“Miss Fokienia? The princess will see you, now.”
She stood carefully. Her metal forelegs clicked against the stone floor: the marble, the real marble tile was ancient, and she took great care to traverse it. The chances she could break it accidentally were low… but she wasn’t taking chances. Not here.
Not in Equestria.
As she followed after the guard, she took the time to inspect their garb. The gold armor of the Royal Guards that had brought her from the spaceport had been an ever-present sight, but she hadn’t had the chance to get a proper look. The fittings holding the golden plates together were worn and weathered, but the armor itself was polished to an absolute sheen. If she stood at just the right angle, she could see herself reflected in its surface. As for practicality, she knew she could cave the armor in with a quick throw of her forelegs. But this armor was the same armor they wore in the history banks. Perhaps they wore it not for protection, but… for history?
Cold would’ve known the right word for it. But he wasn’t with her; while she had come down to the ancient world that Equestria called home, he was instead docked at a massive station in orbit.
Fokienia had long since left her uniform behind. Cold had advised her to wear something nice, but she hadn’t had much of a selection, especially with the short time she’d had to prepare for the journey. Holly had taken her to her clothier friend’s shop, and while Mister Bolt had an eye for fashion, Fokienia had seen nothing that resonated with her.
So, Fokienia had gone as she was. For some reason or another, her friends had agreed that the princess would like that. And Fokienia very much wanted to please the princess.
The spaceport had been on the fringes of a sprawling city named ‘Ponyville’. On the shuttle she’d taken to descend to the planet—which was a smaller kind of starship that she’d been informed was meant for planetary flight—the only thing she’d been able to look at had been the sky. The sky was so blue and pristine, and as they’d punched through a sea of white clouds, she’d seen the city of Canterlot pressed to the side of the Canterhorn. It was much larger than the historical resources in the data-banks had portrayed it as: the city now wrapped all around the mountain—and then some—but the purple-gold colors, and the impressive waterfall, were much the same.
As they’d turned to the south, the landing in Ponyville had not been so fantastical: it reminded her too much of Cypress. Sprawling metal, concrete, and synthetic complexes, no matter how colorful, were still not the Equestria she’d learned about. She did like the ‘bullet train’ the guards had taken her to. The fast land-crossing Friendship Express had been a wonderful, albeit too short moment to see the green-laden fields of grass and flowers that still stretched beneath the Equestrian sky. Even then, the stones of the magnificent halls of the venerable Canterlot Castle satisfied the particular sense of homesickness Fokienia hadn’t realized she’d fostered.
Was it possible to be homesick for a world she’d only visited in dreams?
Yes. Yes, she was certain she could.
The vast halls were beyond tall, and beyond wide. Each hallway seemed even more expansive than anywhere in Cypress. The open air, the sheer amount of distance between the guards hugging the walls, and the immense stained-glass frameworks that were actually made of glass. She gaped openly in awe as she followed after the guard. Now, she actually regret not wandering from her bench: there was so much to see in this place alone that she could probably spend years traversing the hallways.
This place, she quietly noted, had existed for thousands of years. Few ponies had been here during the peak of its activity, and far fewer were here now. Still, she could imagine the flood of ponies in this grand palace, vying for a sight of or even a word with their princess.
Fokienia and her escorts turned away from the one room she recognized from her history banks: the grand doors leading to the throne room. Instead, they diverted onto a quiet side corridor.
The marble-cut walls appeared less dull than the rest of the castle proper, and the tiles rattled less. No, this area was relatively new. A frontier that she had the privilege of being one of the first to explore. There were even less guards here, and as they walked further and up increasing levels of steps, Fokienia became aware of the fact that they now had to be going into the depths of Canterhorn Mountain itself.
She sucked in a breath as the air cooled, and she squinted ahead with her optical implants, eager to catch sight of the princess. The only shapes she could make out were far too small to be ponies, and they skittered along inside the walls around them.
Fokienia decided that it would be wise to not inform the guard. If those little things weren’t hurting anypony, then there was no need to disrupt their activities.
