Something was coming.
Twilight felt it, she felt it in her horn, in her wings, in her breath, in her bones. It was like a distant, barely perceptible thrum. It was almost an ache, but not quite painful. It was at once blindingly obvious and so subtle that she was barely sure it was real.
The evening was unseasonably warm. Six ponies stood in a circle in the lower floor of the library. Twilight explained her findings.
"I'm sure of it," she said. "I've collated the ancient diamond dog codices, the thaumic record of the Crystal Empire, the studies of griffon folktales, the script of the Auld–"
"It's okay, Twi," said Applejack. "We believe ya. You didn't let us down about Nightmare Moon's return, you won't let us down this time. Plus, I'm getting a mighty strange feeling about tonight."
The other ponies nodded.
Twilight smiled, sheepishly and sincerely. She sometimes forgot she didn't have to justify herself to her friends as she would to an academic review board.
"So what's going down?" asked Rainbow Dash. "We can take it, I'm sure. Just point us at it!"
“Well, I talked to Princess Celestia, and she said we should do nothing. She's seen it before. It's not a threat to Equestria. It's not dangerous.”
“So, you brought us all here just to tell us not to do anything?” Dash did not look pleased.
“What should we expect, then?” said Applejack.
“She … wouldn't say,” said Twilight.
“Wouldn't say?”
“Yes.” Twilight looked at the floor. “She said it's a personal thing, that it would be better not to be told.”
There was a moment of silence.
“Nothing, then?” said Rainbow Dash. She seemed uncertain.
“Well, y'all know I have plenty of respect for Princess Celestia and Princess Twilight, but I reckon we'd do well to be vigilant tonight. Just in case somethin' less than friendly tags along with the harmless stuff,” said Applejack.
Twilight nodded. “That seems sensible. Go home, be keep an eye out for anything suspicious. I'll be here, prepared to use the Elements if we need to.”
And so it was decided.
Twilight Sparkle
Twilight awoke. She was sitting on the ground floor of the library, face buried in a drool stained book. Her fetlocks ached from resting in an awkward position and her nostrils stung. The only light came from a low burning candle on the bookshelf, flickering and sending shadows dancing across the room; the only sound, from the creaking of the floor beneath her as she shifted position. She sighed, and silently cursed herself for falling asleep when she was meant to be keeping watch and researching.
The world felt different. Not like it did earlier. The air did not thrum and her horn did not ache. Rather, the air was thick with an aetherial stillness, a sense of serenity, and a smell of smoke. Twilight wondered briefly whether she had been drugged, but, upon playing through some calculus in her head, decided her cognitive prowess was intact.
...A smell of smoke. Acrid, stinging, but not overpowering. That was odd. Rationality won out over magically induced calmness. Twilight stood up and looked around, searching for a source, a potential fire. Behind her sat a wrinkled unicorn with a long, white beard smoking an ornate ceramic pipe. He was holding one of the library's books open with his horn field and staring at her over it with a furrowed brow.
"Hmph," he said. "Alicorn, eh?" His voice was gravelly and coarse, his speech slow and ornamented with an odd stress pattern. "I was wondering when you would wake up."
Twilight realised that this was the sort of event for which she should summon her friends, but she felt no inclination to do so. In any case, he did not seem dangerous, so there was no immediate need to seek help.
"Who are you?" she asked.
The unicorn frowned, lay the book he was reading down, and blew smoke in her face.
"Star Swirl the Bearded, you young fool!" he barked. "Was the beard too subtle a clue?"
“But you can't be … You're dead … You … What about your hat?” Twilight faltered.
Star Swirl snorted. "Do you really think I'd wear that unwieldy, jangly rag outside of ceremonial occasions? Think, filly!"
Twilight was more than a little taken aback, but still calm. "How did you get here?" she said. "Is this another time travel spell? Have you come to enact some great work? Ohmigosh, I should call Princess Celestia! We need to–"
"Hush! Stop blabbering and listen!" said Star Swirl. "This magic is not mine. It's older and greater than that. It's not time travel. I'm dead. I've been dead and rotted to dust for far too many years to waste time listening to you panic. I'll only be here to talk to you until sunrise, and then that will be the end of it. Why? Because apparently the great, unknowable workings of reality in their infinite wisdom think this is a good way for me to spend my time. Don't go choking on questions again. I don't know any more than you do, other than what I've already said."
Twilight felt both cowed and disappointed. Star Swirl was clearly an imposing presence, but in her mind he had always acted like a stallion version of Celestia.
"Okay," she said. "What do you want to tell me?"
Star Swirl pursed his wrinkled lips and glared at her for several seconds. Twilight stood her ground, silently looking him in the eyes. At last, the old stallion took a breath from his pipe and filled the room with another puff of bitter smoke.
