//------------------------------// // The Celestial City // Story: The First Light of Dawn // by Cold in Gardez //------------------------------// The purple foal had never been more excited in her young life. She bounced in place, trying to see over the heads of the taller ponies in the crowd around her, until finally her father picked her up and placed her on his back. Ahead of them, at the front of the Solarium, Canterlot’s largest plaza, hundreds of craftsponies had spent the night constructing a special stage, behind which the first light of dawn was beginning to rise in the East. Now there were thousands of ponies crowded into every open space as far as she could see, filling the air with the sound of hooves on marble, the faint hum of conversation, and the rustle of pegasus wings overhead. The babble of the crowd suddenly grew louder, and faint cheers broke out near the front. Trumpets sounded as a giant white pegasus with a unicorn horn walked onto the stage. The figure towered over the guards and other ponies, making them look like foals beside her. “I can see her!” she squeaked into her father’s ear, her forelegs wrapped around his neck for balance. He whickered quietly, amused. “Keep watching, Sparky. It hasn’t started yet.” On the stage the alicorn princess spent a moment watching the mountains. Then, as the newborn sun’s rays broke over the horizon, she leapt, her massive wings lofting her into the air. With a final beat she hovered in front of a golden crescent sculpture that very nearly matched the mark on her flank, and the full light of the sun behind her washed over the plaza. The longest day of the year had begun. Every year since, for as long as she lived in Canterlot, Twilight Sparkle never missed the Summer Sun celebration. *** Canterlot hadn’t changed much since Trixie’s last visit. No surprise there; the city was a reflection of its ruler, a millennia-old alicorn princess. Celestia had long ago decided she was happy with the state of Canterlot, and that was good enough for most ponies. If you didn’t like it, well, there was a wide open world you were free to explore. In truth, there was much to love about Canterlot. Every street was a work of art – carefully laid cobblestones, soft on the hooves, led to wide intersections decorated with fountains and statues. Ornate lampposts pleased the eye during the day, and lit the way at night. Graceful bridges stretched across placid streams, and everywhere there was green. Trees, grass, flowers, gardens; the whole city sometimes seemed more like an elaborate park than a place where ponies actually lived and worked. Above it all, perched on the side of a mile-high mountain, was Canterlot Keep. Celestia’s castle, the capital of Equestria; a dream wrought from marble and rainbows. And home to ponies with more money than sense. Trixie’s favorite kind of pony. The Great and Powerful Trixie moved through the crowds like a fish through water. As she walked she remembered the rhythms of the city, the steps of the artful dodger she had once been. She watched the ponies around her with a practiced eye, gauging the flow of traffic and the open spaces where crowds might form. Eventually she came to one of Canterlot’s famous plazas, a broad courtyard of pink granite flagstones and sparkling fountains. Ponies relaxed beneath trees and on wrought-iron benches, enjoying one of the first beautiful days of spring. The central fountain was nearly fifty paces across and ringed by a broad marble bench. Families sat on the edge of the fountain, watching their foals splash about in the water. When she still had her wagon, Trixie had preferred to give set performances, using her grandest spells and tricks in more-or-less the same routine. But before she owned her own stage she had been a master improviser, able to turn any situation extraordinary by her mere presence. And now it was time to improvise. She hopped up onto the fountain’s edge, spells and routines tumbling through her head. She wanted something impressive but not ostentatious. Canterlot was a poor place for boasting – the city itself was the greatest star, and difficult to compete with. The key is not to do the impossible, she thought, part of the mantra she always recited before performing. Her horn glowed as she cast the first of many spells. It is to do the impossible, and make it look easy. She took a step, and walked out onto the water as though it were solid earth. Eyes closed, she paused with her head tilted up and her mane tossed behind her shoulder in an arrogant silver wave. Her performer’s instinct told her to wait. Wait until the hum of conversation died down as ponies noticed her. Wait until she heard hoofsteps drawing closer. Wait until the crowd began to chatter again. Water-walking was a difficult skill. Most unicorns, if they bothered to learn it, could only take a few steps before sinking. A magician unicorn might be able to stand on water indefinitely, if they were careful. But she was no mere magician. The Great and Powerful Trixie began to dance. She started slowly, cantering in a circle with her eyes still closed, legs crossing as she pirouetted about the water. An excited babble started in the crowd, and a few ponies stomped their hooves in appreciation. The sounds of approval were like nectar, like delicious wine. She hopped forward three times, then leapt high into the air, hooves extended, before landing perfectly on her forelegs. Someone