“Open your eyes, princess,” grunted a beleaguered Noteworthy as he paced the room with urgent candor.
Princess Twilight deflated in her throne, betraying an aggravated sigh. “Must I address this issue right now and on my birthday of all days?”
“The duties of the throne wait for no one,” he replied.
That was an evergreen adage throughout her tenure but especially of late.
“Duties,” she scoffed. “That's all anything is.”
“We can not afford to cede any more territory to the griffons,” he argued emphatically. “They and most other nations, I fear, now see you as a weak and ineffective leader. We will be inviting more conflict and exploitation from every bad actor on the world stage. I beg of you to take swift and decisive action and send a message-”
“Leave me,” she mumbled callously, eyes on the floor.
“Princess-” pleaded the stallion.
“Tomorrow, advisor. I will attend my party now.”
Noteworthy took a deep breath through his nose, waiting in vain for him to come to her senses and reconsider. “Yes, your highness.” he bowed in defeat and promptly departed from the room in a flash of orange magic.
Despite her ploy about other superseding engagements, the princess tarried in the empty throne room, wallowing in her isolation. Profound hollowness seeped inside her once again, a void that she'd felt trapped in for a hundred, maybe two hundred years. She ruminated without purpose until her old choleric senses finally spurred her to action.
Twilight blinked from out of her chair of authority and returned to her chamber where her nearly panicking beauty entourage was waiting to make her look perfect for her special day. Without a word, she stood before the vanity and allowed them to fuss over her mane and tail, her eyelashes and hooves.
In truth, she cared very little for the party. In truth, having a party at all almost felt obscene. For such a momentous occasion, Morale in Equestria had to be at an all time low. For most, a millennial birthday for the princess was a magnificent, once in a lifetime event but today was darkened under the shadow of crises at home and abroad made worse by Twilight's own growing absenteeism.
A thousand years alive. A thousand years of crawling on this little dirt ball floating in space. Practically just as many ruling Equestria. It was inevitable that Twilight's heart panged with aching reflection on her life, on all she'd seen, all she'd gained and all she'd lost. Only now did she realize just how cold it all felt.
It was so strange. Her life before ascending to the throne seemed so miniscule now within the big picture, a single brush stroke in a painting one might not even notice if it went missing. It was a speck on the horizon behind her, the last flash of light from a setting sun that took with it the memories of a beautiful day that would never come again.
The mare in the mirror was stern and unapproachable; she did not look like the Princess of Friendship. Her narrowed eyes flicked over to the side of the vanity mirror where they began to meander through a constellation of ancient photographs. She collected images of smiling faces she hadn't seen in centuries.
Her brother, her father and the mare who birthed her. It was hard to imagine there used to be a time long ago where they were her entire world. They'd been the most important ponies, responsible for shaping Twilight in her formative years but now they were but an abstract concept, an illegible tombstone.
Spike. His photo was by far the most recent of her original friends and family, the last picture ever taken of him. Though she was dwarfed by his immense size, he was actually quite sick and weak. Still, he managed to hold her in his arms.
Then there were her five friends, the ones she met back when she lived in Ponyville generations ago. Together they’d defeated foes, triumphed over adversity and grown as ponies into champions of Equestria. They were the greatest comrades she’d ever had and yet sometimes she had trouble remembering all their names off of the top of her head.
She looked back on those times with hazy recollection but kept what she still knew on a golden pedestal in her mind. The memories wove a threadbear tapestry, faded and romanticized but priceless nonetheless.
All that said, friendship had long since become slippery for Twilight, a fleeting and futile pursuit altogether. They would always leave. It gave her existential pause. The more disenchanted that she became with the throne, the more she found herself retreating into that bygone era, sifting through photos and reveries, chasing the ghost of those feelings of fulfillment and togetherness. She didn’t remember that time as much as she wished but she was certain that it was where she truly belonged. That was her Shambhala and it had slipped through her hooves.
Out of thin air, Former Princess Celestia appeared at her side with a dour face rivaling her own.
“May I speak with you in the library before the festivities begin?” she questioned tersely.
“As you wish,” droned Twilight, sparingly her only a moment's glance.
She allowed her servants to finish her beauty routine before teleporting to her personal library for an unwanted talk with her longtime mentor.
Former Princess Luna was also present, all but lurking in the corner, seemingly consumed with hopelessness.
