//------------------------------// // Old Promises // Story: Justice // by TwilightSnarkle //------------------------------// Celestia gazed down from her throne, a dark silhouette against the brilliance of the morning sun that shone through the stained glass behind her. Standing at the foot of her dais, a new pony—and a new friend—anxiously awaited her answer. “I promise you, Worker, that I do not seek to upset your livelihood, nor separate you from those you love. In the future, however, I would like to speak with you at length about the subjects we discussed last night, as well as your homeland.” “I am grateful, your Highness, and would be honored to do so. Again, I thank you for the chariot for the journey home.” Celestia smiled and nodded her acknowledgement. “Go on. I’m sure Skyshine misses you.” Worker bowed and left the Court as gracefully has he could. Once he had stepped from her sight, she heard him pick up his pace. In short order, it sounded as if he might be at full gallop. Celestia stepped down from her dais. Every member of the court stiffened and watched her with wary eyes, ready to serve. Her personal guards wordlessly took up their positions as she stepped towards the great archway at the entrance to her throne room. “Herald Silvermoon, tell me, when is my next audience scheduled?” She knew the answer, but part of keeping a satisfied staff was allowing them to perform their tasks, no matter how mundane. “Your schedule is clear until just past noon, Your Highness, when the Minister of Finance has requested your thoughts on a matter involving Hoofington.” “Very good, Herald. Thank you. If you would follow the standard protocols for contacting me in case of emergencies, I believe I will take a tour.” Silvermoon bowed low, his muzzle nearly touching the ground. A faint smile hid at the corners of his mouth. One job done, she thought, and now... “Captain? While I appreciate the honor guard and have only the highest praise for their professionalism, I think my travel today would best be performed alone. If I might?” “They are, of course, yours to command, Your Highness.” She nodded, and turned to the armored pegasus to her right. “Sergeant Sturm, you may be dismissed. If you feel so inclined, the schoolhouse just outside the South Gate has been asking for volunteers.” Sturm smiled, and bowed low. “By your leave, Your Highness.” He left quickly, off to spend the day with his little sister. Turning to her left, she said, “And you, Sergeant Downburst, may also be dismissed. I seem to recall a fishing tournament being announced for this afternoon. Be sure to ask Lentils about it.” “I shall indeed, and thank you.” Downburst bowed as well, and went to speak to his wife about their plans for the evening. Celestia nodded in response, and turned back to their commanding officer. “Captain, my tour shall take me through the palace and its grounds. I do not believe a detail will be needed. If you can return by noon, I would like to offer you a few hours to your own devices.” “I respectfully decline, Your Highness. I shall be here at your return.” “Very well. I shall see you this afternoon, Captain.” She stepped through the archway, and into the Twilight Gardens, the immense plaza that separated her throne room from that of her younger sister. This early, the Gardens were almost vacant, but the few ponies that strolled its walks paused at her appearance and bowed in greeting. She returned each instance with a warm smile and a nod. Past the elaborate flowerbeds and fountained walks, the doors to Luna’s chambers were firmly secured at this hour. Its guardponies, both unicorns, regarded the few passers-by with practiced disinterest.     Celestia passed the great spiral stairway beside the court where she had walked with Worker the night before. She briefly considered walking the rest of the way to her destination. Time, however, was of the essence. She made a turn down a narrow passage between buildings, stepping out of the sight of her ponies, and then teleported into the empty, silent plaza before the imposing colonnade of the Royal Archives. She stepped through the portico and into the arcade, approached the open foyer, and smiled at the suddenly alert librarian. “G-good morning, your Highness!” she stammered, brushing her mane from her face and forcing a awkward smile. “I certainly did not expect today to be so honored!” Celestia nodded slightly, and quietly soothed the nervous unicorn. “Be at ease, Zephyr. I’ve come to browse the archives, not perform an inspection.” Her smile vanished as she crooked an eyebrow. “That is, unless I need to?” Dread crept across the librarian’s face. Before she could respond, Celestia grinned. “I’m only joking. I’m certain you perform your job to the utmost of your ability. Indeed, the reports I receive on the archives are never late and always expertly written. Thank you.” Zephyr’s fear faded, but shock and pride wrestled across her features. To her credit, she managed to croak, “Thank you, Princess,” before hiding in her ledger. Celestia shook her head, bearing a faint smile as she walked towards a remote corner of the building. After weaving around bookcases, reading desks, and the occasional surprised researcher, she came to a nondescript, forgotten door. Its knob would not turn, but this was by design. She focused for a moment, and a quiet clicking sounded from the other side as the door swung open. She entered, and the door swung closed behind her. Darkness briefly reigned, and then a pale light flickered into existence, emanating from globes placed at regular intervals along a narrow, steep