//------------------------------// // Chapter 3 // Story: Princess // by PencilPony //------------------------------// No matter how Twilight fought to hold Luna's astral plane in focus, she found herself falling into a deep void of half-awareness. Luna's horn was glowing as the plane darkened around her, and the silver light was the last thing Twilight focused upon before she could no longer sustain her sight. Foggy visions ensued, but she could not muster the brainpower to comprehend them. One moment she was staring into the depths of a feral black pupil; the next, a sky stained red. The blood of her guards leaked across the horizon in rivulets, producing light that pulsed faintly with their dying heartbeats. White wings flashed near the edge of her vision, but Twilight only produced a meager groan despite the severity of her terror. Mercifully, she fell into a pit of blackness, her slumber broken only by a gentle swaying beneath her back. Twilight didn't remember waking up. She wasn't sure how many days had passed before she became aware of the pillow over her head and the covers pulled over her ears. The air entering her nostrils was hot and stuffy, and her limbs frozen where they were curled beneath her. Her head pounded as if a thousand hooves thundered inside her skull. For one blissful moment, she could not recall why she would be in such a position, in a bed that was not her own at the library. The pillow tumbled to the side as Twilight strained to lift her head. Where was she? Where was Luna? Twilight growled in frustration as her muscles adamantly resisted her efforts to move. She twisted her head around and squinted, the surrounding gloom indistinguishable from the backs of her eyelids. She didn't seem to be in Luna's astral plane, but she hadn't the foggiest notion of where she had ended up. A shiver ran up her spine. Had she gone blind? Was it simply the absolute darkness of the night hindering her sight? Was there a talon hovering in front of her nose, prepared to slice her muzzle in half? Did she hear something breathing? Not until Twilight strained her senses for any sign of life did she notice it was only her own hyperventilation. Her relief turned to sickening nausea, and she buried her head in the cushy depths of her mattress with a miserable moan. Twilight considered sealing her eyes closed and sleeping for the rest of eternity. She could escape the visions that would haunt her every waking hour in her dreams. There had to be a spell for long-lasting sleep. She could cast it over and over again, until the memories she dreaded had been buried under a lifetime worth of fantasies. She would never have to face Luna or Celestia, or the families of Brisk Blade and Silver Sheath. She would make the guards' sacrifice worthless to Equestria. With a colossal heave, Twilight rolled over the edge of her bed. She hit a marble floor on her side with a jolt, causing her limbs to unfreeze and her spine to crack back into alignment. The impact only worsened her headache, but she had to move before her resolve wavered. The cool marble pressing up against her skin assuaged most of her fears about sleeping out in the wilderness with any manner of wild animals prowling around her, but the darkness pressing on her eyes prevented Twilight from achieving total peace. Scrunching up her muzzle in preparation for what she predicted would be a splitting migraine, Twilight attempted to light her horn. It fizzed halfheartedly, producing a dim glow that reached only to the tip of Twilight's muzzle. She ground her teeth as her head protested against the slight magical exertion. Her magical reserves were still exhausted after her dance with dark magic, similar to a muscle that had been overworked during a long run. But the longer Twilight fought against the pain, the more it relented. Though she could not call forth more than a faint glimmer of light, the subsiding of her cruel headache came as a great relief. Pain lanced through her legs as Twilight staggered and swayed onto four hooves. Her haunches burned as if griffon claws were still fastened in the flesh, even as Twilight shifted most of her weight to her forelegs. Maybe she still had the puncture wounds from her assailant, or her rump had taken the brunt of her fall from the sky. She leaned against the side of the bed, taking strained breaths as her heart pumped a fervent rhythm against her ribs. Just how badly did I hurt myself? Twilight's botched haunches were putting forward their best efforts to foil any chance of simply walking carefully across the floor in search of a light. She hobbled around the edge of the bed, teetering from left to right as she worked to spare her hind legs from holding her weight. There had to be a window or lamp nearby she could use to examine her injuries and surroundings. As she rounded the second corner of the bed, her hoof, lifted in mid-step, brushed against something thick and velvety. Hopes rising, Twilight wobbled away from the safety of the