying her goodbyes to Spike earlier this week, a memory that still stung a little, it had all worked out well enough.
Her stipend from Celestia would have allowed her the supplies they needed, but when word spread of what they were doing, it hadn’t been long before the first ponies started knocking on the library door. First Carrot Top had asked if there was anything she could do to help, then Junebug and Caramel offered their support. Before long, it seemed all of Ponyville was ready to help. Their saddlebags were filled to the brim with all they would need for weeks spent on the road. After she and Rainbow Dash had decided that they needed to head out there and do something, it had taken less than half the time Twilight had originally set aside to prepare.
Thus, one morning, they were suddenly ready to go. The Crystal Mountains were an unlikely barrier to cross, and the vague records Twilight had found—combined with a few hours of probability analyses—ruled out migration by sea. They had to go south. Four days ago, there had been no more excuses left. Four tickets, four days, and all too many complaints from Rainbow Dash about how slow they were going, and here they were. Nothing had gone horribly wrong.
Perhaps the world simply wanted to pay Twilight back for that one terrible mishap months ago, and they would leave without any events. The unicorn allowed herself a smile at that. She was hardly well travelled, and the journey so far had been one of cramped train cars and stress, but how bad could the open road be? Within the hour they would pass by the border, and then she could fully apply herself to their search.
“Well, that’s rather curious,” Rarity said, arching a brow as the four trotted along. The fashionista had her eyes trained on the light grey stone of the fortress further down the road.
“What is?” Twilight asked.
“Why would they fly the royal princesses’ private flag?”
And there it was again. That same trepidation Twilight had felt every time Spike belched up another scroll bearing up the royal seal, now returned with its entire extended family of fear, nausea, excitement, regret, and the most intense curiosity she had felt since she was a little filly who’d wished for nothing but a telescope for christmas.
“You think Princess Celestia is here? And Luna?” Rainbow Dash asked with an odd look in Twilight’s general direction. Perhaps it’d been expected that Twilight should have answered that. The residences hosting the royal pony sisters always flew that flag, a fact Twilight knew well. Studying heraldry and such had been one of her innumerable obsessions as a filly.
“Twilight?” Pinkie said.
“Sorry, what?” Twilight asked.
“You’re making funny faces!”
“I am not!” Twilight protested.
“Sure you are!” Pinkie said, twisting her face up in an exaggerated mask of concentration—or constipation. It was hard to tell. “Like this!”
“What’s up?” Dash added, and Rarity made an inquisitive noise as well.
“I don’t know,” Twilight groaned. “Listen, I just had a chat with the princess, and she’s not making any sense. It’s nothing. Nothing at all.”
“Clearly it’s not nothing. It must be a quite substantial something if it’s causing you distress,” Rarity huffed.
The most infuriating part was of course that she was right. For the first time in her life, pieces were swimming around in Twilight’s head that she had no hope making sense of through logic and research. Her friends were all giving her obviously curious looks, and pretending it was nothing wasn’t a viable option if she wanted to get any peace.
“Fine. I think Princess Celestia is in love with me,” Twilight said, the words far easier to speak than she would have thought. She felt detached from the concept. It was impossible to consider her own feelings about the mess simply due to its ridiculousness. Once she’d spoken those words, the buzz in her head died down, almost pleasantly quiet.
Very unlike the less pleasant quiet of their little entourage. The only sound aside from Twilight’s own hoofsteps was the steady proink of Pinkie Pie impacting on the ground with each of her little bounces as she followed along. Rarity and Rainbow Dash had stopped—or hovered, in the case of the pegasus—on the spot.
“You think Princess Celestia is in love with you,” Dash repeated through an incredulous grin and a bubbling snort.
“This is not a joke?” Rarity asked, nearly drowned out by the peals of Rainbow Dash’s laughter. The unicorn cast Dash an annoyed glare.
