Nopony spoke, each seemingly unwilling to be the first to break the silence that had settled over the hall following the revelation of the six mare’s identities, as well as Luna’s own knowledge of the ritual; even Pinkie sat silently, stunned that shared such a profound connection with one of her oldest, and, even by her standards, oddest, friends. The six more recent arrivals all stared at the counterparts, Twilight’s attention divided between Luna, her predecessor as the Element of Magic, and Celestia, her teacher in the art and science of magic. At last, the purple unicorn found her voice, asking the question which seemed most pertinent. “This…this is another ‘more than a thousand years’ situation, isn’t it?” she asked, her voice small, as her gaze settled on her mentor.
The white pegasus nodded. “Three thousand, three hundred, twenty-five years, Twilight. Luna is four years my junior, and the others lay between us.” Celestia explained wistfully, preempting the next question. “For three millennia, three centuries, seven months, and eighteen days, we have walked this world as immortal being, not dead, but no longer truly alive; a sacrifice we gladly made to save our kingdom, our friends, and our families from the greatest foe our world has ever known,” she continued, her voice growing more forceful, more regal.
“Discord,” Dash interjected, no hint of uncertainty in her voice. Fluttershy squeaked in fear at the name, the ten other ponies at the table grimacing. “Except…we managed to stop him as normal ponies…”
“Yes, Rainbow Dash, you did,” Celestia confirmed, her still regal tone gaining a sharp edge. “You must understand, though, that the Discord you fought was…wounded. He was still weakened from his stone sleep, his powers limited by the peace and order which now govern the world, and he was focused on punishing my sister and me, more than on restoring his power over Equestria. Had his actions not been guided by his desire for petty vengeance, had he had the wherewithal to simply destroy each of you outright, instead of twisting you into mockeries of yourselves, had he faced you while empowered by a world which embraced his madness…I fear the Everfree would once again have proven to be our final stronghold; the last land forever free of the taint of chaos.” The Princess of the Day laughed bitterly. “Almost ironic, that he’d be less dangerous when he was actively trying to defeat us, than when he merely wanted to sow chaos.”
“I’m sorry, but…well, he seemed fairly chaotic to me,” Fluttershy offered, timidly, flinching as two earth ponies fixed her with scowls. “I…I just meant that the strange weather, and twisting all of the animals, and all the floating buildings…seemed pretty chaotic. If you don’t mind me saying,” she squeaked, cowering behind her mane.
Molehill shook her head, scowl deepening. “Yeah, it does seem like that…until you realize you only had to deal with him for a day. Chocolate rain doesn’t seem so bad…until the next day he decides he’d rather it rain poison that looks and tastes like chocolate milk. Animals with freakishly long legs don’t seem to bad, until then he decides it’d be funny if they had long fangs and claws to match those legs, and a powerful need to snatch up foals,” she said, coldly. “Fighting his soldiers wouldn’t seem that bad, until one day those soldiers turn back into those missing foals after you’ve run them through, and you have some poor, scared little filly or colt on the end of your blade, looking up at you with tear-filled eyes as they take their last breath.” She closed her eyes and took a steadying breath. “More of my soldiers took their own lives after that battle than he managed to take form us in any other three.”
The six younger mares began to feel ill as the gravity of the soldier’s words took hold. “So you begin to see why the ritual sacrifice of four ponies was deemed an acceptable cost,” Luna said sadly, leaning her head back so far that it seemed she was addressing the ceiling. “He thrived on chaos in the purest sense, and he didn’t seem to care how he arrived at it. When he took the field himself, he was as happy to see his own soldiers struck down as he was to see one of our warriors fall. He would send two legions against us with goals and strategies which completely contradicted each other, and cheer as his own forces destroyed themselves. More than once, our army would be pitted against his, when more of his soldiers arrived and began slaughtering the force we had engaged, actively ignoring our troops. It was as though it didn’t matter to him if his plans even succeeded, so long as he had plans in motion,” she continued, remembering wearily the dark world into which she’d been born, the world she and her sister had worked so hard to improve…the world she herself had once nearly undone. “That was Discord as a true god of chaos; nearly a force of nature.
“There was only one thing we could depend on when he was involved, one response which was guaranteed; no matter what else might have been happening, if all six of us took the field, if all six Elements of Harmony ever stood united before him, he would flee before we could use our combined power against him. We had no way to prevent his escape, no spell which could hold him, no feint which could catch him by surprise, and any mortal pony who strayed too long from the protection of the Everfree would come under his influence, preventing us from engaging him in a prolonged chase for fear that we would become his puppets. The only way to defeat him…was to face him as equals.” The Princess of the Night paused, collecting her thoughts. “We were the Elements of Harmony, sworn protectors of the kingdom; my sister and I were the princesses of the realm, a shining beacon of hope and warmth, and the light to guide them through the darkest of nights. It fell to us to do what was necessary, and with the blessing of our Father and Mother…we did what was necessary.