bedside and nudged the fabric she hoped to be a curtain aside with her muzzle. Light slanted in a golden band across part of a marble wall and floor. It had been so long since she'd seen sunlight, Twilight froze just to ogle the nearly forgotten phenomenon. For what could have been days, her life had been nothing but one episode of blackness after the next. Now the sun was shining in, banishing both the blackness of the room and the apparitions of rampaging griffons at the corner of her eyes. Eager to see the sky that had bequeathed her with such a gift, Twilight scooted through the side of the curtain and peered through a small, circular window. Despite nearly being blinded by the brilliance of the sun's rays, the first sincere smile in far too long graced Twilight's worn countenance. It was Canterlot. Twilight pressed her nose up against the window and peered down at the majestic capitol city. From high up in one of Canterlot Castle's towers, she had an unobstructed view of every fraction of the citizen's lives. Though her vision was smeared from exhaustion, she could make out foals cavorting about as their mothers led them through the cobblestone streets and nobles stopping to converse before a doorway to a fancy meeting place. It was Canterlot as usual, but at that moment there was nothing more amazing in the entirety of Equestria. The sheer normality of the scurrying ponies far below seemed to defy the existence of such horrible things as murder or griffon assaults. Whereas before Twilight's terrible memories had swathed her mind in an impenetrable fog of despair, now they were nearly surreal, like a bad dream. Then again, the bile welling in her throat was quite real. Hurriedly, Twilight shoved the window with her forelegs, sparing a moment to bless the pony who had left it unlocked. It smacked against the side of the tower and the single glass pane shattered, shards cascading down the side of the tower onto the lawns below, but Twilight was too preoccupied coughing up the scarce contents of her stomach to care. She curled over the windowsill, drinking in the sweet, fresh air to rid her mouth of the vile taste. A cool wind, heralding coming rain, stirred the heavy curtains draped across her back. Somehow, despite an empty stomach and a revolting stench permeating her nose, Twilight was able to beam at the cloudy sky. Being alive, so decidedly alive in the face of an attempt on her life, was an accomplishment that deserved nothing if not celebration. If only her guards were alive to share in her joy. Twilight rested her head on the windowsill and closed her eyes. Wind whisked through her ruffled mane, the smell of far-off rain pervading her nostrils. It was a sensation she had experienced countless times before, but never again would she take such simple pleasures for granted. A life free of murder and blood was the greatest gift she could ever ask for. I never want to see those things again. She would have been content to sit in front of the window forever if not for the nagging curiosity blooming in the back of her mind. Luna had promised to tell her the meaning of being a princess, but Twilight could not fathom why. The title of princess was known across all of Equestria; it was an honor bestowed upon those deemed worthy of guiding ponykind along the path of harmony. There was no mystery behind it, no need for elaboration. What was it Luna intended to say? Why did she expect Twilight to be displeased with the answer? Slowly, Twilight drew away from her view of Canterlot. There would be time to relish in the glory of life after her hunger for knowledge had been sated. She ducked out from under the thick curtains, carefully extending her magical grasp to pull them aside. The pain in her horn hit with far less intensity than before, allowing her to exert a mundane level of magical strength. She might not be fighting off Ursa Minors any time soon, let alone drawing upon every scrap of her power to eradicate an entire race, but she could navigate the castle. Aided by the light flooding the room, Twilight checked her haunches. She cringed at the scabby red cuts crisscrossing her cutie mark--her shoddy healing job had left behind far more remnants that she would have liked. Tentatively, she layered her magic over the wounds. She pulled the skin back together over the cuts, taking extra care to ensure there would be as little scarring as possible. Despite her best efforts, thin lines ran through parts of her purple star. It was the smallest casualty of the griffon attack yet, but Twilight still had to bite back her disappointment. It doesn't matter as long as I can walk. She stretched one hind leg, then the other. The pain was gone. She looked up at the scarcely furnished room, locating an oaken door opposite the window. She trotted past the bed and spared a glance at the barren writing desk set near the wall. The notion of writing a letter to her friends was tempting, but Twilight wasn't sure how to phrase her feelings. Did