“I hope this won't take long,” began Twilight, approaching the reading table which stood between them. “I wouldn't want to be late to my own party.”
Celestia wasted no time launching into her tirade. “Noteworthy tells me you are deferring action on the griffons’ latest brazen encroachment on our border.”
“That is correct,” Twilight replied flatly.
“You have all but turned a blind eye to this and so many other threats we face. Your behavior anymore is tantamount to abdication and not just that, think of the optics.”
Twilight rolled her eyes. “The optics,” she parroted mockingly.
“Yes, a grandiose celebration for you while we sit back and watch our very sovereignty dissolve.” Celestia pointed a hoof at her. “You've become a feckless coward.”
“Sister,” Luna tried to interrupt.
“You're throwing away everything we've built, everything I gave you,” spat the white alicorn.
“Everything you gave me?” scoffed Twilight with an incensed hoof on her chest. “This isn't what I wanted; you duped me into this role and then ran off.”
“I did no such thing,” gasped Celestia in shock. “Petulant child!”
“Can we please not do this today?” pleaded Luna.
Twilight slammed a hoof on the table. “How could I have any concept of the years and what they do to you and the pain and the losses that just stack up and stack up?”
“That is life, princess,” she snarled back. “You have to find good things to balance your scale or you fall apart. That’s not just a problem for alicorns and it's not an issue that can be solved by running away and hiding in your little fantasy world of yesteryear while Equestria crumbles.”
Twilight gritted her teeth. “You will never understand. I have given nearly a millennium to this country. If you think Equestria needs saving from me then be my guest and step right up. You know where the throne is… Now, if we're done here, please excuse me, I need to attend my thousandth birthday party which you were so insistent upon throwing.”
“Try to smile,” murmured Luna, pointing to her own tired, fake smile.
It only reminded her that real smiles are in the eyes.
“I hope to see the both of you there,” nodded Twilight curtly. “We wouldn't want to have bad optics.”
The reigning princess of Equestria graced the party with her presence. Despite the sourness of the mare of the hour and the waning shine of the throne, the occasion was no less magnificent in appearance, the grandest event she could remember; it was too bad she wasn't in better spirits.
Things were a bit stodgy and formal but it suited the company. The ponies present were allies and acquaintances but they weren't friends. She had lost understanding of the word. These were distant descendants of friends and family who bore little resemblance to the venerated ancestors she used to love.
A great tower of gifts was under continuous construction upon a multi tier stack of tables rising almost to the ceiling. There were chocolate and confectionary sculptures on every table showcasing milestone events during her rule. They even had little informative placards.
That would have been something Pinkie Pie created probably if she were around, she thought. Or scarfed down… or both. Pinkie’s abundant personality was one of her most vivid memories from the friendship era.
Twilight sat at the high table flanked by a pair of brooding sisters. The three of them were a triad of storm clouds but at least Cadance and Flurry Heart were also there. Cadance was the only true friend she had left, a fellow traveler from the same time period. Twilight shared much more with her than she did with anyone else, even Celestia. Not that she saw herself as being close to her anymore and certainly not on good terms.
Twilight endured all the trials of her own celebration and even smiled a few times for photos. Celestia, though seething, bit her tongue and kept her ireful opinions to herself all throughout. The gathering marked the occasion but it lacked joy. - - -
“Open your eyes, princess,” Pinkie practically screamed.
Twilight moved her hooves out of the way and let her eyes flutter open. Before her was a life sized chocolate shell likeness of herself as a young alicorn at her coronation. Every detail from the feathers on her wings to the socketed gem in her golden circlet was meticulously fashioned with a cornucopia of different colored candies and frostings. It was like an edible parade float.
Twilight gasped with elation. “This is so incredible, Pinkie!”
“Thank you,” she smirked. “I really had to outdo myself if I wanted to do justice to your thousandth birthday.”
Twilight drew her into a hug. “Oh, thank you so much!”
“You haven't even seen the rest of them,” she giggled. Pinkie grabbed the princess’ head in her hooves and turned her away to face a veritable sculpture garden of chocolate Twilights in various poses depicting her many notable accomplishments over her hundreds year reign of peace and prosperity.
“Oh my goodness!” Her eyes soaked in the unbelievable feat of culinary art before falling on Rainbow Dash who was standing there with her tongue provocatively glued to the cheek of one statue as she waited to be noticed.