“The ritual…it gave us strength to rival his own. We stood at last as equals to him, and ended in hours a war which had raged for centuries.” The dark blue unicorn closed her eyes against the tears. “And, as our subjects celebrated in the streets below, Celestia and I destroyed all my notes, all my research on the ritual of joining, and sealed away the tomes I had used in my studies behind seals only we could open, to spare anypony else ever having to make the sacrifice what we had made.” She finally looked down at her rapt audience. “And yet somehow, the scroll which contained the ritual itself survived both the flame and the intervening years, and you six are now bound to the same fate as we have been. That is why I owe you an apology; I was not thorough enough on that ancient night, and now you bear the burden for my negligence.”
Silence once again settled over the twelve, six lost in the memories of so long ago, six shaken by the unexpected darkness which had tainted their world in the distant past. “You can see, my most faithful student, why we take care to cultivate the histories in a certain way, and why I don’t allow every detail of the past to enter the historical records,” Celestia offered sadly. “Most ponies, if they were to think of Discord, would recall the madness of his short-lived return, marked most prominently by candy clouds, chocolate rain, and a general disruption of their orders lives. If they fear him, they fear him as a fickle, all-powerful clown, twisting the world for his own amusement, annoying but ultimately harmless,” she explained, looking at each of the six ponies in turn, her gaze lingering on Pinkie Pie for a few seconds longer than the others. “If, on the other hand, they knew the true extent of his past crimes, knew how many of the monsters that plague Equestria to this day trace their origins back to his magic, knew what fate they had only avoided by the actions of six young mares…” Her voice trailed off, the implications obvious.
“Is…is that why so many plays and old stories make the monsters seem kind of bumbling and silly, even if they're still scary?” Fluttershy asked quietly.
“Oh, or have up-tempo musical numbers about the villains? Like the purple one with the witches?” Pinkie asked, the general malaise of the history lesson proving less effective at dampening her mood.
Celestia nodded, a slight smile tugging at her lips; the pink mare truly was a worthy successor to the Element of Laughter. “Yes, to both of you. Certain threats must be remembered, if only so those who sacrificed themselves to defeat those threats are not forgotten; at the same time, I refuse to allow my little ponies to live in fear, knowing the true extent of the evil which would destroy them given the chance. So, the dark chapters of our history are…sanitized, and made palatable. Unicorns with great and terrible magic, capable of bringing forth dark beings of untold power, are turned into singing witches; demons spawned from the blackest pits of Tartauros are defeated by a clever pony with a bell. Our heroes live on, while our monsters become objects of ridicule, safely bound behind walls of stone and magic,” she explained, pointedly ignoring the dark blue unicorn and black earth pony who were rolling their eyes at her, looking sympathetically at her student. “Though, as I said, the true stories are recorded, kept safe for all time,” she assured the lavender unicorn.
“Right, this is all fascinating, really,” Rainbow Dash interrupted, squirming slightly. “I’m sure it’d be really interesting to find out that Ahuizotl is real, or that Nightmare Moon ate babies…” She paused when she realized what she had just said without thinking, further realizing that the Princess of the Night was glaring at her angrily. “Bad example, sorry. What I’m trying to say is, it’s cool and all, but…I mean, shouldn’t we be dealing with matters closer to hoof? Like…what happens with us now?”
“Now…things become interesting for the six of you,” Luna replied slowly, still glaring at the cerulean pegasus. “Twilight and Rarity…the two of you are divine beings now, goddesses, equal in power, at least in theory, to my sister and me.” She stopped, and looked to Celestia, who nodded, bidding the younger sister continue. “As to what that means for you…there will likely be expectations of you, and duties relevant to you…attunements, but your lives need not change completely.”
“Twilight, regardless of anything else, I am still glad to call you my most faithful student; if anything, your new status only presents new fields of study,” the Solar Goddess assured the mare beside her, gently draping a wing around Twilight’s back as she turned her attention to Rarity. “As for you, Rarity, there is nothing to preclude you from continuing your endeavors as a designer…though it might behoove you to do so under a false name.” The princess smiled wryly. “A physical goddess might have a slightly unfair advantage over her competition, when it comes to demand, after all.”
“Understandable, I suppose. I must admit, I wouldn’t have fancied my chances at being noticed as a designer if either of you had been in the field as well,” the fashionista agreed amiably. “And it wouldn’t be terribly generous of me to crush my rivals so thoroughly that they would rue any ill-words they ever spoke about me, and beg my forgiveness. Though it would allow me to be generous with that forgiveness, I suppose…” she mused, chuckling to herself as Twilight shot her an unamused look; a look shared by nopony else, the other mares at the table all decidedly amused. “Though, I do have a question, if I may? You spoke of our ‘attunements,’ Princess Luna. Am I correct in assuming you refer to…whatever it is Twilight and I have become linked to, as you and Princess Celestia are linked to the Moon and Sun?”
The Princess of the Night nodded. “It’s a bit more complicated than that, Rarity, but generally, yes. It is slightly more than that, however; while my sister and I are attuned to the celestial bodies we govern, each of the six of us has dominion over a certain aspect of the world. In addition to her power as Princess of the Sun, my sister is also the Builder of Bridges, both literal and figurative, and the Finder of Paths,” she explained, nodding in turn at Celestia, Bridge Watcher, and Molehill. “I, meanwhile, am Princess of the Moon, but I am also Mistress of Dreams and…Lady of Love,” she concluded sourly; Lovecraft snorted in annoyance.