her friends even know about things like murder? Would she be strong enough to write an account of the attack without the quill sliding from her grasp? After I meet with the princesses, I'll tell them, Twilight thought. Somehow. Twilight sensed out the door's lock with her magic, pleasantly surprised when it swung open after some slight finagling. If she didn't run into any inquisitive castle staff on her way to the princesses, it would be an easy walk. As Twilight stepped out into the hallway, the clicking of her hooves against marble echoing in the arched ceiling above, she wondered where to search for the princesses first. It wouldn't hurt to check their private quarters or--her eyes lit up--the library, in case they were taking some leisure time. But what sort of rulers would be relaxing among the repercussions of a griffon assault? If Celestia and Luna weren't discussing the implications of the attack in earnest, Twilight wasn't sure where they'd be. The library would have to wait, she decided. Her hooves sank into the deep red rug that ran down the center of the hall. She would head towards the conference room first. Twilight picked up her hooves until she was trotting briskly down the hallway. Closed doors passed by on either side, denoting her present location as the guest wing. She had spent enough time in Canterlot Castle to plot out a mental path to the conference room. There would be a few twists and turns, but she wasn't too far away. If luck was on her side--a small miracle in itself--she would be meeting the princesses in minutes. A few castle servants passed her by along the way, their usual salutations replaced with concerned murmurs and rumblings. Guards saluted and stood to attention, calling out invitations for orders, but Twilight quickly averted her eyes when she spotted golden armor gleaming around a corner. She hurried on, focusing entirely on the coming meeting and drowning out the noises around her with the whirring of her mental gears. She was going to learn what it meant to be a princess, but also bring a plethora of her own questions to the table. Out of all her queries, one sprung to the fore of her thoughts. Will I ever see those things again? Twilight had seen Canterlot under siege, received a glimpse of slavery under Sombra's rule, been victim to Discord's torments. Nothing compared to witnessing the brutality of the griffons. For all their malicious intents, none of her previous foes had gone to such dreadful lengths to achieve their goals. She had never contemplated the notion that those enemies had perhaps been holding back or practicing mercy--she had hardly known about the existence of murder, so how could she guess her opponents were capable of anything worse? Twilight almost ran face-first into the enormous conference doors. She ground to a halt in front of a pair of towering whitewashed doors, her nose inches from a painful collision. She tripped over hooves as she backed away, spluttering a muffled curse as her rump hit the ground. There were no civilians around to behold her graceless fall, but she hastened to regain her composure. Considering the gravity of the upcoming conversation, she couldn't appear juvenile in front of her elders. She would have to scrounge up every ounce of royal elegance she possessed, assuming it hadn't been frightened out of her by the griffons. Twilight raised one hoof to her chest and inhaled deeply, expanding her chest. As she blew out her air, she envisioned pushing all her insecurities away with her hoof. For a moment, her mind stilled. She rose to her hooves and approached the great doors, one step at a time. All that remained was to knock, and her questions would be resolved. Surely the princesses would be able to help her overcome the terrible memories. Everything was going to be fine, just fine. Swallowing back her anxiety, Twilight gave the door three short raps. The doors remained firmly closed. Her heart drumming a frantic beat against her chest, Twilight cleared her throat. Perhaps she wasn't the first pony to come knocking, and the princesses had grown accustomed to ignoring visitors. "It's me," she called, her voice coming out as a gritty rasp. She coughed as the words grated against the back of her throat and spat out part of a scab that had jumped into her mouth. It must be from the screaming. When her coughing subsided, Twilight pricked her ears to listen for hoof steps. She leaned close to the door, hoping she wasn't mistaken in her assumption that the princesses were present. The silence stretched out, broken only by Twilight's short breaths. Her impatience swelled with each passing second, and she raised her hoof in preparation to give the doors an agitated pounding. Just as Twilight struck out, the doors swung inwards, surrounded by a glistening sunny aura. Twilight teetered forward, the gold-clad hoof pressing against her chest the only thing that prevented her from falling flat. Her head jerked up, her eyes quickly passing over