“Rainbow,” scolded Applejack. “Wait fer the party… Actually, on second thought, just don't do that at all.”
“Alright, that's enough about chocolate,” blurted Rarity impatiently. “I'm dying to show you your new party dress.”
“Alright, alright, let's go,” agreed Twilight excitedly. “You know, it hasn't even started yet and I say this every year but I already feel like this is the best party ever.” - - -
“Celestia's peeking,” shouted Rainbow through her hooves.
“I am not,” gasped a blindfolded Celestia as she swung the stick again with her magic. It connected hard with the piñata crafted to look like Twilight’s magic sparkle cutie mark. The festive vessel burst open, spraying toys over a crowd of delighted partygoers.
Twilight laughed and clapped her hooves with glee at her mentor's success. Then she sighed. “We're a thousand years old. We're still throwing parties that look like pricey cute-ceañeras. Doesn't it all seem a bit silly?”
“Maybe,” shrugged Applejack. “But so what? Yer the princess of Equestria. It's yer thousandth birthday. You’re allowed to get what ya want. An’ besides, Canterlot Castle already sees its share o’ formal events; it's nice ta mix it up sometimes. Everyone's havin’ fun and don't ya think it's a hoot seein’ all these stuffy business ponies an’ foreign dignitaries playin’ party games fer kids?”
“It really is,” she admitted, scanning over the gathering of awkward but optimistically compliant ponies.
Pinkie was still in the bounce castle; she hadn't left it since they did the cake ceremony. Even rarity and her circle of like-minded fancy socialites were making spin art and playing pin the tail on the pony.
Everyone had found these things fun at one point, perhaps at another birthday party long ago. Everyone could enjoy doing them again; it was just a matter of letting go of the adulthood fear of looking foalish.
“Behold the spoils of victory,” boasted Celestia, holding up her hoof in front of Twilight's nose. She had a bouncy ball, a party blower and a little ball maze shaped like a fish. She rattled the maze in the air with her magic and smiled. “They didn't have these when I was a filly. This was such a wonderful idea.”
“Thanks,” nodded Twilight. “But I can't take all the credit. Pinkie and Rarity were the ones who threw it all together like they always do.”
Celestia absently bounced her new ball on the floor with her magic as she thought. “You know, once again I have to express just how proud I am of you. Not everyone can pull off such a long, peaceful and prosperous reign. You're still just as benevolent and well grounded as you ever were.”
Twilight laughed. “That means a lot coming from you… But again, it wasn't all me of course. I honestly don't know if I could have done it without my amazing friends behind me the whole way.” - - -
The fireplace crackled as Twilight milled about her study late that evening. The room was stuffed full of presumably quite extravagant gifts for her to unwrap in her own time. Birthday presents and foreign gifts were different when you were the Princess of Equestria. They were always political gestures of goodwill intended to impress, leaning on their exquisite uniqueness or their outrageous cost. There was never anything personal, never anything that sparked the joy of her inner foal and most of the offerings were technically given to the castle or the state like artifact donations to a museum. She hadn't been excited for gifts in centuries. If anything, the real gift she’d received today was something to take her mind off of life. lf there was one thing she still appreciated, it was distractions, diversions and escapism.
Twilight ripped open the gold leaf paper encapsulating a modest sized parcel. The wooden box beneath opened to reveal an ornately patterned blanket crafted and gifted by the yaks of Yakyakistan, one of the few pony friendly nations left. She unfurled the piece, floating it into the air to admire the time honored artisanry of Yakyakistani loomwork. For most outsiders it was unexpected to see such dainty, careful work from a race known primarily for their rough and tumble culture.
She opened the short and simple accompanying letter addressed to her.
Princess Twilight,
Yaks make best blanket. No hang on wall. Use for warmth. Blanket show fabled Pink Pony ambassador from long ago. First pony from Equestria in Yakyakistan.
Twilight squinted curiously at the series of abstracted shapes and stylized pictograms. In the middle of the blanket was a village of yaks and a pink equine that stood out against the largely earth tone color pallet.
“I remember this,” she murmured. She wasn't there when it happened but the story stirred long sleeping memories from her early life… or were they from history books she'd read? A tear slipped down her cheek.