“’Lady of Love?’” Twilight asked, frowning in confusion. “But I thought Cadence was the matron of love…”
Luna blushed slightly. “Yes, well…that title is…somewhat euphemistic,” she explained hesitantly, looking uncomfortably at the black earth pony seated near her.
“I did so much, saved so many lives,” the dark mare grumbled, half to herself. “I could hide better in broad daylight than most ponies could on a moonless night; I could listen to a whispered conversation in a crowded tavern from sixty feet and not miss a word. But no, the cosmos decides that the skill I get to have represented as my divine talent is my ability to seduce some of Discord’s strongest supporters, and get them to spill their guts in the afterglow…or before, if we just needed them dead.” Six mares blinked at her outburst, blushes of varying intensities growing on their faces.
“It’s…a bit of a sore subject, for the three of us, but especially for Lovecraft,” the plum pegasus explained, diplomatically
“Yes, it’s a sore subject,” Lovecraft agreed angrily, her refined manners never slipping. “You didn’t have to deal with the fallout when somepony let it slip, and suddenly you’re the patron goddess of whores!”
“Moving on,” Celestia interjected, not wanting the conversation to derail as a result of that ancient drama, and mindful of the growing discomfort from the mares seated on the opposite side of the table. “Each of you has, as a result of the joining, had an aspect of your talent expanded and empowered, to the extent that it is, to put it in its most impressive sense, your domain,” she elaborated upon Luna’s explanation. “Just as I rule over the sun and all its aspects, so, too, will the six of you possess near absolute control over your domains.”
“Dang…okay, this whole thing just got a little bit more awesome,” Dash said, nodding appreciatively. “So…I’m guessing from that…thing I think we probably shouldn’t discuss, that we don’t get to pick what we get?” Celestia and Luna both shook their heads. “So…can you tell what each of us is, or is this something we should just know, or…how does that work?”
“Depends on what you got,” Dream Keeper replied vaguely. “Tia and Luna, they knew right off; kind of hard to miss having complete control over the sun and moon. Mine was fairly obvious, too, after the first time we Dream-walked. The…less obvious ones took a bit of time to figure out, though,” she explained, then shrugged. “It’ll be something related to your original talents, but beyond that, just have to figure it out.”
“Well, except for your little lavender librarian,” Bridge Watcher added. Twilight quirked an eyebrow, point a hoof at herself, as Celestia sighed.
“Bridge…we weren’t going to mention that until we were sure, remember?” the Princess of the Day asked rhetorically, eliciting a mischievous chuckle from the aquamarine mare. Feeling her student’s expectant gaze, Celestia shook her head. “We aren’t entirely sure yet, Twilight, but…when the six of us performed the ritual, and Luna and I attuned to our new powers…for just a moment, the sun and moon vanished from the sky, their light extinguished as they connected with their new mistresses.” She hesitated, considering the wisdom of adding additional pressure to her already beleaguered student, before acknowledging the choice was already made for her; Twilight Sparkle would not allow such an important piece of information to be kept from her easily. “Earlier tonight, as your ritual completed…something similar happened. As near as we can tell, at the moment of your ascension…magic…stopped,” she explained uncertainly.
She was consciously leaving out the reports which had arrived as she and Luna waited, reports coming from across the country and beyond, of magic simply…failing for an instant before correcting itself. A few ponies had been hurt; pegasi had fallen through suddenly immaterial clouds and struck something when the water vapor again became solid against their bodies; earth ponies pulled muscles as their fabled stamina vanished briefly; unicorns casually levitating something over their head suddenly found themselves with minor concussions as their telekinesis failed. There had been no fatalities, so far as anypony knew, but she had decided not to burden the vulnerable mare with any more guilt for the present.
“I…you…that…” said mare sputtered as she grappled with the implications. “Princess…you aren’t saying that…you think I’ve become…no, no, you can’t think I’m…”
“The goddess of magic?” Luna prompted, allowing herself a small smile despite the continuing gravity of the situation; the look of disbelief on flustered student’s face allowed her no option in the matter. “That’s exactly what we think, actually. There’s no doubt that one of you has assumed that mantle, dear Twilight, and…” she looked at the other five arguable candidates, shaking her head. “Well, let us suffice it to say you’re the only logical option.” The unicorn slumped forward, eye twitching as she began to panic, yet found herself too drained, both physically and mentally, to raise a protest, especially as Luna’s reasoning was unarguable; in her heart, she knew it was true.
“Oh, I hope I get to be goddess of partying!” Pinkie interjected cheerfully, bouncing on her haunches. “I can be like some kind of party puppeteer, pulling the strings from the shadows to make sure everypony always has the most fun ever, and make sure every party is always perfect.”
“So, Twi is goddess of magic…and the rest of us have to figure out what our divine powers are, huh?” Applejack asked, shaking her head ruefully, leaving Pinkie to her own thoughts. “Well, maybe we can get Apple Bloom and the Crusaders to help us figure that out?” she joked, envisioning her little sister’s response to that particular challenge; Equestria likely wouldn’t survive. “This’ll be a bit jarring for her, I suppose, me not having a body anymore. And it’s going to make Applebuck season a fair bit trickier…”
“No,” Celestia interrupted suddenly. There was no malice in her voice, no anger, just a simple statement. Twilight flinched at the familiar tone, and Applejack quirked an eyebrow.