in the crowd cheered. The key is not to do the impossible. She darted forward, her hooves skating across the water like ice. She crouched and then jumped again, spinning in the air to land backwards, still gliding over the water in a wide circle that brought her to a slow stop near the crowd. It is to do the impossible, and make it look easy. Exhaling, she raised a single hoof, and her horn glowed as the performance truly began. The water in front of her roiled, as though being stirred by an invisible hoof. Faster and faster it spun, until out of the whirl a blob of water the size of a pony appeared, rising to the surface before her. The amorphous form slowly attenuated and drew tighter, assuming a shape as it shrank. She heard shouts from the crowd as she focused her magic, wielding it like a knife. The crowd was utterly silent when her spell finished. Before them on the water stood two unicorns – one of flesh and blood, the other sculpted entirely from liquid water. Its mane was gently flowing mist, its horn like an icicle, all atop a gracefully arching neck and imperiously tilted head. If she had stopped there it still would have been a magnificent show, certainly more than anypony ever expected outside a performance hall. But she was the Great and Powerful Trixie; magnificent was just a starting point for her. She turned her hoof upward, holding it out to the water sculpture. With a fluid grace it raised its leg, gently clasped her hoof with its own, and together they resumed the dance. The crowd went insane. Hundreds of ponies had jammed the open space around the fountain. Some, toward the edges, had even climbed into the water to get a closer look. Soon the crowd itself became part of the attraction, as ponies wandering by stopped to see what the cheering was for. She spun elegantly across the waves, each hoof placed with a precision and grace that would have been at home in Canterlot’s finest balls. The water sculpture mirrored her movements, sometimes close enough to touch, other times far enough away that they seemed to be dancing separately. The noise around her was deafening. Ponies shouted, cheered and stomped their hooves. She could barely hear herself think. It was wonderful. After a few final orbits she came to a stop just feet from the front of the crowd, the water unicorn by her side. With a casual gesture of her hoof she dismissed the magic binding it, and it collapsed back into the pool without a trace. She reared back on her hind feet, hooves spread wide, head tossed back in abandon, as though ready to embrace every pony in the crowd. The cheering somehow grew louder. She stood that way for a long while, drinking their adoration like a flower drinking sunlight. Small splashes sounded around her, and she realized they were tossing bits into the fountain. Not a bad start. Not bad at all. *** Twilight Sparkle was having a good day, and she hadn’t even gotten out of bed yet. She had set her alarm extra early the night before. Part of her hadn’t wanted to go to bed at all, and just stay up bouncing around the library in excitement, but that was foalish and she was no longer a foal. She was a sensible mare who knew the importance of getting a good night’s sleep. So she went to bed. Reluctantly. Finally the alarm went off. It didn’t wake her – she’d been awake and staring at it for more than twenty minutes, silently willing it to move faster. She was up and out of the bed so fast she might as well have teleported. The covers hadn’t even landed back on the bed and she was already out of the room, trotting down the stairs to the Library proper. “Spike! Spiiiike! Wake up Spike!” There was a muffled crash from upstairs, followed by a thrashing sound, like someone was having a fight with their pillow. “Get up Spike!” she called again. “Wha… what? Twilight?” He poked his head over the loft where he slept, eyes bleary with sleep. “Good morning, sleepy head!” “Twilight, it’s… the sun’s not even up, Twilight.” “I know! Do you want some breakfast? I think there’s some jade left.” The tiny dragon wandered into the kitchen, rubbing his bleary eyes. “What’s got you so excited?” he asked, and wandered over to the pantry to start pulling ingredients for breakfast before Twilight could try to do so herself. He had learned to head that disaster off at the pass. She hopped in place. “Do you remember last month when Celestia invited us to attend the Summer Sun Celebration in Canterlot?” He nodded. He remembered most of the messages he coughed up as part of their correspondence. “Well, she said I could bring as many of my friends as I wanted!” He poured some water into a kettle and breathed on it, quickly heating it to a boil with his flames. He waited for her to continue, but she simply stared at him with the eager smile she used when she wanted people to ask her stuff. He sighed. “Okay, so why is this morning important?” She clapped her hooves together. “The Formal Events Etiquette Manual says that you should wait until 60 days before an event before inviting your friends, if they will be attending as your guests.” He disguised rolling his eyes by turning to grab a bag of dried oats. He measured some into a bowl and poured the steaming water into it, giving the whole mixture a stir with his claw before putting it on the table for her. “Let me guess. Today is 60 days before the – hey, don’t eat that yet! Let it sit for a minute.” Twilight looked up from the oatmeal she had