//------------------------------// // Calm // Story: Nine Days Down // by JoeShogun //------------------------------// She didn’t start with the first thing she remembered. She couldn’t. Talking to herself? Stroking her own mane and puking in a corner when she’d realized she was covered in…No. She wasn’t going to tell Celestia all that. She gave her the short version. Less about the crippling crisis of having her whole worldview smashed into pieces, more about ‘I saw this, and did this, and then…’ and so on. She didn’t talk about the pain, or the fear, or the ever-building, crazed anger that kept finding ways to slither out. Just the facts. She told Celestia about the dust-snake thing she’d found in the little underground shack. “Ash viper,” Celestia said, lips turning down in distaste. “Nasty things. They were never a part of Equestria, we found them here. They attack pretty much anything they see. Their venom turns a creature into that dust you found, but not all at once. The little monsters will keep striking off one bit at a time until it’s done.” Her eyes arched in what Twilight thought must be anger. “They get bigger from feeding on the ash, and once they’re big enough, they’ll split into about half a dozen little ones. They’ll keep that up until something meaner than they are kills them off. Or a good rain comes down. Water handles them nicely. Clever stroke, tossing it across the river. “But there was a shack, you say? I’ve never heard of such a thing here. Like the village before…Ah, sorry, please continue.” Twilight did so, though she, too, wondered about why there was a clearly hoof-made building just sitting underground like that. Also… “Does it rain here? I haven’t really seen any weather at all.” “Oh, there’s weather, when Tartarus is feeling feisty. It rains. Above ground, and below, though there are no pegasi to control it. And it isn’t always as simple as water falling from the sky." It was with great trepidation that Twilight then asked, “What is it, then?” “Well, a rain of blood, sometimes. Or a tornado of biting beetles, or a freezing fog or a flood of quicksilver. That kind of thing. I’ve no clue how it works.” “Huh. I guess we've been lucky not to see any of that." “Yes,” said Celestia. Moving right along, Twilight told Celestia of the manticore, and how she’d managed to side-step the creature. That one got a pleasant laugh. “Well done, dear! Mythological history really is an under-appreciated discipline.” Twilight felt a nice, warm, little glow at having someone acknowledge how totally true that was. Twilight carried on somewhat reluctantly to the pony she’d seen slumbering in those weird, mocking flowers. Celestia’s expression grew strange, and she took a long moment before she shrugged and spoke. “So even Tartarus couldn’t handle her. It surprises me that It was so light-handed with her, though, using the Yothga.” She stopped and looked at Twilight as though just remembering she was there. “Ah, sorry. I suppose that doesn’t explain much. Her name was, er, is Virago. She…Well, first off, you did the right thing, Twilight. That’s a good policy, not touching things you don’t understand. If you’d found some way to let her loose, I don’t even know what might have happened.” That was something of a relief. It had been niggling at Twilight since she’d left the place. “Okay. So, I did the right thing. But, who was she?” “Right. I’m sorry, Twilight, this one is a bit of a tricky subject for me. But then, you’ve always had a way with asking pointed questions.” Celestia blew out her cheeks and shook herself, as if trying to throw off some cumbersome cloak. “Virago is a Princess, like Luna and myself. And You. And she isn’t what you’d call evil, exactly. I don’t think I ever once saw her do anything out of malice. That’s what made it so hard, when we…when we had to banish her. We just didn’t know what else to do.” Twilight stayed quiet, just let her talk. “It would be easy to say that Virago is simply mad, I suppose, but that rather fails to encompass the situation.” Another silence. “What she is, Twilight, is madness itself." Twilight wasn't sure what to say, so she just tilted her head. “The Princess of Insanity," continued Celestia, answering the silent question. "If you can believe such a thing. Goddess was the original word. There were Gods or Goddesses of all kinds of things, in those days. Many didn’t survive. We fought, you see. And…anyway. She, like myself and Luna, and now you and Cadance, was the embodiment of an idea, and her idea was Madness. Have you noticed, Twilight, that you seem to spread friendship wherever you go?” Okay, that little paragraph raised, like, a thousand more questions. Twilight noted as many as she could down on her