“Sorry, Princess…‘no’ what?” the farmer asked slowly, confusion on her face.
“I mean that no, you won’t be speaking with your sister, or helping your family with the harvest, Applejack, at least not in any direct sense. You likely won’t see them after tonight, except when they have cause to interact with Rarity,” the white pegasus replied, a note of sorrow entering her voice. She looked at the four bodiless mares in turn, the corners of her mouth pulled down. “I’m sorry, my little ponies, but none of you will.”
“But…but you said Twilight didn’t have to say goodbye to her family!” Applejack protested angrily, rising to her hooves.
“And she doesn’t. Neither does Rarity. But the rest of you…the rest of you will not even be given the opportunity to say goodbye.” The pegasus paused a second, considering. “Perhaps Pinkie will. From what Bridge Watcher has told me of her talents, she seems to have a certain mastery of this world which I must confess to being jealous of. And if anypony were to make a believable ghost, it would be her. But the rest of you…to the rest of the world, you are dead, and so you must remain.”
“You must understand,” Luna began, casting a curious glance at her sister, wondering why the normally kind mare was being so harsh in her explanation, “that this goes far beyond the four of you. Think for a moment, what might happen if you tried to retain your old lives; if rumors began to spread that Rarity and Twilight heard the voices of friends believed to be dead, and acted upon those voices. Imagine what would happen if ponies began to wonder if my sister and I heard voices as well,” she continued, sighing to herself. “Much as it pains me to dwell upon this truth, I have given our subjects reason enough to fear me in the past; there are those who would any evidence of my madness against me, against us all. ‘If one sister is mad, might it not run in the family?’ these malcontents could say. ‘Perhaps it would be best if they were…handled, before they can destroy us all.’” The Princess of the Night sighed again.
“The words of those who would wish power for themselves, at the expense of the common pony, embraced by cowards and the weak-willed. In truth, such ponies would pose no threat to us, but with sufficient cause they might be able to divide the nation against itself, and once more plunge the land into chaotic civil war,” Celestia took over for her sister, the other mares on her side of the table nodding solemnly. “And then, Luna and I could well be transformed into the very thing we sacrificed so much to stop; tyrant gods, sending pony against pony for our own goals. Or worse, Discord could rise again amidst a nation divided. His defeat…even now, it is merely a delay. And if he returns when the sons and daughters of Equestria spill their own blood, when chaos waxes and harmony wanes…” Luna shuddered in fear at the thought. “For good or ill, we cannot allow that to come to pass.”
“Horseapples,” Applejack cursed, her former restraint forgotten. “You didn’t seem to have a problem with Pinkie becoming a party-planning puppet-master. I don’t see the difference between that, and me still working with my family to improve our crops.”
“It’s because of me,” Twilight replied, making a bit of a leap to what seemed a logical conclusion. “At least…partially, I think. Assuming her power is related to party-planning, assuming that’s even a valid…thing, in this case, Pinkie can, theoretically, plan her parties anonymously, through intermediaries…and, if she ever gets found out, it can be explained away as an outgrowth of my tendency towards organization. We could even pass it off as something I was doing to honor the memory of my dear lost friend,” she reasoned, gesturing towards the pink earth pony. “I have a feeling we could use a similar excuse to bring some of your animals to the castle, Fluttershy; call it a…dying request. Nopony who knows me would think it was that unusual, for me to do something like that.
“But Rarity…isn’t exactly the kind to get her hooves dirty on a farm for no reason. No offense, Rarity,” she added quickly. The fashionista pursed her lips thoughtfully, but nodded, forced to admit the truth in her purple friend’s words. “So, anypony who knew Rarity would find it extremely unusual if she suddenly, and inexplicably, developed an intense interest in apple cultivation techniques. Especially if she happened to suddenly have an intimate knowledge of Apple Family methods.” She turned her head slightly to focus on Rainbow Dash. “Or if she suddenly gained a profound appreciation for stunt-flying and the Wonderbolts.” The brash pegasus frowned darkly, glaring between the princess and the pupil unhappily, the purple mare recoiling from the look as if physically struck.
“Well, that’s just awesome,” she responded bitterly. “No, really, that’s fantastic. So Pinkie gets to be this big shot party goddess, Fluttershy gets to keep her animals, and AJ and I get to…what, sit on our backsides?”
“Nah, Dash, weren’t you paying attention? We get to watch whatever Rarity does. Won’t that be exciting, watching her make frilly dresses for all the puffed up noble ponies and run around playing goddess, knowing that my family is off struggling to keep the farm running with just Big Macintosh around to handle the heavy work?” Applejack seethed, past the point of minding the venom lacing her words; her gaze was fixed firmly on the white pegasus at the head of the table. “Maybe Apple Bloom can abandon her education to help out with the harvest; won’t that be just dandy?”
Celestia met the farmer’s glower with a cool stare of her own. “Allow me to remind you, Applejack, that while I’m not unsympathetic to your frustration, I’ve had thousands of years of practice dealing with petulant nobles; tantrums do little to impress me anymore,” the Goddess of the Sun said, her tone level despite the warning. “I never said we would allow your families to suffer from your absence; you are all legitimate heroes of the realm twice over, and the official stance shall be that you gave your lives in defense of Equestria.” Celestia lifted her head, gazing down her nose at the orange earth pony, an eyebrow quirked; Twilight recognized it as the look she gave to ponies she was daring to challenge her further. “Your families will all receive generous stipends as a result; more than enough for yours to hire on additional help as needed, Applejack.”