Twilight felt her cheeks heat up with a blush that she couldn’t quite figure out. They were of course right. What reaction had she expected? It was ridiculous, but the idea that they should think thus of the princess, that they were laughing at her, too, that bothered her far more than any joke at her own expense.
“I think it’s sweet!” Pinkie Pie said, the pink pony blessedly still for a second. “I’m not sure if it’s funny, too,” she added, tilting her head at Rainbow Dash. The pegasus was on her back and on the ground, her laughter slowly dying under the collective glances, glares and looks.
“Uh. Wait. You’re serious?” she asked. “But—but she’s a princess!”
“Well, technically, that doesn’t have to mean anything. I mean, there’s nothing inherent to, uh, interests and all that just because you’re a princess. Not that I’ve read anyway,” Twilight said, scratching the back of her neck. “Just forget I said anything.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be insensitive, darling,” Rarity hastened to say, smiling a little too wide. “It’s just...”
“A bit of a bombshell? You’re telling me,” Twilight muttered.
“Precisely! Ah, we should probably keep this to ourselves, no?” the fashionista asked, glancing about as if they weren’t in the absolute middle of nowhere.
“Is it a secret? Did she say it was a secret? Oh gosh, I don’t like secrets that sneak up on you, like sneakrets!”
“She was very frank about the whole thing,” Twilight sighed. “I, uh. I ran away.”
“Wow. Smooth,” Dash whistled.
“Oh hush, you,” Rarity sniped. “Why haven’t you said anything about this before?”
“Yeah, why haven’t I,” Twilight repeated with a frown at Dash and Rarity both. The pegasus had the grace to look away and clear her throat, but Twilight was quick to shake her head and continue. “No, I don’t know. How do I even begin to respond to that?”
There was a response somewhere, of course. Responses usually came down to one of two things, to yes or no. Twilight knew this, knew that it should be simple, but it wasn’t. Celestia had given her a lot to think about that night, a lot of things that needed research and thinking about, and instead of considering her words, she ran. Maybe that was why Twilight had felt compelled to stow away Celestia’s letters unread. She feared that she had disappointed Celestia again?
None of her friends had the answer, that much was clear. Rainbow Dash looked unusually thoughtful, perhaps even hurt. Rarity worked her jaw soundlessly, and Pinkie Pie was smiling with her head tilted ninety-degrees sideways as if she expected Twilight to say something clever.
“Let’s go,” Twilight tried. “Let’s go find Fluttershy and Applejack.” At that, Dash’s expression darkened, and the pegasus gave a short nod.
“If you’re sure,” Rarity said, her brow still creased in a frown and her clear blue eyes latched on to hers.
“Oh, oh, if the princesses are in the fortress ahead, maybe we can ask Princess Celestia herself,” Pinkie suggested. “If you like her too, maybe we can play some games? Wait, do you? Do you like her too, Twilight? Do you?”
“She’s a princess,” Twilight replied, taking a step forwards and inclining her head towards the road before repeating herself. “Let’s go.”
“Rainbow Dash?” Pinkie Pie asked.
“What?” Dash said, taking up position by the earth pony’s side at the rear of the ground.
“Did Twilight just give you an answer? I don’t think I got one. I mean, sometimes when I talk to ponies I get a little distracted if I think of something really clever like how to build a bed out of cotton candy or—”
“Ugh, no, she didn’t answer,” Dash groaned.
“Oh. Okay,” Pinkie said, bouncing merrily along for a good three seconds before she spoke up again. “Why?”
Twilight cringed and closed her eyes.
“Obviously she doesn’t want to talk about it, duh,” Dash shot.
“Oh!” Pinkie said. “Why?”
“Dunno, she’s probably gonna think about it and stuff. Why would I know? What would you do if Princess Luna had a crush on you?”
“Oh wow, that would be so super sweet!” Pinkie giggled, beaming and bouncing twice as high. “Do you really think she likes me?”
“No!” Dash snapped, dragging a hoof across her face. “It was an example or something, jeez.”