the crimson-stained neck brace and tired smile to lock with the weary gaze of Celestia. "Twilight," Celestia said warmly, her dulled expression brightening like the sky at dawn. "Princess," Twilight breathed. All fantasies of meeting the princesses with any amount of maturity and eloquence perished at the sight of Celestia. Without thinking, Twilight flung her hooves around Celestia and pressed her muzzle against her mentor's neck. She clung to Celestia like the terrified filly she had become, her emotions bubbling over into incoherent attempts to put forth the questions that stalked her steps. She tried to ask about the Griffon Kingdom, about what it meant to be a princess, about how in the name of Equestria murder was allowed to exist, but only managed to trip over her words in the midst of her fervor. Celestia wrapped her wings around Twilight in a feathery embrace, stroking her student's shaking back with one wing tip. Gently, Celestia pried Twilight's vicelike grip away from her neck, and Twilight became aware of her hooves being guided deeper into a dim room. Her stream of desperate sounds faded, but she continued to press close to Celestia, taking comfort from the warmth of her feathers and fur. Not even the darkness of the room could unnerve her now. No griffons could snatch her away if she stayed by Celestia's side. "Are you ready?" Celestia asked quietly. Twilight nodded. "I'm staying next to you." Celestia's wings withdrew from Twilight's vision, and she found they were standing in the middle of the princesses' conference hall. Unlike any other occasion, when the sun would be shining through the one massive window on the far end of the room, the space was now cloaked in gloom. Tapestries decorated the walls, their enchanted golden trim glittering despite the lack of light. An enormous round table lay before Twilight, its oaken surface illuminated only by the green fire of two softly glowing candles. Piles of parchment and broken quills littered the table, remnants of what were once neatly organized debate supplies. On the side opposite Twilight, face cast in an emerald light by a nearby candle, Luna furiously ran a black quill across a piece of parchment. There was a snap as the tip of Luna's quill shattered. With a violent snort of frustration, Luna plucked a feather from one balding wing and scribbled on. "I," she fumed, "do not understand the complications of casting justice upon those who are clearly deserving of it. If there is anything I am missing"--another snap rang out, and Luna flung the quill into the darkness around the edge of the room--"I beg that you enlighten me posthaste, sister!" Celestia's golden magic grasped the parchment and slid it across the table. She sank into a sitting position, and Twilight hurried to mirror her movement. Twilight caught a glimpse of Luna's frantic, swooping hoofwriting before Celestia rolled the message into a scroll and set it to the side. "I will handle the queen," Celestia said calmly. "But first, please say hello to my most faithful student and junior. Kindly, if you will," she added. Luna looked up and froze. Her eyes went from Twilight to Celestia, then back again. She inclined her head with apparent reluctance. "Greetings," she said stiffly. Her horn sparked, and a folded letter snapped open in front of her muzzle, concealing her countenance. "We--I am... pleased to see you have recovered." Twilight's good mood deflated under Luna's curt manner. She must still be mad at me. "I will be writing a response to that particular message," Celestia pointed out. One ear twitched at Luna's conduct, but she offered no objection. "There's no need for you to read it again." Twilight imagined a red tinge creeping into Luna's cheeks as she passed the letter across the table. Twilight leaned in closer to Celestia, the dragonfire candle shedding its light across the short message. "From the Griffon Kingdom?" she guessed tentatively. "Yes." Celestia smoothed out the parchment so Twilight could behold its contents. "The queen has sent more messages than I care to count, at this point. Can you read Griffonese?" A chill crawled down Twilight's spine. She had studied the writing of the griffons in preparation for her diplomatic meeting and attained moderate fluency, but she found herself hesitant to translate the letter. What if the queen had said something about her personally, or blamed her for the tragic events? Of course she would be mentioned; she had massacred an entire flock of the queen's subjects. That, if nothing else, would ensure she had a role in the queen's messages. Twilight drew in a shuddering breath. "I can," she affirmed. "I just..." Celestia levitated a white quill over a blank sheet of parchment. "I understand." She began to write, her quill scratching out the sharp edges of Griffonese letters. "But if you are to take part in this debate, reading letters will be the smallest of your challenges. If you can read it, I advise that you do." It can't be as hard as