“Oh, you’re going to pay them off. That’s nice,” Dash responded, anger dripping from her words. “So…how does that compensate my parents for losing their only daughter? How does that compensate me for having to know that they’re grieving my death, and I can’t do anything to help?” The mare stood, turning from the group, and began to walk towards the door leading from the hall. After a moment of contemplation, Applejack joined her.
“Applejack…Dashie…” Pinkie called out sadly, raising a hoof towards them. Neither mare turned back, their hoofsteps echoing off the chamber’s floor as they walked to, and through, the grand door, leaving the others behind.
“Well, they handled that well,” Lovecraft mused as she turned from the door to face the others. “Would you like me to try to talk to them, Tia? Much as I may dislike my counterpart’s lack of tact…she and I have common ground here,” she offered, her tone shifting to one that even those closest to her rarely heard: absolute sincerity.
Celestia considered briefly, then nodded. “Please, Lovecraft. Dream Keeper, if you could talk to Rainbow Dash, as well, that may help.” She raised a hoof as the deep purple pegasus opening her mouth, silencing the other mare. “Yes, Dream, I know I’ve been asking you to do a great deal tonight, and I apologize for that, but I have the sense she’ll respond better to another pegasus than she would to an earth pony, and I doubt she’d be inclined to listen to anything I’d try to say to her. So please…for me?” she pleaded, and Dream Keeper nodded dutifully, rolling her eyes as she did.
“Come on, Lovie, let’s go keep an eye on them, so we don’t have to waste time trying to find ‘em later,” she suggested, and without another word she and the silver-maned earth pony vanished from the hall.
“H…how did they just…I mean, they’re not unicorns, so…” Twilight sputtered. She was beginning to agree with Rarity’s desire for a drink, and indeed part of her mind seemed to have begun to independently work on a way to hyper-saturate the liquid, thus overcoming their apparently heightened resistance to its effects.
“Oh, it’s actually pretty simple, Twilight,” Pinkie explained sadly, her hair once more having straightened considerably as she thought of her families, both by blood and by choice, of never seeing any of them again without being thought a ghost. “The locational matrix here is in a constant state of flux under normal circumstances, and is really only stabilized by the will of the occupants. We’re not really here around a table, at the most basic level of this existence; we simply choose to perceive ourselves as seated around a table, as that’s simpler for our brains to process than trying to deal with the overstimulation of being everywhere and everywhen all at once,” the pink mare continued, ideally tracing a circle on the table with her hoof as tears trailed down her cheeks. “As a result, anypony who realizes that can, with a bit of practice, simply will themselves to stop perceiving themselves as seated at the table, and begin to perceive themselves as being someplace else; in the case of the two recently absent ponies, they’re presumably perceiving themselves as proximate in location to Dashie and Applejack, while also likely perceiving themselves as invisible.” She looked up sadly at the open mouthed stares coming from the other seven ponies. “Sorry…I get loquacious when I get depressed,” she said, sniffling sadly. “Just…give me a little bit. I’ll…I’ll be fine.” She felt a pair of legs wrap around her back, holding her comfortingly, began to cry, body wracked by sobs as Fluttershy held her tightly, yellow pegasus and pink earth pony seeming to cry in unison as they mourned their lost families.
“Tia, Luna…maybe you and the other two should go,” Bridge Watcher suggested quietly, holding back her own tears at the sight of the devastated mares before her. “They…aren’t the only ones who need to mourn, and the longer you make the families wait, the worse that waiting becomes.” She smiled weakly at the mare she’d befriended as a filly, so full of joy, so full of life even as she had walked the razor’s edge between the realms of the living and the dead. “I’ll keep an eye on these two, and you can come back and check after…your own unpleasantries are handled,” she offered, her voice trembling. The princesses looked at her sadly for a long moment before nodding in unison.
“If anything changes, alert me immediately, Bridge,” Celestia asked as she stood, wings unfurled majestically. “Twilight, Rarity…you cannot fathom how much it pains me to put you through all this, but there’s no other option. Now, we have kept your families waiting far too long already, and we have yet more preparations to make before dawn.” Luna joined her sister on her hooves, gaze still fixed on the weeping ponies to the instant she vanished from the hall. “This is going to seem odd, but…concentrate on not being here anymore. That’s really the simplest way to explain it,” she instructed, looking expectantly at the pair.
With one final glance at her devastated friends, Twilight closed her eyes, focused on the chamber, the citadel, the vast white emptiness, and focused on being anyplace else…
****
There was a sensation of sudden movement, accompanied by an unusual feeling as the material she was seated changed from perfectly smooth diamond to imperfectly smooth marble; a subtle, but noticeable, difference in texture, but one she could notice. Rarity blinked her eyes open, slightly disoriented and more than slightly queasy. “Oh, my…is teleportation always that disconcerting?” she asked with a grimace, closing her eyes again as she waited for the vertigo to pass. “If so, I can see why you don’t use it more frequently, Twilight.”
