Celestia entered her bedroom, her stoic mask falling as she closed the door behind her. A piece of her should have been excited, finding such a young and enthusiastic new student. Yet instead her heart thumped louder than any bell, mind racing with everything that might go wrong. She had already failed one student, she could not fail this one. As far as she knew, this might be her last chance.
She briefly considered the room before her, one that had been her own for so long the room she once shared with her sister seemed like another life entirely. It was befitting of a princess, elegant and perfectly kept thanks to the efforts of both herself and the castle staff. A armoire filled with outfits considered works of art, which she promptly stored her royal regalia in. A gorgeous carpet of pink, yellow, and white. A bed with sheets newly washed and more pillows than anypony knew what to do with. Finally, twin doors at the far end leading out to a balcony overlooking the city she had called home for one thousand years.
She knew that all of Canterlot’s nobility would wonder why it was that, as fitting as the room was for one of her stations, the princess cared little for how beautiful she was. For their sake, they would never learn the reason why.
With none of her subjects watching, Celestia allowed an anxious sigh to leave her muzzle. Light enveloped her, and where an alicorn once stood a young unicorn filly remained with a pure white coat and pink mane and tail. She steadied her breathing, calming her nerves and–
“Once again, you choose an excellent filly to take in as a student.”
– ground her teeth.
Where there had previously been no one, a creature now stood at the balcony railing. Its small, feline appearance seemed unassuming, and its eternal smile suggested kindness and innocence. That was a lie, much like the young, child-like voice that it spoke with. The only thing the filly found truthful was the way its giant, soulless eyes pierced into the very depths of her soul. Even then, a normal filly might see such a creature and think it was adorable.
Luna and herself certainly had fallen for that trap. She did not wish to think of the others both before and since that day in the Everfree who had taken its contract. The princess was all too thankful she never met any of her own while they were still ponies, with the exception of Cadenza. Poor, young Cadenza.
“As we have an agreement, Incubator,” Celestia, the true Celestia underneath the princess guise, spoke. “Twilight will not become a princess. Not until we are certain the elements can reverse the creation of a nightmare.”
“Yes we do,” the incubator spoke. It’s mouth didn’t move, its voice simply appearing from nowhere. Despite the distance between Celestia and itself, it sounded like the creature was right next to her. “I still do not see why you were so upset about my interactions with Sunset. She was more than willing to become a princess. I was simply going to fulfill what she desired.”
“A desire you no doubt placed within her,” Celestia replied, taking a few steps forward. In fear of being spotted by one of her little ponies, she did not go out onto the balcony, but the action helped her feel more in charge. “A desire you fuel by the promise of fulfilling a wish. All for a fate no living soul besides yourself fears.”
The incubator simply continued to gaze into her eyes, its own tail swishing rhythmically behind it. “We do not fear the end of the world, Celestia. You, of all ponies, should be more than aware that fear is an impossibility for me. We simply look for a way to combat the end of the universe.”
Celestia snorted in disgust then turned away. Her horn lit up, allowing her sun to fall and her sister’s moon to rise. While on many other days she deemed to look at her sister’s prison, reassuring the pony still within the nightmare she will be free, tonight she felt incapable of it. The knowledge she only had one more chance to make somepony into her sister’s savior weighed on her. Such an emotional response was good for the incubator, but not for herself.
“Sunset did not need to be a princess to find a cure,” she said, eyes briefly glancing at the armoire. Her thoughts were on her tiara, and the gem that her soul gem had been made into.
“It would have helped the universe, if your plans had failed. We have studied you enough, Celestia, to know that failure to save Luna will crush you.”
“Then it is a good thing that I will not fail.” Her words were marred with doubt, but she conjured up all the belief in them she was capable of. “If the elements can halt a nightmare, they most certainly can reverse it. They just need true bearers, like they had before you corrupted my sister.”
She turned her head back to the balcony, but the incubator was no longer there.
“It was the weight of being shunned by everypony around her that led your sister to become a nightmare,” the incubator’s voice rang out. Celestia spun around her room to find where the creature was, only finding it on her bed after the third time looking at it. Nothing in its posture had changed. “While her fall helps us, we are not responsible for what happened. You are, as well as the rest of Equestria.”
Celestia knew it was right, and around anypony else she gladly took the blame for what happened to Luna. When the incubator was around, however, she wanted to find every reason she could to hate it. It was the incubator that granted her foalish wish to see every sunrise, where her sister selflessly wished for the joining of the three tribes. It was the incubator who withheld what fate would eventually befall them both, and why it had to happen. The incubator should have felt guilty about how sister had been forced to fight.
It didn’t, because it wasn’t able to feel guilty. Every foal it signed a contract with was nothing more than a source of energy stave off a fate she and all of Equus would likely never see. Celestia wasn’t able to accept it. Even a thousand years later the idea of something being truly emotionless made no sense.
“If you succeed, then not only will you have your sister back,” Celestia grit her teeth again at the sound of the incubator’s voice. Something about the tone mocked her, even though she knew it was all in her head, “but there would be far less need to create more and more princesses. We would get our energy, and all sacrifices would simply be temporary.”
The princess closed her eyes and took a deep breath in, locking her anger away. Then, she nodded. “A win-win situation.”
“That said, while we incubators have agreed to not grant your next student wish, we will still be watching Twilight Sparkle’s development closely,” the incubator replied. It got up and made its way to the end of the bed, jumping down. “Our agreement only stays till your sister’s nightmare is dealt with. We are certain, even as an adult, she would make a fine princess.”
Celestia’s shoulders sagged as the incubator plodded past her, back to the balcony, and then out of sight. She had done all she was able to for young Twilight to avoid the incubator’s contacting her, but they were smart creatures. Still, there was a little pride that she had even managed a temporary no-contact clause with the creatures. She was certain no other fillies or colts had ever managed to do that.
As she was now all alone once again, and the sun had set, Celestia felt hunger greet her stomach. Her horn lit up, the armoire opening as she turned to it. She grabbed her royal regalia, placed her tiara back on her head, and light overtook her once again. Celestia the filly was replaced with Celestia the alicorn, who took a few steady breathes as she readied herself for a trip to the dining hall.
A princess did not fight her best on an empty stomach.