fighting off griffons. Swallowing back her anxiety, Twilight turned her eyes to the message. The further Twilight traveled down the message, the clearer it became that the tone was not one of a friendly political relation. Occasionally there was a complex word Twilight could not interpret, or an elaborate metaphor that she failed to comprehend, but she unfortunately grasped the gist of the letter. The queen understood that her griffons had been the first to attack, but also knew flocks of her griffons had been killed in retaliation for the death of two guards. With a flickering pulse of relief, Twilight realized Celestia and Luna must have avoided mentioning just how far Twilight had considered taking her retribution. From what she could glean about the queen's disposition, Twilight doubted there would be any diplomatic exchanges had the Griffon Kingdom been enlightened to the scope of her power. "We pleaded self defense," Celestia explained as Twilight looked away from the letter, "but the queen insists that her griffons acted upon the same drive. It's all we can do to try to appease her." Celestia folded her finished message and levitated it into the dragonfire candle. The fire licked up the parchment until the letter was entirely consumed, vanishing without a trace of ash. The fire hissed in satisfaction, spitting one emerald ember into the air. "I'm sorry," Twilight whispered. Guilt washed over her, swamping her from head to tail. "I shouldn't have hurt them." One of Celestia's wings draped over Twilight's shoulders. "You would have died had you not," Celestia said firmly. "The griffons knew we were a peaceful nation and were foals to think we would ever threaten them." "But I did," Twilight protested. Most of the memories of her delusions under the influence of dark magic had grown vague, but the desire to eviscerate each and every griffon from the face of history was still fresh in her mind. She felt Luna's gaze fixed in her direction. "If the griffons were attacking as a preliminary measure, they were right. I-I wouldn't have hesitated--I didn't hesitate to hurt their entire race badly, so, so badly." Celestia paused. The candles fluttered, shedding light on her small frown. "This is true," she admitted, "only because the griffons initiated the attack." When Twilight did not respond, Celestia added, "In all honesty, it was a mistake of ours to assume the griffons' fear of our power would hold them back from an open assault as it had in the past. We pushed it too far by bringing a third member to their nests, and that is our fault alone." Twilight perked up, straightening her slouched posture. "So I wasn't wrong to...?" she asked, glancing at Luna. "It was improper to consider eviscerating an entire race for the crimes of a few," Luna said quickly. "I trust we agree on that, sister?" Celestia dipped her head. "Yes," she sighed. "It was. But the perpetrators were fully aware of the atrocity they were committing, and the retaliation you were able to mete out was justified. I presume we agree on that, of all things," she said pointedly. Luna shifted awkwardly. "I will not apologize," she huffed. With visible effort, she met Twilight's gaze. "You strayed close to a path I am... far too familiar with, Twilight Sparkle. A shadow of the monster that haunts me has touched you, and I find myself unable to forgive your welcoming, even inviting of it." Despite Luna's stoic expression, her voice dropped. "Please... never again dance with dark magic. We take to it too quickly, too easily. Dangerously so." A shadow that haunts her? Twilight thought. She shrank closer to Celestia's side. Is Luna saying I could have fallen to another Nightmare Moon? It had never crossed Twilight's mind before. For all her pondering and ruminating over the events of that night, never once had she considered that she might have been wholly corrupted by the dark magic. It was no wonder Luna had been so curt with her--Luna, of all ponies, would be the most disturbed by the possibility of the Nightmare's resurgence. "I guess I should thank you for stopping me," Twilight said, a tremor of relief running down her legs. The sentiment was soon overtaken by a hint of indignation. "But you could've just told me why you were mad instead of yelling at me." Luna nodded, the tension in her muscles slowly releasing. She held Twilight's gaze more easily, offering a small smile. "I suppose I could have." There was still an edge to her voice, but it had reverted back to a familiar teasing nature. Progress, Twilight thought. Not quite forgiveness, but progress. She flashed a grin that had been held back by lingering bitterness, her mood warmed by being back in Luna's relative favor. Luna cleared her throat and carried on in a more brusque manner. "That is all I have to say regarding that subject, for there is another I assume you are here to discuss." What it means to be a princess. Twilight felt a pang of excitement, followed by a sinking sensation of dread. Celestia