internal checklist, to be resolved later. “Well, Virago spreads crazy. It’s infectious. Her ‘song,’ that’s what we called it. It gets inside you, like a catchy tune, or a particularly intriguing daydream. It's so compelling. You can do anything while she’s with you, and it all feels completely natural. Only after you wake do you see the consequences of what you've done. That was what made her so dangerous: infinite freedom, unbound by responsibility of any kind.” Celestia wrung one hoof over the other again. “It gets worse the longer you're near her, just draws you deeper and deeper into her reality until there's no sanity left in you. She doesn’t mean to hurt anyone. She even thinks she’s making ponies better, somehow. It’s just what she is.” Celestia wasn’t looking at her. Just talking, and too fast. She was…what? Nervous? Ashamed? "It was why we tricked her into coming here." "Princess..." Twilight wished she knew what to say. She wanted to do something, to help somehow, darn it! “The, um, the Yothga that I mentioned earlier is the plant you saw. It eats…” Celestia waved a hoof in a sort of hopeless circle. “Essence, I suppose. The process kills most creatures. They just lay there under the thing until they starve out. But we god-things don’t starve, so…And from what I hear, sleeping under its influence is entirely pleasant. Just a happy dream that goes on forever. I almost wish we’d thought of using it. A way to contain two dangerous influences, using one to appease the other. Well done, Tartarus. Though I have to wonder how It accomplished it…Twilight? Can we please speak of something else? The memory of betraying my misguided cousin is—” “Oh! Of course! I’m sorry, if I’d known I wouldn’t have, um, well. Anyway, after that..." She spoke then of the singing thing, with its mass of half-living bodies. “Ah. A clot. It must have been guarding her. Those abominations are one of Virago's creations.” “What? She made them? On purpose?” Celestia’s lips turned to a bitter smile. “I’m afraid so. And would you like to know who gave her the idea?” Twilight was certain she didn’t, but she nodded mutely anyway. “Me,” the elder Princess spit. “I tried to tell her about harmony, and kindness, and unity, and how we could all do so much more together than alone. Those…things were her answer to the dilemma of individuality, a way to bring everyone together. Literally.” She sighed. “Do you see what I meant, about her being dangerous? It never even occurred to her that a pony might not want what she tried to give them. And the clots weren’t even the worst of her ideas. The actual creature is a little thing, no bigger than a starfish, and similar in many ways. It stumbles onto some unfortunate host, and once it’s in, well, you saw what happens. I don’t think there’s any limit on how big they can get. They just keep dragging in more victims until something worse than they are puts an end to them. Luna or myself, usually, or a dragon, or some other such monster.” There was something in Celestia’s tone that Twilight didn’t like. This wasn’t the first time she’d heard it. “Um, Princess?” “Yes?” “You’re not worse than them.” Celestia opened her mouth as if to speak, then clicked it shut. Then she smiled, maybe a bit embarrassed, and Twilight thought she might be about to cry again. “I apologize for the dramatics. I’m afraid I’ve always had a bit of an addiction to guilt. Thank you, Twilight, for being so...well, just for being who you are.” Twilight wasn’t quite sure what to say to that, so, in lieu of words, she got up and circled the fire, settling herself down close to Celestia. Maybe it was a demonstration of trust or something. She didn’t know. It just seemed like the thing to do. She smiled up at Celestia and then carried on with her tale. “So, it wasn’t too long after that that I met this little guy.” She nodded toward Bait, smiling fondly. He was curled up in a ball near where she'd been a moment ago. He gave no indication of having heard her. Probably snoozing. Ben perched on his back, possibly doing the same. Seeing them sleep made Twilight realize how tired she was getting, sitting here warm and relatively safe with friends and a nice little fire. She suppressed a yawn and forged ahead through her meeting Bait, coming to the encounter with the ‘shrimp.’ She kept her voice down, so as not to wake anypony. Celestia cringed at the mention of them. “Eugh. I’m glad you got through that as quickly as you did. Those things are sapient, you know. Not tool users, because they don’t have to be, but Luna could speak with them. They worship the worst of the old god-things, and they followed them to Tartarus willingly. They’d flood the whole world in horror if they could, and think they were doing us all some kind of favor. ‘Liberating us from the shackles of morality,’ or some such drivel. Calling them evil would be a polite understatement.” “Wow. Luna could talk to them, you said? I remember reading something about that from the before, from your old diary. Why can she talk to things nopony else can? Fluttershy does that too. ” “So she does. Honestly? I have no idea how your friend learned to speak with critters. Likely something to do with the magic of cutie marks. But in Luna’s case, we wonder if it isn’t simply because she’s a creature of darkness. She’s always thought she was a bit of a monster herself, no matter how much I tried to assure her otherwise. But in the end, her talent saved many lives. It was through her that we found ways to negotiate with the more, ah, difficult members of our world. She never gave herself enough credit for that. No one did...” Celestia’s eyes were going distant again, reliving some failure from long, long ago. She made an obvious effort to shake herself out of it. “Regardless, I suppose that’s something you might want to ask her about sometime. I think she’d appreciate having someone other than me to talk to about these matters.” Twilight resolved that she most certainly would. "Right. So, after that…” Twilight made no mention of the little episode with Bait after the shrimp, and when she got to the part where she’d been cornered by his family, she made no mention of his part in it. Still, she choked up a bit there. All she really said about it was “There was a fight.” Twilight struggled to fill the silence that followed with anything that came to mind, but nothing did. She just sat there for a terrible eternity, brimming over with words she dreaded and needed and just couldn’t seem to say. She was glad Bait had fallen asleep. “And you won,” said Celestia. “Because they gave you no other choice. Where did you go after that?” A terrible tightness fell from Twilight's chest. She ran from it. “Right! I went down the tunnel the centaur pointed at! Even though I thought maybe he was lying and I yelled at him, but, a-anyway…” Twilight stumbled onward, rambling. She hadn’t even mentioned there was a centaur before, but whatever. She talked about how Ben had found her, somehow, and that part was nice at least. “Pets always seem to be able to find their ponies, don’t they? Scream-spiders especially. They always show up at the most…” Celestia’s smirk was slightly beleaguered. “Interesting times.” Twilight recounted how Ben had re-introduced himself, and had to agree. She wondered at Celestia’s history with the critters. She’d said something about them being a sort of living practical joke. How did that work? One more thing to bring up later. Twilight mentioned the creepy little dinner party she’d seen, taunting her with all that wonderful food. “Hmph,” snorted Celestia. “I’ve never seen that one before. You didn’t eat any of it, did you? “What? No, of course not. Way too obvious. I think it was just there to, I dunno, be gross, or make me angry or something.” Celestia nodded. “That sounds like something Tartarus would enjoy.” Twilight got to the part where Bait had met up with her again, with his pack full of wonderful, wonderful food. Again, she didn’t mention much of what had happened, just that it had and that they were together again. She glossed over most of the following events with the lamprey creatures, but slowed down a bit when she came to what had happened with Nuckalavee. Celestia’s eyes widened in surprise. “Nuckalavee!?” She gave Twilight a careful, appraising look, as if surprised to see her, surprised that she was alive. But there was more to it. Was she impressed? Intrigued? “How did you handle that devil, Twilight?” “I didn’t. Not really. I tried, but then…” Twilight told her about the sudden, violent appearance of Cretes. She left out the crushing feeling of loss she’d had when he hadn’t been who she’d thought. Celestia’s eyes narrowed sharply. She looked Twilight over again, like she was checking for injury. “You met Cretes again? Did he…he didn’t try anything, did he?” Twilight laughed, a bit giddy. “Yeah, he tried. I mean, he asked if I, I mean…Nothing happened! I told him, well, I said…” Twilight gave her former teacher the short version of how that little talk had gone. Celestia’s face locked up for a moment. Then she burst out laughing. “Did you actually say that!?” Twilight blushed a bit. “Oh, that is fantastic, Twilight! Hah! The look on his face must have been priceless!” Twilight agreed that it had been, but she had something she’d been wanting to ask about all that. “So, um, why was Cretes banished here? I mean, he’s kind of a jerk, but he doesn’t really fit in. He just doesn’t seem that bad. He