“No,” the purple alicorn replied, fighting her own sense of nausea, “this…this is different. Normally, it’ll just make me a bit dizzy, like if I’d spun in place for a few seconds. This…this is…”
“It gets less uncomfortable with practice,” Luna assured them both, rising to her hooves. “The need to travel there at all tends to diminish as well, but those are matters will have to wait for the time being.” Turning away from the two younger alicorns for a moment, she looked to her sister, eyebrow raised. “If you’ll forgive any perceived glibness sister…good news first, or bad news?” she asked, the sorrow clear in her voice despite the questionable phrasing of the question.
Celestia heaved a heavy sigh as she considered. “Bad news first, Luna. Bridge was right; they’ve waited too long as it is. We’ll call Rarity’s family back separately, to the room across from where we had Cadence wait with Twilight’s family, and then…deliver the news to the rest of the families,” she decided wearily. “Twilight, Rarity, if you could wait her for a few moments, while we…attend to that. Luna and I have planned out a cover story to explain the…changes, to your respective families, and it will be easier for all concerned if we’re there while you speak with them.”
Twilight nodded numbly, the weight of guilt once again pressing down on her, as she envisioned the response from the families of her ‘dead’ friends.
Rarity nodded as well, solemnly but without the acute sense of responsibility the purple mare was feeling. “Princesses…before you go, I…I’m sorry for once again asking a selfish question, I want to be prepared. Nothing…nothing has to change between myself and my family, beyond the painfully obvious, correct?” she inquired nervously. “I mean…I know you said Twilight and I wouldn’t have to say good-bye to them, but…”
The Princess of the Sun raised a hoof in a silencing gesture, her smile sad but beatific. “Rarity, the only thing that must change between you and your family is that you shall be taking up residence within the palace. Nothing else needs to change between you and they; not even your sister’s tendency to stay with you,” she gently assured the younger white alicorn, who nodded in relief. “The same holds true for you as well, my most faithful student,” she reminded the sorrowful mare.
“Though we must be adamant with you both; nopony must ever be told what truly happened this night, no matter the circumstances,” Luna added forcefully. “Now come, please, sister, let us go. It might not befit a princess, but you know how onerous I find this task; I would prolong it no longer than necessary.” With a final nod to the two newly risen alicorns, she opened the door with her telekinesis and stepped through, her hooves echoing off the marble as she walked, followed closely by her elder sister, who kindly shut the door as she passed into the hallway.
Finally free from her mentor’s presence, Twilight permitted herself to properly cry. With her only remaining friend as the sole witness, the purple alicorn vented the grief she’d held back since Celestia had found her following her attempts at self-destruction, the guilt at seeing her friends’ reactions to being told they’d never be allowed to interact with their families again, sorrow as she envisioned those families being told that their daughters and sisters were never coming home, the terrible fear that something was deeply wrong with her mind, something she couldn’t turn to anypony for help with, for fear of their response. She had to be strong, for her family, for her teacher, for the ponies who would soon stand above as a goddess. But for now, she wept, as her final friend walked over to the lamenting mare and wrapped her forelegs and wings around her, trying to comfort her miserable friend as best as she could.
****
The waiting room had become no more comfortable as time had worn on; if anything, it had become less comfortable, the heat and humidity continuing to rise in the insufficiently ventilated chamber as the tension felt by each of the adult ponies mounted. Since the earlier screams, there had been no sign of life from the hallway, and even after the barrier had faded none of the soldiers had passed through the doors to investigate. Nothing but silence; terrible, deafening silence.
It was a constant struggle for the waiting ponies to not think of it as the silence of the grave.
So, when the doors flew open, there was an initial rush of activity as everypony who’d been sitting leapt to their hooves, then immediately fell to their knees, heads bowed as Princess Luna entered the room, stepping to the side to allow her elder sister in as well. Almost as if guided by a single thought, sixteen pairs of eyes looked nervously at the divine sisters, and sixteen hearts began to break. Celestia’s composure was practically legendary; ponies sometimes said she would have the same visible reaction to a being told the royal kitchen had run out of cake, to being told a dozen foals had died in a school fire. That was not to say that her subjects thought her callous, certainly; it was simply accepted that the Princess of the Sun did not usually show her sorrow beyond a slight frown, lest she never stop crying, overwhelmed by the weight of sadness accumulated over her immortal life.
And here she stood, the Solar Goddess in all her glory…tears in her eyes and despair on her face, a despair matched by her sister.
“Rise, and be seated, my little ponies,” she commanded, in no mood to prolong the genuflection. She frowned at the oppressive heat, her horn flaring to life and dropping the temperature by nearly ten degrees. “Guards, leave us. My sister and I are in no danger from these ponies, and we would speak with them privately,” she ordered, her voice even and firm as she looked at the ranking mare. “We would have twenty of you remain in the corridor outside; the rest are to return to their normal duties.” The pale blue unicorn nodded, and the soldiers began to file out of the room with as much speed as the cramped space would allow. Soon, only twenty-two ponies remained in the room.