“Please, do try to be a little sensitive,” Rarity admonished, giving the two noisy ponies a dark look. Before Twilight had time to offer her thanks, the white unicorn’s face set in a hungry look.
“Okay, now I’m curious. What would you do, Pinkie?”
Twilight let out a deep sigh and kept her attention on the road and the slowly approaching fortress flying the royal banner.
Fort Macintosh was not an elegant affair. It had been decades since the last time Princess Celestia had visited any of the border fortresses, and she almost regretted it now. Here, the legion of border guards built for efficiency, not comfort. It wasn’t for lack of bits or humor, but out of habit and appreciation for function. The result of this was that the chambers kept for the princesses in the tallest spire were unpretentious and simple. For over a thousand years, the bedroom had waited to serve them, sporting little but basic amenities, small windows, a large bed, and larger quantities of rock.
Of course Celestia appreciated comfort. It was just impossible to get away from comfort to gain perspective when you were surrounded by so many servants intent on trying to make sure your teacup was ever full. Palace life never paused and never took a break. Now, so far removed from Canterlot, she felt calmer already, but with it came a sense of isolation she couldn’t quite decide if she liked.
“What are you thinking about, sister?” Luna asked. The princess of the night stood by one of the slits that served as windows, giving her a curious look. “You are staring at our bed with more focus than we would have expected.”
“Nothing much,” Celestia replied, frowning. “Other than that I may need to take vacations more often. A cheap hotel in Manehatten would be good.”
Luna blinked. “It’s hardly the most glorious of residences, this, but if that was a joke, then it is lost on us. Are you quite well?”
“Well enough,” Celestia replied, shifting. Perhaps Luna felt some of the same she did. The signs were subtle, little things only countless years of sisterhood would let her pick up on, but there it was. She rested her weight evenly on all fours, her muzzle tilted slightly upwards.
“When we said that it is our duty as princesses to act, we did not anticipate this. We do not need to be here, the both of us,” Luna said with a glance over her shoulder.
Celestia mulled that over not for the first time. “No, we do. You were right. You were always right. Is this the same Luna who spoke to me about throwing consequences into the sea, and caution to the wind?”
“Perhaps we were overzealous, but we do not regret our words,” Luna huffed, her attention still out the window. “Regardless, your prophecy comes true.”
“They are here?” Celestia asked. Had they an audience she’d remain standing by the bed and feign polite disinterest. As it was, she hurried over to join Luna by the northern-facing windows. It was all she could do to repress the urge to simply teleport over there, to ride the sunlight to save a second or two.
Outside, far away and far below, four specks were making their way down the dusty road that was Fort Macintosh’s only connection to Equestria at large. Now that she had seen them, she could feel them, too.
It was the most curious thing. Never before had Celestia so keenly felt the four strands that tied them to her. She half expected she would be able to see with her eyes what bound them together. Four heartbeats, and once she’d noticed those, she could feel the presence of all the ponies in the fortress below, too. Scores of ponies, all of them distinct individuals where on her throne in Canterlot the ponies were all a shapeless yet joyous chorus that never ended. For a moment, neither princess spoke.
“This is curious,” Luna remarked.
“I assume you felt that too,” Celestia agreed, frowning. “I suppose there are surprises even for ponies as old as we.”
“Any theories?”
“None,” Celestia replied. “It seems a great many things change these days. Shall we head downstairs to meet them?”
Of course, platitudes never worked on Luna. The princess of the night didn’t nod, nor did she respond in kind with the empty words that other ponies so often traded. When Celestia began descending the inner spiral staircase that took them down to the heart of the fort, she knew she was about to be pinned to the wall.
“We believe very little changes, comparatively,” Luna said, and Celestia could hear the concentrated frown in her voice. “In the wake of the changeling attack, things have by and large normalized, and the two Elements’ disappearance really is an anomaly.”
“You’re right,” Celestia murmured, a sour smile on her lips.