even offered to help me, actually. And Bait too.” Celestia sobered rapidly. Twilight was almost sorry to have asked. “You remember how, when we met him, he asked if I wanted to…well. You know.” “Yes.” “And how he asked you the same question, later?” “Ok.” Twilight wasn’t sure why Celestia kept emphasizing that one word. “We banished him because, back then, he didn’t.” “Didn’t what?” “Ask." Twilight blinked. “I’m not sure I understand.” ~~~ Celestia tried to take it as a grand compliment to the society she had helped forge that Twilight didn't understand what she was saying. She might have sidestepped the subject completely on any other day, but she’d made a promise to answer questions. As such, she explained with blunt efficiency what Cretes had done to earn himself a place in Tartarus. She watched Twilight’s face screw up in a complicated mess of emotion. Surprise was in there, and then disgust. Maybe a pinch of disbelief. “That…” Twilight worked her mouth, as if trying to figure out the shape of the words. “That happens?” “Rarely, nowadays. Luna and I saw to that.” She left out the tidbit about how she might simply have had every perpetrator of that particular crime executed if not for Luna’s intervention. Celestia had never suffered it herself; even a brute like Cretes wasn’t stupid enough to try such a thing with her. But nonetheless, rape was a crime for which Celestia held a very singular loathing. And a pretty, young alicorn like Twilight, caught alone in a land that was already so dangerous…that was just the kind of situation the bull would happily take advantage of. “And he did that?” Celestia nodded. “Oh,” she said. That was all. But Celestia saw the shudder work through her. She was sure Twilight was holding something back. She’d been holding a lot back. She wished she could say it wasn’t like Twilight, but…there it was. She always tried to hold it all in, in front of Celestia, at least. And Celestia knew that prodding her, even if only to help her bear the weight of whatever was haunting her, would only make things worse right now. She would lock down, shove the bad memories away, desperately pretend that everything was fine, just fine! Until she cracked. It took conscious effort for Celestia to keep the worry from her face. Best to keep things moving. Twilight was tough. She would get through this. She would. ~~~ “But,” Celestia sighed with a huff. "Maybe he’s changed. A little.” She smiled, light and kind. “Maybe it’s time we considered letting him come home. We can think about it later. What happened next?” They were both relieved to move on, it seemed. But not for long. Twilight told her more, about how Cretes had been taken, or possessed, or whatever, by Tartarus itself. She told her what It had done. “It spoke to you!?” Celestia’s face crinkled up in confusion. Twilight nodded, and told her what It had said. Celestia just sat there for a long moment. “I haven’t seen Tartarus do such a thing in centuries, Twilight. Millennia. I can barely remember when last It spoke.” “Is that...bad?” “I can’t imagine it means anything good. I thought Tartarus was trying to kill you, but if it’s trying to claim you…I don’t know which is worse. Either way, you’ve clearly piqued Its interest.” Celestia was tapping a hoof to her jaw, looking deeply disturbed. “Is that why it ignored me? Too busy poking at the new Princess? It did something similar with Luna and me, long ago, but I suppose It’s grown bored of us.” Her gaze was distant, thoughts working on some unknown level. “What does that mean, It’s trying to ‘claim’ me?” “Hm? Oh, sorry. I’m not entirely certain of how it works, but I know that anything that stays in Tartarus long enough…changes, somehow. Becomes a part of it. I don’t know what exactly that change is. It might be mystical, or physical, or it may be nothing more than a change of mind. Luna thought it worked that way: that once something believes it belongs here, that it deserves this, or that there truly is no escape, that belief becomes reality. It becomes another of Tartarus’s residents, or prisoners, or whatever It thinks the creatures here are.” She shook her head. “I’ve never known Tartarus to care a whit for the lives of anything it holds, but It will fight tooth and bloodied nail to keep them from escaping. Perhaps that’s what happened? Tartarus worried Cretes might be trying to get himself out, along with you, so it took hold of him? It’s rare to see It move so directly, though.” “Could it do it again? To me? Or to…” Twilight's voice dropped to a tiny, agonized whisper. “To Bait? Or Ben?” “Hmmm.” Celestia appraised them both with a discerning eye. “You, no. You’re made of sterner stuff than Cretes ever was, and you haven’t been here near long