//------------------------------// // Chapter II // Story: Relinquish the Sun // by Error732 //------------------------------// Celestia emerged into the sunlight outside the cave and breathed deep. Above her hung a clear blue sky, held up by the peaks of the northern mountains, themselves blanketed in trees and carved by snaking tributaries. The forest nearest her bristled with the songs of birds and buzzing of insects. The air was fresh with the scent of late summer leaves. The familiar sound of shuffling hooves and clinking armor greeted her. Ahead, her royal guards, tied to her golden chariot, stood at attention, each of them clad in the bronze barding that was their uniform. Normally, only four ponies would tend to the task, but, given the nature of today's journey, her guards had insisted on including eight. The bars that connected on either side of her guards' bardings (which conveniently doubled as harnesses for the task) had been hastily extended with further rods riveted to the original form, somewhat detracting from the aesthetics of the vehicle. Celestia hardly minded; the contraption was ever a ceremonial one, as she could just as easily fly herself home with her own wings. Or teleport, for that matter, though that took considerable effort. Then again, if she was willing to spare herself the effort of magical transport, perhaps it was not so great a leap to spare herself the effort of beating her wings. Despite their stiff postures and formation, the guards had not succeeded in completely hiding their nervousness, at least not from Celestia. Most of them managed to keep their eyes forward, their legs solid, and their breathing steady. But as she approached her seat, she caught one or two gazing back at the mouth of the cave, fighting the shakes in their knees, or inhaling just a little too deeply. She couldn't blame them. In stark contrast to her faltering guards was the young pegasus already seated in the chariot, whom she noticed with a smile. A pale blue pony with a dark blue mane, Inkstain smiled back at her, already unrolling a scroll and a quill not unlike the ones her cutie mark depicted. Her relaxed posture and bright expression indicated she was happy but unsurprised to see her liege return. In typical fashion, Inkstain had trusted Celestia beyond any instinct; she had accepted Celestia's promise to return safely without a moment's doubt. Celestia found Inkstain's faith in her both endearing and burdening; she cared deeply for her assistant, and therefore felt compelled to meet the fantastic, often naive expectations Inkstain placed upon her. It was for this reason that she had initially selected Inkstain to assist her, despite the plethora of scribes with more experience or education who offered their services. Not that Inkstain was unqualified, her performance proved that she was. Inkstain was a companion who questioned Celestia not to interrogate or protest but to inquire and learn. "Welcome back," said Inkstain, beaming. "How was it?" Celestia stopped to consider the question as she set hoof in the chariot. "It was . . . informative. The dragons are fascinating creatures." Inkstain merely waited expectantly for the princess to continue. As soon as Celestia was seated, the guards took off, and the ground fell away beneath them. "I've never seen so many dragons in one place before, at least not outside of their migrations. Dragons are usually solitary creatures, jealously guarding their hoards under mountains separated by many miles. But, given their long lifespans, perhaps seeing one another once a migration seems much more frequent to them than it does to us." "So what did they want?" said Inkstain, raising her voice above the wind of flight. Celestia recounted her visit and the demands placed upon her. Inkstain seemed fascinated by the longevity of dragons, and interrupted several times to ask if this or that really existed or happened before Celestia was born. In their time together, Celestia had indulged many of Inkstain's questions about her age, but the notion of a creature yet more ancient provoked a torrent of new questions. Celestia accommodated Inkstain with as much detail as she could on what the dragons looked like, how they sounded, and what she made of them. At the mention of the dragon's demands, Inkstain went wide-eyed. "You're not going to do it, are you? Give up the Sun and Moon?" "I will have to discuss it with the council," replied Celestia, with a sigh, "but I think they will agree . . . eventually . . . that I should not." Inkstain snickered at Celestia's tone. Her council of advisors was notorious for its squabbles, and Inkstain had taken minutes at enough of their meetings to know Celestia's frustration. While Celestia could make unilateral decisions, she had always maintained the council as a demonstration of accountability and to track the pulse of Equestria. They would, no doubt, have many words and little to say on this matter and any other. "But what if they didn't? Would you give it up? The sunrise, I mean?" "I think . . ." Celestia began hesitantly. "No, I would not." Inkstain's expression urged her to continue. "Do you remember the story of my sister?" Inkstain nodded. "You banished her to the Moon when she tried to take over Equestria." "Yes," said Celestia mournfully, "and it has been nearly a thousand years since. I have spent much of this near-millennium grieving for the loss of my sister. Do you have family in Canterlot, Inkstain?" "Yes," said Inkstain, thoughtfully, "I have family in lots of places." "Since the day Luna tried to seize power, I have had no family in Equestria." Inkstain began to offer condolences, but Celestia cut her off. "But my sister is not gone forever. On the thousandth year of her exile, at the Summer Sun Festival, she will return." "But won't she still . . ." Inkstain struggled for polite words. "Won't she still be . . ." "'Nightmare Moon?'" said Celestia, sparing Inkstain the puzzle of tact. "Yes, I expect so. But I have had almost a thousand years to plan for her return. Don't worry; when the day comes, I will be sure that Equestria is ready." Inkstain took a moment to ponder her words. "But why does that matter? I mean, why does it matter to the business with the dragons?" "Because," said Celestia, gazing down at the passing landscape, "if I accept their deal and abandon my labors, I'll never perform the Summer Sun Festival again, and my sister will never return to me." The two of them sat in silence for a long time, listening only to the howl of the passing air and the furious wingbeats of the guards ahead of them. Said Inkstain, "I'm sure the council will agree to oppose the dragons."