“Such a statement is unlike you. You refer to Twilight Sparkle, then.”
“I am. You know I am, and you know that I know you know I am,” Celestia retorted.
“Then you invited this topic. We are sorry if we are missing something, but it sounds to us as if you want to discuss it,” Luna said as they exited onto the main floor. Here, in the deep of the fortress, guardsponies were bustling about. The cramped interior and its myriad of rooms were all chock full of guards armored or not, each and every one of them pausing to salute the princesses as they passed.
Before they were even in sight of the portcullis that led out and into to the courtyard, the guard began filtering in from the hallways to form some sort of column. It took a dozen shakes of the head and half again as many murmured dismissals to get to leave the fortress without an escort, Luna’s gaze burning a hole in the side of Celestia’s head all the while. Only when they had cleared the walls and come to an awkward stop, side by side on the country road, did she answer.
“Suppose I did want to discuss it, or rather, her, but didn’t know what to say,” Celestia began. The wind whistled past them and tugged at her mane. It was cold for the south of Equestria, even for this time of year. Ahead, the four specks were slowly resolving themselves as very familiar shapes, to neither of the princesses’ surprise.
“You always know what to say, sister,” Luna countered, her annoyance gone in an instant to be replaced with a frown of doubt.
“I guess things change these days after all, then,” Celestia finished with a wan smile of triumph she hardly wanted.
“Is that why you are truly here? Not just to do our part, but because you desire to speak to her? Self-deception?” Luna shook her head. “You do not want to pressure her, so instead of leaving this to me—this is very cunning.”
“I am capable of doing simple things, Luna,” Celestia said. “I don’t scheme and plot all the time.”
“We will believe that when we see it,” the other princess said, though any humor in her voice was quickly drained as she turned her gaze down the road again. Three of the ponies were galloping in their direction full tilt through a plume of smoke, but none of them were moving at a fraction of the speed of the blur that streaked ahead.
“What is the meaning of—” was as much as Luna managed to say before the colorful bolt of lightning was upon them. Within seconds, Rainbow Dash skidded to a halt right in front of them, leaving deep furrows in the road. A second later, the dust of a hundred yards of dirt road washed over the three, followed by a dull thud of the sound barrier being broken in the far distance.
“You’re not gonna stop us!” Rainbow Dash yelled, her voice cracking as she scratched at the ground.
Princess Celestia blinked as the dust slowly settled, her coat now a light brown and her flowing pastel mane mussed. Rainbow Dash looked about ready to charge headfirst towards them.
“We’re leaving. We’re gonna find Fluttershy and Applejack,” Dash continued, her jaw set. “You can’t stop us. You won’t.”
Luna and Celestia exchanged glances.
“Rainbow Dash, I don’t understand—” Celestia tried, but she had no sooner spoken than her faithful student winked into existence at Rainbow Dash’s side with a muted pop of displaced air.
“Rainbow!” Twilight called, her attention entirely on the irate pegasus. “What in the wide world of Equestria are you doing? We need to talk about this! You can’t just charge off like that!”
“Why not? It’s gonna take forever if you’re gonna plan and stuff! Besides, you’re probably gonna try to talk about it or whatever, and then we’ll never get anywhere!” Dash retorted. As the two quarreled, Rarity and Pinkie Pie finally arrived, the last two of the group of four slowing down from their frantic dash.
“You could at least have given me a ride,” Pinkie whined, her lip set in a pout.
“I wasn’t even done talking!” Twilight hissed. She lowered her voice a little, still studiously avoiding meeting Celestia’s gaze. “All I’m saying is that there’s no law forbidding us from leaving, and that Celestia and Luna likely just want to try to talk us out of it.”
“Exactly! Talking!” Rainbow Dash protested.
“I have to agree with Twilight,” Rarity chimed in between breaths. “Honestly, hah—ah, this is the absolute worst way to go about this.”