enough, besides. As to your friends? I’m not sure. Ben doesn’t strike me as something that really belongs, no matter how long he’s been here, but Bait…I would guess It could.” Twilight’s visage trembled. “W-what do we do? If It can just, at any time, I mean—“ “There’s nothing we can do, Twilight, except to watch, and be careful. Tartarus is many things, but subtle is not one of them. If It forces Bait against us, we’ll see it coming, just like you did with Cretes. And I suspect, since it possesses people so rarely, that it costs Tartarus something. There may be rules to it we don’t know, or some other hidden price to be paid. Try not to worry over it. Just remember that Bait is not to blame.” “Y-yeah. It’s just, er. I mean, you’re right, of course. It’s just scary.” Celestia nodded. “It is. But we will handle it, if it comes to that. There is a trick or two I can try, but it would be best to assume the worst and just keep an eye out." Twilight nodded, feeling lost. “But, moving on. For all his moral failings, Cretes is a mighty opponent. How did you deal with him?” “Oh, right. Well…” Twilight bumbled through her defeat by the bull and his absurd amount of horns. She related Bait’s escape, as he’d told it, and the rather unorthodox means he had used to rescue her. Celestia laughed at the last part. “Only a true friend would do that!” “I know!” exclaimed Twilight, dropping to a whisper when Bait stirred. “That’s exactly what I told him.” She skipped most of the next part, with the running and the trembling and the desperate attempt to pretend things were going to be okay. She barely remembered most of it anyway. That brought her to the strange and unnerving meeting with Briareos. She didn’t mention the part about nearly shooting Ben. She started to stumble over her words about half-way through, the weird pseudo-guilt of having running off from him bubbling back up. “I felt terrible about it. But I just couldn’t! I was scared, and he was so…b-but that last look he had as we left…Should I have stayed? But then, why did he send me down that tunnel? Into Blackbriar? He knew what was there, right? Was he trying to hurt me? Is he dangerous, or..?" Celestia nodded, but it was less an answer than a simple acknowledgment of Twilight’s distress. “Briareos is unbelievably dangerous, yes, but, no, he wasn’t trying to harm you, Twilight. He doesn’t feel pain or fear the way a pony would, and almost nothing can threaten him anyway, so it doesn’t always occur to Briareos to warn others about things that may harm them. Would it surprise you if I told you he was just as distraught about how things went as you are?” Twilight blinked. “Yes?” ~~~ Celestia’s hooves sparked against the dirt path, leaving molten prints as she tore across the road at a dead sprint. She was breaking the rules, going too fast, too hard. Her mortal body couldn’t do this forever. And she was running blind now: Celestia had passed the point Twilight had reached when she’d made her deal. She’d just about screamed when she’d reached that final point and found only scorched earth and an empty field. But that would have been a waste of time, so she'd just kept running instead, following the road, hoping that Twilight had done the same. She didn’t know whether to be elated or terrified when the path became choked with overgrown, mutant vegetation. She knew this place: Lupuna, jungle of the sorcerer trees. It was fairly calm, for Tartarus, because something far more deadly than a copse of grumpy plantlife had made its home here. Celestia struggled to remember which of the hekatonkhire had claimed the jungle. They moved around sometimes, so it could be any of them. As long as it wasn’t Cottos, things should be fine. Should be. She stormed on until she saw the little cave entrance, and only checked her pace when she noticed the gleam of two glittering eyes in the murk. She slowed to a halt, snuffing the flames of her wings and mane and tail with a flick of her will. She breathed hard. Sweat poured off her, now that it wasn’t boiling into steam. “Briareos? May I come in?” The floating head bobbed, and disappeared into the cave. Celestia followed at a run. Thank the sweet heavens! It was Briareos! He at least tried to be decent. Even helpful, sometimes. He’d guided her home more than once. She opened her mouth to start talking as soon as the cavern opened up, half to get things moving as quickly as possible and half to give herself no time to really look at the creature within. Even after all these years, seeing him made her shudder in disgust. A twinge of shame came with involuntary reaction. It’s not his fault he’s like this. “Good tidings, dear Aunt Celestia,” said Briareos in his rustling chorus, quite effectively cutting