Princess Celestia missed the sunlight.
Her throne room had been a magnificent and awe-inspiring space, befitting a sovereign ruler of Equestria. There’d been a time when a thousand courtiers a day would shuffle through the huge crystal doors and mill between the marble pillars, each vying for her favor. They would pack themselves into every corner for gatherings or proclamations, climbing onto the ledges beneath the stained-glass windows that depicted legendary scenes from Equestrian history. Daylight would fill the chamber from dawn to dusk, channeled by the architecture to warm every stone and erase every shadow.
But the shadows were thick today. The hall was full of them. Heavy curtains had been hitched up and drawn tight, blocking the beautiful artistry of the windows and the light they provided, and transforming the once-radiant hall into a gloomy dungeon.
She paced in front of her throne, frowning at the darkened corners of the chamber. She glanced at the closed doors, the beautiful engravings outlined by a small beam of light that struck its upper edge. There would be no visiting nobles or petitioners or musicians today. Not unless she opened it.
She turned around, pacing the other direction and looking up at the grand stained-glass window behind her throne, the one window that she had insisted remained uncovered. The depiction of herself and her sister was barely discernible through the filth caked across it. A cold sliver of sunlight filtered weakly through it, illuminating the center of the hall.
The click of the doorknob echoed across the chamber. Celestia stopped and faced the entrance as one mighty door cracked open, spilling a beam of scarlet into the hall. A pony stepped through, their coat painted crimson for a brief moment before the door shut behind them and engulfed them in shadow.
For several seconds the pony was lost to the gloom, their hoofsteps silenced by the plush rug. Finally they stepped into the light, taking the form of a bespectacled earth mare with an ivory coat. She carried a clipboard in her hoof and had a pencil tucked behind her ear. She wore her mane tight and neat, and her tail tighter and neater. She bowed, her nose brushing against the rug.
“Your Highness.” She straightened up, baring her teeth in greeting. “How are you doing this morning?”
“I am well, Raven.” Celestia turned to face her, politely returning the bow. “How go the renovations?”
“Proceeding according to schedule.” Raven kept showing her teeth. “You could order the curtains down, if you’d like to see for yourself.”
“Mm. No.” Celestia pursed her lips, looking towards one of the blocked windows. The curtain was plain and black. “I can’t open the hall. The renovations aren’t done.”
“Yes. Of course.” Raven looked down at her clipboard and pulled the pencil from her ear. “You have another busy schedule today.”
“Oh. Yes.” Celestia sighed. “A Princess’s work never ends.”
The renovations were taking quite a while, and the hall grew dimmer. Strange shapes cluttered the corners, their identities concealed under a blanket of shadow. The light from the tarnished window had weakened. Only a small circle of light surrounded the throne, and the alicorn standing fitfully in front of it.
The heavy doors opened. Raven stepped through the light, her silhouette framed in angry red, and shut the door behind her.
A minute passed. Celestia bit her lip, listening to the stones shift around her. Finally Raven stepped out of the shadows, teeth bared.
“Raven! Good afternoon.” Celestia pushed out a weary smile. “I just finished this letter for Twilight. Could you have it delivered for me?” Her horn glowed as she floated a letter towards the other mare.
Raven frowned at the mention of Twilight’s name, but accepted the letter nonetheless. Celestia was glad she couldn’t see the teeth anymore. “Of course, Your Highness.”
“Have you been able to get in touch with her at all?” Celestia asked hopefully. “It’s been so long since she sent a letter.”
“I’m sorry, Your Highness. She’s been quite busy with her work abroad.” Raven’s red eyes roamed the room. The letter was gone. “Your ponies are asking after you, Your Highness. They’re wondering when you’ll hold court again.”
Celestia did her best to keep the smile going. “I’m sorry, but I can’t. The hall is under renovation. It’s very important.”
Raven bared her teeth. It was not a smile.
Celestia sat on her throne. She could not see the floor, as the light from the window did not reach. She could not see anything, and that was how she liked it.
She jumped at the sound of hooves outside. The angry red light traced the shape of the doors as they opened, silhouetting a thing with the shape of a pony.
The doors shut, and Celestia was alone again. She fidgeted in her seat and glanced back at the tarnished window. Sunlight pushed through in only a few places, where the filth was thinnest.
Minutes passed. Celestia wiped a hoof against her cheek, and did not look at the red stain on her coat.
“Good evening, Your Highness.” Raven appeared at the base of the throne, barely more than an outline. “Are you well? You look pale.”
“Raven, do you know when the renovations will be done?” Celestia asked. “They must be done before sunset. It’s very important.”
“Is it?” Raven’s silhouette shifted, her red eyes disappearing as she looked to her clipboard. “There’s nothing on the schedule for today, Your Highness. You should relax. Open the curtains.”
“No, no. They can’t be opened.” Celestia shook her head firmly. “You know why, Raven. It’s not an option.”
“Your ponies want to see you. They miss you. Open the curtains. Say hello.”
“It would ruin the work.” Celestia shook her head again. “I’ve waited very long, and I’m sure they’re almost done. Tell them to hurry, please. I just need it done before sunset.”
Raven bared her teeth. They were just as red as its eyes. “As you wish.”
Celestia clenched her jaw.
Celestia sat on her throne. She held her head high, as a princess should, and did not look down. A single ray of light shone through the window behind her, haloing her head.
She heard the doorknob twist and closed her eyes. She did not look, but she still saw the maddening red light. She did not hear the hoofsteps, and she did not count the hours.
The renovations would be done soon, and then she would open the curtains. She would let the light back in, and the hall would be beautiful and clean like it was supposed to be. She would let her ponies in, and they would be happy and alive. They would smile without showing their teeth, and she would smile back.
“Celestia.”
Celestia did not open her eyes. She saw Raven standing on the side of her throne, red eyes and red teeth.
“I’m very busy, Raven,” she said. “A Princess’s work never ends, and I must have the hall ready before sunset.”
“We should open the curtains, Celestia. Don’t you miss the sunlight?”
“The work is almost done, Raven,” Celestia whispered. “We can let the light in once the hall is clean.”
“But Celestia, if we don’t open the curtains, you’ll miss the eclipse.”
Celestia’s eyes blinked open. She could not see anything, but the faint outline of the bloodsoaked window behind her throne. “Eclipse?”
“Yes, Celestia,” Raven purred. “You haven’t heard?”
“Twilight finally wrote. Nightmare Moon has returned.”
Concluded in Act Three: Ashen Horizons