“The family of Rarity will step forward,” Luna commanded, her voice firm but not unkind. Nervously, the two adult unicorns left their seats and walked to stand before the goddesses, their filly between them. The Princess of the Night looked down at them, and nodded. “Go down this hall and through the fourth door on your right. My sister and I have much to explain to you, and we have no doubt you shall have much to discuss with your eldest child; we implore you to remain patient for a while longer. But know that she is well, and you need not fear during this final delay,” she instructed gently, gesturing the trio through the door with a nod. They walked through quietly, the stallion and mare suppressing a joint desire to cheer; their daughter was fine, after all.
The remaining ponies all stared at the princesses expectantly, hope rekindled in their hearts. After all, if one of them was alright, it was possible they all were. Celestia cursed silently; she’d been prepared for that reaction, had anticipated the looks of hope she wished she could recoil from. She had run through dozens of scenarios, trying to decide the kindest way to handle the news; she had ultimately decided, for good or ill, that giving four families a final moment of hope was the lesser sin than putting one family through the pain of loss, only to reveal that no, their daughter yet lived. And yet, as she caught sight of the pale yellow filly looking up at her, her young eyes filled with such joy, Celestia felt herself, for only the fourth time in her vast life, almost lose her nerve.
“It is with great regret,” she began at last, nearly flinching as she ground those embers of hope beneath her gilded hooves, “that I must inform you all of a terrible tragedy which occurred earlier tonight. At dusk, the six mares who wielded the Elements of Harmony performed a ritual meant to protect Equestria from an evil of unspeakable power,” she explained, leaving out certain inconvenient details. “While Equestria remains safe, that safety is not without a price.” She sighed heavily. ‘Still technically true, if not necessarily relevant,’ she thought to herself, considering how much it cost to maintain the Guard. “Pinkie Pie, the Element of Laughter, Applejack, the Element of Honesty, Rainbow Dash, the Element of Loyalty, and Fluttershy, the Element of Kindess, all gave their lives this night.” There is was; no more room now for hope, no more room for denial.
“While I know this will be little comfort to you, know that they shall be remembered for all time,” she promised as the first tears began to fall, thin lines streaking down coats of mustard yellow and brilliant red. “So long as my sister and I reign, these four mares shall stand first among the great ponies of legend, known to all ponies, from now until the end of time, as those who guarded the boundary between the light and darkness, between Harmony and Chaos, as four of the greatest heroes to tread upon the face of Equestria.” More faces were streaked with tears, as some of the ponies began to sob openly; the only faces yet untouched were the twin foals, groggy and confused from their sudden awakening, and the young filly, looking off into the distance, her eyes unfocused. “Their…remains shall be released to you in the morning, to honor in whichever fashion you deem appropriate, or, if you so choose, they may receive a royal funeral with full honors on the palace grounds. In either case, the royal treasury shall cover the cost of the arrangements.”
The Princess of the Sun was acutely aware of the filly, still staring without seeing, her small body trembling, yet not, it seemed, from crying. “Regardless of your choice, there will be a full memorial service held one week from today, at dusk, when the memorial honoring them will be unveiled and formally dedicated,” she concluded, and waited, waited for the anger, the shouted questions, and the fury of loss.
The older pegasus couple clung to each other, husband and wife trembling in quiet sorrow. They had been prepared for this day for years, though they never spoke of it; their daughter had been brash, fearless, some might say reckless, even as a foal. She celebrated her first birthday buzzing around their home, giggling madly as she crashed through walls while her parents tried to keep up. As she grew older, she only grew bolder, and they could only do so much to rein in her ambition. They encouraged her dreams, encouraged her to always do her best.
And she had. The first pegasus in more than an age to fly beyond the speed of sound, to generate the sonic rainboom, and before she was even truly grown. Then again, as she rescued her heroes and her friend. Their daughter, who had performed at a royal wedding. Their daughter, who they loved so very, very much. Their daughter, who they always feared would one day be recovered from a lonely crater, body mangled as she strove to do her best, to make them prouder than they already were. And here they were, only instead of dying in an unfortunate accident, she died a hero, saving the country again. Somehow…the pair thought she might have liked that, remembered throughout eternity as a hero, and that…helped, somehow.
“Princess,” the mare asked, struggling to control her tears, “I…forgive me my boldness, but…the arrangements, you spoke of help.” She took a breath as the divine sisters looked at her sadly. “I just…money can do only so much. It…it would have meant to world to Rainbow, if…,” she paused again, her voice cracking. “If…if perhaps one of the Wonderbolts could be there? For…for the…”
Celestia paused, just for a moment, and nodded solemnly. “She saved the lives of three of them directly, and all of them indirectly,” the Princess noted, trying to sound comforting. “The entire primary flight squadron will be there, regardless of time or location, in ceremonial black, with a memorial flyover. If that is agreeable to you, of course.” The mare nodded thankfully, and pulled her husband tighter as she imagined Rainbow Dash, her darling little foal, smiling at the thought.
The other pegasi were more vocal in their grief, mother holding her son and remaining daughter tight, father holding onto his wife and the family loudly mourned. Their youngest daughter had always been odd, in her way, not interested in normal pegasus activities. She hated flying, was afraid of heights, and secretly enjoyed clothes which were unwieldy and impractical in flight. She also had a father and mother who loved her regardless of her quirks, and an older brother and sister who weren’t above making sure anypony who hassled their ‘little lullaby’ wasn’t inclined to make that mistake again. The two siblings questioned, as they reached adulthood, if that might not have been a mistake, as their little sister remained shy and skittish around other ponies, comfortable only around her animals, never having had the need to stand by herself.