Finally, the cool under-mountain air led them to a simple door, simple in that it lacked any technological apparatus: there was no console, ID reader, or kiosk; it was a heavy vault door embedded below a marble archway, and that was that. Still, the end of the long hall was grand to be sure, but it was hardly as decorated as the tapestries and stained glass of the inner-castle hallways. It was clear they that many weren’t intended to come through here: where they stood now was practically a bunker.
The guard spun the strange white-metal vault door open, and gestured her in. Fokienia moved forward before she could get stuck looking in.
As the guard shut the door behind her and took up a position as sentry, Fokienia was treated to the isolated study of Princess Celestia.
And the princess herself was just like the pictures.
Fokienia immediately broke into a full bow, pressing deep into the soft carpet below. Her ears twitched as the sound of a softly crackling fire fumed—which made her worry just a little bit—but even more when she heard a tittering giggle pass through the lips of Princess Celestia.
“Welcome to Equestria, dear.”
Shaking, Fokienia lifted herself up. She gazed longingly at the white alicorn: she was even wearing her regalia. The crown was identical to the one in the pictures. And her voice... perfect.
“P-Princess Celestia...”
“Come closer, Fokienia. I have not had a guest in quite some time.”
As she approached, Fokienia took stock of the greater room. The oracle-like chamber was painted in soothing shades of deep lavender and cornflower blue. The few pieces of furniture were either purple with yellow trims and accents, or simply made of gold. The foremost of the gold pieces was a gilded cage on a pillar; the door was open, and the cage empty. The room was remarkably well-lit despite the only sources of light being the fire, and a faint floating orb that rested at the underside of the rotund ceiling. The smell of the old world—paperlike in nature—was strong, and as she grew close to the desk Celestia was seated at, the scent intensified.
Smiling warmly, Celestia invited her once more. “Please, take a seat.”
Fokienia did so without hesitation.
“I apologize for the long trek. As I said, I have not had visitors in quite some time.”
On the desk, a ceramic tea set for two had been carefully arranged. When Fokienia looked into the steaming cups, however, she noted that the bright orange liquid looked nothing like tea.
Fokienia was tickled in an odd way by the sight of Celestia’s horn: the majestic alicorn willed the humming gold mini-fridge below her desk open, and levitated out a foil-wrapped bundle in her pale yellow aura.
“Truth be told, I do miss speaking with ponies in my office. This place is hardly where I’d imagined I’d be spending my years, but the engineers insisted that a more perfect balance between Equestria’s magical leylines and the Canterhorn’s radioscopic focal points could not be found elsewhere.”
Overwhelmed, Fokienia reached with both of her forelegs to grip the ‘tea’. She took a sip of the drink.
It was tangy, strong, and definitely bright. It almost felt as if her mouth was alight, though.
“’Synthetic Bottled Sunlight’,” Celestia explained humorously. “When Luna informed me of your desire to see me, I could look no further than a drink I had a hoof in creating.” She levitated her own cup and took a sip. “It has quite a kick, doesn’t it?”
Fokienia nodded numbly, and took another sip. It wasn’t very watery, and it fizzed on her tongue.
“But I will admit, I have been excited to meet you as well, dear.”
Finally drawing herself away from the rather addictive concoction, Fokienia put the glass down, and poked at the foil-wrapped food Celestia had presented her. “You have?”
“That’s yours, dear. You can unwrap it.” As she started on that, she was well aware of Celestia’s eyes on her legs. “Yes... You are quite a remarkable pony, believe it or not.”
Fokienia carefully unwrapped the package to reveal something quite surprising: it was... a sandwich? It wasn’t as compressed as the packaged meals Cold and her had shared, and it certainly smelled fresh. She peeled back more of the foil, lifted it up, and inspected it with a healthy dose of curiosity. “What is this?” she earnestly asked.
“That, my little pony, is a daisy sandwich.”
Once more, she felt Celestia’s eyes on her, tracking her with an impressive display of effort. Was the princess normally this observant? Well, she had to be! She was the ruler of Equestria.