staircase. Now that she was alone, her outward serenity faded. She descended carefully, and her expression darkened with every step. Six passages, then a left turn. Two more, and right. Three passages, and right again. The magic that sustained this place, deep beneath Canterlot, was as fickle as it was ancient. Celestia remembered casting the wards when she set the first courses of stone. After all these years, she could recall how the work taxed her abilities; the enchantments were subtle, meant to misdirect and confuse, and her magical prowess lay in the truth of things. Her sister was the enchantress, after all, and had not been present during the city’s founding. Which brought up an interesting question. When the city was founded, her sister had been... elsewhere. Confined. If she had traversed these halls, how did she know the paths to take, and the dangers to avoid? It should have been a comfort—any possibility of eliminating Luna’s involvement in this was worth exploring—but it was a hollow one. If not Luna, then who? If not her sister, what manner of creature, event, or curse had transformed an outsider into one of her children? She pushed the thoughts away, pledging to examine them later. In these depths, any distraction could be hazardous. Before long, Celestia arrived at a small, unexceptional iron door. She lowered her head, beginning to channel a spell, and stopped. She gingerly placed a hoof against its handle, and was alarmed to find the door swung open easily. “Could the spells have worn off?” she asked herself. Cautiously, she stepped into the room, then paused to study her surroundings. “Or could they have been removed?” By the dim globelight, she could see three bookshelves at the far end of the room, each sagging under the weight of their entrusted burdens. Before them stood a low table, cluttered with spheres, flasks, vials, and a single heavy tome on the verge of disintegrating. Something about that book tickled Celestia’s memory. She hastened to the table and stood over the tattered remnants of the ancient tome, focusing the barest trace of her magic to turn its pages. In these neglected storerooms, using magic was dangerous; she could not begin to guess how her surroundings might react. Glancing from one diagram to the next, the princess paused, her breath catching. There, on the page, was a single sparkling strand of Luna’s mane. The spell the page contained... “No.” Celestia’s voice was the shadow of a whisper, a hopeless plea against the stones. “Luna, what have you done?” The rite was one of the oldest forms of magic, a spell insidious and irreversible. Its use had annihilated entire battalions of  the Equestrian army in battle, long ago. Once it had been deciphered, the spell was banned. Its very name was made taboo, and the books which held it were hidden away in the darkest parts of the Palace of the Sisters. When that place was reclaimed by the Everfree Forest, the collection was brought here. Celestia had forgotten it. Her sister had not. Celestia paced the length of the dining hall, counting out the steps for what might have been the thousandth time. Her sister should have been here by now; she was never late for her breakfast. Silently, the door at the end of the hall crept open. Celestia froze, anxiety knotting her features, until a pair of unicorns in toques stepped inside, each levitating a large tray covered by a silvery dome. When they noticed the hall was already occupied, they froze as well. A brief waiting game ensued until Celestia forced herself to smile and nod in greeting to her ponies. “Thank you, Lentils, Julep. You may set the table.” Exchanging a hasty glance with each other, the two ponies hurriedly set out their trays and silverware, then made a beeline for the door. Julep exited first, and then... “Lentils? A moment?” The pony paused at the door, then turned and bowed. “Yes, princess? How might I serve you?” “No need to be so formal. Have you seen my sister? I don’t suppose she’s snuck down to the kitchens for an early snack?” “No, Your Highness. Or, if she did, I was not there to see.” “Thank you, my friend.” She glanced at her sister’s empty seat, and then turned to stare out the window towards the horizon. Lentils turned to leave, then stopped, one forehoof still lifted. “Princess? Are you alright?” Celestia forced the worry from her face, and stepped towards her cushions, bringing the book that rested nearby into view. Wincing, she looked back at her old friend. “Yes. Thank you. I’ve just got a number of things on my mind.” She pursed her lips a moment, then offered, “If you’d like, I could arrange some warm milk for bed?” Celestia’s smile in return was the first genuine one since that morning. “I’ll let you know, my friend. And thank you for asking.” The mossy green pony grinned, and dipped into a mock curtsy. “I live to serve, princess,” she replied with a wink, and vanished through the open door, closing it behind her. The latch clicked into place, and the room was silent once more. Groaning, the ancient alicorn gracelessly flopped onto her cushions. She twisted this way and that until she was comfortable, and then sighed at her own foolishness. She should know better, after all these years. There’d be rumors throughout the palace, now, of some problem between her and her sister, or some great and terrible crime. Unfortunately, she mused, this time they’d be true. Celestia closed her eyes and tried to relax. To say her day had been eventful would be an understatement. She hoped she hadn’t worried Zephyr too much when she did not leave the way she arrived. It