her off. Celestia paused at the tone. The the words were welcoming, and most of the voices were too, but there was something else in there… Most of the hekatonkhire was present. A few heads were off doing whatever they did, but the bulk of his body had been lifted out of its usual place of rest to greet her. Dozens of opalescent arms and slime-wrapped skulls gestured in a sort of grand, multitudinous welcome. “I had reason to believe you would arrive at some point, my Aunt. My apologies for having naught to make your arrival more pleasant.” Many of his fingers tapped the ground, the tick revealing an obvious case of nerves. Why!? What had he done!? Celestia clamped down on her own paranoia. “Ah, yes. Think nothing of it, Briareos. I must apologize in return.” She bowed slightly with a modest spread of her wings. “I am in something of a hurry, and have no time to talk.” Many heads nodded at this. Others looked away. Fewer still glared at her, glowing eyes full of something ineffable and inimical. “I expected as much.” Disappointment tinged much of him. “You seek the other pony who recently came to Tartarus.” “Yes! Please! Did she come here? Where did she go? Was she well?” “Yes,” answered Briareos, with typical lack of explanation. There was entirely too much of his mother in him for Celestia’s taste. “She left for Blackbriar some time ago. I could not say if she was well.” “Blackbriar!?” howled Celestia. “You sent her through fucking Blackbriar!? Did you even warn her what was in there!?” A visible tremble ran through the gelatinous creature. Celestia knew that for what it was: any major dilemma, any source of great disagreement, dissonance, or simple discomfort between Briareos’s many minds manifested in a spasm that ran through his whole body. “I am afraid she did not ask.” Celestia stomped one hoof into the stone floor, leaving a cracked, smoldering hoofprint before she could speak again. When she did, her voice was calm, soothing. “I am sorry, Bri. I didn’t mean to yell. I know that dealing with other people can be difficult for beings such as us. Just, please. Tell me what happened.” “As you will, Aunt-Princess. To be succinct, our conversation did not go as smoothly as we might have liked,” he continued. “We fear I may have misspoken, or engaged in some faux-pas. We hadn’t meant to frighten her. We thought to be civil, as she was very polite.” Many eyes glinted with a bit of mirth. “She didn’t even vomit upon seeing me, like so many do. But…” Briareos’s many hands wrung at each other, all levity evaporating. “She did not tarry. She ran from me.” “Oh, Bri.” “I did not harm her, or force her to stay. I remember your words on such things, and Luna’s.” “She meant no insult, Bri. She just doesn’t know you. This wasn’t your fault.” The massive, living lake of bone and gel said nothing. He wouldn’t look at her. Most of him, anyway. The good parts. Many enormous hands waved despondently. “Your words are charitable, if untrue. We thank you for attempting to unburden us.” There was a long pause. Celestia had to fight herself not to fidget. Time was wasting. Under normal circumstances, as far as circumstances were ever normal in Tartarus, she would have gladly stayed to visit. Briareos was strange, and looking at him always made her feel a bit ill, but under that terrible visage and unnerving alien affectation was a good soul. Mostly. He was always so happy to just have someone to talk to. But there wasn’t time. But he so clearly needed her. But so did Twilight! DamnDamnDamn! “I cannot stay, Bri.” Her voice was soft. “I’m sorry, and I thank you for your help. But I have to go.” “Of course. But, before you leave?” Briareos spoke almost reluctantly. Barely half of his heads whispered the words. “Yes?” “You called to my mother before. I heard, dimly, but could not see. I felt that she moved, but little more. Tell me.” He stopped for a long time. “Did she answer you?” “She did.” “Ahh.” Another silence. “It has been very long indeed since she has deigned to respond to me.” Without stopping to think, Celestia stepped forward, laying her neck across the closest gelatin-coated skull. She placed a wing over its neck too, for good measure, choking down her revulsion at his sticky-slick skin. It’s not his fault that he’s like this! It isn’t mine, for being disgusted! Life had been so harsh to the brothers. She had been so harsh to them, and Luna too, when they had both been young and stupid. She could at least give him a hug, since Terra obviously couldn’t be fucking bothered. Celestia wanted to stay. She ached to do what little she could to lessen his pain, but there was no time. Not now. “I’m sorry, Briareos. Life has never been kind to you, and for my part in that, I am sorry. Thank