Fokienia took a bite.
Then, another.
Celestia seemed absolutely delighted. But she carried on in spite of her mirth. “Luna relayed a great deal of information to me about your story. I would say that I have a good picture of you, but truth be told...”
Fokienia swallowed her double-bites, then waited for the princess.
“...you are even more than I expected.”
Fokienia lowered her gift back to the desk between them, carefully placing it down. She was going to eat that all the way through for sure. “More than what?”
Faintly, Celestia’s smile waned. “More than just a pony to believe in.”
Her ears perked attentively.
“You are capable of many things, Fokienia. And although you have only just begun, friendship appears to be quite your strong suit.”
“Princess Luna told me that.”
“I’m sure. But Luna is... more practical. Where she saw your friendship, she saw the work that could be done with it. Now, that’s not to say that I don’t see the good you’ve done and can do, but you are truly an exceptional mare, dear. You have a penchant for friendship that very few in these times will know.”
“I don’t see why. I ran into a lot of ponies who Cold was able to work into helping me... If anything, he’s the one with a ‘penchant’ for friends.”
“And you also helped many, dear. Cold is exceptional in his own way, but he is but one part of a greater whole. You, Fokienia, are a very special pony.” Celestia took another sip of her drink, and continued. “Once upon a time, in the magical land of Equestria, I sent a young unicorn to a little place called Ponyville to make some friends... She didn’t believe in friendship. She wanted to make a difference, to prove her talent. And she did. Oh yes, my Twilight learned to believe in friendship, and she did make a difference...” She sighed.
Fokienia felt a pang in her heart. “I’m sorry.”
“Oh, it’s quite alright, dear.” Celestia’s smile seemed stronger than ever. “Twilight took her time in this world with care, and that care only grew as she helped move our little ponies to the stars. She lived far longer than any pony before her ever had, and she went peacefully knowing she had spent generations fostering a network of unity in a time where many were unsure of just how brilliant the next day could be.”
“But now, she’s gone.”
“Dear, Twilight has been gone for a long time. Long enough for wars to be waged again.” Celestia shook her head. “You are the closest I have been to taking on a student in a very long time, dear.”
Immediately, visions of her in Celestia’s tutelage came to mind. Fokienia under the wing of the Princess of the Sun. She could scarcely believe that was even a possibility to consider.
“But I am not looking for a student. I am looking for leaders. Ponies to teach friendship. Ponies willing to follow in the hoofsteps of Twilight’s golden age.”
Fokienia’s hopes were dashed in an instant, and replaced by... different ones. She was already in contact with one Princess of the Night, and now she could could possibly be keeping up with the Princess of the Sun! And yet... “I’m not a leader.”
“Oh yes you are, dear. And I will not be letting you leave believing otherwise.” The amiable tone Celestia had was still present, but a somehow gentle sternness joined her. “In all the commotion to colonize the stars, my sister and I have struggled to find good examples for ponies to follow. Wars have been fought over differences that—on a once small scale—were easily solved with a few simple apologies. As I’ve heard it, Cypress Station did not suffer any serious loss of life. It’s the most peaceful conflict that ponies have waged in years, and you are a major reason as to why things went the way that they did.”
Fokienia couldn’t find a moment to break in as the princess’ energetic beam overwhelmed her.
“I want to hear more of that, dear. As my little ponies have stretched to the stars, such decisively positive outcomes have devolved into a rare commodity.” Celestia leaned back, lighting her horn again. A little holographic display suddenly appeared on the desk, and the tinny projector hung on the side hummed as it went. Using a hoof, Celestia ‘grabbed’ the interface, and flung it high.
The starmap flashed upward, and wrapped taut around the ceiling.
“These are the Equestrian Core Worlds, Fokienia. Do you see that little green dot, there?”
Among the dozens and dozens of other lights—varying from green, to white, red, and yellow—that green dot burned brightest. “Yes.”