couldn’t have been helped; there had been so much to do. The Minister of Finance had been very understanding when he was informed of a reschedule. Then she had to visit the Judiciary, and then her own private library, and then... “Augh!” she growled, her eyes fluttering open. She stood, shook out her mane, and paced to the window where she watched the sun approach the horizon. “So much for a rest, Celestia. You just can’t stop poking at—” “Tia?” Celestia started at the word, her head jerking around and her eyes briefly going wide before she noticed the presence of her sister. “Oh, Luna, it’s you. Thank goodness.” Luna stood at the end of the table, seemingly hovering between seating herself and approaching her elder sibling. “Tia, what’s wrong?” “Nothing that can’t be solved, Luna.” At least, she hoped that was true. She could not bring herself to meet Luna’s gaze, and she peered back towards the horizon. “It’s almost time. Shall we attend our duty?” “From the dining hall?” “I suppose we could head for the usual balconies, but...” “You’d rather stay. I understand, I think. Alright, go ahead, sis.” The celestial magic, while far from a simple endeavour, had become rote over the millennia. With a little concentration, Celestia lowered the sun, setting it safely on its course to rise again in the morning. Moments later, she could feel her sister work a similar magic, pulling the moon towards its rightful place in the night sky. Royal duty done, and stomachs empty, the sisters sat to enjoy their meal. Celestia was well into her second slice of melon when Luna set down her drink, cleared her throat, and asked, “Tia? Do you want to talk about it?” Her appetite suddenly gone, Celestia lowered her fork to her plate, and frowned at it. An uncomfortable silence gathered, and Luna stood to approach her sister. Celestia spoke first, staring at the meal before her. “Luna, do you remember, a few years ago, when I worried about your sleep? When you said you were completing a project?” Luna nodded slowly. “Yes...” Celestia looked up, meeting Luna’s gaze. Her face was smooth, expressionless, and perhaps a little unsettling. Her stare was intense, and Luna could almost feel its weight. “Do you recall when you asked about redemption? How you wanted to know if I would have acted in the same fashion to rescue you from your corruption, even if you had not been my sister?” “I do,” she replied, her features troubled. “Why?” “When were you planning on telling me what you were up to?” “It... slipped my mind, I guess.” Luna glanced down, and then to her left, studying something only she could see. Celestia sipped her juice, then asked another question. “Luna, those toys you so admire, and the gift you gave me, do you know where they are from?” “The shops in Canterlot, Tia,” she replied, clearly flustered by this change in direction. “Where they get them, I could not begin to guess.” “Pasofino.” “The little town near the mountains? About a day’s flight?” “Yes. Near the mountains. Near a cavern. Near a disturbance that you noticed, five years ago.” Luna looked at her sister inquisitively. “A disturbance?” Celestia nodded, almost imperceptibly. “The same time as your project.” The indigo pony blinked. “What do you—” Her eyes went wide, and then she returned her stare to the table. “Oh.” “Luna, I met your... project, yesterday.” “He was here? Wait, he made the toys?” She could not hide the excitement in her voice. “So you do not deny it?” Celestia’s voice was cool, a practiced tone that hid emotion. “Deny what, Celestia? Why are you interrogating me as if I were a suspect?” In reply, Celestia channeled, lifting the book from its resting place on the cushions beside her. “Do you recognize this?” “Damnation, Celestia,” she swore. “Yes, I do. It’s a book. It’s the one I found the spell in.” “No. Do you recognize it? Do you remember where this book comes from?” “From the old palace, I presume?” “Where in the palace?” she coaxed. “From the—” Luna suddenly stood, and backed away from the table. She eyed the book warily, as if it were a rabid animal. “By the stars...” “So you do remember.” “I do, now. Yes. From the Occultus Arcanus—the archives of hidden magic.” Luna swallowed hard, fear clutching her heart. “And you remember why it was hidden.” “The Bellum Draconis,” she replied. Her voice hastened, and she begged, “Sister, you must understand. I didn’t recall. I only remembered there being a transformation spell, and—” “And you decided to transform a stranger to our nation, to our world, into a pony,” Celestia interrupted. “Into a pony with access to magic.” “I... yes.” Luna stared at her hooves. “Using a spell that had been banned, upon penalty of exile.” “Ex—” Luna’s eyes went wide and her jaw worked silently. She tried to take a step back, to physically move away from Celestia’s words, but her legs gave out. She collapsed, dropping heavily to the floor. Her mane flared wildly as she pleaded, tears welling in her eyes. “No, Celestia.