been about to stick her muzzle into, chagrined. She hated waiting for her breakfast. “So, ah, yes, today is 60 days before the Celebration, which means I can start asking people to come!” She paused, then added, “Would you like to come, Spike?” “You know, just because a book says something doesn’t mean…” he trailed off as she narrowed her eyes. He coughed and continued, “Count me out. The last time I attended that thing, Nightmare Moon tried to take over the world.” She took a tentative bite of the oatmeal, and then blew on the bowl, trying to cool it off a bit faster. “I guarantee you that won’t happen this year, Spike,” she said, before trying another bite. “I’m sure you’ll find some other disaster, Twilight.” “Gee, thanks.” At least the oatmeal was good. *** The sun was just barely over the horizon as she made it out the door, filling the misty air with a gentle golden glow. She hopped once to settle her saddlebags, then levitated a scroll out of one of her pockets, stretching it open in front of her. On it was the checklist she had prepared last night – mostly errands, but also the names of the six friends she hoped would accompany her. One, Spike’s, had been sadly crossed out. Checklists were one of Twilight Sparkle’s guilty pleasures. Anything and everything that could be organized into a checklist, was. Checklists turned the chaos of life into neat, ordered rows to be individually ticked off as they were accomplished. For a bookworm who found pony relations sometimes confusing, they were a source of comfort. She couldn’t help but feel smug when using them; more organized and logical than other, non-checklist-using ponies. Sometimes, when no one was watching, she would draw empty boxes with no associated tasks and check them off, just for fun. She had arranged her friends in the order they were likely to wake up, so she could visit them more efficiently. Applejack, probably already out tending apple trees, was at the top. Rainbow Dash, who wouldn’t leave her cloud before noon, was solidly at the bottom, below the other ponies, shopping and lunch. Sweet Apple Acres was already in full swing when Twilight arrived. Earth ponies were out in the orchards, pruning branches, planting new trees and making repairs to the irrigation system. Applejack, as Twilight expected, was directing work at the barn with her brother. The orange earth pony trotted out to meet her, calling out a cheerful greeting. “Howdy Sugar! What brings you ‘round here?” Twilight gave her a friendly nuzzle. “Good morning AJ,” she said, and then stood back a step and cleared her throat. “As you may know,” she started her rehearsed invitation, “Princess Celestia will be holding the annual Summer Sun Celebration in Canterlot in two months. She has graciously decided to invite me and anypony of my choosing to attend as her special guests in the Palace seating section. I would be honored if you would agree to accompany me to this event.” “Aw, Sug, I’d love to,” she answered. “But it won’t be like the Gala, will it?” There was an uncomfortable silence as they both relived the catastrophe that had been the Grand Galloping Gala. “Er, no,” Twilight finally said. “This will be much less formal. Almost everypony in Canterlot will be there, not just the aristocracy.” Applejack stomped a hoof in approval. “Well, count me in then. Who else is coming?” Twilight brought out her checklist and ticked off the box next to Applejack’s name, enjoying a secret thrill as she did. “Just us so far. I’m sure the rest of the girls will too, though.” *** “…graciously decided to invite me and anypony of my choosing to attend as her special guests in the Palace seating section. I would be honored if you would agree to accompany me to this event.” Pinkie Pie gasped and clapped her hooves over her mouth as Twilight finished, her eyes wide as saucers. “Twilight Sparkle, are you asking me to be your DATE?!” “What? No, Pinkie, as my guest.” “Well it soooouuunds like you’re looking for a date, silly filly,” Pinkie replied, bouncing in a merry circle around the bemused unicorn. Twilight turned, trying to track the hyperactive pony. “Don’t be ridiculous. Applejack is coming too, and she didn’t call this a--” she didn’t get to finish her sentence. “Applejack too?! Oooooohhhh, it’s that kind of date,” she said slyly, giving Twilight a giant stage wink. Twilight resisted the urge to smack herself in the forehe ad. “It’s not a… oh, nevermind. Can you come?” “Of course I can!” Pinkie hopped in place, her hooves fluttering wildly. Suddenly she froze in mid-hop, a puzzled look on her face. “Wait, what day did you say it was?” the pink pony asked. “The… Summer Sun Celebration? It’s the day of the Summer Sun Celebration, of course.” Pinkie tilted her head to the side slightly, her hoof rubbing her chin as she thought. “Hmm…. I thought there was another party that day,” she said. “Somepony’s birthday?” Pinkie shook her head, chewing her lip as she thought. “Nope, no birthdays.” “A wedding?” Pinkie giggled. “Silly Twilight, I’d never forget a wedding! They’re the BEST parties!” Twilight sighed. “Well, what was it, then?” Pinkie knocked her hoof against her head, as though trying to jar the memory loose. “It was some kind of celebration, I think,” she said. “OOH! It had to do with the sun!” Twilight closed her eyes and rubbed her temples with her hooves. “Was it the Summer Sun Celebration, Pinkie?” Pinkie shrieked and wrapped her forelegs around