She glanced around at the mess of photos and historical paintings cluttering the walls. There were artifacts and memorabilia in glass showcases. Her whole study was devoted to a nostalgic romanticism of the olden days. She'd lost more kind moments than she'd ever comprehend. This was her way of trying to reconstruct her ideal world, the world that Celestia and Luna were trying to keep her from.
She wiped her eyes with one hoof, folded the blanket up nicely and placed it back in the box. It would look good on the wall but she would use it as directed. That was… an unexpected present.
Twilight turned her attention to the procession of unopened gifts and her eyes fixed on one particular oddly shaped item. It was tall and flat and shrouded in a silver silken cloak. There was a folded paper affixed to it with a red wax seal. The informal titleless name ‘Twilight’ was scrawled sloppily above it in blotted ink.
The princess furrowed her brow and yanked the note off with her magic. She popped the seal and unfolded the paper. Then muttered to herself as she read the simple note that looked like it had been written by somepony with their eyes closed.
“Just talk to yourself or say switch while touching to switch places.”
That was all there was. What in the world did it even mean? She flipped the paper over in puzzlement. There was no name ascribed to the gift. She tried to reconstruct the shattered wax seal. There was no monogram upon it, only what appeared to be a simple generic star insignia. She thought for a moment, trying to deduce some sort of significance from the scant amount of clues but she was drawing a blank. She had no idea who sent the gift but their letter sounded crazy. Was this cause for alarm? She looked back at the still unidentified object in wonder.
It was reasonable to regard the mysterious gift with suspicion. It could be dangerous. The problem was not only that she wasn't going to find out anything without unwrapping the item and possibly falling prey to it but also her desire for answers outweighed her instinctive caution.
Twilight took a few steps back and summoned a magical barrier in front of her for safety. Carefully from a distance she untied the ribbon cinched around the gift and slipped off the silver shroud. Before her stood what looked like a full length elliptical mirror standing in a wrought iron frame. She let the shroud fall silently in a pile on the floor and waited. The mirror appeared to be nothing special. Not ornately crafted. Not crafted from exquisite materials. Perhaps it was of great sentimental value or perhaps the creature who gifted it was simply insane. Whatever the case, it didn't seem to be a threat.
The princess dispelled the barrier and walked forward cautiously with craned neck. As she came upon the looking glass, something seemed off about it but she wasn't sure what. Then Twilight's mouth dropped open. When she stood before the mirror, it became plain as day what was wrong; she cast no reflection in it. - - -
“Wow, that was so thoughtful,” Twilight marveled to herself, giving her new enchanted globe a spin. “Should I put it in the library or the study?” She'd opened the presents from her five best friends before they went to bed, leaving her to her own devices in the library with a multitude of unopened offerings of friendship and goodwill.
She looked back over the many gifts in waiting and sighed. “This is so much more fun to do with my friends. Maybe just one more tonight. I'll save the rest for later.”
She spun in a circle and the room blurred around her. As she slowed, one particular item came into focus, standing out against a backdrop of mundane looking wooden crates that had arrived through the mail. The strange gift was tall and flat and shrouded in a silver silken cloak. It drew her in with a curious allure. Though unboxed, she couldn't tell what it was; she just had to see.
Twilight walked closer till she noticed the attached parchment with her name on it. She snatched it up and broke the seal in almost one fluid motion. Her forehead creased as she scanned the few sloppy words inside. It wasn't really a happy birthday note as she was expecting, it was almost like… instructions but for what?
Mystified, she looked back at the gift and shrugged. Then she unceremoniously yanked the loose end of the sash with her magic till it came undone. Then she pulled up the silver cloth sack.
The shroud fell away and she blinked in surprise. The gift was a mirror that looked rather ordinary for a princess’ thousandth birthday until, that is, she looked at her own reflection. When she stepped closer and gazed into the looking glass she was taken aback by what it showed. The her in the mirror stood dumbfounded just like her but the room she was in looked completely different. Twilight raised a hoof and waved experimentally but her reflection did not reciprocate, instead shrinking back in wide-eyed shock.
“What- what is this? Who are you?” demanded the mare in the mirror.
“I'm… Princess Twilight Sparkle of Equestria.” replied Twilight in befuddlement. ”Who are you?”
“I'm Princess Twilight Sparkle of Equestria,” asserted the reflection.