tensed beside her, drawing her wing protectively around Twilight. "I want to know what it means to be a princess," Twilight affirmed. She drew strength from Celestia's presence, and raised her voice to project across the room. "But I have something to say first." Her mind flew back to the night of the attack. She could still pick out every scale on the griffons' talons and see the curves of their beaks as they snapped before her shield, cawing and shrieking as she fought to push through their ranks. Their feral eyes were bright with murderous intentions, intentions that would be fulfilled in ways Twilight never envisioned. Ways she never wanted to see again. There was no use dancing around her feelings. "I don't want to see murder again," Twilight said flatly. Her mental eye focused on the view of Canterlot. All those ponies were happy, going about their lives with unbridled cheer and alacrity spurring their hooves. It was the life Twilight had once lived and her heart so desperately yearned to reclaim. "It doesn't exist in Equestria, and it shouldn't exist in the world. I never want to go back to the Griffon Empire, or set hoof outside our borders ever again. I know it's part of my princess duties to maintain political relations," she acknowledged. "But I don't want to live with these fears hanging over me. I can't." The mere notion of returning to the Griffon Kingdom for any purpose was enough to make Twilight's voice crack. She wondered how pitiable she sounded, practically begging to never leave the safety of home again in spite of her duty's requirements. She expected a condescending rebuke from Luna, or at least words of motherly guidance from Celestia, and turned her eyes to her mentor when neither came. Only a long, contemplative silence followed her plea. "There is a reason such horrors do not manifest in Equestria," Celestia said slowly. "Because this is a harmonious nation," Twilight pointed out impatiently. "Of course there wouldn't be, I just want to know if being princess means I have to see--" "Since your awakening, have you wondered why there was hardly a mention of murder in your books?" Luna interjected. Her neck stretched further across the table, green light illuminating the anticipation on her face. "This has everything to do with being a princess, and I would advise you set aside your other concerns and participate in this discussion. Humor us." Taken aback, Twilight openly gaped at Luna. "Fine," she huffed. "I can't say I have wondered that, no." "Take a moment and do so, if you would." Just what does this have to do with being a princess? At Celestia's encouraging nudge, Twilight reluctantly dove into her imaginary archives. She'd read more books than she cared to count in her lifetime, and only one or two had brought up the subject of murder. She furrowed her brow and drudged up memories of those scarce accounts, putting them through renewed scrutiny. Through every record, murder was portrayed in a barbaric light, a rudimentary practice that had been discarded as harmony united morals around the world. The deeper Twilight sank into her reverie, the more a single fact stood out. She frowned, trying to make sense of her epiphany. She'd never had any reason to question the legitimacy of her books before, but her frown continued to deepen as she tried to match the words of the books to the actuality of her experience. No matter how she rotated her facts, or stepped into a different perspective, they simply did not fit. "I've read a lot of books on foreign nations," Twilight mused. "None of them were ever described as hostile. Proud, arrogant sometimes, maybe eccentric, but never inclined to attack." She paused. "Was it because the authors didn't know?" she prompted, looking from Celestia's uneasy grimace to Luna's satisfied visage. Upon receiving no reply, her brow creased. "But they were experts in their fields. These were books in the Canterlot's political archives. So why didn't they say anything about the griffons or any nation being aggressive? Why didn't I know the griffons were capable of everything they did, even though I did so much research? Why were you the only ones who knew the griffons were hostile?" How didn't I think about this before? "Your naivete is a sign of... success, Twilight." Celestia's intonation was drawn out, hesitant. "Success in one facet of our duties." Twilight blinked and raised one hoof to rub her ears vigorously. She swiveled them towards Celestia, pricking them up to properly catch every syllable out of her mentor's mouth. It seemed her ears were prone to sporadic malfunctions after the overload of dark magic. "I didn't hear that right." "Twilight, you have never misinterpreted any of my lectures, even when you were a filly falling asleep at her desk. You heard correctly." "No." Twilight shook her head. "I thought you said it was a success--" "She did," Luna cut in. She sat back on her haunches, her muzzle drawing away from the light of her candle and into the