“We would ask,” Luna interrupted. “This is the worst way to go about what, exactly?”
“Getting past you, duh!” Rainbow Dash said. “Why else would you be here? Twilight said you’re gonna try to stop us!”
“My dear, determined, brave little ponies,” Celestia said, smiling at them all as she took a step forward. “We’re not here to try to stop you. We are here to accompany you.”
With varying degrees of enthusiasm, the four ponies accepted the offer to spend the night at the fort. Within minutes, Rarity headed for the baths, and after a quick question of whether or not Twilight was okay, Pinkie Pie scurried off to the kitchen or mess hall or whatever the colossal stone building hid by way of food. When the surprise had settled, even Rainbow Dash seemed to have problems hanging on to her annoyance. The pegasus had been sullen and anxious in the extreme for their whole journey, and this was the closest Twilight had seen her to mollification.
That, or she’d given up objecting. Presently, Rainbow Dash stood at the top of the tallest point of the fortress with her wings spread like a weather vane, much to the patrolling guard-pegasi’s chagrin.
The venerable castle was backlit by the sun, and Twilight was caught in its shadow in the courtyard. Every now and then, a pair of armored guards would pass her by and ask if she needed assistance, at which she would invariably shake her head. She should get some food, she knew. Food, some form of hygiene-related upkeep, and then an early night before what would no doubt be an exhausting day tomorrow. Leaving Equestria, travelling on hoof with the princesses; she should be excited and nervous. Instead, she was worried.
It was a subtle shade different from nervous. A lifetime of high expectancies had taught Twilight the difference, and given her ample time to analyse and taste that difference. How long had she stood and watched Princess Celestia touring the outer courtyard walls, chatting with the guards? Minutes? Hours? Seconds?
The princess was watching her, now. Twilight was stood in the paved courtyard, the princess on the walls with a hundred paces or more between them, but there was no mistaking it. The princess had stopped and was looking in her direction. That was it, then.
Closing her eyes, Twilight pulled on her magic. With the little thrill, the flutter that always accompanied such things, Twilight crossed the space between them in an instant, quelling the vertigo and disorientation that always came with teleporting. Close eyes, pop, open eyes, find self right next to the princess. Nothing to it, so long as she could find her voice.
“Er,” she managed.
Celestia said nothing. The princess stood there, pristine and perfect as ever. They had the walls to themselves, now. Four paces wide with granite battlements, Twilight noted, busying herself with analysing the architecture. Fort Macintosh was almost one and a half thousand years old, but constant upkeep kept it at peak efficiency. It had never seen combat, and Twilight was glad for that. At its base, the wall was perhaps five and a half paces. The interior had four full stories of height—
“Hello, Twilight,” Celestia said, bringing Twilight’s train of thought to an abrupt stop before said train toppled over and rolled down the hill, exploding and then catching fire.
“Yeah,” Twilight agreed. “I mean, hi. Princess,” she added, swallowing again and again. It definitely wasn’t worry, then.
“How are you?” the princess asked, her tone light.
“Anger. I mean—I’m angry,” Twilight blurted, her cheeks igniting. “Sorry, I mean, I just thought that. I didn’t mean to say it. I don’t. I mean, I’m not. Not at you, I think.”
The princess looked at her for the longest time with the one eye not hidden by her flowing mane. “Because you do not want for us to come along?” she asked. “Speak freely, please. Ah, I shouldn’t have to tell you that.”
“No,” Twilight said, sitting down on the solid stone to look up at her mentor and teacher. Her princess. “Or, maybe. I’m just thinking about the things you said about yourself. It annoys me. Not that you—that you are—” she tried. “Not about me, but you. Not that you lied.”
Celestia arched a brow. “That’s a lot of explaining about what it is you aren’t annoyed by.”
“Sorry,” Twilight muttered. “Why are you here? Why did you come?”
“Because you are right. I was afraid when I shouldn’t be,” Celestia admitted with a shrug and her usual, patient smile. The twinge of annoyance returned in an instant, Twilight’s eye giving an involuntary twitch.