“That is where we are. I spend every day of my week making sure that little dot is green for ponies to send their reports. And what do I do with these reports, dear? I read. And I watch as the bureaucracy Twilight created exponentially grows.” She shook her head, and looked down. Fokienia kept her gaze drawn to the revolving map of the colonized worlds. “Behind each of those dots are hundreds to millions of ponies. And at these distances, they cannot rely on me to cater to their every need. They need leaders who can be there and rule with them. Ponies of the same character as those of Twilight’s time. But after years of living in the void, these ponies are so very, very rare.”
Fokienia leveled her gaze out with Celestia. The weariness in Celestia’s eyes was suddenly clear. “It pains me to know I cannot be there for my little ponies, dear. To know there is so much hurt and pain that goes unnoticed. There is little I can do but ensure that Equestria burns bright. We are the beacon in the sea of the void. The ideal world that all strive to be.” She smiled sadly. “Were I a different pony, were I as good at friendship as my Twilight Sparkle, I would have done all I could to ensure that ponykind could share Equestria’s sunlight. But all I can do is ask for them to do their best. I love them dearly, Fokienia. And yet, it pains me greatly to see them strike out in the void, to claim stars for their own, and struggle.”
With one final tap of her magic, Celestia sent the starmap swirling back away.
“I will not bade you any further, dear. You came to see Princess Celestia, not an ancient mare too bedraggled by a happening long in the past.”
“History is important to me,” Fokienia said quietly. “I never got the chance to learn much more than what the data-banks said about Equestria. And you.”
“For as wonderful as Equestria is, I wish more ponies could be like Cypress, and see how wonderful a gift their place in the stars is. I didn’t always... but Luna reminds me everyday, now.” She closed her eyes. “I’m sorry, dear.”
“Please don’t be sorry, princess. I want to hear more about the history... and the emotions you struggle with.”
“That’s very kind of you.” Celestia dabbed a corner of a wing to her eye. “But... I apologize regardless, dear. It is simply a part of me in this day and age.”
“It doesn’t have to be.”
“No... No, I suppose it doesn’t.” Once more, that perfect white smile returned, and Fokienia was all too happy to see it. “I understand that so much of this is new to you. I didn’t mean to overwhelm.”
“If I wasn’t overwhelmed, then I wouldn’t be forced to learn anything. It’s how I learn best, princess.” She cut in before the princess could respond. “It’s just how I am.”
“...I see.” Tenderly, Celestia lit her horn, and went for her drink. As she swallowed, a weak laugh bubbled up. “Listen to me, thinking practically. No, beyond the work, there is one thing I want most.”
Fokienia paused. “Anything.”
“I want to be your friend.” The princess fluffed her wings, and her ethereal mane and tail flowed with her. “I have all day for you, Fokienia. I had... a feeling, that you could help me. And I believe that I am correct.”
“I’d love to listen to you talk,” Fokienia repeated. “I’ve looked up to you my whole life, princess.”
“And why is that?” The question was soft, and non-accusatory.
Fokienia replied in kind. “Because I believed in you, and Equestria.”
Princess Celestia breathed, squeezing her eyes shut to do so. “It would please this princess greatly if you listened to her, dear.” She breathed a final great breath, and when here eyelids cracked open again, the magenta shine of her eyes washed over Fokienia’s very soul. “But be warned, I believe myself bound to dote on you endlessly in these coming moments.”
“I can be your friend, Princess Celestia. I’ll do my best.”
“And I as well. You will do more great things, Fokienia...” She fluffed her wings out, and after a moment, she was back to the picturesque princess. But Fokienia knew she was more than that: she was a pony who needed a friend, and somepony willing to listen. “I will not hold you to promises, but I will ask that you help ponies find peace. Ponies more in need of help than me.”
“But right now, I can help you.”
The princess’ words strummed like harp strings. “Thank you, Fokienia.”
The words tickled along Fokienia’s heart. With her focus on the world-weary princess, she held her ears high, and smiled. “...I think I’d like to hear more about Twilight Sparkle.”