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “I—I can’t leave again. Tia... Sister, I...” Celestia stood, and walked towards her sister. Upon reaching her, she leaned close, and tried to nudge her to her feet. “Luna, I promise, I will do everything in my power to prevent that. But I must also uphold the laws. If this were a matter solely between the two of us, I might be tempted to ignore it after this discussion, but someone else was affected.” “Tia, I... I only changed his shape. Nothing else. He wanted to belong, and... I understood that, and I...” “Shh. I want to hear everything, but not right now. Do you have any audiences scheduled for this evening?” “No, not tonight.” Luna sighed, and continued, “The Ministry seems content to deal with you in the day. I had thought to open the gardens and my court to the public, and have an impromptu party, but...” “Mm. That would be awkward, now, yes. I’m sorry. Sister, I have so much to do, and so many things I need to review to refresh my memory. I suggest, if you can, to take care of your duties tonight quickly. If the hour is not too late when I’ve completed my work, I’ll seek you out, and we can talk then. Is that okay?” Luna nodded numbly, her expression blank. “I... yes. Okay. Later. We’ll talk later.” “Come, little sister. Let’s do this together.” “...Okay.” The two alicorns left the dining hall, side by side. When Lentils returned later to clean up, she found a note at Celestia’s place. No milk tonight, my friend, but if you find you have a moment to talk, please stop by at lunch tomorrow. It’s been far too long. Celestia Thick, acrid smoke hung in the air, obscuring the field of battle and burning her eyes and nose. There, in the distance, was the dragon encampment. Celestia peered through her spyglass and studied the shadowy, slumbering shapes. There were at least a dozen, possibly half that again if there were sorcerers mixed with the larger warriors.  Still, even two dozen should be easy enough to handle with the force at her disposal, with minimal losses. She returned the glass to her saddlebag, and motioned to her commanders. Celestia tossed and turned, her sleep troubled. With her five best tacticians gathered around her, she explained the situation as well as her ideas for a speedy resolution. After some consultation, they came to an agreement, and the ponies returned to their companies to relay orders. Celestia began her examination of the terrain anew, when something sparkled in the distant encampment. She peered into the darkness, and dug out her spyglass once more. She had not set it to her eye before the screams sounded behind her. The sheets tangled about her legs. She kicked at them in vain, mumbling incoherently. She turned to look, and the ground detonated at her feet. She found herself prone, covered in smoking earth and rock. Shakily regaining her feet, she surveyed the battlefield, and was met with horror. Her commanders, as well as ponies throughout the ranks, screamed and convulsed on the ground. As she watched, they swelled as if they were balloons, and began to change. Their limbs shriveled, their skins split, and strange growths pierced their coats. The lucky ones died almost immediately, but a few kept changing, and growing. In seconds, they became hideous, armored, serpentine beasts which immediately fell upon the ponies that attempted to clamber away, devouring them whole. Lairworms. They had been turned into lairworms—bloodthirsty eating machines that lurked in the dark places, the nymph-like states of some of the rarer dragon breeds. Somehow, the dragon sorcerors had converted her troops into their own. One of the immense beasts turned, sensing her presence, and charged. As it bore down upon her, she could see the confusion and terror in its too-familiar eyes. Celestia woke with a start, panting, her mane and coat soaked with sweat, her bed linens torn and knotted. She untangled her limbs, then forced herself to stand and walk, wearily moving away from the remnants of slumber and towards wakefulness. She left her rooms, nodding at the guards in passing, and made her way to the kitchens for some tea. “So much for sleep, tonight,” she said to herself. Celestia knew it had been a dream, but that did not soothe her nerves; she had lived it once before. As she paced the halls towards the kitchens, she examined the tapestries and paintings, trying to push the memories away. Instead, she found herself musing on the solution. “It is done, Your Highness,” intoned the head scribe. “The study is complete, and the counterspell designed.” “Excellent work, Springs. Have the source material confined to the Arcanum. As for the counterspell, what do you predict to be its success rate?” “That depends on your definition of success, princess. The spell works quickly and efficiently, and if it cannot overpower the enchantment, it kills the target. Of course, it only can counteract a transformation in progress. If the transformation is complete, I’m afraid the sword is your only choice.” “I see.” She pursed her lips in distaste. “It results in death every time?” “By our calculations, if it cannot reverse the spell, then yes.” “What if it were to be cast on someone who was not under the influence of the primary spell, or a variant?” “As with a completed transformation, it would have no effect, Your Highness.” “Well, that’s a small relief. Thank you again, Springs. Please have five hundred copies ready by the end of the week. I will need a dozen by morning, myself. Make that your top priority.” “As you request.” He bowed low, and returned to work. “Your Highness?” inquired a new voice. Celestia found herself standing at the doors to the kitchens, the guards to either side watching her warily. She did not know how long she had been there, nor which guard had spoken. An awkward silence overtook them. Celestia was not quick enough to dispel it entirely. “Ah, yes. The kitchens.” She tried to sound reassuring. “I did not mean to worry you, my fine ponies. I was simply exploring an idea.” The guards nodded in unison, then returned their gazes forward, attempting to resume their professional demeanor. Celestia pushed the doors open. ‘My fine ponies’? Really, Celestia? She needed that tea desperately.