“That’s not right,” Twilight protested feebly, hanging her head.
“That you can be right, and that I can be wrong?” the princess asked, and when Twilight made no reply, it seemed that the sun princess found an answer in the silence. The unicorn’s breath almost left her as the princess shifted closer to her before taking a seat.
Without pomp or fanfare, Celestia half-extended one of her wings around Twilight. It was a gesture with infinite intimacy, but no pressure; Celestia took great care not to touch. Despite this, Twilight could feel the sheer power and warmth of the princess. The orb in the sky was bleeding out in the horizon, but the true sun wrapped around her and shared with her her warmth.
It made Celestia’s words so simple and so true. That was the exact truth of it. The idea that she could see something the princess could not was laughable. Reluctantly, Twilight Sparkle nodded.
“Why me?” Twilight whispered. “Why, of all ponies, would you l—I mean, like me? Everypony loves you, and I am not the same as you. I’m not your equal. Maybe there—”
“Equal?” Celestia replied, her eyes widening a smidgen. Had Twilight not known better, she would have thought it had been spoken in fear.
“I didn’t mean to imply I’m—” Twilight began, but for the second time, the princess cut her off.
“You misunderstand. That is a dangerous word. It has never been about finding an equal, nor have I ever looked for one. I would never place myself above anypony. You place too much import on my crown, or on my wings and horn both.”
“Then why me?” Twilight repeated, forcing herself to press the issue, to meet Celestia’s eyes.
“Because you are special to me, Twilight,” Celestia replied. “I don’t know if I can give you a better answer that won’t make you feel uncomfortable if you already struggle to believe you can teach me something, too. Nothing real separates us unless you want there to be distance.”
Twilight swallowed and nodded at that. Was it her imagination, or had Celestia moved her wing away a tiny bit just now? Either she had, or Twilight feared she would. “You’ve never asked me if I feel the same,” she muttered. “What am I supposed to do?”
“I cannot tell you what you should do, especially not if me being here feels wrong to you. You wanted my help, but being proven right is defeat. That could mean you still place me on a pedestal, if that makes sense,” Celestia shrugged. “What do you think?”
“Maybe you’re right,” Twilight admitted, a nervous laugh bubbling up. “I have tried to not think about it, and it’s scary. You’re not anxious to know what I feel?”
The words set her thinking, of course. She’d no sooner spoken of her success than she failed. The warmth and the giddiness returned, but now, every glance towards Celestia where she sat at her side made her wonder if she could love her. Finally, she considered it. She had half a mind to teleport to the nearest mountain top and stay there until she had control of her thoughts.
“I have gotten very good at maintaining my mask, at keeping up appearances, Twilight. You matter enough to me that I can wait a little longer if that makes you feel more comfortable.”
Celestia’s words were spoken frankly, but again the princess’ eyes were trained on the horizon, avoiding Twilight’s own. Twilight’s gut clenched. She could hurt the princess. She could hurt Celestia by doing nothing at all, and it was a power she desperately wished she never knew she had.
“So, leaving Equestria, huh?” Twilight asked, forcing a big, fake smile.
Celestia nodded slowly, not protesting the subject change. “One of us has to stay, of course, but we haven’t decided just yet. Being so far away from the heartlands is odd.”
“Oh?” Twilight asked.
“It is at once both liberating and curiously lonely,” Celestia explained. “And I find myself tired a lot of the time. I hardly sleep many hours a day, but now, it feels as if though I could sleep forever.”
The mundanity of their discussion was as odd as it was welcome. Twilight nodded, experimentally scooting a little closer to the princess. “That sounds normal, really. You haven’t had a vacation in as long as I can remember. You probably just need a little time to stress down,” she suggested with a smile.
Celestia pursed her lips at that, looking far less convinced. “Perhaps,” she murmured. “It could be something like that.”