And then, that horrible day when the sun rose late, when their little Fluttershy proved herself a hero, standing up to a dark goddess. And after that, a dragon, a basilisk, a second, significantly darker god, and an army of love-eating bug-pony-monsters. And, amidst the world-saving, the shy little filly had found time to be, of all things, a fashion model. Her brother and sister’s sense of guilt had quickly been replaced with pride in their baby sister, along with a slight feeling of inadequacy when their mother had gushed about her daughter, the savior of Equestria before her older two children, instead of proclaiming their accomplishments in order based on age.
And now, she was gone, and they already felt the hole in their lives, a hole they’d never be able to fill. They had no request for the princesses, no special favor to ask; they each knew that Fluttershy would have hated having any extra attention. But her brother knew he needed to have a conversation with his wife when he got home; he had the name for the little filly she was carrying, the new life he hadn’t even told his parents about yet, wanting to wait until they had agreed what to call her. His little Fluttershy, named for her aunt, to carry on her spirit.
The rock farmers sat very still, mourning quietly, as was their way. The patriarch had been the second to begin to cry, tears streaming silently down his face as he had rested a hoof on his wife’s shoulder. Her tears, and those of his two daughters, were more pronounced than his, the three mares weeping openly, but it was still a subdued sorrow, a contained mourning. Pinkie had always been an oddity to the family, bright and bubbly in both personality and appearance, while the others had been dourer in form and thought. Her father and mother hadn’t strictly understood their filly’s penchant for frivolity, but neither had they discouraged it. They had done the best they could to support the child’s endeavors, and each had enjoyed the parties she threw for them, but in the end, the family’s rock farm simply wasn’t conducive to the growing mare’s talent. They had been sad to see her go, but the letters she had sent had assured them she was doing well, that she was happy, and so they were happy.
And now she was gone, and the world was a little sadder for it. But public displays of emotion, for good or ill, were not the way of the rock farmer, and so the true mourning would wait until they were gathered in private.
The Cakes sat quietly, each holding one of their foals with one leg as they sat, free legs wrapped around each other, unsure what the appropriate response was in their situation. They were sad, of course; Pinkie had been a dear friend at the least, and sometimes something like a sister or daughter. But they were surrounded by mares and stallions who had truly lost sisters and daughters, and neither baker wanted the true families to think they were cheapening their loss. So they sat quietly, holding their foals close, as Pound and Pumpkin looked at each other, wondering why the big-pink-funny one wasn’t making the ponies happy before they nodded off to sleep.
The Apple family was familiar with tragedy; Granny Smith had buried her husband herself, and then her son and daughter-in-law three months later. She had lost cousins, aunts, uncles, nieces, and nephews; death was nothing new, not to her. That’s what she tried to keep telling herself, as she clung tightly to her grandson, eyes unfocused as she looked back on her granddaughter’s life, ended far too soon. The other family she’d lost had at least been older, and further along the road of life; each had left behind a wife or husband, and most at least one foal before they’d passed. But Applejack had been denied all that, dedicated to her family so much that she’d never had time to find love, to start a family. It had been work, work, and more work, at the expense of her health, her happiness, and, on the one occasion, her sanity, at least briefly. So dedicated to her family, and the community it had helped build, that she had refused to come home from the rodeo for fear of disappointing everypony, not for her failure to win, but for her failure to secure the prize money needed to repair the town hall. Granny Smith cursed herself as she thought, cursed herself for being too demanding of her older granddaughter, for ruining the mare’s life; a life that was now over far too soon.
For his part, Big Macintosh sat, one powerful foreleg wrapped around his granny, the other held out for when his baby sister decided she wanted a hug herself. His had been the first tears to fall, as he wept for his hard-working sister, maintaining a strong façade for the sake of the two remaining Apple mares. There would be time enough for him to grieve later, time enough to handle the logistics of running the farm by himself. For now, he merely needed to be there, the immovable object in the storm of loss.
And, finally, Apple Bloom. Her sister was dead. Her parents were dead. So much loss for one so young to bear. She’d never truly known her parents, never felt the need to mourn them; she was sad sometimes, because they weren’t there, because she was missing something she knew she should be, but it was a different kind of sadness, a distant sort of sorrow. Her sister’s death was a much more immediate thing, a much harsher wound. And yet, while she was sad, while she mourned, grief was not her predominant emotion.
She was angry. And, with a sudden burst of cold clarity, she launched herself at the door, diving between the goddesses and into the hallway. She’d been lied to, and she was going to have words with the pony who’d done the lying. Right behind the fourth door on the right.
Celestia, for her part, was impressed at the speed with which the filly moved as she calmly followed her through the doors, Luna trailing behind in barely contained shock and the yellow child slammed through the fourth door, into the room in which Rarity’s family waited, screaming furiously. “Well, I suppose we’ll be talking to Rarity’s family first,” she muttered to herself as she continued down the hall, and Luna ducked into the room in which the two freshly formed alicorns waited.