"You're an alicorn," he said. "From what I remember, we only ever knew of two alicorns, and neither really bothered to meddle in mortal affairs. Arrogant, isolationist creatures. And now here you are, sleeping in a library for normal ponies. You're too naïve to be very old, you must have come into being recently. And yet you mention Celestia in a reverential tone, as if you were her pet, so you're evidently no usurper. What's your tale?”
“The princesses weren't like that!” said Twilight. “...Were they?”
“Alicorns, not princesses. They weren't princesses. Now, I asked you a question, filly!”
“But–”
Star Swirl threw his book at her. Twilight ducked, and book thumped unceremoniously on the wall behind her.
“I asked first!” he said.
Twilight glared at him while reshelving the book.
“I'm sorry,” said Star Swirl. “Shouldn't have done that. It was inappropriate. Normally, I'd use my cane, but it seems not to have made the journey with me. One should never be disrespectful to books.”
Twilight sighed.
“Well?” said Star Swirl. “You're a young alicorn. How did that come to pass?”
Twilight was finding it increasingly difficult to respect Star Swirl, and felt a twinge of pride when she thought about the question.
“I was Princess Celestia's personal protégé,” she said, fluffing her wings. “She allowed me to become a princess when I finished this spell.” Twilight pulled a book from the shelves and dropped it, open at the right page, in front of Star Swirl.
He looked at the book for several seconds, frowning, then back at Twilight, frowning harder. His jaw was tense, his lips pursed, his eyes narrow. He had forgotten about his pipe, all his attention now concentrated on Twilight.
Star Swirl laughed. Twilight took a step back, bewildered.
“Oh, child,” he said after his laughter had finally died away. “Maybe you do deserve some respect, after all. Not a great deal, just some. But some nonetheless!”
“You're not angry?” asked Twilight, tentatively.
“Furious! Ha! But only with myself.” Star Swirl shook his head. “In any case, since you answered my question so beautifully, let me tell you of how your princesses acted when I was alive.
“I lived through the last stages of the Unicorn Reunification, when the Platinum Dynasty brought the final recalcitrant unicorn city states unto itself, when it routed the Earth ponies from the Sanguine Veldt. It was a violent time. Callous and incidental bloodshed was the norm.
“The two alicorns, Zaria and Selene we called them at the time, came by the unicorn cities intermittently. They knew what befell us. They knew the violence. And, I know that, given their powers, they could have stopped it. But they didn't. They simply chose not to see it.
“When I was a young, headstrong, idealistic fool, I sought them out. I abandoned my family, my city, and travelled in search of them. There are many tales to be told of that time, but the important thing is that I did find one of them. I found Selene in a cave. I sought her attention. She ignored me. I camped outside for three weeks while she ignored me. She would leave every so often, flying, so I couldn't follow. Each time she left, I never knew if she had done so permanently, to make a fool out of me. But she always returned. Entered her cave silently as if the gormless young unicorn before here was nought but a rock or a tree. But! At the end of the third week, once I had run out of food supplies and was trying to survive off the sparse, tough grass around us, she talked to me. She came out from her cave, told me that I had tenacity that would put an Earth pony to shame, told me she had food the likes of which I had never tasted, and bade me enter. She was not lying about the food, at least. Once inside, we talked properly. I told her of my aspirations as a scholar and a magician. Of how my desire went beyond the parochial aspirations of the Platinum Dynasty. And, for some reason, she humoured me. She started to teach me.
“I learnt a great many things in those months. Spells, of course, but more than that. I learned the many names Selene and her sister went by. I learnt of their ascension at the Apotheonic Torque. I learnt the myth of the mad, reclusive draconequus, an abandoned relic of an earlier time. I learnt that alicorns, despite their tranquil, haughty countenances, know worry and insecurity. And I learnt that alicorns, despite their tranquil, haughty countenances and tremendous powers, bleed and eat and shit just as lower ponies do. As – ha! – I'm sure you're aware by now!” Twilight averted eye contact with Star Swirl, who was grinning like a schoolcolt. “And, for that matter, they fuck too!
“Alas, I fear I'm rambling. The point is this. I asked Selene, once, why she did not intervene during the bloody battles of my home nation. She recited an answer from Zaria – Celestia, to you – saying that the problems of other ponies were not the concern of alicorns.
“They were not vicious, filly. They were merely unconcerned. And, lest you think I sit here making moral judgements, know that I was no better. My nation was no better. I thought only of learning. The Platinums thought only of aesthetics and possessions and means to safeguard the two. None of us came away clean.”