the unicorn in a bone-crushing hug. “THAT’S IT! Twilight, you’re a GENIUS!” Twilight couldn’t breathe. This is how diamonds are formed, she thought. Finally the pink pony released her, and the grey tunnel receded from her vision. “So, can you come?” she asked a bit weakly. “Oh, I’m so sorry Twilight.” She really did look sorry; the world itself seemed to lose some of its color as she pouted. “But there’s a party here to celebrate the Summer Sun Celebration. If I go with you, who will run the party?” Part of Twilight wanted to tell Pinkie to forget the party, that it wasn’t important. Fortunately, the part of Twilight that didn’t want to be buried in a shallow grave in the Everfree forest won out. “Oh, it’s alright Pinkie,” she said, and gave her friend a nuzzle. “We’ll be fine without you, and I’m sure it will be a great party.” Pinkie beamed at her, and the color came back into the world. *** Three hours later, Twilight Sparkle was feeling a bit grumpy. She munched on a daisy flower and grass sandwich outside the Hayseed Café and reviewed the checklist resting in front of her. Applejack’s name had a satisfying check mark next to it, but so far her other friends had been less receptive to her invitation. Pinkie Pie’s parties obviously took precedence. The town was relying on her to organize the celebration, and knowing Pinkie it would probably rival the festivities in Canterlot. Rarity had said she would “rather die” than see Prince Blueblood again. Twilight thought that was a bit overdramatic, even for Rarity, but the girls had never gotten the full story from her of what happened on the night of the Gala. Fluttershy had sounded happy about coming, until Twilight started talking about how exciting the crowds were, and how thousands of ponies would see them up on stage with the princess. It had taken her an hour to talk the shivering pegasus out from under the table. That just left Rainbow Dash, who should be waking up soon. Twilight finished her sandwich, left a precisely calculated tip, and cantered off to find the blue pegasus pony. It was a short search. One of the treetop-high clouds near the edge of town had a garish, multi-hued tail hanging over its edge. She trotted as close as she could, and started yelling. “Daaaaash! Wake up!” The tail gave a flick and vanished on top of the cloud. Twilight rolled her eyes. “I know you’re up there, Dash! Come down!” No response. “I have important news regarding an upcoming event!” she teased. Still nothing. She scowled. “Don’t make me come up there!” She heard what sounded like a cross between a snort and a giggle come from the cloud. “Some ponies…” she muttered to herself. Well, fine. She could play that game too. She spun together the cloud-walking spell she had learned for their visit to Cloudsdale, her hooves glowing a light purple for a moment as the magic sank in. She tapped her hooves together to make sure the spell was firmly set, then turned to look up at the cloud, closing her eyes and imagining herself standing atop it. Her horn flashed, and when she opened her eyes she was on top of what felt like fluffy cotton, next to a startled blue pegasus. Dash yelped and rolled away, nearly tumbling off the cloud before flapping her wings frantically to recover. She settled back onto the cloud with a dour look for the giggling unicorn. “You know, Twilight, the reason pegasus ponies can stand on clouds is so we can’t be bothered while we’re sleeping.” “Good morning to you, too!” She glanced up at the sun. “Or should I say, good afternoon?” Dash grumbled something just below Twilight’s hearing range. Her mane looked like a bird’s nest that had survived a paint factory explosion. “So what’s so important that you had to interrupt my nap?” Dash fluffed the cloud with her hooves and then flopped onto her belly. “As you may know, Princess Celestia will be holding the annual Summer Sun Celebration in Canterlot in two months. She has graciously decided to invite me—" “Boring!” Twilight frowned, but pressed on. “Ahem. She has graciously decided to invite me and anypony of my choosing to attend as her special guests—" “Still bored!” Twilight scowled. “Rainbow Dash, we are being offered a chance to attend an important historic event of immense cultural significance. You should be excited about this opportunity!” “Uh huh.” Dash rolled onto her side, facing away from the unicorn. “Ask Scootaloo – she loves important historic events of boring significance.” “Really?” Twilight perked up. “I didn’t know she was so culturally inclined. Maybe this will have something to do with her cutie…” she trailed off as she noticed Dash snickering. She decided to attack from another angle. “You know, I hear the Wonderbolts will be attending,” she said casually. A blue ear swiveled around to face her. “They’ll be giving one of their biggest performances of the year,” she continued. “They’ve been working on new routines all winter, I’m told. I’m sure it will be ‘awesome’.” Dash rolled onto her back, staring up at the higher clouds with feigned nonchalance. “Go on,” she said. “I bet they’ll even stop to speak with all the guests in the VIP section.” She paused, then struck. “You know, where we’ll be sitting.” Dash sigh and rose to her hooves. “Fine, fine. But it better be awesome!” Twilight hopped with a delighted squeal and smothered the pegasus with a hug. “Oh, thank you Dash!” “Hey, watch the mane!” Twilight was so happy she forgot to mark her checklist.