you for guiding Twilight on her way. I wish I could stay.” The fluid flesh of the hekatonkhire wriggled for just a moment, another spasm, before turning stable again. “Aye. We…I thank you for your sympathy, Aunt. But yes. You must go. We hope that your quest goes well. Tell Twilight Sparkle that she has my apologies. For…everything, I suppose.” “I will.” Celestia pulled away. She let the tears come, let them ignite, let her hate at the injustice of this place, this situation, this whole world fuel her onward. She streaked, meteoric, for Blackbriar. ~~~ “You talked to him?” Celestia nodded again. “Briefly. I met him much as you did. He expressed great concern over having frightened you, and wished to convey his apologies for it.” “He…oh.” The revelation did nothing to make Twilight feel better about the exchange. “That said, he seemed to think rather highly of you. Apparently you carried yourself very well, which doesn’t surprise me at all, of course,” she said with a quick wing hug and a smile. Celestia was always doing that. Paying her little compliments, just to try and make her feel better. Twilight never quite knew what to say. She usually just got all bashful and hid behind a smile. She did that now. “And that, I think, brings us to where we are now, yes? Quite an adventure.” Celestia gazed down at her, huge, violet eyes wide and glittering with something Twilight couldn’t quite put a hoof on. She felt like she’d seen it before. Maybe not on this particular face, but somewhere. “I suppose so.” On another day, Twilight might have thought of something more graceful to come back with. But she was just so tired. “But you came through it all in one piece, and with a few new friends, even. I’ve never seen anything like it. I never would have even guessed it possible. You really are something, Twilight Sparkle. ” There she went again, with the compliments. Twilight was feeling quite warm, of a sudden. The moment hung while she tried to piece together what it was she was doing right now. She felt like she’d been here before. Not the place, but the situation. Next to somepony, very close. Gazing deep into her eyes…It felt like she was trying to figure out a puzzle she'd already solved, but the answer didn’t quite make sense this time. It was still the right answer, but…it couldn’t be the same thing, right? She just needed one more clue, and she could figure this out. “Well,” said Celestia, breaking a tension Twilight hadn’t known was there. “You’re probably exhausted, and we may not get another chance to rest. Things are only going to get crazier out there, I think. Why don’t you try to get some sleep?” “Um, Princess?” asked Twilight, still trying to solve the riddle. She remembered some of those looks Celestia had given her before. She lined them up with the one she was seeing now, and looks just like this that she’d seen on other faces. She couldn’t be right. But then...maybe she was? “Hm?” Celestia looked down. Twilight wasn’t sure exactly how she managed to cross that impossible distance between them. It had only been a few inches, sure, but she’d never dared even really think of trying to bridge this particular gap before. Princess Celestia gasped a muffled little ‘Mph!’ as Twilight kissed her. Her eyes went wide, wings flared out and… Well, that was probably what happened. Twilight didn't see it. Her eyes were closed. That’s what usually happened though. People always seemed surprised when she kissed them, for some reason. Anyway, there was no grand explosion of light when it happened. No revelatory, orgasmic burst of pleasure or gnostic wisdom like Twilight had spent way too much time fantasizing about when she’d been a weird, lonely teenager. Just two pairs of lips meeting for the first time, soft and skittish and wonderful as any first kiss should be. And, of course, far superior to the tawdry nonsense she’d always imagined. A bit less flashy though. Twilight put in the slightest bit of tongue, just barely licking at Celestia’s lips, terrified she’d be slapped away any second now but unable to stop herself. Might as well go for it, at this point. There was no slap. No hoof shoved her away. But no tongue met hers, either. After a time, Celestia slowly backed away. She looked down at Twilight in a sort of wonder, like she, too, had just stumbled onto something totally unexpected but surprisingly pleasant. Twilight was just about to speak, though she had no idea what to say, when a wicked grin split Celestia’s face. Then she shattered into pieces. Her face cracked as the façade collapsed, lines going jagged and uneven, falling out of place like a reflection in a broken mirror. Her eyes gleamed with gleeful, mad malice. “I can’t believe you fell for it! Again!”