shadows. "The fact that you were unable to unearth the existence of present-day murder despite being so close to a princess is nothing less than the greatest proof of our triumph." Silver energy gathered around her horn as one black quill jumped into the air, lazily tracing imaginary loops in the air before her. "Perhaps it was even the greatest test of our methods." "Your methods?" Twilight gawked first at Luna, then at Celestia. She grasped for a suitable expression of her incredulity, but only managed to splutter helplessly as her tongue betrayed her. Perhaps her ears really were on the fritz. How could her ignorance be a cause for celebration? How could the inaccuracy of her books be acceptable, or encouraged, or positive in any way? How was it not a national crisis? All those books labeled as comprehensive guides to the behavioral patterns of neighboring nations were lying. The thought of a book in the official Canterlot archives containing falsehoods was so alien, Twilight wasn't sure whether to laugh or weep. Wait--their methods? Celestia and Luna had taken part in this literary disaster? They couldn't. The princesses were the leaders of harmony; they would be the last ponies to undermine it with lies. She was just jumping to conclusions. Her nerves were already on edge, so of course she would be jittery and prone to hasty judgement. Luna had not meant to imply that she and Celestia had a hoof in such a scheme. It simply wouldn't make sense. There was another layer to her words, one which had flown straight over Twilight's head. "We agreed I would handle this conversation," Celestia said sharply. The quill darted near Luna's muzzle and she proceeded to absentmindedly nibble on the tip. "My apologies," she muttered. "I find these proceedings marvelously fascinating, so forgive me if I dare participate. Continue." Twilight felt Celestia's chest deflate with a long, exasperated exhalation. She sent up a prayer that the next words from Celestia's muzzle would assuage her unfounded suspicions and get straight to the point. Anything to stop the uneasy speculation bounding through her thoughts. "You know that one part of our duties is to protect our subjects," Celestia went on. The serenity of her voice had a delicate lilt, like a thin sheet of ice that would take only a slight tap to shatter. Beside her, Twilight could feel the pulsing of Celestia's heart. "It is common knowledge among the population that above all, the safety of our ponies is paramount. Perhaps of even greater importance than following the six virtues of harmony." Twilight's heart sped up and matched Celestia's beat for beat. Her mentor's anxiety tainted the air, spreading like a plague through the rest of Twilight's being. "What is that supposed to mean?" Twilight demanded. She slipped out from under Celestia's wing, making no attempt to correct her slack-jawed expression. "Harmony is the most important thing in all of Equestria--friendship, harmony, it's what makes us who we are!" Celestia tucked in her wing, casting Twilight an injured glance, but made no move to rise from her seat at the table. "Harmony does not spring naturally from the heart of any living creature." "But there's no murder in Equestria," Twilight insisted. Her feathers bristled against her skin. "If it doesn't come naturally to ponies, why isn't everypony acting like griffons?" Celestia's fragile persona of calm faltered. By the light of the dragonfire candle, Twilight could see the feathers ruffle on the princess' wings and the shadow fall across her eyes. The lack of an immediate response confirmed Twilight's fears that this was going to be a difficult topic to tackle. Only during the hardest of emotional situations would Celestia withhold an immediate reply to her student's queries. She doesn't want to tell me what it means to be a princess. When Celestia failed to utter a sound, Luna removed the quill from her muzzle and gave Twilight a withering stare. "Tell me, my sister's genius student. You are a dedicated scholar and have found only passing mention of murder, always portrayed with a negative connotation. You were appalled to find it still existed today, despite boasting your own repertoire of unpleasant experiences. What are the chances that the rest of the citizens have the slightest inkling that such horrors manifest in reality, let alone their potential to be agents of it?" "Small," Twilight conceded. "But what is this about forgoing harmony and being a--" "We protect our ponies from themselves," Luna said bluntly. Celestia let out a strangled gasp, but Luna's eyes hardly flicked in her direction before she continued. "Mere knowledge of murder plants the seeds of disharmony, so we opted to simply erase it from society as wholly as possible. You could say it is a facet of our duties to shield our subjects from this knowledge." Twilight snorted in derision. "That's not true." She looked to Celestia for reassurance. "Tell me that's not true." Celestia remained silent. "Please." Twilight's