Star Swirl sat back, silently, watching Twilight.
Twilight said nothing. Her mind whirled in a great storm of thoughts and concerns. Could he be trusted? Was he the real Star Swirl? Could Celestia, a beacon of benevolence and magnanimity for as far back as Twilight could remember, really have been so callous? And yet, the story fit. Celestia and Luna's births had never been recorded in history. There was no reliable mention of them during the Pre-Classical Era. It was not until the end of the Discordant Age that the princesses were noticed by history. But Celestia could easily have been around before then, just not making any historical impact. It was not inconceivable that even a princess's outlook could change over millennia. And yet... The thought of the Princess of Equestria, her mentor, her teacher acting in such a way was horrifying.
Star Swirl laughed again.
“I know that expression,” he said. “Your heart and your mind are pulling in different directions, aren't they? You are intellectually honest and fairly bright, as ponies go. Your mind will win. You will come to accept what I say as possible.”
“You're right,” said Twilight. “I am.” There was no arrogance or show boating in this statement; both ponies knew it was true. “Do you know why I spoke of Celestia so reverentially? I have good reason to. She looks after us. All of us. She does everything in her power to keep Equestria safe, to keep ponies happy, to allow them to express themselves, to be the best they can be without fear of anything befalling them.”
Star Swirl smiled. “I can't blame you for feeling so strongly about the issue. But neither can I deny you the insight on how she used to act.” He shrugged. “That does not undermine any of the benevolence that you so eloquently burble about.”
Twilight was unsure what to say. Star Swirl went back to puffing on his pipe, filling the room with smoke again.
“You're naïve, filly,” he said. “And that, though more than a little pathetic and annoying, is no crime. Your princesses are not as pure as you thought them to be. I imagine you expected me to be rather more dull than I am, for that matter. So, if I am to advise you, I suppose I should say this. You are an alicorn. Unless your princesses are fucking with you, which is not beyond the realms of possibility, you will live for a very long time. You will not be the protected, you will be the protector. You will live through history on a scale that is currently unimaginable to you. You will have to face to brutality of reality, lose your naivete, and see how horrible things can be. If you are to be a good princess, and keep up Zaria's grand plan of caring for all ponies, you will have to do so unflinchingly.
“For that matter, you're also a scholar. And it is the duty of a scholar to see reality as it truly is, to hold up the light when no one else will so that you my illuminate the world in all its beauty and in all its flaws.”
Having finished his lecture, Star Swirl, with some difficulty, climbed to his hooves and ambled over to the window to look outside. Twilight said nothing. She was thinking over what he had said.
“It looks like I've finished early,” said Star Swirl. “It's not dawn yet.”
“I will,” said Twilight.
Star Swirl looked at her.
“I will face the nasty side of the world. As a princess and as a scholar,” she said.
“Well then,” said Star Swirl. “I suppose I've done all I need to. Would you like to hear some stories of my time in the world before the sun comes up?”
“Oh gosh, yes please!” said Twilight. “Wait there just a moment! I need to write these down.”
“Hmph. Students.” Star Swirl rolled his eyes. “Go on, then! Hurry!”
When Twilight had her parchment and quill before her, Star Swirl began. He told her of the Platinum Dynasty, of its brutal internecine struggles with other nations and its internal backstabbing and struggles for power, of his time with Luna and the wonders she had shown him, of his travels alone through the Old Lands, of his return to civilisation and attempts to disseminate all he had learned.
When the sky was orange and Star Swirl was drawing to the close of one of his stories, Twilight leapt up.
“Grown tired of my rambling? I don't blame you,” said Star Swirl.
“I have an idea!” said Twilight. “I think I've come up with a way to let you stay here. I just need to go grab some equipment.”
“Well, you haven't,” said Star Swirl. He looked through the window. “This isn't the sort of magic we can play with.”
“Please, just let me try!”
“Very well. If your arrogance is that great.” Star Swirl sighed. “Before you do, though, let me say something. It is heartening to know that so long after my time there are still ponies like you who shine the light of inquiry with fervour and honesty. I trust you entirely to carry out this noble work. More than other ponies, more than the other alicorns, even. It was an honour to have met you, Twilight Sparkle.”
Twilight smiled in spite of herself.
“Now, go,” said Star Swirl. “Let's see you try this spell of yours.”
“Yes, yes, of course.” Twilight scampered down the stairs to the basement as fast as she could. When she reached the bottom, she froze, inwardly wincing. That was stupid. She tentatively ascended, hoping to be greeted by a scowl from Star Swirl for wasting time.
Spike stood in the middle of the room watching her with bewilderment. Star Swirl, his pipe, and the smoke that filled the room were gone.
*