voice wavered. I don't want to believe it. No response from either princess was forthcoming, and that was all the evidence Twilight needed. However much Twilight wished that her ears were malfunctioning, she could pretend no longer. The princesses had painted a false picture of the world for their subjects. Perhaps even worse, they were the cause of the dreadful inaccuracies pervading her books. "You've lied," Twilight whispered. She took an unsteady pace back towards the door. "You've lied." Celestia rose from her position at the table. "Twilight, I didn't intend for it to go this way--" "So is this what it means to be a princess? To become a part of this scheme?" Twilight's quick breaths rasped in her lungs. It was the unthinkable, the unimaginable. The princesses had betrayed harmony and perpetrated a lie. This grand ruse was the reason Twilight had been caught off guard by the griffons. This ruse was the reason she had been unable to protect her guards. One more stitch of her life's fabric was undone. Before her eyes, Twilight's perfect world was unraveling thread by painful thread. Celestia, the queen deserving of unfathomable reverence, was swallowed up by a maw of doubt and distrust. In her place stood Celestia the liar, the pony who had led her beloved subjects along a path of trickery, and the teacher who could smile as she fooled her most faithful student. Luna was no better, casually chewing on her quill as she watched the proceedings with a deceptive eye. Twilight could no longer depend on her perceptions of reality. Her eyes were prone to error, her judgement easily manipulated. Her legs trembled and the ground dipped under her hooves, as if she were upon a boat that was plunging down the crest of an enormous wave. "There is more to our purpose than simple deception," Celestia retorted, her voice tense. "Please, Twilight--if you're going to take this badly, we can't have this discussion here." "If I'm going to take it badly?" Twilight's volume rose. She was shouting, but she didn't care. Her disbelief spilled freely from her muzzle, and she made no attempt to stem the flow. "If I don't take the fact that the teacher I respected has lied to me and my friends about the world badly, then what am I? I thought that you..." Twilight's outburst faded as she fought back frustrated tears. "I thought you'd never lie to us." The pain on Celestia's face became increasingly pronounced with each passing word. "I never meant for this to upset you." Twilight slammed her hoof against the floor. The sound reverberated through the entire chamber, and Twilight only felt an ounce of guilt as Celestia flinched. "I don't see how you could think it wouldn't upset me." Celestia strode towards Twilight, her expression unreadable as her eyes fixed on the floor. Twilight bristled as Celestia drew near, simultaneously bracing for flight and preparing to be wrapped in another warm hug. Her hopes were split in two--should she welcome Celestia's comfort, or reject her mentor's approach? What was she supposed to do when the one pony she admired above all proved unworthy of a sliver of trust? Twilight wasn't sure whether to be relieved or terribly disappointed as Celestia walked right past her. Perplexed, she turned around to see a golden aura encompassing the enormous doors. The doors glided open without so much as a squeak, allowing light from the outside to pour into the dim room. Twilight squinted against the flood of illumination and raised one hoof to shield her eyes. "Luna," Celestia said, "stay here and answer any messages from the Griffon Kingdom. Do not provoke the queen." There was the ruffle of wrinkled papers and the tap of a quill tip against parchment. "I wish you luck, sister," Luna responded promptly. "Should you need me--" "You've done enough," Celestia sighed. There was no edge to her tone, but the thinly veiled disappointment shone in stark contrast to her normal sincerity. "Just don't do anything more." Luna fell into a sullen silence, broken only by the quiet scratching of a quill. "Twilight, follow me to the gardens." Celestia turned, a mask of fabricated calm upon her muzzle. "We can talk more once we're there." Two options presented themselves before Twilight: try to escape some of the most powerful creatures in Equestria, or play the role of obedient subject and trot along in Celestia's wake. By normal standards, the choice would be obvious. Now, with her core perceptions of reality cast in doubt, Twilight stood rooted between two conflicting emotions. However much Celestia had trampled on the faith of her subjects, the familiar kindness of her gaze beckoned Twilight closer. But how could she place her trust in Celestia when the princess had conspired against knowledge itself? "I want to trust you," Twilight murmured, "but I can't." She took a step towards Celestia, then nodded towards the hall. Celestia ambled out into the light, her stature slumped and head bowed. "I shouldn't have expected anything else."